#So i told her ''I recommend you to separate your number''

[sehodreamsthoughts]

I WAS MEAN TO A GIRL AN NOW I FEEL LIKE SHIT.

WHY WAS I MEAN, THAT'S NOT THE USUAL ME!!!

[wosofutbolfan]

If You Need Me, Call Me

Alexia Putellas x Explorer!R Pt.2 in the 'I Would Climb Every Mountain With You' Universe.

Hi Guys, Thank you for all the love on the first part in this series. This is part 2 that I didn't expect to write. I have an inability to not write angst. TW: Claustrophobia. Injury. Events are not based on any real life events. Part two of I Would Climb Every Mountain With You. I would recommend you read that first, for some context. But you can do what you want really ;-)

You and Alexia had been together, happily, for a year. And it was happily. Though. ‘Together’ is probably being quite liberal with the word. And. You suppose. ‘Happily’ is also being quite liberal with the word. You loved Alexia. 

And Alexia loved you. 

That was clear to both of you. You admitted it early, before she’d even left UK soil after she’d come back with you from your first meeting. She’d rolled her eyes at you and the nerves on your face as you lay in bed together in your pokey Cumbrian flat, and kissed the words from your lips; ‘well duh, of course you do. And I love you.’ which made you laugh and fall into her lips again. But it wasn’t even 12 hours later that you’d had to separate with her season starting again and her need to be in Spain. Her teammates had teased her relentlessly on her return. How she’d U-Hauled with the Jefa de montaña and ran away to the rainey island she so famously disliked just to spend another day together. She'd rolled her eyes and slapped the back of a few heads but it was true. That is what she had done. She’d been overjoyed when she spotted you in the crowd on the first home game of the season. You’d made the surprise trip to Barcelona at the last minute, employing Ingrid to get a ticket in the friends and family section for you. The smile on the Captain's face as she spotted you could be seen from space. You had winked at her and proudly gestured to your brand new Barcelona jersey, Alexias number proudly splayed across your back. As the game ended, with a convincing win for the home team, she’d made a beeline for you in the stands. Jumping over the barrier and embracing you like you hadn’t seen each other for months (oh how used to that feeling you would become), rather than a couple of weeks. “I thought that you preferred rugby?” she had teased you. “Ah, I do, but no one told me how hot the captain in blue and red was” you’d replied, with a wink. Enjoying the blush you’d created on her face, before it was your turn to blush as Alexias eyes darted to your right and greeted, “Mami! Hola!” and embraced a small women in a shirt matching yours who was definitely standing within hearing distance. Just over her shoulder a carbon-copy of Alexia was lurking, a childlike grin on her face and twinkle in her eyes. “Ah, and this is mi hermana Alba!” she had introduced you. ‘Well, nothing like diving in headfirst’ you thought to yourself, as you were introduced to your apparently-new girlfriend's family, as that's what you had just been introduced as, with a squeeze of your hand and a kiss to the side of your head. The Putellas family embraced you with all the enthusiasm in the world. Alba kept you entertained and asked you a million and one questions as you waited for Alexia to be finished with her media and captain duties. Before you knew it you were at an impromptu meet-the-new-english-girlfriend party at the Putellas residence, sharing food with seemingly everyone who had ever been related to Alexia as well as their next door neighbours. Sharing wine, food, and lots of baby Alexia pictures. So yes. You had both moved fast. Maybe it was the speed which you were going that would soon become your downfall. You were moving a million miles an hour and the warning signs were a blur that you couldn’t quite make out. Of those first 6 months, you were on an exhibition for 4. You had travelled to Patagonia to climb some of the last unclaimed peaks on the planet with the National Geographic Society. They were unreachable by road or even yak. You had to sail to the bottom of South America and then move your way up on foot.  It was arduous, it was treacherous, but you found satisfaction and joy in the difficulty.

You become the first person and only woman to ever summit Orjos del Salado and, as you snapped a picture at the top, all you thought was how excited you were to share your achievement with Alexia. As you’d called her a week later from a dive-bar in a shanty town in central Argentina you could hear the pride and relief in her voice, even through the terrible connection. It was the first time you had been able to contact her in a month.

But you’d gone straight from there to leading some American businessmen through the Amazon on a 3 week river and hiking exploration. It paid handsomely, you’d explained to the disappointed blonde, you couldn’t turn it down.

You returned to Barcelona in time to spend a week together before Alexia left for a two week international camp.  Which was then followed by a week long trip for her to Norway, as part of their group stage champions league campaign.

You’d joined her there, soaking as much time together as possible between her matches and training sessions. Maybe it was then that the cracks had begun to show. As you had woken early to pick her up from her hotel to go for an early morning walk and grab some coffee before her media duties. You had been walking hand in hand in the early morning sunshine. You had been half-way through a story from the day before, where you and Ingrid's mum had gone together to a lake outside of Oslo, when you felt her drop your hand suddenly and took a half step away from you. “Huh?” you looked at her and a look you hadn’t seen before took over her features, “What’s going on Ale?”. “Trust me” was all she’d replied, and then it had become apparent her problem as a swarm of fans suddenly engulfed her, asking for selfies and autographs, which she gave out, graciously. She skillfully extracted herself from the situation before you both continued on your way, but now, you noticed, you were at least a foot further apart and a weird atmosphere had taken over you both. It had been when you were both safely in the cafe that you’d addressed it, “are you ashamed of me?” you asked, unable to mask the hurt in your voice. Hands safely wrapped around your Tea. “No!” she’d replied, aghast, as she pulled your hands from your mug into her own. “mírame cariño” you did, and saw the heartbreaking look in her eyes. “I would never be ashamed of you. Do not think that for one moment.” she said it with such conviction that you couldn’t help but nod. “I am sorry, but it is easier. For you. The media. They will pry into your life. It’s happened before with… partners and… I don’t want that for you. For your family. I love you.” “I won’t hide Ale.” you replied. Firmly. You were a free spirit. It was not in your nature to hide yourself, any part of yourself, for anything or anyone. The thought of it made you claustrophobic. “I know you won’t.” she huffed out a laugh, “I do not want us to hide. I promise. But, maybe, if we do not make their job easy for them? Can we do that?”. The look of desperation on her face broke your heart. “Bueno Ale. Para ti. Yo también te amo.” You’d gone your separate ways from there, you had explorations to complete, she was busy with the team. She’d managed to visit England for a few days when her UCWL matches lined up, and you started to return to Barcelona, rather than Cumbria, as a home base between trips. And that's how it had gone for some time. Your birthday had passed, you’d spent it together in Barcelona, Ale having stolen your trusty-old boots and had them professionally repaired and re-waxed. As she presented them to you, on her balcony with a cute bow on top, your heart expanded in joy. She got you. She knew you didn’t want new-top of the range boots that she definitely could afford. This actually was harder, she’d had to research the dying-art of cobblers in the area. She had to sneak them out of your duffell bag, she must have distracted you every time you went for them as your go-to walking shoes in the week. With all her money and fame. She understood that wasn’t you. You loved what you had. And she got that. As you had turned the boots in your hands, taking in all of the familiarity in all their glory and feeling the waxy leather beneath your fingers she couldn’t read your face. “I hope you don’t mind” she’d taken them gently from your hands and she pulled back the tongue, which showed a piece of jersey sewn into the backing-fabric. Blue and red, with a white AP11 embroidered into it. “It's from my first champions league shirt. I cut a swatch off, and had them sew it in…” she whispered. The moment had been heavy. “I know we don’t get to spend time together like most couples, but this way, I’ll always be with you.” Your throat had burned with the effort to keep your tears at bay, you were unsuccessful when you felt her warm hand cup your face and wipe a tear away,

“I’m sorry, It’s probably way too intrusive and I shouldn’t have taken your stuff, I can ta…” You’d silenced her with a kiss. Intense and hungry. “This is the most thoughtful gift I have ever had. I love you Ale. I love you so much.”  “Good.”... you both take a moment to look into each other's eyes, then you feel a movement as she reaches into her pocket and presents proudly what she’s pulled out, eyes shining with mirth “Then maybe you will consider these laces too, no?” and you burst out laughing whilst you take in the Blaugrana coloured hiking laces. You’ve not got it in you to not agree. But love sometimes isn’t enough. Time passed. You continued your work and she continued hers. Valentines days spent on opposite sides of the globe. You weren’t there when she won the Champions League, instead spending it watching it in a bar in Jordan. She wasn’t there as you returned from reaching an undiscovered island as part of a research crew in the South Pacific, instead being in Munich to film a new Nike ad. When you were together you couldn’t walk the streets of Barcelona hand in hand. You’d kept your promise and she kept hers. You weren’t hidden, but you weren’t showcasing your relationship. When she came to England you had more freedom, the people of Cumbia didn’t know who the Spanish superstar was, they just knew her as your girlfriend. Your fit girlfriend according to the teenage boy who lived next door to your mum. You made it work though, between you. You would send her snaps every time you saw children playing football. Pictures from south pacific islands to the mountain villages of the Himalayas, and every time you would receive the same response; “See, el deporte del mundo, I told you <3” It was a perfect storm. What happened. You’d spent a month in Barcelona, more time that you had been able to spend together in the year you’d been a couple. You’d fallen into a domesticity that you hadn’t experienced before. 

Alexia would train, you would have dinner ready for her. She would wake you up with a cup of Tea from her new kettle she's bought especially for you. You would plan routes and give advice to your online contacts about expeditions they had planned. You would sleep wrapped in each other's arms, Alexia would even let you be the big spoon, very occasionally. 

It felt perfect.  Until one, simple comment.

“Ay, look at you, wifey!” Mapi had exclaimed from her place at the table as you brought in the dinner you had prepared for the group,  you had invited her and Ingrid for a couples night, “who would have thought, “La jefa de la montaña. Tamed!” “Shut up Maria.” Ingrid nudged her girlfriend, with a kind smile she turned to you, “This looks delicious! Thank you” As the group tucked in though, you were distracted. Suddenly, the weight of Alexia's hand on your thigh felt heavy. The walls, too constricting. For you, the heat of Barcelona started to become oppressive. Too predictable. You missed England, you missed not knowing what the weather would be hour by hour. The contact blue skies felt like a false--happiness was being forced on you. The ground at your feet, sun dried, felt harsh compared to the muddy grass you had grown up stomping on. Soft, flexible. The routine started to bore you. You missed the weight of your backpack and the freedom of slinging up your hammock. Alexia hadn’t missed the way you had clammed up, the tenseness in your posture, the way your laugh did not reach your eyes for the rest of that evening. For the weeks following she felt like keeping you was like trying to catch smoke. Like trying to hold sand in her bare hands. She could feel you escape through her fingers for the next few weeks.

Which is why she wasn’t surprised when she returned from an away trip to Mallorca to see you on the couch. Hands nervously twisting and unable to meet her eye.

“You’re going again, aren't you?” she asked, as she dropped her bag at the door and settled next to you, taking your hands in hers. You nodded.

“I’m sorry Ale. It's just. It's not me.” you’d explained then, how you had been feeling. And she listened. Even though she knew. Of course she already knew.

“It’s okay, carino.” you’d assured you. You’d look up then, “it is?”

“Si, Mi Vida. I would never ask you to change. And only you would be bored of the life of a professional footballer, and you must be the only English person to ever complain about the weather in Barcelona” she’d lightened the mood with her joke, and rolled her eyes good naturedly.

“Where are you going this time?” she’d continued, and she should have known from your pause that this wasn’t the usual goodbye.

“Everest.”

“Everest.”  She’d reperated. Joy in her voice, she knew it was your life’s ambition to climb the world's highest summit. “...and Denali, and Elbrus...” you had continued to name the 7 highest summits on each continent that you would spend the next 18 months climbing, without oxygen, as part of an international exploration. Silence filled the apartment. “I….” “No.” “No?” you asked, shock in your voice. “No, what?” “No, you can’t do that. It's too dangerous.” “But Ale…” “No. No ‘but Ale’. I get it. I have been your partner now for long enough. I understand. But this is too much. No oxygen, so many climbs… there is too much danger. No.” her tone firm. Final. Her Captain's voice. And that had made the walls feel like they were closing in for you. And you responded like a wild animal, backed into a corner, defensive. “I wasn’t asking.” She let out a frustrated groan, hands covering her face. “Carino, please no. Listen to me. Being with you…” a huff again… “it is hard.” “Oh well, I am sorry Alexia, if being with me is such a chore…” you started. “No, stop, you are not letting me speak…” but you had started at that point. “You are not the one who is hidden away, you aren’t one who has had to move countries, to miss her family, your life hasn’t changed! You’ve given up nothing for this relationship.” you hiss out at her, hardly recognising your own voice. You're speaking just to hurt her. To make this easier for both of you. And that final sentence, seems to be what breaks the usually cool and calm exterior of your girlfriend and she stands and points her finger at you. “Nothing! ¡nada! ¿Cómo te atreves?” she spits out at you, the anger in her tone surprises you, you have never heard her speak like this, “I have sat here and waited. For months I have waited. For anything from you. Being with you is not like a long-distance relationship. You go, for months at a time, you go. And you expect me to sit here and wait. And I do. You do not text, you do not call. I understand that you cannot but do not say I have made no sacrifice for this relationship. When you got lost in the Gobi desert for weeks, what do you think I was doing? Sitting here! Jumping out of my skin every time the phone rang in case it was your Mami telling me you had been found dead. I did not play in The Copa De La Reinga final because I was so sick with worry. He hecho sacrificio. mi equipo, mi familia ha hecho sacrificio and I will not let you disrespect me or them and let you say otherwise.” 

Alexia doesn’t lose any of her anger in her tirade. And the silence that settles over the apartment is heavy. She seems to have surprised herself, as her eyes go wide and she opens her mouth again… but you interrupt her. “No Ale. Do not apologise.” you hold your hand up. “I didn’t think. I'm sorry. You are right. I am not good for you.” This is why you didn’t do relationships. You were a bad partner. You needed to be free, outside, exploring. You lived for adventure. It wasn’t fair.

“No! No Carino, that is not what I said!” tears are in her eyes now, and you knew this would be hard, but you didn’t know it would be this hard. “I love you...” “I love you too,” she quickly replies. Neither of you had even been shy with your affirmations to each other. “I love you so much Ale. But I have to go and do this. I have too. It is who I am. It is my dream. It.. It is my world cup.” She huffs out a laugh as she gently nudges herself into your arms, your attempt at speaking in a way she would understand humouring her. “I know.” she replies, sadly, “but I cannot go through that for 18 months mi amor. I cannot.” “And I won’t ask you to, love.” You move a strand of hair from her face as you kiss her lips, gently, there's a finality in it, you open your mouth again but she cuts in. “I can’t say anything that will stop you, can i?” she asks, as you shake your head, sadly. “When do you leave?” You cringe as you confirm her worst thoughts, “tomorrow.” She takes a deep breath and presses her face into your neck. “Can we do one thing before you go?” she asks you. 

Anything. You would give this woman in your arms anything she asked for at that moment. Apart from stay. And that's how you found yourself swinging on your old lightweight hammock. 

Strung up securely in the Putellas back yard. As you lay on your (ex?) girlfriend's chest, as you both looked up at the stars. You chatted into the night, you laughed and you cried. You fumbled under the blankets like horny teenagers. She asked you to promise to contact when you could. And you asked her to not worry, to concentrate on the Olympics and move on from you. You kept it to yourself that there was no way you were moving on from her.  You didn't know she was keeping the same thing to herself as she promised you she would try.

It was the weirdest break up anyone had ever had.

And, 17 months later, as you lay, trapped, entombed in your own coffin of ice,  you were sure that you could still feel the sway of that hammock, feel the heat of that Barcelona evening and hear the cicadas chirping. As the ice pressed all around you, all you could dream of was being back in that back yard in Barcelona, in the arms of Alexia.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Denali. Done. Vinson. Done.

Aconcagua, Kilimanjaro, Elbrus, Puncak Jaya . Done, Done, Done and Done. You’d faced the heat of Africa, the remoteness of Antarctica, the desolation of Russia. And here you were, finally, on your final summit. Everest. It was somewhat of a dichotomy between the mountaineering community. Everest had become a commercial hub. Have-a-go mountaineers paying big bucks to get a free ride to the highest mountain in the world. But to you, it had always been sacred. You had imagined it, as you climbed hills in the English lakes as a teenager, of one day scaling the iconic mountain. So, why? As you stood on the highest point of earth. After 3 months of acclimatisation. Were you thinking of your ex-girlfriend? Who were you kidding? You knew why. 

Alexia hadn’t been far from your thoughts on any of your summits. Her face popping into your mind at each peak. As you pocketed some rock as had become your tradition you would imagine her face as your hand touched the earth. The same earth she was on, thousands of miles away, probably in lush, manicured grass, kicking a ball around and entertaining thousands. Your group had become your family, and you had grown as close as one. Arguing when tensions got high but snuggling together to share warmth when in survival mode. Joking in bars across the globe and playing so many games of gin rummy that you sure a record had been broken. They teased you relentlessly for the old boots with silly laces you wore on the lower reaches of each summit, before you reached heights that you all had to wear mountaineering boots. Alexia, unknowingly, with you every step of the way. They had even made a game in each country you entered, to help you pick the rudest or funniest postcard to send to Barcelona, snippets of your time you sent to Alexia, keeping the promise you made over a year ago. You could have rang, you know you could. But you didn’t know if you heard her voice you wouldn’t high-tail it to Barcelona. So you sent postcards. It felt old-fashioned. It felt romantic. And you think that really, you liked that she couldn’t reply. It felt anonymous. You took off your snow goggles as you stood at the peak. You had 3 minutes on the highest point on earth without your goggles before you would become snow blind. The sun being about 60% stronger at this elevation. You could see the curvature of the earth.  It reminded you of the curvature of Alexia's shoulders as you held her from behind.

You took in a deep breath of thin air.

Your lung capacity feels like it has doubled since you left Europe.

You have done it. Without oxygen. 7 summits. Your life goal. Complete.

And now. You wanted to go home. 

“Congratulations English Sherpa! You have done it!” Arjan, clamps a heavily gloved hand on your shoulder, his wide smile visible even beneath his snood. Ice hanging from his moustache. He had to shout for you to hear him over the wind. He was a sherpa, he had travelled all around the world with you being one of the experts in the group, he’d affectionately nicknamed you the English Sherpa after he had seen your climbing prowess on your first summit. “We have done nothing yet, my friend. You know you’ve only climbed Everest once you get back down safely” you reply, glee in your voice, fixing your goggles back to your face. “Spoken like a true Sherpa.” he replied, and you both embraced at the top of the world. You didn’t hang around for long. Your entire expedition made it to the top of your final summit and you quickly pictured the moment before making your way down. The biggest risk on Everest is getting stuck in a crowd. It is not as technically difficult as other summits you have done. But without oxygen, a minute can feel like an hour on the highest point on earth. You heard once, it is easier to be saved from the surface of the moon than it is to be saved from the surface of Everest. Luck, however, seemed to be on your side. You had made good progress up, and were making even better progress down. With each step you became more and more gleeful, past 8,000 metres you started to finally feel safer. 7,000 metres, you let the excitement of your achievement settle into your bones. 6,000 metres you let your mind wander to finally going home but why was home seeming more like a sundrenched balcony in Barcelona rather than a green field of England? 5,000 metres, you promised yourself that you would use the satellite phone in your pocket to ring Alexia once you got back to base camp. Tell her you’d done it. Maybe even beg her forgiveness. You were alone on the mountain, ahead of most of your group and low enough now to be unattached to any guidelines, it was a usual affair.  Until it wasn’t.

You felt the ground rumble beneath you. It was barely noticeable. It felt more like the feeling you get when you’re lying in bed and a large truck drives past your house.

But it was enough to instil fear in you as you looked up and saw a wall of moving snow hurtling towards you. It was a slab avalanche, probably caused by the movement of the climbers above, and paired with the lateness of the day, the snow that had fallen and compacted overnight had melted enough to loosen into a wall of ice that was directed your way.

You had about 30 seconds.

You knew to go sideways, do not outrun an avalanche. It's like trying to outrun a cheetah. But this wall of ice looked wide, you ran to your side, moving slowly in the deep snow. As you ran you pulled your goggles back onto your face.

You could feel the earth beneath you falling away as the snow you trod on was unearthed by the vibrations of the snow above.

You ran. You ran for your life, but you knew this wasn’t good. Your training kicked in.

You saw a boulder in front of you and you threw yourself behind it, you created a ball with your body, making sure that you created a hole around your face you would be able to use to breathe. You pulled your ice pole from your back and stuck it into the ground next to you, that would help when you were covered by snow and you didn't know which way was up. Which way you would need to dig. You put one hand in your pocket and pulled the satellite phone in front of your face.

A thunderous rumble. 

And then. 

Silence. Darkness.  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alexia didn’t have her phone on at half time. She never paid it any attention - playing or not she was too focussed on the game.

Today, though, she didn’t know why. But she did.

She felt her phone vibrate in the bag at her feet.

And something compelled her to actually make the effort to dig into her bag and pull it out.

The number looked weird. Not a Spanish number, or an English one, she had gotten used to all the +44’s that had rang her over the year spent with you.

She stepped out of the unfamiliar changing room into the impressive corridors of Old Trafford. A post-season friendly. Barcelona Vs Manchester United. The game didn’t mean anything but it was always exciting to check another famous stadium off the list. A sold out crowd and an evening game. Can’t get much better.

She found a disused office room and managed to press accept on the call.

“Hola?”

At first she thought she’d missed it. Nothing on the line responded to her, as she pulled the phone away to check she saw the call had connected… ‘Scammers’ she cursed in her mind, moving to hang up. But just before she did…

“Hola, Ale.” She couldn’t believe it. Your voice. She dropped her weight onto the table behind her and held a hand to her chest that suddenly felt like it was torn in two. Heart beating faster than any 45 minutes of running could cause.

“¿eres realmente tú?”

“Yes, It’s me Ale.”

Tears brimmed in her eyes and even after everything she felt just the same as she did when she stepped out of that minibus nearly 3 years ago and first set eyes on you.

“Are you okay carino? Did you do it?”  she asked, breathlessly. “I did it, love.” was the response. In her pride at your accomplishment she missed how you hadn’t addressed her first question.

“Nunca tuve ninguna duda, I am so relieved to hear from you. The line is so quiet, are you still there?”

“Si…” a pause which Alexia attributes to the poor connection, “It must be the signal.” she notices you move on, quickly, “Can… can you just talk to me?”. Alexia smiles despite herself, you used to always ask her to talk you to sleep when your mind was whirring, completing your greatest accomplishment must be in that category and she can imagine you fidgeting in pent up adrenaline.

“I can amor, I have a few minutes. I am in Manchester. We are at half time at Old Trafford.”

“Old Trafford, hey?” she hears you laugh, “Finally, a football ground I’ve heard of.” She's missed your teasing lilt.

“Si, even you. It is raining. Why is it always raining here? I imagine you have better weather even at your camp.” Alexia jokes, innocently. The laugh you let out feels a little… forced? But she lets it go.

“I had lunch with your Mami today. We are only an hour or so away from yours, why did you never tell me we were so close?” Again, that laugh that she loves so much, but it felt more tired that she’d heard it before, more muffled. Though. She supposed, you must be exhausted.

“Because then, my love, you would have made us go and watch football matches and I much preferred to spend our time together in my bed.”

“Ah, Si, I remember, you did.” she responds, blushing and not missing a beat. 

“Your Mami is doing well. She is in the stands….” “Tell her I love her, Ale.” you cut in. There's a desperate edge to your voice that sends shivers down Alexia's spine. She stands, “I will. Of course I will. Carino, are you okay?” she realises now, you never answered her first question. “I stood on the top of Everest today, Ale.” you reply. You haven’t answered her question. She opens her mouth to ask it again but you continue, “I stood on the top of Everest and all I could think of was you.” Your words force her to sit again, her spare hand to her mouth, keeping in a muffled sob. “Don’t you think that's insane? That today, Ale. You were in Manchester and someone. On top of the world. The highest point on this Earth. The highest person on this planet. Only about 4 spacemen floating around above me. Had only you in their mind? I think that means you’ve been to the top of the world, Ale. En la cima del mundo conmigo. You were there with me, every step.” You sound drunk, she wouldn’t blame you, thin air for months it wouldn’t take more than half a pint to see you off, the thought of your ramblings makes her smile despite herself, she knows she shouldn’t, but she leans into it. “Everyone here talks like you….” she pauses, “In Manchester. Only me and Ona can understand them. With your flat vowels. It made me think of you more today. Miss you more than normal today. And now you call.” There's a knock on the office door, “Ale, Vamos!” half time has ended. She has never wanted to play football less than right now. “Because we’re soulmates” your voice definitely had a slur to it now, “and I miss you too. I’ll always miss you, my Ale.” you always got soppier when you drank. “You won’t miss me for long, Carino. You will be home soon. I don’t care if you decide that it's England or Spain. Whichever. I will be there. Si?... We will be together soon. We can sort all this out.” “Hopefully, n..to..oo soon.” she struggles to hear you, the connection starting to fail. “Pardon? Amor?” another knock at the door. She feels like she's being pulled in half as she presses the phone closer to her ear. “Amor. I have to go. Well done, Estoy tan orgullosa de ti. Call me when you can.” “I love you, Ale…” “I lo…” beep beep beep. The call drops before she has a chance to respond. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You feel pain all over your body. You had never felt pain like it. It was like every sinew in your body was screaming out in pain. You opened your eyes and immediately closed them again. Blinding white. You heard voices. Alarmed voices. 

Shouting voices. “HERE, HERE!!!” You felt yourself being moved. It made the pain worse. You tried to tell them to stop. 

Your throat couldn't make a sound. And then all you knew was black. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- More darkness. You felt something covering your face. Your body being stripped. Water. Boiling water. It burned. You were submerged. “No no no no no no…” was all you could try to vocalise. A calming hand in your hair. “It is lukewarm water, we are trying to bring your body temperature up…” 

No, no. They were lying. The voice was lying. You thrashed. A pain in your arm. A needle? Darkness took you again. —--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “There is no chance, Arjan.” “Bu….” “No. You are an experienced Sherpa. You are letting yourself get lost. There is no chance. She is too far gone. Air evac is the only way. No Nepalese pilot will fly at this altitude. We need to make her comfortable…” —--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You felt yourself being moved.

Less painful this time.

You felt wind on your face.

This wasn’t natural wind.

The sound of blades. Air moving unnaturally. Choppily.

Your face is covered again. 

The wind gets louder. More mechanical. You feel yourself being lifted up. “You’ve some friends in high places, English Sherpa.” you hear whispered to you, a hand on your forehead. Arjan? Your friend is speaking to you. You feel less alone. You try to open your eyes but the effort feels herculean. And then nothingness. —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This time, when you wake up. You stay awake. You’re in an unfamiliar room. It’s obvious it's a hospital room. But you’re alone. You look around and see yourself wired up to all sorts of machines. But that's it. You try to move to sit up but your shoulder screams in protest. You take stock of your body. You feel a bandage wrapped around your head. Your head is banging now you think about it. Your right arm is completely immobile. Your arm wrapped across your chest and hand completely covered by bandages. You try to wiggle your fingers but. Nothing. God. You hope they’re still there. Before you had too long to spiral the door burst open and you were faced with a smiling, familiar face. “Arjan!” you try to exclaim, voice rough from underuse. “She’s awake. My friend!” his sun-soaked face suits his smile. His bushy eyebrows make his eyes almost invisible as he crinkles them in joy. Arjan settles next to you and fills you in on everything you were present for, but missed out on account of being buried alive or completely unconscious. Your choice to hide behind the boulder had been the first thing to save your life. It had protected you from being swept away by the avalanche and was easier to locate. Before you had called Alexia you had contacted base camp. But your GPS had been knocked off so all they knew was that you were alive. And where you told them you had last been. You’d lost consciousness fairley quickly. Brain starved of oxygen in the small air pocket you had created. Hypothermia had set in slowly.

Your hand had been left exposed after using the phone, and you remember wiggling your fingers, seeing them slowly turn black as they succumbed to frostbite. It had taken 3 days to find you. Luckily, you had been the only person caught up in the snow. You remember, now, coming in and out of consciousness. You even recall a bad spell of seeing Alexias face in the boulder your head rested against and talking to it. Maybe you’d keep that you yourself. Bit embarrassing really. Your legs were pinned down by snow. You had used your last piece of strength to thrust your ice pole upwards. You'd chosen the direction based on the way your tears fell. That was the second thing that had saved your life. Arjan had spotted the pole in the ice field. Days after everyone else had given up on ever finding you. You’d been dragged to base camp and they started to treat hypothermia. You were more than halfway to dead. You resembled a corpse. Arjan had told you he'd never seen anyone literally blue. “Pulled it off tho, my friend” he’d tried to joke. “Of course, always” you’d winked back in reply. You'd have no chance of survival whilst still on the mountain. The air was still too thin and your were suffering from hypoxia. Problem was, the air was too thin for an air evacuation and. Well. As you knew. It was easier to be saved from the surface of the moon than it was to be saved from the surface of Everest. The third thing that had saved you. Was Alexia. “You have someone who’s gone to the moon and back for you, my friend.” Once she’d found out you had gone missing she had gone to the UK embassy in London to start a search and rescue campaign. When they hadn’t moved quickly enough she had involved the Spanish government. She’d used her resources and status to launch a media campaign which had pressured both governments. She’d flown to Kathmandu herself and was trying to hire a plane to Lukla when you’d been found. Then her attention turned to locating a pilot crazy enough to fly at such an altitude. Turns out anyone was crazy enough for the right price. And many, many euros later, the highest ever search flight took off from the surface of Everest, with you on board. “She’s a force to be reckoned with, your girl.”

He told you, as he reached to the ground below you, “...and you’ll be happy to hear, I saved your precious boots” he dumped your familiar old tattered boots at the bottom of your bed.

“And some stuff from your tent. But I had to hike it out so I left some of the smellier clothes.” he joked, as you thanked him, he really was a good man. “... Wait… hike it out? How long have I been here?” “You’ve been unconscious for a week my friend. I always told you you were lazy.” You took a moment to take stock. A week. Well. That meant that even if Alexia had been in Kathmandu, she was a million miles away now. The door opens again and you’re too lost in your own thoughts to give any care to the nurse whos been coming in every now and again checking charts whilst you and Arjan chatted. “Ah here she is. La Reina herself!” You turned your head quickly and took in the face that had been the last image in your mind every night, and the first every morning, since the day you had parted. “Ale…” you breathed. Here. She was here. In Kathmandu. In the same room as you. 

She looked as beautiful as ever, hair flowing over her shoulders, blonder than the last time you had seen her. She had gained muscle and her features had sharpened. But everything else was the same. Her smell invaded your senses. That smell that mosquitoes loved so much. You got it. Her eyes were sharp, and directed firmly at you. They looked tired. She held a sense of exhaustion. You wanted her to fall into your arms, but she stood at the door, and you couldn't open them to welcome her in. The moment was heavy and Arjan broke the silence and stood… “I’ll leave you both to it. See you around English Sherpa.” and with a squeeze of your foot he was gone. Leaving you both in a heavy silence. “Thank You Ale.” you said, breaking the silence.

After all Arjan told you, you owed her your life. She didn't respond. But her eyes had moved from your face and were now directed at the boots still on your bed. As battered as ever, Blaugrana laces snapped and re-tied in several places, swatch still visible on the tongue. Maybe you thought that your meeting would be a bit more romantic, not as…tense? She stroked one of the boots gently with her finger, seemingly lost in a trance. “Ale…?” “You have a habit of not telling me important things.” Whatever you expected it wasnt that. “Qué?” “That you speak Spanish, how you feel, I don’t know… that your trapped in a fucking avalanche.” you’d seen her angry before, you’d seen that anger directed at you, but this felt worse. It was directed through you. She kept her distance when all you wanted to do was hold her close. “How could you do that? How could you let us speak knowing that you were about to freeze to death and just chat to me, like it was a normal Sunday afternoon?” “I…I didn’t want to worry you…” you croaked out, you felt like a school child who was being told off by the head teacher. And you deserved it, you supposed. “I will always worry about you, por el amor de dios!!” She started to pace around the bottom of your bed, your eyes moving like they were taking in a tennis match watching her wear the ground down. “...and to think I finished that game. I slept that night at your flat. Happy, finally feeling like I almost had you back. Your mami took me home. And then, the next morning, I walked into the kitchen. And there she was, crying at the table. She could hardly tell me what had happened. And then it all fell into place. You’d called me when you thought you were already in your grave, didn’t you?” All you could do was nod, arms desperate to dry the tears tracking down her face. “I’m glad to see you.” you let out. Unsure of what else to say. “You won’t be. I am so, so angry at you.” “I know you are bu…” 

“No, you did your speaking on that Mountain. Now you listen” Her tears are dry now and the anger is back in her face. “I have sorted a medical flight. We leave tonight. We’re going back to Barcelona. I don’t care if you want to go back to that rainey island or not. It’s not your choice, it's mine. You almost froze to death, you need the sun. The warm. You will come with me every day to the doctors at the club. They will monitor you. Your family will come to visit. You will go to a therapist. You will take your medication. You will not ignore your medication because you think its better to treat yourself with whatever crushed bug or mashed-up leaves you think is better….” She stops for breath. “That was one time…” you mumbled, referring back to the time you insisted that a crushed cucumber was better than antiseptic cream to treat a bee sting. “Nope. You are still listening.” She stopped you, firmly again, but you felt her eyes softening as she took you in, “... and when we get home and you get better, we will talk. We will decide where we are building our life together, but that is one non-negotiable. It will be together. Okay?” She seems to be finished. And she's moved closer to you, close enough for you to reach out and grab her hand with your good one. You nod, and pull her hand to cup your face. “I just have one question.” you ask, seeking permission to speak. She nods as she strokes your face, tired and burnt from over-exposure. “Are these fingers still attached?” you ask, shaking your injured arm at her, “they’re kind of important for my plans, if you know what I mean” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively. Her laugh makes you think maybe you did die on that mountain, because surely, here, with her, you’re in heaven. “Te amo, idiota” —-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You awoke surrounded by soft sheets and sleep-warm pillows. Your once-injured arm tweaked in pain slightly as you stretched out. You had physio later this afternoon, you thought to yourself, you had better mention it. You rolled out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen, still covered in blankets, bed hair resembling a yeti. You almost tripped up over your rucksack which was laying in the hall. Where it had been since your return to Barcelona, months ago. You hadn’t been ready to unpack it quite yet. You could hear Alexia on the phone out on the balcony, and you gestured the international, ‘want a drink’ sign to her, which she shook her head at. You shrugged. God, sometimes she was so Spanish. A good Brit would never let a hot kettle go to waste. It had been months of reconnection, Alexia finally letting go of her anger as soon as you entered the flat. She broke down in your arms that first night, simultaneously telling you how angry she was at you and how much she loved you at the same time. How she had never been as scared in her life. You just dealt with it by pressing kisses into her hairline.

She'd made you sit in the sun of the balcony every chance she got. Morning, Noon and Night. Moving you around to chase the rays. Insisting that you needed the warmth and vitamins of the sun to recover. The image of you pale, cold and frozen in the hospital in Nepal seared into her mind. When Mapi and Ingrid visited Mapi teased you, and had taken to calling you Bagheera. She said you resembled her cat, chasing the sun to lounge in at every occasion. She quickly stopped when Alexia slapped the back of her head. You no longer had to hide your relationship. Alexia had blown the doors off that as she went to the media in order to get the resources to save you. The feeling of claustrophobia that had made you flee from Barcelona had gone. You knew what being trapped really felt like now. And how you ever thought the love of your life and a shared life in this sun-drenched city was suffocating. Well. That was a different person to who you were now. Yeah, you would always love the outdoors. But you had an anchor now. Something that made you maybe not scale that next peak, and instead be excited to share a recipe with. Maybe not stay on the trail for an extra week, and instead pick out a good film to settle down to. Your mum was over the moon. She’d been a regular visitor. You thought she’d be upset, when you decided to stay in Spain instead of going back to England but she seemed offended by the idea. “That girl saved your life you stupid woman, of course will stay here with her.” Alexia didn’t accept it so easily. She was worried you would feel trapped again, that she wasn’t compromising. She would rather move with you than lose you. “Ale. Barna is your life.” you had replied, simply, “...and you are mine.” “It is not!” she had refused, aghast at the suggestion until you said, “United will have me, so will City, my agent has checked, I would even go to the Championship and play for Newcastle, I look great in black!” “Ale, you literally have a floor tile tattooed on your back. We’re staying here.” you said, deadpan. And she couldn’t say much to that. So, much to the despair of every football fan in England. She signed a new contract with Barcelona not two weeks ago. Maybe it was how settled you felt this morning, as the kettle boiled. The soreness in your muscles after the night you spent together in bed, which must be why your shoulder was straining now. Maybe you'd keep that away from the physio. Though, maybe he’d be happy to hear that your fingers were definitely fully recovered. Not as happy as Alexia was though, you'd bet. But something about this morning made you brave enough to finally open that rucksack in the hallway. As you zipped it open your fingers caught on a single piece of cardboard. A postcard. You flipped it over as arms encircled your waist and gentle lips kissed your shoulder. “Carino?” she asked, looking at the postcard in your hands. “I never got to give you this.” you whispered, as you held the postcard over your shoulder, she let you go as she turned it in her hands. She let out a barking laugh as she moved towards the fridge where 6 other postcards sat proudly, waiting for their 7th to complete the set. A woman in a bikini, sat on a yak wearing a cowboy hat, the imposing structure of Everest in the background. A speech bubble coming out of her mouth ‘I’ve seen bigger’. Alexia rolled her eyes at you as she stuck it to the fridge with a magnet showing the message you wrote all those months ago.

“Ale, I’m here. 

One more summit and I’ll be on my way back to you. For good. How can I say it in your language? ‘It’s coming home’. 

fin. 

[ranticore]

happy anniversary STBH!! i bought both books while on a week break and read them both in two days voraciously despite my phone failing to decipher the epub files (squinting at a 200x zoomed pdf is a painful way to read but it was so worth it). i am periodically rotating the characters round my mind like the hypothetical apple number 1. Cain especially has been placed in my little mental cabinet of curiosity that i drop by during quiet hours to think about. love that man. number one cain fan. chewing him like an interesting stick. i love every other character as well though theyre all so fascinating and v human

anyway all this ramble to say i love your works and im patiently waiting for the moth release. ur prose is so lovely and i love love love the way you interpret folklore and mythology and your art

question for the stbh gang: what actually are their daemons? i know felix has estibarith the swan but im so curious as to the rest...

omg noo i'm so sorry the epub didn't work! i know you already suffered through it but for anyone else with this issue, i have a recommendation for google books app (if using android) but even if that doesn't work, you can always contact me and we can make something more readable (like a pdf with big font or something) that fits

i'm so happy that cain resonates with people, that old man is a favourite of mine even if i did forget to change his name from the original placeholder (whoops). he's a lil fucked up now but his story is far from over

as for tha daemons..

Islin: i narrowed it down to two potentials?? That i kind of bounce between. I tend to lean more towards a polled bull than anything else - a same-sex daemon which would be the only one in the cast i think, which i tried to parallel in pern story with him being the only one who doesn't match the canon rules for rider sexuality & dragon colour. but regardless the daemon is called Tarannach and the overall symbolism is a massive powerful dominant animal who is nonetheless "de-fanged" in some way (polled cattle naturally lack horns!) and appears more peaceful as a result. Tarannach is wilful and domineering, disagrees with Islin frequently (before Islin has his spine-growing moments), and unapologetically takes up space. would also be a massive inconvenience in day to day life but that's kind of the point. Before settling as a bull, Tarannach went through phases of wanting to be smaller and smaller.

Bowman has a dog daemon. It just has to be that way, there's no getting around it. I joked around that she would be a poodle but actually I would lean more towards a collie instead, a herding type. Something that looks rough and ready but is actually surprisingly high maintenance. Her name is Nell/Nellie. Her personality is irreverent, never takes anything seriously. She turns into a feral animal during the full moon.

We know Estibariz is a swan but some more about her - she wanted to be a lioness, something big and fierce, and Félix insisted that she would probably end up a serpent or a fox, something with connotations of being a sneaky liar, and he felt that when she did settle, it would be an externalisation of some inner ugliness he never wanted anyone else to see. when she did settle she enjoyed a big I Told You So. When he was taken by Puck and spat out again, she returned as a form-shifting daemon again, and had gained the ability to separate from him and travel long distances. She never shapeshifted willingly though. The first person to touch Estibariz aside from Félix was Bowman. The second person was Helena.

Clarion is the only one whose daemon was actually, for real, a horse. His name was Drey and he was a dapple grey draft breed.

Senca is obviously a witch so also had a daemon who could travel far from her. He was a bird, I thought maybe a nightjar or collared dove. Never got that far in the au so didn't pick a name. We'll just call him Namiliyath

Léa's was a thorny devil

Jean's is a ferret and her name is Missy. It looks like it could potentially be an ermine, a symbol of nobility, but no. It's a common hunting animal, white with black eyes.

Erica's is a magpie

Pascal does not have a daemon. There's something there that looks very swanlike, but it speaks with his voice. In a human au, it's a golden eagle.

I don't think I made anything for other characters, again I never got that far writing it

[munsons-melody]

hi! i read your 'angeleyes' fic and it was AMAZING i was just wondering.. perhaps, just maybe, a part 2-ish where y/n and eddie actually have that picnic at lovers lake ?? i think that would be so cute and pure 🤭 or it could be a totally separate thing from the fic itself!

eeek i'm so happy you wanted a part 2!! sorry for the late response, i wanted to write the fic as perfect as possible before responding, i hope you love it!! <3

your song (angeleyes part two)

summary: you and eddie finally get your date at lovers lake

(part two to my fic angeleyes which can be found here)

pairing: eddie x female!henderson!reader

content: pure fluffiness

recommended song: 'your song' by elton john

word count: 4.4k

masterlist

i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.

-

after you and eddie reconciled in the back of the RV, you vowed to yourself that you would let nothing happen to him and he of course already told you that he would keep you safe no matter what

even when that meant reading his mind when returning through the gate. you had watched dustin climb through the rope into normal hawkins, before turning to eddie. he gave you a chaste kiss before helping you up and through the gate, but once through, you looked down to see eddie staring at where the demo bats were attempting to breach through the top of the trailer

"edward james munson, get your ass through this gate right now!" you screamed, knowing he wanted to go out there and keep fighting, be the hero he was destined to be

"coming" he mumbled, snapping out of his thoughts and looking back up through the gate to see you

once you reconvened with everyone back in the real world, you felt some weight fall off your shoulders, assuming vecna was dead, and you felt a sense of normalcy headed your way, however, that was not what happened

eddie was found and arrested within hours of being back in the real hawkins because a couple people spotted movement within his trailer

you sat on the cold hard chair in the waiting room of the hawkins police department. it had been at least an hour since eddie was taken back to the small cell they had in the back of the building. you sat there with your hands buried in your hands with dustin next to you, who was biting on his thumb nail out of pure anxiety.

the news had not gone public but you were scared that at any minute, angry mobs of people would appear, ready to rip him apart for something he didn't do

sheriff powell walked into the room, handing a file over to florence who sat behind her desk. you stood up, looking for some sort of sign that you would be able to go back and see him

"uh we need to ask you a couple of questions as well, if you wouldn't mind," he said, ushering you to follow him

"no, whatever you want to ask, you can ask me right here," you said, crossing your arms

"ugh whatever, uh, did he force either of you two into his murderous plans?" he started, flipping open a small notebook, clicking his pen with a frustrated sigh

it was obvious that since he took on the role of the hawkins sheriff, he never expected to be put in a situation like this and as the arresting officer, he was clearly stressed knowing he had the number one suspect of the murders in the building and only him and florence knew that he was sitting in the holding cell

"what? no! that's crazy, he is innocent!" dustin yelled

"son, you need to remain calm or we won't be able to get to the bottom of this," he said, rubbing his forehead in distress

"calm? you want me to stay calm? you just arrested someone who is more innocent than mother theresa! he was framed!" dustin yelled again, throwing his hands up to dramatize his point

just then, the phone rang.

"hawkins police department, how may i help you?" she said picking up the phone and placing it on her ear. she balanced it between her shoulder as she grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, writing something down

she muttered a couple of "uh-huhs" before hanging up the phone and standing up, walking over to the sheriff

"that was officer callahan, he just found some kids at the abandoned creel house, one of them with broken arms and legs like the others, she was taken to the hospital about half an hour ago" florence explained, and you looked at dustin

"is she awake? can she talk?" powell asked and florence shrugged

"they didn't say," she responded and Powell nodded

"i'll be back, you two stay here" powell said firmly, grabbing his sheriff hat and walking out the door

you nodded, and sat down again, tears pricking at your eyes feeling frustrated as ever

"are you guys hungry?" florence asked sweetly and you shook your head, rubbing your forehead

"you sure? cause i can go grab something next door, and while i do so, there's no one here to stop you from seeing mr. munson..." she trailed off

you lifted your head up, picking up on what she was trying to say. she would leave to get food and while she was gone, she was going to let you see eddie

"but what about-" you started and she shook her head

"i'm going to go get you two food, you two look famished" florence said again, grabbing her coat and purse and walking swiftly out of the door leaving you and dustin alone in the building

you would assume that there would be more officers working, but most were out patroling the streets or looking for eddie, unaware that the sherriff already brought him in

you quickly ran down the hall and turned the corner to see eddie sitting on the hard metal bench that was connected to the wall, his head in his hands

"eddie?" you said urgently. he lifted his head up to see you and instantly got up and walked towards the bars that divided the two of you

"y/n, how did you get back here?" he asked, linking his hand with yours that met on one of the bars

"florence let me back but that's not important, how are you?" you asked sympathetically

"oh you know, just peachy, i almost die defeating an evil force just to get thrown in jail for a crime i didn't commit" he said sarcastically. you knew he was using it as a defense mechanism to cover the fact that he wanted to cry and scream and punch a wall for being in the worst situation imaginable

"well i am going to do everything in my power to get you out of here i promise" you told him and he nodded, wiping away a tear

"oh eddie bear don't cry" you said, using his nickname you started to call him when you first started dating

"ew, eddie bear?" dustin said, appearing behind you

"hey at least she is being nice" eddie snapped back and dustin crossed his arms

"i am nice too! i'm here to help get you out," dustin told him and you sorta droned out as the two continued to bicker like brothers with one another

you both stayed with eddie for a couple more minutes before you heard the bell of the front door ring, signaling someone was coming in

"shit, okay, i love you, i'll be back" you said to eddie, disconnecting your hands and following dustin out of the room and down the hall back to where the desks were

florence came back in holding a large brown paper bag, giving you a small smile

"sorry im a few minutes later than i should've been, there was a long line" she said with a wink, handing you the bag

you thanked her as she took out one package of food and headed down the hallway, presumably towards eddie, and left the rest to you and dustin as you dove into the meal

you were almost done, snacking on a couple of leftover fries when both sheriff powell and officer callahan walked into the building and down the hall to eddie

you got up, following them, not caring if you would get reprimanded for doing so. they were both silent as you watched them unlock the cell, eddie standing up and looking at them with confusion

"mr. munson, under new evidence you are no longer under arrest for the murders of chrissy cunningham, fred benson, and patrick mckinney. you are free to go" powell said with a grisly voice

eddie slowly walked out of the cell, staring at the two officers incase they were to have a snap in judgment and throw him back in

"what.. what do you mean?" you asked as he walked to you, giving you a hug

"we cannot disclose much but, we found that there was another accident that occurred when mr. munson here was in this cell, which proves.." callahan started to say

"it proves he didn't do it since we had him detained here so there was no way he was able to get out and do anything" powell finished

you started crying, and your arms wrapped around eddie, pulling him in close

"thank god" you mumbled out, before it hit you

-

the next day you woke up in your bed, eddie next to you. after all the shit that went down, you were more than happy to be showered and laying in bed next to eddie who was no longer convicted of a crime he didn't commit

the two of you snuck into your room the night before as you were promised as of 12 pm last night, the news would be spread that eddie munson was innocent

you knew that even with the proof of innocence, people would still be cruel towards your boyfriend so you decided the best course of action was to let him sleep all day in a comfy bed, then take him on a picnic to lovers lake. it would be secluded and give you a chance to just be with him

you rolled out of bed quietly and walked out of your room and down the hall to the living room. you saw your mom sitting in her chair with tews sitting on her lap, watching the news

"did you see this?" she asked, motioning to the tv where you saw the headline underneath powell stating the new evidential facts

new evidence found in munson case - suspect found innocent

"yeah uh, i did see that, i actually picked him up from the station last night..." you told her and she gasped

"where is he now? he obviously can't go home" she asked

"now mom, don't get mad but he had to stay over last night-" you tried to explain and she got up, putting tews on the seat behind her

"he's here?" she said with a mix of a shout with a whisper, you gulped with a nod

"well, that poor thing! after everything he's been through! does he need anything?" she asked, and you were shocked

"oh uh, not now? he's sleeping but when he gets up he'll probably need something to eat and then i'm taking him on a picnic tonight," you smiled sheepishly

"oh good, well i do have to head to work soon but please make him feel at home, poor thing has been through enough" she told you and you nodded with an unsure smile

"yeah sure" was all you said as she walked to her room

you stood there, stunned. to be fair she knew you and eddie were dating and how close he and dustin were, but the whole situation of him being accused of something so heinous really freaked her out.

you checked the time and saw it was only about 8 am, your mom would leave in a few minutes and you knew for a fact eddie and dustin, who were both dead asleep, would probably not wake up till hours later

figuring you should do something of use, you decided to wash eddie's clothes, start prepping food for your picnic, and find some other things to busy yourself with

-

"how's max" you asked nancy. she was at the hospital with mike and lucas, and she called you after wondering where you went. you explained the eddie situation which she was thankful for, and updated the rest of the group for you.

"alive, but her arms and legs are broken and in casts, the doctors don't know when she'll wake up," she said as you heard her sniffles

a few tears started to fall upon hearing the news, and you nodded, thankful she was alive but praying she would wake up and everything would be okay

"how's eddie doing?" she asked just as you heard a door creak open. you looked around the corner to see eddie coming out of your room in just a pair of boxers

"speak of the devil, he just woke up," you told her as eddie wrapped his arms around you, the warmth of his body heating up yours

you continued to talk with nancy for a few more minutes as eddie slowly swayed you side to side. the two of you eventually said goodbye and you hung up, turning your body to face eddie

"hi baby" he said as you put your arms around his shoulders, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck

"how'd you sleep?" you asked

"fucking amazing, such an upgrade from ricks couch," he said, kissing your forehead

you stood like that for a handful of minutes, enjoying the bliss of standing in each others arms.

"you hungry?" you asked. "yeah" he mumbled out. you went to move out of his arms but he wouldn't let you move

"baby i kinda have to go to the kitchen" you laughed, trying to worm your way out of his arms and he gripped tighter

"nope, cant let you go, i love you too much" he laughed as he fake wrestled you to avoid you leaving his arms

eddie and you fumbled to the floor, causing you two to burst into giggles. you hadn't heard his laugh in the longest time and it warmed your heart

"i've missed that" you said, leaning on your side to look at him. he propped himself up on his arm and out the other around your waist

"missed what" he asked, stroking your hip lightly with his thumb

"you, your smile, your laugh, everything" you giggled out

"i missed everything about you too" he said, using his hand on your hip to pull you close. he swiftly moved so he was hovering over you, slowly leaning down to kiss you

just as your lips touched, you heard a few footsteps and then a loud "what the fuck, get off the floor" by an annoyed dustin, who clearly just woke up

"sorry man" eddie mumbled out, and got up, and helped you up from the floor as well

you cooked the two of them breakfast, and munched on a few pieces here and there before dustin got up, putting his plate in the sink

"i'm going to get dressed and then head to the hospital to see max, can you drive me there?" he asked eddie, and he nodded a yes

"uh babe, where are my clothes?" eddie asked

"oh i washed and dried them for you, they should be downstairs, i can go get it" you said, kissing his temple in passing

you quickly got his clothes out of the dryer and brought them back up from the basement, going to your room and setting them on your bed

you went back to the kitchen, and started cleaning the dishes up, noticing dustin left the table

"i put your clothes on my bed" you said to him when he came up behind you and kissed your neck

"or we can make it even and you can lose your clothes" he suggested, kissing up your neck

you smiled, drying your hands on the small towel next to the sink

"oh really?" you smirked, as he kissed up your neck, you pressed back against him causing a small moan to emit from his perfect pink lips

"okay eddie im ready to go!" you heard dustin scream as he walked down the hall

"fucking cock block" eddie mumbled, leaning his forehead against your shoulder causing you to giggle

"go on, i'm gonna work on our surprise date" you said and he kissed your shoulder

"its not really a surprise if you tell me about it" he said, pulling away from you causing the chilly air to nip at your skin

"well i had to tell you cause you're gonna drive us there" you said smiling

"oh really?" he said, pulling you in for another kiss

"really" you said pulling away

"ew gross guys cmon im right here" you heard dustin complain. you giggled as you watched eddie flick dustins temple as he passed him on the way to your room

a few minutes later he came back out wearing his newly cleaned hellfire t shirt and black jeans, slipping on his shoes

"lets go" he said, keys in hand

-

after eddie got back, you two packed up food, and you honestly didn't care that you knew he knew where you guys were going

you had gotten dressed into a comfy sweater and jeans, knowing it was going to be a bit nippy when the sun set by the lake

eddie helped you push the picnic basket and blankets into the back of his van then helped you up into the passenger seat, shutting your door for you, always refusing for you to get it because to him 'a lady should never get her own door' and always insisted he did it instead

"so i think i know where we're having our surprise date" eddie said with a smirk, hopping into the drivers seat and shutting the door 

he turned on the engine in his van and started the usual drive from your house to lovers lake 

the radio played softly, and you turned your body to admire him, watching him focus on the road, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the clutch.

"what's going through your mind pretty girl?" he asked, noticing you looking 

"nothing, just admiring how pretty you are," you smiled, and he stretched the hand he had on the clutch and moved it to your thigh

you put your hand on top of his, stroking his skin lightly before your hands intertwined. you felt the roughness of his calloused fingers graze over yours along with the metal of his rings that he refused to go anywhere without 

"you think i'm pretty?" he asked, a small smile tugging at his lips as he glanced over at you

"of course, god broke the mold when he made you," you said with a giggle and eddie rolled his eyes, a real smile stretching over his face 

"that's so cheesy" eddie said with a chuckle. the radio continued to play as you sat in comfortable silence

but it wasn't long before the two of you were talking about everything and anything as you usually would end up doing but you secretly loved it, to you it proved you would never run out of things to talk about 

before you knew it, you had arrived at your usual spot in lovers lake. it was a small, quiet area that you hadn't seen too many people in but it was perfect for the two of you. there was enough room for the van to be parked on the side of the road, and your usual spot sat in a clearing of bushes which provided some privacy which was nice. it was also close to the water which gave the right amount of ambience to your dates with eddie. it was a peaceful intermission from life everytime you came here and that's why it soon became your favorite 

of course during the break up, you were very upset you couldn't go there to think, just out of pure fear you were to see eddie here with some other girl. but you didn't know what was worse, running into him on a date with another girl in your spot, or seeing him there all alone and not being able to be with him sitting on the shoreline 

you and eddie took your stuff from his van and walked down to where you normally set the blanket and you had a sense of deja vu wash over you 

"agh i'm getting deja vu" you spoke, setting down the blanket which made eddie chuckle

"i just take it that if it was meant to happen before you're where you're meant to be right now" eddie said setting up the food, and you laughed 

"when did you become so wise?" you asked in surprise and eddie shrugged with a smile 

"somewhere on the walk from the car to here" eddie joked

-

the sun had set, the food was finished, and the music was playing from one of eddie's transistor radios he had from his van

you were leaning against eddie who was sitting against a tree, giving you the perfect view of the lake while eddie's arms wrapped around you 

the song on the radio changed and suddenly you were listening to the familiar tune of 'your song' by elton john

"ugh i love elton, but this song is so cheesy and overplayed" you complained to eddie

"can i tell you a secret?" he responded causing you confusion on his response 

"yeah?" you told him

"i actually kinda like this song" he said with a sheepish smile 

"what?" you said in surprise and he nodded, shifting his position to get up, offering a hand to help you up from your spot 

you stood up as he gently pulled you in close, your hands were on his chest as his arms snaked around your waist, and he rested his hands on your lower back 

he started to dance with you as the lyrics flowed, and your heart skipped a beat as he started to sing along

'I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do My gift is my song, and this one's for you'

he quickly kissed you between verses before he continued to sing to you, gently swaying you back and forth as you laid your head on his chest, putting your arms around his neck 'And you can tell everybody this is your song It may be quite simple, but now that it's done I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words How wonderful life is while you're in the world'

you started to tear up a little bit just from the amount of pure love for the man in front of you. he moved his head to get your attention just to sing you your favorite line from the whole song 

'yours are the sweetest eyes i've ever seen'

you smiled and looked away, blushing as he continued to sing along until the song ended and the two of you stood there in each other's arms, the radio switching to some other song while hearing the light waves from the lake splash onto the edge of the ground where you stood

"i guess its not such a cheesy song after all" you muttered, wiping a tear from your cheek

"guess not" eddie agreed, leading to another few minutes of silence of standing there with each other which was pure bliss after the hell you've encountered the past few weeks, before eddie spoke again 

"it's all true though" he said and you responded with an intrigued "hm?"

"the song, it's true for me. you make life the most wonderful thing to experience just because you're here with me, and i can't say it enough but i love you more than life y/n" he said, locking eyes with you

you gently cupped his face, kissing him with such passion you were sure it would break the world record for the amount of love shown through a kiss. he kissed you back, pulling you in close like he would lose you the second he let go. your hands tangled in his hair as your tongues explored each other's mouths like it was new territory. 

when you finally pulled away for air, eddie kept you close, leaning his forehead against yours and rubbing a hand on the back of your neck. he kissed your forehead lightly before pulling away, looking at your fingers entangling with his

he quickly pulled away and turned around before he whipped back around and got down on one knee, holding up the ring he always wore on his right hand. the one he stole from his mom's jewelry box when he was 12 but she ended up letting him keep it, finding it endearing he wanted to wear it

"y/n, this is a promise that no matter how stupid i am, that we always work things out, and we stay that way no matter what. i love you and never want to let you go and as a token of my promise, and my love and appreciation, will you please wear my ring and be mine again?" he asked, looking up at you, the lyrics of having the sweetest eyes you've ever seen coming to fruition with his chocolate brown eyes staring into yours

"eddie i-" you started to feel the tears fall down your cheeks as you stopped yourself, a small giggle coming from your mouth 

"i love you eddie, yes of course" you said as you stretched out your hand to meet his as he slipped the ring onto your ring finger. it fit a little too perfectly, causing your heart to flutter. 

he stood up, picking you up and spinning you around as you let out a laugh squeal combination, before putting you back down on the ground, holding your face as you leaned into his hand, watching his eyes look at you with a look of admiration 

"one day i'll write you my version of your song, and it'll be all for you" he said with a smile 

"will it include cheesy lyrics?" you laughed and he nodded

"naturally" 

fin.

[himboskywalker]

Heyy boo, do you have a book that is not star wars related that you wish you could read for the first time or reread all the time?

I am searching for books recommendations and I am pretty open about every genre, maybe not horror but everything else is totally fine.

My number one book recommendation that I will always obnoxiously shove in everyone’s faces is Lord of the Rings. It is my heart and soul and favorite thing in the world and if you’ve never read the trilogy I highly recommend it. But I also have quite a few other recs!

Anything written by Andy Weir. “The Martian” is his best known work,which they made the Matt Damon movie of,and while I do love it “Project Hail Mary” is my favorite of his and one of my favorite sci-fi books of all time.

I loved “To Sleep in a Sea of Stars” which was Christopher Paolini’s sci-fi debut a couple years ago but he just came out with its prequel “Fractal Noise” and I liked it even more.

For some good old fashioned space opera brilliance I recommend the “Final Architecture” trilogy by Adrian Tchaikovsky. The last book of the series just came out and I DEVOURED it. Tchaikovsky’s Children of Time,Ruin,and Memory are also phenomenal, you really just can’t go wrong with him.

For more space opera and politics I highly recommend Arkady Martine,she DEBUTED with “Memory Called Empire” which won all sorts of awards. The sequel also recently came out but I haven’t gotten the chance to read it.

I’m in the middle of reading Pierce Brown’s “Red Rising” saga,which I would describe as adult Hunger Games,and have thoroughly enjoying it as well!

For fantasy I love Samantha Shannon’s “Priory of the Orange Tree” and “A Day of Fallen Night”. You’ll get varying opinions of what to read first,I read Priory when it first came out so that’s my biased opinion.

I’m a massive fan of “She Who Became the Sun” by Shelly Parker-Chan and their sequel “He Who Drowned the World” and I want it to go on record I read SWBS when it first came out and before it blew up *flips hair*

R.J. Barker’s “Tide Child” trilogy is awesome,first book of that series is “The Bone Ships.” It’s high seas fantasy with dragon bone ships and epic war and amazing world building.

I always highly recommend “Gideon the Ninth” by Tamsyn Muir and now also the rest of the books in the series. I think the usual pitch is lesbian necromancers in space.

I cannot cannot recommend “The Shadow of the Gods” by John Gwynne enough! It’s quintessential epic fantasy told as a Norse epic and it’s in my top five of modern fantasy books.

While I have serious beef with Song of Achilles just like our fellow obikin Will,I did love and devour Madeline Miller’s “Circe.” In every way I think it’s her superior work.

I can’t recommend fantasy without recommending “The Grace of Kings” by Ken Liu. His entire series will blow your socks off,but the first book won nearly every award for fantasy books that have ever existed.

I’m a huge fan of R.F Kuang’s “The Poppy War” series although I’ve heard this one is a contentious recommendation. I think this series is hate or love it but if for whatever reason you don’t vibe with this series I also highly recommend Kuang’s “Babel.”

If you want something a little less well known I could chew through drywall over Simon Jimenez’s “The Spear Cuts Through Water.” It was in my top five of 2023 release books.

I can also make a separate rec list of less new books and overall classics I always recommend or gift to people,both fiction and nonfiction!

[randomfoggytiger]

Inbox being weird again, had to repost (sorry, anon!)

What are your thoughts on IWTB? It’s now on hulu and I am like 15 minutes in to a rewatch (I’ve watched FtF a truly offensive number of times but have only seen this once, when it first came out) and am absolutely incensed already. I’m having trouble making sense of their characters, they seem so OOC to me — even with the understanding that they are (possibly both) depressed and life on the run has really jaded and hardened them. Also its so weird to me that Amanda Peet reaches out to touch Mulders cheek bc he cut himself shaving? Just bizarre behavior all around!

It is a truly bizarre movie. I've not seen it; but I have done extensive research on it, if that makes sense. I think it can be summed up by this one Tumblr post I saw (and lost, someone help me find it!) that noted Mulder requested a helicopter for himself and Scully to, essentially, walk a few street blocks to the next location. Because CC wanted a helicopter in his movie and he was going to get it, somehow, someway.

Below is a tragically long post filled with article links for more enjoyment~.

(**Note**: Will edit this post later, brb.)

TLDR: A movie/tv series worth its salt is well-written, end of story. It doesn't matter how excellent or in-character the themes or motifs or etc. are if the characters are badly written or act out-of-turn. You cannot have a god-tier theme about fighting back the Darkness and seeking for the Truth if at every opportunity the characters themselves reject the message continually in ways that make no sense, especially when they have a history of stellar characterization and well-thought-out opinions and actions. This movie is a prime example of that.

There are numerous blogs here that have already (rightfully) griped about IWTB, so I won't go into plot nonsense or whatnot. But I DO have interviews that show how roughshod the movie making process was before it even hit theatres, so....

I first heard about IWTB's flaws peripherally through this article (that trashes the Revival, highly recommend. Written by a CC fan, too, so it's not a bash-sesh against the Creator.) It spoke endearingly-ish about IWTB, believing it to be more in-character than the Revival (yup.... unfortunately.) Then I started perusing fan opinions... and everyone pretty much agreed it was awful in most parts and shippy in others.

TBH, shippy doesn't mean squat to me. Maybe it's how I'm wired, but I was drawn to The X-Files because the romance is so unspoken with very light kisses. I 100% get Chris Carter's restraint perspective; but I also get the fans' perspective, that it's gone too far to ignore or take back. An example: the movie sets up a "gasp, really??" mystery that Scully is a doctor with a life separate from Mulder, driving over to him to try to get him involved in the FBI manhunt. It's taken back almost immediately when Mulder later springs up beside her in bed, but it's those little touches that start to confuse the message. And then throw in Scully insisting Mulder join the chase while Gillian Anderson acted her completely opposite to what she was saying and you start to see the mess unravel. Then Mulder tosses aside his loyalty to Scully-- something that is KEY to his character, having formerly left his life's work for her and even left his newborn son when she told him to-- to chase the very monsters she begged him to chase but is now begging him not to. There is no reason given other than "It's who I am", which is NOT who Mulder is: he is a man willing to sacrifice who he is and what makes him tick over and over for Scully's sake. This not only breaks his character in-movie, it nullifies all his actions and choices in the original series, stripping them of their consequences and weight.

The movie, I believe, was supposed to be about Mulder and Scully scrabbling against the Darkness while also lost in confusion: they're together but Scully feels threatened by Agent Whitney, Mulder no's the case before getting wrapped up into it, Scully supports then withdraws her support (and LEAVES??), both rely on the word of a pedophile priest (a similar alliance to Luthor Lee Boggs but creepier and less redeemable... and even Boggs wasn't redeemed), and finally Scully casts aside her doubts to get back in the saddle and save Mulder. It seems a compelling story, no? ...No.

An example of the "confusion" theme of the plot: When Mulder meets up with the other agents to discuss terms (I suppose), the camera briefly pans to random people walking past him in the hallway-- one of them is the actress who played his little sister in the OG series; and the camera makes it a point for Mulder to notice that fact... but so briefly and quickly it never made an impression on him permanently, a.k.a. a seeming callback. BUT when Scully yells at him (before? after? I dunno) about always looking for his sister, this is the scene that was supposed to back her up? In which case: dude, we all saw the Samantha Agent. She did, indeed, look like Samantha; and she had NOTHING to do with this case. The only explanation Scully had for her tasteless remark was that she thought Mulder was full-on delusional or so stubborn he was projecting his own demons onto this case. Y'know... the case he didn't want and only got more involved in to SAVE LIVES. In which case, it doesn't fit with the themes of the movie at all: Mulder was right here, Scully was wrong; but the movie stated that SCULLY was right, or at least half-right, and Mulder was at least half-wrong. It's all nonsense.

The dialogue is atrocious. Absolutely appalling. Which makes sense to an extent: CC and Spotnitz had this movie written out right after the series ended as an attempt to gain back the studio's attention. No such luck; and when FOX was finally interested to make more money, the script notes were accidentally lost; so CC and Frank blitzkrieged up a final draft in just a few weeks (very not good.) This and this article breaks down how Spotnitz (in his own words) watched CC battle FOX from the sidelines for the movie, then scramble with him to complete a draft in time for filming; and it explains (but doesn't justify) the stilted dialogue, horrendous pacing issues, and disjointed theme. To summarize:

""Frank Spotnitz: ...The pressure in television is incredible because you’ve got to keep coming up with another script, another script, another script. The movie was completely different. We started work on the story in 2003, and then got derailed for four years by deal-making and the threat of a lawsuit. Then when we returned to it in 2007, we’d lost our notes.

Lost your notes?

Frank Spotnitz: We’d put them on note cards to pitch the studio, and we couldn’t locate them. At first, we were very unhappy, but it ended up being a blessing in disguise. We remembered what the case was about, but the emotional beats, the personal beats between Mulder and Scully, we had to start from scratch, and we had changed."" 

Frank Spotnitz claims it was effortless to get back in their characters' heads; and, while that may be true, it was certainly not effortless to put them down on paper.

The messaging of the movie was so confusing that Mark Snow, the composer, didn't read all of it correctly (which is important for the person composing the score for each scene):

""Now the plot of I Want To Believe has characteristically remained a secret – I don’t suppose you can tell us anything about what we can expect from this film?

Well the interesting part was, when I read the script the first thing I got out of it was deep, dark complexity and I spoke to Chris Carter afterwards and he said ‘what do you think?’, I said ‘man, it’s so complex and dark and mysterious’, and he said ‘and it’s a love story with religious overtones…’ Okay! He said ‘just keep that in mind’ and you know I re-read it and I got what he meant, and then seeing the movie I certainly got what he meant. Besides the Mulder and Scully relationship there are some other very very emotional, intimate if you would, moments there that do add spiritual and religious weight to it...."" 

This article does well at picking apart the claims (some ludicrous) for and against the movie But, for time's sake, let's skip to the summary of the very sloppy (and downright goofy) climax of the movie:

""The biggest shortcoming may be that the case is solved by both Mulder and Scully independently and simultaneously, and thanks to coincidences on both their behalf. Mulder’s investigative skills lead him to the villain thanks to a simple visit to a local store; stem cell research for organ transplants and for curing Christian allow the two storylines to cross, but Scully having a revelation by finding the villain’s research on the internet through a non-related search draws the odds extremely. There is little actual investigation and the case is wrapped up too quickly. All those are little things — but they pile up to too much.""

Both the actors had "notes" and "questions" (read here) about their characters when they first got the script, with Gillian Anderson admitting how hard it was to find her character (post here)--

""Gillian Anderson: I had a similar experience. This feels so weird. Summertime. I didn’t have all the running around that David had to do, but I did have my own unfortunate beginning which was starting with one of the most difficult scenes for Scully in the film where it’s later on in the script and she goes through a range of emotions in confronting Billy Connolly’s  character. I just had a really time for those first couple of days that that scene was. I had a really hard time just finding her, finding her voice. I think I must’ve gone through ten other characters in the process of trying to get to her when I had assumed that I would be able to show up on the first day and it would just be there. It wasn’t until I think day three when we got to work together, not just necessarily in a familiar environment which it really wasn’t, but in the environment of each other and the relationship and that it kind of felt natural and familiar and I felt like I’d landed this time."" --

but it was David Duchovny who was surprisingly the most honest to the press about his (measured) thoughts, as he's usually the most reticent. He always wanted to do a movie series, liking the scope and freedom it would give him with acting and scheduling; but he mentioned, once or twice, that he wished IWTB had been a bigger action film in the vein of FTF. Further, he admits to an interviewer about his thoughts and his (slight) dissatisfaction with Mulder's out-of-character element here:

""Since The X-Files: I Want to Believe may not have been the huge blockbuster that everyone was hoping for, we’d like to know: What is your own measure of success for the movie?

Duchovny: I guess it’s always the first time I see the movie. What’s my feeling when I come out? I always felt like the subject matter of this particular movie was limiting. It was dark, and it wasn’t going....

I’ve only seen it one time, and I was sitting in Chris’ editing room. I watched it on a little screen. I guess I missed the chance to see it on the big screen, and that’s too bad, but when I left that initial screening at Chris’ house, the film was pretty much almost done except for some special effects. I just felt like it was really strong and kind of a strangely moving piece of work. Still dark, and still, I thought, limited, but the way that the movie performed did not surprise me so much, and I think that if we do get a chance to do another one … what I always really liked about the show was that it had a dark vision, but at the heart of it being driven by Mulder was this real optimism or wonder or sense of belief, and then it would kind of open out. Most of the best shows that we did would open out into real wonder at the end, if only because you didn’t have an answer, which was the mystery of it, but the wonder.

Mulder’s quest, to me, is a very positive one. If we get a chance to do another one, I think because in this movie Mulder kept getting reinvigorated, Mulder was in a down place for much of this film; he wasn’t driving the way he drives, the way he drove everything before that. In a way, the nature of how we had to get back into the show, which was to take the guy out of his job, also deprived the movie of some optimism and wonder and enlightenment that occurs when you’ve got this unhinged guy trying to prove wonderful crazy things.""

And while DD defended IWTB's box office failings as having to compete against Batman, one of the previous articles I linked had the savvy to tackle that reason and debunk it:

""The defenders of IWTB will endlessly complain about the budget (but look at what a feast Darren Aronofsky did with $35 million: “The Fountain” (2006)), the fact that it’s low-key ‘intellectual’ and not blockbuster-like (so is “There Will Be Blood” (2007), $25 million, and countless other generally agreed upon masterpieces), the lousy promotion (but look at what good word of mouth can do with a movie few believed in in the beginning: “The Matrix” (1999), $65 million), the unforseen success of “The Dark Knight” as competition (hardly an argument) or trends in selfish cinema critics (as if a bad reception is the sole result of a conspiracy).

However what will remain in history is not the whys and hows but the what: the final product itself. And the truth is that if IWTB featured characters other than Mulder and Scully, this would be a not very memorable movie.""

Needless to say: the entire movie's a mess, and it's down to the roots. While beautiful visually and musically-- all the reviews and cast and crew had nothing to say against that-- the characters and the script and the plot were a horrible mishmash that highlighted its weaknesses and smashed down its strengths.

Thanks for giving me the opportunity to ramble; and sorry if this didn't do what you needed! But you did inspire me to find all the old angry IWTB discussions/posts on Tumblr (archive hopping, heheheh) and put them all in one place. So, look forward to that sometime in the future, I suppose~!

Disclaimers: I do not like canon after S8; and that's only because they get a happy ending and, even though it has garbage canon decisions, the characters were able to save most of it and forget the rest. But I will treat IWTB as its own thing devoid of my personal opinion.

[luis-reyesh]

You wake up decided one day to school

You have a notebook with the names of everyone you know and start taking notes. Names and numbers, as often as you can, you started doing every hour for a couple of people. Then it got tiresome and only took notes once a day.

Weeks and months pass, to no avail, you have filled an entire notebook filled already just random numbers, so many there is not even space in the notebook, an endless sea of numbers that starts at the left with a column of names and after that numbers and numbers followed by commas, each comma the separation of a day, more than 3 months have been.

Your head hurts, all you see is numbers in the notebook, numbers in the heads of people numbers everywhere...

You go to sleep, you dream of the numbers, you dream about writing them, you dream about looking at them change in real time as people do stuff and the notes you took. The time it went down when a little girl petted a cat or the time it went up when a man petted a dog.

How your parents are different each day each time. How in a restaurant it changes up or down at least 10 times when someone is eating. You dream of all the places you have gone, and a hospital comes to mind, you were there specifically because you broke your arm while trying to learn to skate and remember that at the time you were so focused on the pain you didn't pay attention to the numbers.

It is Saturday, and your best friend is with you

"Why are spending a saturday at a hospital? again?"

"I told you is for a project!"

"Yeah that number book is hella weird. li like what is it forth, not even the math teacher is that invested in numbers"

"Shh... we are here , Hi miss I am from the local school and for a project may I interview people at the hospital"

Nurse: "Sure but don't be to annoying to patients, I would recommend you go to the recovery alley some old people there need to see new faces"

You walk and take mental notes, nothing out of the ordinary random numbers everywhere

But then... something stops, a 1, you see a One the smallest number you have seen, given you have never seen the counter reach 0, you know people don't die cause grandpa had a 236 the week that he died.

It is a girl she is younger than you, and has no hair. She looks happy

You go towards her, "hello I am Martin may I interview you for my school?"

Girl: "Sure... what do you need me to do?"

Martin: "Just answer some questions"

Girl: "OK!"

Martin: "Who are you and why are you so happy?"

With a big smile she says

Marie: "I am Marie and I won againts Cancer!, thats what the doctor said, He said cancer is gone and I Won!"

Martin: "Wow"

you look in awe

Martin: "And what is in your mind?" you ask

Marie: "Mmm One thing, to see the Pyramids of Egypt!!"

Martin: "What? why?"

Marie: "That was Eric's dream he said he loved the Cleopatra movies so he said his dream was to see the pyramids"

Martin: "But if it was Eric's dream why are you so invested in it?"

Marie: "Because he is gone... and we promised that the one to survive would achieve the others dreams"

There is silence pause

"Eric wanted to see the pyramids!" and you see her counter starting to go up 1

"And Clara wanted to see the Everest" up one more

"Mario wanted to be a writer for movies" the counter goes up again

"Julia wanted to be an actress and Paul wanted to an engineer and craft a plane that would reach the moon!" The counter goes up 2 now

Her counter now marks 6, and you ask "What is YOUR dream?, what do YOU want to do?"

"Mmm until today all I wanted was to see Spring again... But now I will see many more Springs!" When she looks at the window and the flowers she smiles and her counter goes down 1

Marie : "Yes, they are blooming so PRETTY!"

*Your friend is crying*

Martin: "Whats with that face?!"

"Du dude! , I mean it is so sad her friends are gone but she doesn't give up on their dreams she still carries them on!"

*You pause*

and realize that her only until today was to see Spring again and now she carries the dreams of her friends , and as she comes back to talk about all the things she wants to do now, her counter goes up and up and up.

You notice the counter is the dreams the amount of dreams a person wants to achieve, it goes up when the day comes to their mind, and it goes down when it is real.. or they give up on it.

after a while you said goodbye, the girls mother gives you her number after Marie asks her to do it a lot, she wants to play and talk again, she said "I am famous I just got interviewed today, one step closer to being an actress" ,

"since when did you want to be an actress" ,

"Since today!" she yelps "I want to do everything , I AM ALIVE"

her counter never stopped going up since that moment even as you said goodbye

At home you think, that because of the obsession with the counter you stopped doing so many things...

You look at the mirror and for the first time in a while you look at your counter it is at 0, there was nothing else you wanted to do more than understand the counter.

You think have you not broken your arm last year learning how to skate, you may have never reached this point... you never learned how to skate though ...

You chuckle, and with a half smile you look up at yourself in the mirror the counter says 1.

"I want to do everything, I am alive" had said the girl today

you think dreams and the journey to get to them is what feels most ALIVE.

Since birth you could see a counter above people’s heads. It doesn’t count down to their death. It goes up and down randomly. You’re desperate to find out what it means.

[nsfwmiamiart]

Incoming Text for Ivanka Trump (@ivankatrump):

Dear Ivanka,

Last night, before I went to sleep, I saw your pictures on my Tumblr feed, and it struck me as a signal. It was surprising because I see many images, but never yours—until now. It was unusual, which is how I knew you were trying to get my attention.

So, tell me, Ivanka, what can I do for you?

You know I respect your father, despite how the media tries to paint him as a villain. I believe he’s not as terrible as they make him out to be. He’s fighting a lot of corruption in Washington, D.C., and that’s something I genuinely admire about him.

I also understand that your family has been through a lot of media drama. I deeply respect the grace and calm you’ve shown through it all. You’ve handled these situations with poise, and that’s no small feat.

One of the biggest problems in America today is misinformation. The public struggles to separate what’s real from what’s fake, largely because they’ve been fed distorted narratives—day in and day out—by 24/7 news channels.

Just recently, a friend told me that the news in America never stops. It runs 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, with barely a break except for commercials. To see for myself, I tuned in to several channels, and it’s true—nonstop talking, around the clock.

Curious, I decided to ask ChatGPT how many words an average news channel broadcasts per hour. Here’s the response:

The average news anchor speaks at a rate of 150 to 180 words per minute. This means:

At 150 words per minute, a channel broadcasts 9,000 words per hour.

At 180 words per minute, it’s 10,800 words per hour.

Over the course of 24 hours, that adds up to between 216,000 and 259,200 words per day—on just one channel. Now imagine that multiplied across all the major news outlets in America.

This means the American public is absorbing between 216,000 and 259,200 words per day from a single source, much of it potentially biased or misleading. And when you consider how many news channels exist in the U.S., this number likely exceeds 2 million words per day—a staggering amount of information, and much of it aimed at discrediting your father and his work.

How can your father be respected when people are constantly being bombarded with this flood of negative coverage? It’s no wonder the public is so misinformed and manipulated into distrusting him.

Here’s what I recommend: Share this insight with Jared. Ask him to investigate just how much disinformation is being disseminated daily through American media. Here’s a step-by-step approach for him:

Contact the news channels: Reach out to the major 24/7 news channels in the U.S. There are likely hundreds.

Request daily scripts: Ask each of these channels for their daily scripts—the actual text of what is being said on air. This will provide the raw material for analysis.

Leverage AI: Once Jared has gathered these scripts, he should collaborate with Elon Musk to analyze them using Musk’s GROK A.I. technology. This AI can sift through vast amounts of data, identifying patterns of misinformation and bias across the hundreds of daily broadcasts.

By using GROK A.I., you’ll be able to streamline this massive amount of data and uncover where the disinformation lies. It’s a precise, efficient way to tackle the issue, and it will reveal just how deep the problem runs.

If your father, Donald Trump, were to launch his own investigation into the disinformation spread by American news channels, this could be a game-changer. Understanding the scope of the problem will allow him to better combat the false narratives being spread about him.

I hope you find this message helpful, and that it brings new clarity to the challenges you and your family face.

Stay strong, Ivanka, and keep resisting.

With my best wishes, Angelo Crown Prince

P.S.:

Synopsis of the letter:

The letter addresses Ivanka Trump, acknowledging the appearance of her pictures on the writer's Tumblr feed, which is seen as a signal to gain attention. The writer expresses surprise, as Ivanka's images had never appeared on the feed before, indicating this was intentional.

The writer praises Ivanka's father, Donald Trump, despite negative portrayals in the media, recognizing his fight against corruption in Washington, D.C. and the way Ivanka has gracefully handled media scrutiny.

The core issue discussed is the problem of misinformation in America, particularly through 24/7 news channels that broadcast massive amounts of content. The writer shares an insight from ChatGPT, showing how these channels broadcast between 216,000 and 259,200 words daily, which can exceed 2 million words across multiple channels. This overwhelming content, often biased, is seen as responsible for shaping public opinion against Trump.

The writer suggests that Ivanka’s husband, Jared Kushner, investigate the extent of disinformation in American news. A three-step plan is proposed: contacting news channels for their daily scripts, analyzing these scripts using Elon Musk's GROK AI technology, and using the results to uncover the misinformation being spread.

The letter closes by encouraging Ivanka and her family to stay strong, resisting the negative forces they face in the media.

[carnageacorn]

so it turns out the end of the saga of breaking my phone and giving it a soul (or “there’s a crack in everything that’s how the light gets in”) ends in a separation of function. before i broke my phone screen my phone was just a device. it was a tool. then i cracked it and shortly after completely shattered it and it still mostly functioned except if the screen image was too dark lots of lines and colors would fade in and out in brightness and sometimes it would decide you were pressing something when you weren’t and have a little phone seizure. it added deviance and light and a lot of choices beyond my control. she was an angel. using my phone became a collaborative process between me and the angel who lives in my phone. 

the loss of “function,” that is to say, doing what i told it to and not doing things i did not tell it to, had a linear relationship with the creation of the soul of the phone. i stopped being careful with my phone and letting it drop more. i wanted to see what kind of angel it was. what did it like to do when given the opportunity. you see where this is going. the phone is not long for this world. 

last week i did finally order a new phone, because i was struggling to use it to send texts, use navigation, play my little number games, and those drawbacks were starting to outweigh the soul based positives (the angel who lives in my phone can keep content from hurting me). and then last night while loading my wet clothes and bedding into a dryer in my apartment’s laundry room, my phone fell and did finally break in a prohibitive way. there are about 3 spots on the screen where my touch is registered, and about 20 wrong spots on the screen that it thinks my touch is being registered, and i can’t unlock it anymore. i need to use an app to do my laundry, or i need to get a card from the office that comes pre loaded for the machines, and they are not open on weekends. 

it turns out i guess what the angel who lives in my phone wants to do is have a private self that i cannot access and control, which is fair because i feel similarly about them. so i guess one of the steps of growing a soul by breaking open is a desire for autonomy and privacy. not groundbreaking research really. anyway my new phone doesn’t come in til tomorrow so i have a whole load of wet laundry draped over every spot in my apartment that gets sun, except its cloudy, and there’s nothing i can do about it til tomorrow, im just surrounded by wet clothes. so that’s how giving my phone a soul is going. she still turns on and charges and stuff. i have entertained keeping her charged and carrying her around like a little tamigochi. i already have a case for the new one and i spent money on it im gonna do better this time i hope.

all in all do i recommend breaking your phone to give it a soul? perhaps. it is a new place to find god but watch out. i would say 4/10 because its the only way i know of so far to find god in a phone and is pretty easy if you are desperate.

[chorusfm]

Liner Notes (October 29th, 2023)

We’re back with another newsletter. This week has thoughts on a stacked release week and the usual commentary. As always, there’s a playlist of ten songs worth your time, and this week’s supporter Q&A post can be found here. If you’d like this newsletter delivered to your inbox each week (it’s free and available to everyone), you can sign up here. A Few Things * Anyone who’s followed me for any time knows my longtime love for the TV show Friends. It was my comfort show for many years, the show I had every season of on DVD and would put on in the background and watch over and over again. It’s cliche, but it was like having a group of friends to hang out with. It made me happy. I’ve seen the entire show more times than I can count. So seeing the news of Matthew Perry passing has me feeling emotional today; I’m sad. RIP. * I enjoyed this piece by Ted Gioia and felt explicitly like this part resonated with me: “This has forced me to develop a number of tools and rules for my writing. For example, I only review albums I genuinely love nowadays. Life is too short to do hit pieces—although those are often very popular with editors and readers. Also, I try to focus my most intense criticisms on organizations, institutions, policies, and attitudes, and avoid direct attacks on individuals.” But the entire thing is full of gems and worth your time. In Case You Missed It * Review: The Format – Interventions + Lullabies * Review: Blink-182 – One More Time… * Blink-182 Announce 2024 Stadium Tour * New Found Glory Releases ‘Catalyst’ On Vinyl * Two New Blink-182 Songs Added to Streaming * Travis Barker Teases Two More Blink-182 Tracks * The Last Beatles Song * Spitalfield Announces Some New Tour Dates * Green Day Announce New Album * Albums in Stores – Oct 27th, 2023 Music Thoughts * It looks like Blink-182 will have the number-one album in the country on next week’s charts. I’m obviously very happy for the band. The late push to add two new songs to the album and the signing event seems to have put them over the edge. Of the new two new songs, I like “See You” and am pretty impartial on “Cut Me Off.” I’m still, clearly, playing the hell out of the new album and don’t see myself stopping anytime soon. If Blink wasn’t already running away with the top spot on my Last.fm profile, them releasing a new album while Jimmy Eat World didn’t this year, is causing some dramatic separation. * This year saw the release of several albums I’ve written about that are finally available to everyone. The new Taking Back Sunday album is shockingly good. I had written off the band after not liking the past two or three albums outside of one or two songs, but this album has blown me away. Highly recommended. And then we also have The Gaslight Anthem’s comeback album getting a release, and I’ve been happy with all the positive comments I’ve seen from fans in our community. It’s become one of my most-played albums this fall, and it feels perfect for this weather—an incredible late-afternoon album. * Crime and Stereo’s new album is also worth a look and could be a late contender for album of the year lists—super solid rock album with great lyrical moments. * Sigrid released her new EP, The Hype, and it continues her streak of releasing songs that I just flat-out enjoy listening to. Great pop music. * Last week saw the release of A Story Told’s Mundane Magic, and if you’re looking for a really solid guitar pop album, this should be on your radar to check out. Catchy, really great vocals and a super fun listen. * The monster release this week was Taylor Swift’s 1989 (Taylor’s Version), and I’ve listened through once so far. The original version is one of my most played from Taylor, so I was excited to hear the new renditions and the vault tracks. I’ve seen comments ranging from “it sounds identical and reconstructed with the wisdom of time” to “it sounds awful and is so different and demonstrably worse.” My take is dull in comparison. I like… https://chorus.fm/features/articles/liner-notes-october-29th-2023/

[sociomi]

Why Men Are Seeking Consciousness and Spirituality

I was amped up for whether Goodman felt that her work assisted with diminishing the issues related with what has come to be known as "destructive manliness", and whether there had been a move in men searching for help since the progression got moving. "I think a great many people need to hold space for one another," she told me, "as partners and as partners."

With extra painstakingly pre-arranged men, Goodman felt that there was once in a while an "imbalance", a piece of intergenerational injury, probably passed down from their yet more damaging begetters. I ought to have felt that possible the most pernicious manliness to be found would be in the get-together room and, in actuality, Grounded Life offers social events that are explicitly revolved around unstable precursors in disturbing occupations.

I couldn't battle the compulsion to consider whether we really stayed aware of that a piece of these supervisors should be de-pushed and quieted down. Considering everything, a lot of what their affiliations genuinely do would be viewed as strongly hazardous by individuals who follow the spiritual way that lies behind a basic number of these practices. "Of course," Goodman told me, "I ought to attempt to comprehend who I'm bantering with, I'm excited about the individual… and I would rather not help anything underhanded."

Perhaps in this manner, yet she appeared, apparently, to be puzzled when I saw whether she had whenever examined doing a typical measure of effort with her clients or something like that, and well really kept on taking a gander at working in Ubud, the social point of convergence of Bali, with "separated Presidents who have made an appearance at the top and not felt that it is satisfying". This scarcely had every one of the reserves of being that spiritual to me - more on the Goopy side of things.

"The sages are correct: the material world is a trickery and its fortunes generally superfluously transient. That would mean you not like to live as a pastor, yet that is one way out of it. It simply recommends you can never cover your spiritual hankering through material means."

Somebody who could probably feel the same way about elective drugs being clutched by the magnates is Russell Brand. As of late, the wild-haired blockhead and entertainer has facilitated his concentration toward charitable exhibits. Regardless, it was regulative issues, with his book Upset and his YouTube series zeroed in on friendly balance. Then, in 2017, he scattered Recuperation: Independence from Our Addictions, which desires to apply the snippets of data he acquired from rehearsing the 12 periods of the alleged dark affiliations (AA, Tranquilizers Perplexing, and so forth) to the issues everybody faces in our contemporary consumerist world.

As shown by Brand, "The sages are correct: the material world is a cunning and its fortunes generally superfluously transient. That would mean you not like to live as a priest, yet that is one way out of it. It basically proposes you can never drench your spiritual desire through material means." Check out acim online course.

I felt that he is through the particularly material (if besides, in light of everything, notwithstanding, still enchanted) system for a basic distance call. The competitor pro had dropped into an intervention studio at a retreat outside Monterey. As we talked, Brand forestalled each time a woodpecker went by, and I couldn't battle the compulsion to think, roughly, that I'd be on a very basic level more chilled expecting I was in some western Californian Eden, as opposed to the limbo of south London. With everything considered, I considered, is this new heading comparably another flight for Brand? "I trust it to be a progress," the normal Essex tones cajoled through the ether. "Once more everything without a doubt twirls around partner and aiding individuals, not really getting brought into struggle." Brand has been broadly open about his own penchant gives all through the long stretch - from remedies to sex and back once more, and. Was the arrangement to detoxify the entire world a part of his having become a dad? With two vivacious young women, anybody could go on a drive to kill every one of the sharp things from the whole universe.

Brand rushed to make sense of me of this. "I expect I really required a piece of this kind of figuring out before my relationship," he said. "I don't figure I might have become a dad without accomplishing that work." For his inspirations, "the work" has contained applying the 12 stages - essentially, a ton of standards and manages empowering discipline and epitomizing Christian ethics - first to his own steamed mind and before long to the more noteworthy world. Visit https://awakening-mind.org/resources/ for more.

"Commercialization is penchant at a complete level," Brand unequivocally broadcasted. "While we're reliably taking a gander at our profiles through virtual redirection, it's an inspiration." You don't really ought to be under Waterloo Development supporting a compartment of Night Train to participate in the new Brand ethos, however especially like the dark joint efforts he follows, he is moreover amped up for a perpetually out spiritual awakening. "It's imperative to what I'm implying," he talked at me, "that we as a whole in all see ourselves as individuals that are defective. It's the essential way we'll get any easing up."

[evermoresversion]

dude, ok I feel like Steven is such a hopeless romantic like his sister. Like the second he lays on a girl, Shayla for example, that's all he can think about. And once they finally date, he literally remembers every little thing she tells him.

like if they ever have a conversation about what kind of flowers they like (idk?) and she says something about like violets because her dad always got them for her mom, he would have a field day. for a solid month he would only get her violets everytime he saw her.

my man's love language is obviously acts of service lets be real.

dude would also follow her around like a little lost puppy at parties and stuff to make sure she was ok and stand guard. need someone to hold your drink. check. need someone to dance with. check. your friends ditch you and you need someone to hang out with. check.

idk man do with it what you will <3

ALL FOR HER, STEVEN CONKLIN.

A/N I honestly couldn't stop smiling while reading what you posted. THE BEST THING IS THAT YOU'RE RIGHT, he's a hopeless romantic without a doubt. Enjoy this, thank u so much for your so pretty thought.

PAIRING Steven Conklin x Fem!Reader.

TW/TAGS Pure fluff.

SUMMARY I only know that Steven is more than in love, and he's definitely the best guy you've ever met.

SONG I would recommend you listen to invisible string by taylor swift just for the vibe.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN | STEVEN'S MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

The first moment he laid eyes on you was at a beach party.

And all he could think was that you looked beautiful that night.

And as the days passed, his only thought was that you looked more beautiful than the day before.

The night both met, he first let Jeremiah know, who encouraged him to come over and make the first move.

So that's what he did, making a comment about the party, and couple of jokes too to make you laugh. And it could be said that he fell in love that night.

He officially declared your laugh to be his favorite sound ever.

Because of how nervous he felt, and because of a fight that Conrad got into that night, and he had to go separate him along with Jeremiah, he forgot to ask for your phone number or at least one of your social media.

So for a couple of weeks you were the only thing on his mind.

All he could think about was you, the talk you had, and your smile.

Oh your smile, the most beautiful he had ever seen.

He wanted, no, he needed and craved to see you again.

And it came true, at a party of a friend that the two apparently had in common.

This time you approached him before he could notice your presence at the party.

He smiled more than gladly, starting a long talk, both of you spending the whole party together.

And at the end of it, he kissed you for the first time. And this time he did ask for your phone number.

That's how at least a month went by where you went out on dates, parties, and all that stuff.

Jeremiah, Belly and Conrad watched as their friend and brother fell more and more in love with you.

It's like he's in the clouds. In a world where only you existed.

When you officially started dating as a couple, oh god, he was totally gone.

Every little thing you said to him would be registered in his mind with an "important" sign, more so if it's about you.

Your favorite color, what you are allergic to or if you're not, your favorite song, the food you least like, your favorite season of the year, everything.

He is so attentive to you that it gives you butterflies just thinking about him.

There was one time when he remembered something that made you fall for him harder.

You told him your favorite flowers and the reason why they were.

And a whole month he sent you that flowers if he couldn't take them himself, but if he could he would.

On the outings the boys and Belly did, he was always behind you or to the side of you.

He followed you around like a lost puppy.

He loved helping you and feeling that you needed him in any aspect. In addition to the fact that he also liked that you knew that he would always be there for you, be it in the slightest or in something bigger, whatever.

And definitely his love language is acts of service and I would add physical contact.

He has a hand on you all the time. Whether it is this one taking yours, hugging you, his arm around your shoulders, and the most beautiful gesture for him, even if it is very simple, was to have your little finger intertwined with his.

And although he loved kissing you, definitely the kiss he loves the most is the kiss on the forehead or on the temples. It seems to him something so intimate and beautiful that it is impossible for him not to do it.

Oh and he would definitely listen to the entire discography of your favorite singer or band just to have something else to talk about or just to dedicate their songs to you. Only the ones that talk about love, clearly.

In conclusion, he is a fool in love with you who would do everything, everything for you.

disclaimer ── evermoresversion © 2023.

[svndaysaweek]

e^(iπ)+1=0 — {Feat. Minnie}

1.3k words

A/N: I've been studying math so hard that I came up with this... I don't know if all readers can understand this, so I recommend googling the inclined terms(which are mathematical ones). Also know that e^(iπ)+1=0 is the most beautiful formula in mathematics,,

p.s: Why is eˣ okay but e^(iπ)+1=0 not? Tumblr mysteries..

Tags: Math(?), Choking, Creampie, Loving Sex

******

Minnie is like the eˣ function to you. The way her consistency fills up your heart—eˣ differentiated is still eˣ—, her always positive character—its domain is always positive number—, her out-of-this-world beauty—e^(iπ)+1=0—, and–

The way her back forms an exponential arc in front of you.

"F-fuck,"

On her knees Minnie is taking your pounding, with her entire body. Her back arcs upward to meet you face to face, as she turns her head back to you and into a blissful kiss.

You draw the sin x graph with your tongue inside her mouth. Up and down, up and down, corresponding to her tongue that draws a cos x graph, intertwined with yours completely—but following the exact same period of 2π.

You push her down to the mattress, and now you can see the hyperbolic curve of her waist. You grab on the narrow valley of it and continue pounding.

What you are doing to Minnie is distorting the perfectness of her body, although it's your way of worshiping it. The circular dark orbs in her elliptical eyes disappear into her head.

You choke her from behind. The amount of air getting in her lungs converges to zero, while the pleasure diverges to infinity.

Her fingers dig into the mattress as you pace up. You feel her walls pulse like sin x. Instant grips and loosenings of her pussy indicate that she is now close. You contribute the last drop of your patience for her orgasm—the maximum, when the derivative of her pleasure hits the X axis.

"I'm cummi–"

Minnie cums with a scream silenced by your grip around her neck. You for a moment regret restraining her voice, but no. You can just make her cum again, again, and again.

You flip her around to face you and resume the race. The race of which finish line you all are aware of obviously.

You kiss her again, this time drawing infinity with your tongue. It of course doesn't mean that it'll last forever, but you feel like it lasts as long as eternity itself. Rather, it would mean the neverending high you two are sharing right now.

Integral. Integrity. You and Minnie in bed together can't be counted as two. Undivided pleasure travels your connected, shared body. No boundaries are found between you and Minnie as you are pulled into a tight hug by her. You can feel how smooth her skin is, how soft her breasts are like it's your body—forget about the breasts, maybe.

Actually, it sounds quite right because it is your body—it's been so long since you lost count how many times you two told each other "You're mine,". Minnie moaning beneath you is yours. Yours to savor, yours to please, yours only to love.

Yes, yours only, and vice versa. You two are bijective functions. Each of your factors matches each of hers, without duplicity.

Again, you're hers only. Minnie is here, taking your cock to define you, to differentiate you, to integrate you. Minnie is moaning underneath your body, to be your proof, to be your solution, to be your answer.

"Are you close, babe?"

You were just about to say that you were, but you are so predictable a problem—Minnie knows the exact formulae to use when dealing with you.

"I am,"

Go ahead, she eyes you. You crook your neck to nibble on her ear and whisper,

"I fucking love you, Minnie,"

The moment you cum inside her, you are sent out of this world. The real world means nothing to you. Imaginary sensations feel more real than the real ones. Like you're feeling the i itself—the imaginary number.

1×1=1. You and Minnie just can't get separated. When it comes to you two, it's not the concept of addition or subtraction. You two love each other so it's 1×1=1. When you two are away from each other, you're still one, because 1÷1=1. Being 2 means you and Minnie are two 1s, which makes you two different individuals—right now, and of course always, you'd disprove that proudly.

You already came about half a minute ago, but you don't pull out. You see Minnie's heaving back and it's perfectly symmetrical—her erector muscles being the perfect axis for it.

It's an even function —f(x)=f(-x)— that you get visual, psychological satisfaction from. That way you could split her perfectly into two halves.

Your hands softly rub on her back. She still is in the middle of recovery, as you can feel her bumping heartbeats on your palm.

"Y-you feel so warm, baby,"

Minnie slightly lifts her limp head from the bed and murmurs with such a low tone. You then pull out and lie down next to her. Turning your body to her side you brush her hair behind her ears. She looks at you and gives you a satisfied, satisfying smile that could literally melt anything, everything.

Minnie's hand comes up to touch your face and–

It hits your still hard dick and she looks at it.

"Wanna go for another round?"

Minnie asks you, sitting up and getting on your thighs. It's a question with only one answer, it's another function that defines you two—a constant function, no matter what she says your answer is yes, undeniably.

Minnie grabs it, strokes it softly, and you feel your lust being recharged. Seems like she doesn't even look for your answer, anyway.

"Holy–"

You're inside her. Right after insertion Minnie starts to ride you out fast. You can only gasp at the feeling of her already-fucked inside, which is what you do every fucking time. Minnie kneeling, each of her knees are next to your both sides as she waves her hip and waist on you.

"Ah, fuck… You can last longer, right?"

She again asks you a question, locking fingers with you. Just like before, your answer is undoubtedly yes. Minnie then brings your hands to her lower waist and leans down forward, completely relying her weight on you. She lets your head into her embrace and whispers into your ear.

"Warm me up again, baby."

Your hands go down to grab on her hips and you begin fucking her upward with pace. As soon as your thrusts start to fuck your previous cum deeper into her womanhood, she moans beautifully into your ear.

Her arms tighten around your head, but the only tightness you can recognize is that of what's around your cock. She nibbles on your ear. Hot breaths tickle your ear, and her teeth on it motivates you to go even faster, rougher, and harsher. That's what loving sex is to her, and of course, to you too.

Your right hand detaches from her ass and gets on the back of her head. Minnie then lifts her head slightly up to fall into a dirty kiss. This time, you review the whole session beforehand.

You are drawing sin x, cos x, and infinity randomly with your tongue. Her back begins to arc exponentially, so you strengthen your hand on her head to keep her body tangent to yours. Your fingers on her ass rubs on her another hole, to make her pleasure diverge to infinity.

And everything you're doing earns her uncontrolled scream of ecstasy, as if she's trying to make an auditory definition of orgasm.

She again closes in to lock lips with you, and soon she cums. On your still-moving cock she cums hard, and in your mouth she lets the orgasmic sound out. It travels through your body fast, reverberates in your skull, sending you over the edge in no time.

You push deep into her for the last time before violently cumming inside her again.

It's explosive, you would term it. Minnie's entire body reacts to every spurt you shoot inside her.

"Holy fuck…"

You let out a sigh of words.

"Baby, that was…"

On top of her lungs she says, only to pause for breathing.

That was awesome, yeah. You know that, because you feel just like her too.

You look into her eyes, and find the excellence itself, the perfect, absolute beauty—e^(iπ)+1=0 .

[alwaysxlarrie]

favorite fics of 2021/2022

i love recommending fics & i love appreciating the talented, lovely writers in this fandom, so i wanted to make a list of my fav fics in 2021/2022. there are some longer fics that came out this year that i’ve wanted to read, but haven’t gotten a chance to, so knowing me i’ll make a masterlist of long fics or something bc i simply continue to be a slut for making masterlists & recommending fics idk what to tell u LMAO. anyway, these are in alphabetical order. sorry there’s kind a lot, thank u for ur time xoxo

are you taking clients? by @jaerie / jaerie

“Escaping had been the hardest thing Harry had ever done. They'd stolen his child and nearly stolen his life. Being homeless and pregnant gave Harry few options. It's a last resort to let men fetishize his body, but the luxury of choice is something Harry doesn't have.”

all your mates are here by @londonfoginacup / ladylondonderry

“"The pack is... It's folding, Harry."

Like every werewolf does when they get to a new town, Harry joined one of the many local packs when he started university. Now, three years into his program, he's hit with the news that his pack is giving up, going their separate ways. In the wake of the holidays, the three single wolves from the Majestic pack are pointed in the direction of a new pack to join; one that's got struggles of its own.

A new pack, a new house, and two new roommates with personal space issues... Plus exams, of course.

Happy Christmas, here's to many more.”

babydoll blues by @thedevilinmybrain / devilinmybrain (venomedveins)

“Louis is a high profile, filthy rich label executive who has the world at his feet - a music god.. Harry is the sugar baby trying to make a name for himself singing in shady bars and hanging off the arm of Louis' biggest rival. What Louis wants, Louis gets. But what if the game gets too hot and hits a little too close to the heart?”

boy for sale by @ohpleaselarry / ohpleaselarry

“Three large cushioned chairs face him, each holding a suited man. Mr. Horan, Mr. Payne, and Mr. Malik respectively sit at these chairs, eyes on Harry as he steps up to the middle of the room, lowers fluidly to his knees, hands behind his back, and looks to each man one by one, neck prickling with the eyes all on him, on his nude body.

They’re all going to have him, and yet Harry only really wants one man here, and it’s the man who steps up behind him, sets a hand on the nape of his neck, right over his collar.

“Alright,” Louis says, voice raspy and authoritative, “Mr. Horan, you’re first. Would you like his mouth or his arse?””

between two lungs by @hershelsue / docklands

“Harry and Louis are graduating medical school. There's a big party and everyone has big expectations. All of Harry's are exceeded when Louis remembers him from a long time ago. They fuck.”

boom, boom, don’t you wanna go by anonymous

“It doesn't take much to convince Harry to participate in Lambda Sig's annual ceremony for graduating seniors. She's hooked up with a few of the brothers already anyway, as lackluster as they were. She has to have her legs and bare bottom half on display for the rest of the brothers in the senior class to see, but she's always kind of liked being played with and definitely likes being on display. She's graduating in a few weeks anyway. What's the worst that can happen?

She doesn't expect contestant number fifteen to blow her mind in the first round. He doesn't let up.”

caught in your gravity by @lululawrence / lululawrence

“It felt like the blood froze in Harry’s veins even as he got a bit lightheaded. He hadn’t even made it two practices, only one of which he was remotely in charge of, without giving it all away and now he and Liam were both absolutely fucked.

“Shit,” Harry breathed out. “Who all have you told? Does everyone know? I thought I covered it better than that…”

“No, no,” Louis said quickly. "They’ll figure it out soon enough, though, because they’ll get used to you changing things up, but you’re only going to trip over your so called Americanisms for so long before they realize it’s because you don’t actually know fuck all about football.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah. I figured. I just need to bullshit for long enough to allow Liam to get the situation figured out from his end.”

“Right, which brings me to my entire point. I think we can find a mutually beneficial arrangement with all of this.” Louis leaned forward. “You need to learn the ins and outs of the sport incredibly fast. I can help you with that.”

“What do you want in exchange?”

Or, an AU inspired by a 30 second trailer of Ted Lasso that doesn't actually have much in common with the show at all.

counterculture by @sadaveniren / sadaveniren

“It all culminated to this: Harry in the middle of a crowded basement, music blasting from the live show on the far side, shirtless amongst alphas and omegas who all weren’t covering their scents. He took a deep breath of the heavy air and he felt alive.”

erva venenosa by @hershelsue / docklands

“Harry goes to his first all-gender party. There, he meets Louis, an eccentric bartender who claims to know more than he does. He turns Harry's world upside down.“

hint: i want to be yours by @greenblueish / bluegreenish

“Thinking back to Harry’s rut, Louis shivers, needing to put effort into keeping other bodily reactions at bay. 

“Are you cold?”

While Niall’s been commenting through the entire film, Harry had stayed mostly quiet, so it’s a surprise when he speaks up, eyes zeroed in on the omega.

“Uh, yeah. It’s a bit chilly, innit?”

Niall shrugs, dressed in a sleeveless t-shirt and seemingly unbothered by the room temperature. Harry doesn’t ask for an explanation though. 

“You can have my hoodie, wait, here.” Before Louis can counter, Harry’s pulling the light grey piece of clothing over his head and handing it to the omega. 

or, the one where Harry unconsciously starts acting like Louis' alpha after they spend his rut together and Louis finds ways to make sure Harry's affection doesn't end.”

hike up your skirt (and show your world to me) by anonymous

“Louis has a very hands on approach to training his new secretary. How else can he make sure Harry realizes his full potential?”

i can’t wait to see what you find by @non-binharry / enbyharry

“"What do you do for work?"

"I, uh, don’t. I don’t work."

"Cuckold’s got you well kept then, yeah?" Harry’s face morphs into a frown, adorable creases forming along his brownbone, and Louis throws up his hands in a placating gesture. "Sorry! Sorry! I’m just taking the piss. You can do whatever you like. I swear I’m not some judgemental prick." Harry’s expression relaxes. He wedges a hand between his crossed legs, looking down at the arm of his chair. "You do like it though, yeah? You know, the whole —" Louis cuts himself off, gesturing broadly to avoid overstepping on a dynamic he doesn’t fully understand.

"Yeah, I um. I do like it. I get off on feeling used for him. I only belong to him and he loves that, no matter how many hands I’m passed through."

"Okay, so what happens if I agree?"

or

Louis finds himself entering an interesting sexual arrangement with a happy, committed couple.

He gets more than he bargained for.”

i’ll be your new favourite tune by @harrystinyshorts / lsforever

“Louis gulps, all coherent thoughts flying from his brain as he unabashedly stares. There’s just so much to take in, from the silky curls springing out in every direction under some sort of headband/scarf looking thing, to the bright eyes and rosy cheeks and cute dimples that make the man’s - Harry, Louis reads from his nametag - smile so charming. He’s wearing a simple black shirt paired with some short jean shorts that only reach the middle of his thighs, and Louis has to force himself not to stare at those long, beautiful legs.

“You okay there?” Harry sounds amused.

Louis clears his throat.

or, Louis is the Pop Punk King of our dreams, and Harry is the cute associate at the rescue who helps him adopt a cat.”

it’s been ages by @2tiedships2 / 2tiedships2

““We need to talk,” Niall said as he plopped down on Louis’ bed. “It’s you and Harry. You like him, he likes you, it’s a match made in heaven and you will one day be mates,”

Louis shook his head in exasperation. “If you’ve been watching, you would see that Harry is interested in, like, alpha alphas. Not me.”

“What the fuck is an alpha alpha?” Niall asked with furrowed brows.

“You know what I mean,” Louis said, giving Niall a pointed look.

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

i love this feeling (but i hate this part) by @lululawrence / lululawrence

““Stand up.”

Harry stood up from the couch, not a moment’s delay.

“Oh my god, is that what that’s like?” Harry turned to Louis, surprise on his face. “I really thought they were somehow exaggerating, but it really is an automatic response with absolutely no thought from me behind it whatsoever.”

Louis sighed again. “You really wanna keep doing this? Have me use my alpha voice on you so you can work on resisting it?”

“Yup,” Harry said, clapping his hands and smiling. “How else am I going to be able to have any chance at reducing the power an alpha voice has on me?””

keep me closer by @zanniscaramouche / zanni_scaramouche

“Louis expects Harry to react poorly, maybe even file a formal complaint and that’s gonna suck ass but Louis won’t say shit cause he knows he deserves it, so he prepares an apology before Harry’s even turned around.

What he doesn’t expect is Harry to fucking drop.“

know you better. by @wabadabadaba / wabadabadaba

“It didn't help that oftentimes Niall and Zayn's other friend, Louis joined them and from all the stories Marcel has heard about Louis, he was positive they wouldn't get along. From their description, Louis was loud, annoying, and competitive. He liked to tease Niall and Zayn mercilessly and he was creative. Being a tattoo artist, Louis knew things about art that Marcel would simply never understand due to his analytical mindset. He was the complete opposite of Marcel and Marcel didn't think he would ever last in a social setting where he had to be with Louis.

or the one where Marcel and Louis fall in love.”

like air to the fire i need you to breathe by @larrydoinglaundry / cuckootrooke

“Louis is going to do this right. He is going to praise every little effort Harry has made and will still make with his nest, telling him how cozy and well put together it is. And practical, on top of everything. Despite being situated in Louis’ closet. But it has so many blankets, duvets and pillows that Louis will happily make Harry fall apart in that nest when he goes into heat.

… Well. He’ll try.

The thing is, Louis is sort of terrified.

OR Harry is in preheat and Louis is nervous about his upcoming heat, fearing that he might not be able to fulfill his mate's needs. Lucky for him, Harry knows how to push the right buttons to get him relaxed.”

lost in your paradise by @sadaveniren / sadaveniren

““To the alpha I fucked at the Ziam concert, I think this is yours.”

aka Harry and Louis have a one night stand.”

my service, your pleasure by @hershelsue / docklands

“Harry moves in with Louis, his childhood best friend. He had always enjoyed doing things for him, never putting much thought into it. What happens when they're in the same space all the time and Harry can't keep his hands to himself? Surely, his adoration bursts at the seams and a very suspicious Louis tries his best to keep up.”

making my way downtown by @disgruntledkittenface / disgruntledkittenface

““Bye, Harry!”

“See you tomorrow, hon!”

Harry turns in the doorway and waves before he hitches the strap of his backpack over his shoulder and steps out onto the pavement. He tries to ignore the pang of regret after he couldn’t muster a smile, knowing that the middle-aged women he works with love him and won’t hold it against him. The walk from the bakery to his apartment takes almost an hour, which is usually brutal after being on his feet for a full shift, but he decides to skip the bus today. Maybe the sunshine and light breeze will lift the mood that had taken a nosedive when he checked his phone after getting off work.

So Louis didn’t text him back. So what?

So fucking everything.”

milk kinship by @jaerie / jaerie

“Harry had aspired to become a wet nurse since first learning about the honored and respected tradition when he was a teenager. The first documentary he’d seen had been detailed and brutally honest and Harry had still fallen in love with the idea. It’s origins were rooted in highly regarded positions of the royal staff and were credited in playing a role in the lives of some of the most famous children in history. There were medically trained wet nurses and other milk services for mothers unable to feed their babies, but true wet nurse nannies could only be afforded by the rich and famous. The glamorous life appealed to Harry even if his understanding of his role changed to a more realistic view over time. As a starry eyed kid, that was where he wanted to be.

Or Harry is a wet nurse and isn't allowed to have an alpha. He may or may not break his vows.”

my pleasure (to make you mine) by @zanniscaramouche / zanni_scaramouche

““Think about it.” Niall raises an eyebrow at him before amiably leading the interrupting customer to the other side of the store.

And the thing is, even a day later, Harry's done nothing but think about piercing his nipples.

Harry decides to get his nipples pierced. Louis is the piercing artist with a smile that breaks every rule of the universe.”

no one likes to be alone by @lululawrence / lululawrence

“Harry was a full-on fucking failure.

Letting out a whimper, Harry pressed his hands to his face as he finally allowed himself to cry. After a few sobs, he realized that something soft was pressed to his face, catching his tears instead of his hands. Harry pulled it away to see what it was and saw it was one of his sister’s shirts.

Shaking his head, he turned and placed it very specifically right where he usually tucked himself up against the wall. As he carefully shifted the shirt so he could see the faded image of Britney Spears looking out at him, Harry was overcome with a need he had only ever felt once before.

He needed to nest.”

opulence thrills by @brightgolden / brightgolden

““You know, it’s my first time bidding-”

“Bidding on people?” Harry supplies.

Louis snickers as he shakes his head, a small smile playing on his perfectly shaped lips. “You could say that, yeah.”

OR

Where a well-versed submissive, Harry Styles has spent eighteen months in BDSM abstinence after an irreconcilable difference in kink preferences with his ex-dom, and a random winner for a charity auction might just be the one who brings him back.”

plenty of time by @juliusschmidt / juliusschmidt

“Harry gets into Louis' Uber. He's not in heat. Not fully. Not yet.”

picture this by @kingsofeverything / kingsofeverything

“Part of Harry’s job at the bar includes working the door on Friday nights, checking IDs and asking for proof of vaccination. One night, Louis Tomlinson accidentally shows him something else.”

sweet like candy by @neondiamond / neondiamond

“Louis is an Alpha with an odd obsession for gummy bears. Harry is an Omega who makes friends a little too easily. They meet on the bus.”

scent partner by @daggerandrose / amomentoflove

“The name of the company was horrible: Scent Partner. Whoever was on the marketing team should be fired immediately for green-lighting that name. But the instructions were simple.

Alphas wear a shirt for three days and nights. The shirt gets sent to omegas nearing their heats to pick the alpha who smells the best to them. The company notifies the alpha and gives them the opportunity to say no. If both parties agree, they meet at a heat room for the omega’s heat. Everything is safe and consensual.”

secrets don’t make friends by @thedevilinmybrain / devilinmybrain (venomedveins)

“5 times Louis' crew knew too much, and the 1 time they thought they knew, but didn't really. Not at all.“

single bells ring by @absoloutenonsense / nonsensedarling

“A holiday singles event is not where Louis wants to be tonight, but there he is, helping his best friend find love. Just as Louis is settling in, ready to have a terrible time, he meets the fittest alpha he’s ever come across.“

skip the small talk by @sadaveniren / sadaveniren

“"Your initial Result is that you are a service based submissive.”

Harry froze. James’ eyes were on him, boring into his soul. Harry had never felt so exposed. He wasn’t a submissive. He was an alpha.

“But I’d been so careful,” came out before he stopped himself.

aka Harry is an alpha that's just a little too soft to be a good dom but that's okay because Louis is an omega who is a little too rough to be a good sub.”

the lost art of breeding and (mis)behaviour by @indiaalphawhiskey / indiaalphawhiskey 

““Strip, slave.” His voice was rough – stern, as a proper Master’s voice should be. Harry couldn’t help but feel pleased. “I could have had five of your kind for your price. Best make sure I’ve not been cheated.” -- Or, Harry learns a thing or two about fate and faith.“

the only one (when it’s said and done) by @londonfoginacup / ladylondonderry

“Louis Tomlinson, alpha, twenty nine years old, is head of the Tomlinson pack.

He's unbonded, and happily so. A trip to the neighbouring Arthur pack certainly isn't going to change that.”

there’s always another option by anonymous

“Harry gets all dressed up to go see his boyfriend with one goal: get railed. He doesn't expect his boyfriend's cousin to be staying in his flat, and he definitely doesn't expect his boyfriend to dip out to go cheat on him. Oh well, just because his boyfriend isn't there doesn't mean he can't still get what he wants.“

this is my jam by @disgruntledkittenface / disgruntledkittenface

“The guy’s eyes are so blue that Harry can’t tear his gaze away, even as he moves to the beat. The searing light shade is magnetic; he finds himself leaning in and yelling, “This is my jam!” only to earn a laugh from thin pink lips that Harry’s definitely going to be dreaming about tonight.

“Your jam?”

When the guy yells back over the music, his blue eyes sparkling and his lips twisted in a smirk, Harry’s chest literally puffs out with pride at earning his attention. His obvious approval. Tongue-tied, Harry nods and closes his eyes as he lets go, the music reverberating around them. All of the usual inhibitions that keep him in the corner at parties fall away and he bounces around the center of the dance floor, waving his arms above his head. Somehow his towel stays on, even as he starts to think he wouldn’t mind if it fell off. Fuck it. He finally made it here, he’s damn well going to enjoy it.

Harry goes to a gay bathhouse for the first time. 90s AU.”

the money mark by @brightgolden / brightgolden

“Harry's heart beats faster in his chest as the name sinks in. The Tomlinson name is awfully familiar, and he isn’t sure how many rich Tomlinsons are out here in London, but he knew one. Seven years ago.

Like all fine things in the world, Louis Tomlinson ages exceptionally well.

OR

Where Louis is Harry’s first sugar daddy who dumped him over text and their paths cross, seven years later.”

the risen by @creamcoffeelou / creamcoffeelou

“In search of the next breaking story, Harry goes off to do something no one else has been able to do: get the scoop on Louis Tomlinson and his devoted group of followers.“

the flower that blooms in adversity by @hershelsue / docklands

“Harry is twenty-six and he hasn't presented yet. He lives in London with his alpha best friend, Niall, who invites him to a New Year's camping trip with his other alpha mates. Amidst them, there's the always sharp Louis, who has a knack for observation and dirt under his toenails. Harry ends up agreeing on going, unaware he's leaving for the trip of a lifetime.“

venus as a boy by @hershelsue / docklands

“When Harry goes to a friend's movie night, the last thing she expects is to meet an enigmatic and handsome stranger who sweeps her off her feet. Louis might just think she’s the most wonderful thing alive.“

where’s the divide? by @2tiedships2 / 2tiedships2

“Louis brings potato salad to Niall's barbeque.“

wait by the light of the moon by @jaerie / jaerie

“Being a single parent of a newborn was not in Harry's plan. He can barely keep himself together doing everything on his own. He can't explain why he finds comfort in his neighbour next door, but apparently it's mutual.“

you’re shooting stars from the barrel of your eyes by @thedevilinmybrain / devilinmybrain (venomedveins)

“5 times Louis was gross hot and 1 time Harry was.“

you make the world taste better by @loveislarryislove / livelaughlovelarry

“"Nice to meet you," Harry said. "What can I get for you today?”

Louis rattled through the order – a couple loaves of different breads, some pastries, and a dozen cookies. There was a niggling sensation in the back of his mind that he was forgetting something, but he couldn’t think what it might be.

Harry nodded along as Louis spoke, starting to flit around the shop and gather things together. “Is that all?” he asked when Louis finished. “No muffins this week?”

That was it! “Oh yes, a half-dozen of the pumpkin and blueberry,” Louis said. “Almost forgot, thanks.”

“Of course,” Harry said, packing the muffins into a box. “I remember all my regular customers’ favorites. Your mother has good taste.”

Louis smiled. “She usually does,” he says. “I look forward to trying your goods myself, and finding my own favorites.”

~~~

Or, a story based on Hans Traxler’s fictional non-fictional text, The Truth About Hansel and Gretel, which is based on the Grimm fairy tale Hansel and Gretel.”

young hearts on the chase by @polaroidlouis / daffodilsforlou

“Before he can question him any further, Harry’s holding out a drink to him, ‘Louis’ written on the side of it with messy, pink letters. Warmth spreads all throughout Louis’ body when he takes it, starting from the tip of his fingers where they brush Harry’s to curl around the cup and settling in his chest.

“I also got us– um,” the omega starts, nervous fingers fumbling to get the paper bag open. “Got you an egg muffin. Or– or a normal muffin if you don’t like egg ones.”

“Who doesn’t like egg muffins?”

The smile that breaks across Harry’s face in response is as bright as the one yesterday. Louis almost expects it to be kissed into his cheek as well. It looks like Harry’s considering it for a moment, too, dreamy gaze gliding all over Louis’ expectant face. He seems to decide against it with a sigh though, and Louis’ not disappointed when they start walking side by side instead (he’s not).

harry’s a hopeless romantic, louis’ oblivious, and it’s going to be Valentine’s Day.”

if you read any of these fics, please don’t forget to leave kudos & a comment!! 

[supernatural-bias]

—bad luck buddies

SUMMARY | sometime in between filling in for carver and completing your mission with ladybug, the two of you manage to have a few laughs

PAIRING | ladybug x reader

REQUESTED | no

WARNINGS | strictly platonic, spoilers for bullet train, hit men, guns, mentions of murder, etc

WORD COUNT | 600+ words

AUTHORS NOTE | very goofy man. funny too. a short little one shot this time though sorry. wasn't having a good night tonight and just wanted to get this done

🐞 Masterlist 🐞 Navigation 🐞 Rules 🐞

"Are you sure I can't get you to give up the number for Barry?"

A gruff voice chuckled next to you as you both through foot traffic, hair bristling in the wind.

"Sorry (Y/n). Gotta keep him all to myself. I can recommend another therapist, though."

Laughter.

"Are you two done talking yet, or should I wait untill you've finished to give you the mission details."

A smile blossomed on your face as the earpiece nestled snugly in your ear buzzed with the sound of Maria's voice. You spared a quick glance at the man next to you, his own expression riddled with amusement—the twinkle in his eyes a dead giveaway.

"Sorry Maria." You grinned. "But Ladybugs' new mindset has me rethinking some of the ways I do my job."

"See! That's exactly what Barry was talking to me about. Put a positive mood out into the world, and it comes back to you." Ladybug snapped his fingers with a triumphant smile, much to the chagrin of Maria. Who by now had sighed in your ear more times than you could count on both hands.

"Please don't tell me you two left the guns in the locker."

You could practically see her pinching the bridge of her nose right now—smudging that weird eyeliner she always insisted on applying. Probably regretting letting the two of you fill in for Carver; that bastard. It was bad enough that separately the two of you barely scraped by on missions. But together? Even you had to admit that the universe seemed to push against your every move. Hence the whole therapist talk. It was high time you tried professional help. At least that's what your targets told you right before you stabbed them in the neck.

"Hey don't sweat it boss man. Er—lady." You readjusted your coat, briefly stopping to apologize to the few pedestrians you would bump into. Didn't expect train stations to be so busy at this time of day. "You said this would be a breeze right? So no guns, no problem."

A beat of silence.

"Your lack of response tells me that you either see the brilliance of the situation or hate us right now." Ladybug scratched at his scruff, nearly knocking his ridiculously chunky glasses astray meanwhile.

"I'm thinking the second one." Maria deadpanned. All she got in response was a cheeky grin from you and Ladybug.

Quick work was made of hopping on the bullet train as you both continued your banter, footsteps falling in sync as you padded up and down the carpeted iles.

"Now you're looking for a breifcase—"

"Could you be a bit more specific?"

"Let me finish (Y/n). You're looking for a silver breifcase with a train sticker on the handle."

"That's not at all ironic." Ladybug cracked a joke, lightly setting his arm on your shoulder to prevent you from toppling on him as the train began to move with a hiss. To which you sent him a goofy salute.

"Fuck it's cold in here. You couldn't have picked a warmer train to stash this case?" You complained, half to Maria and half to Ladybug. Both rolled their eyes, albeit one more playfully than the other. A few nearby passengers didn't seem to take as kindly to your loud complaints though, tossing a nasty look or two.

"Well sorry if the twenty million in cash didn't ask before picking a route out of Tokyo. Did you want to ask the current handlers about a change in plans?"

"Nope." You popped the p while continuing to meander after Ladybug. "I'd rather snatch it from under their noses thank you very much."

Ladybug turned around momentarily to join in on the conversation, clearly buzzed about the promise of a short and easy trip.

"After all." He grinned. "How difficult could this job be?"

[shemarmooresfedora]

Home

Series Summary: After being arrested, Spencer Reid desperately tries to get back home to his daughter, Camellia, who was placed into foster care in your home.

Pairing: Single!Dad!Spencer x Foster!Mom!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Content/Warnings: mentions of Diana’s Alzheimer’s and Schizophrenia, prison, separation of father and daughter, swearing

A/N: i hope you guys enjoy my new fic! this may be about 8 chapters or so! i’m not sure yet, going to see how interested people are in the plot :) (also quick disclaimer: i have never been in the foster care system so please excuse any inaccuracies)

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Spencer never wanted his daughter to see him like this, being brought into the BAU bullpen in handcuffs. He was supposed to be the good guy.

Right now, he couldn’t tell if he still was. He had good intentions going down to Mexico to get non-FDA approved medicine for his mom but he may have killed someone in the process. If only he could just remember.

Camellia ran into his arms to hug him, a hug he so desperately wanted to return if it wasn’t for these stupid cuffs around his wrists.

“They can’t just take you away, Dad,” she cried.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m going to get back to you as soon as possible,” he promised, kissing the top of her head.

Spencer felt absolutely crushed as the guards had to drag his crying 11-year-old off of him so he could be taken to his holding cell.

-

You had just gotten off of work when your phone rang. Eileen, the head foster care coordinator, was calling.

“Hello,” you answered.

“Hey Y/N,” she greeted you, “I know you haven’t had a foster kid in a few months but I kind of have an urgent case. 11-year-old sixth grade girl. Mom has been out of the picture for a while, Dad recently imprisoned and on trial for murder. There are a bunch of family friends willing to take her but no direct family,” she explained.

“I can take her for as long as she needs,” you told Eileen.

“Great! I’ll text you the address, it’s the FBI headquarters.”

-

When you walked into the BAU, still in your dino scrubs and white lab coat, Eileen was surrounded by a frantic group of people.

“As I said before, I don’t doubt any of your credentials but this is the law. We can only give away a child to direct family at this point in time. If you are not direct family, you will need a lawyer to fight for custody as well as permission from her father but that process could take months,” Eileen stated.

“Spencer hasn’t spoken to his father in years and his mother is in a facility for her schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s,” a dark-haired woman spoke.

“Exactly so she must be turned over to the foster care system. I apologize to you all but this is how it works. We can’t bend the rules,” Eileen said.

“I don’t want Callie fending for herself in a house with 20 other kids,” a blonde-haired woman argued, “I’m her godmother. She stays with me all the time. She was staying with me while Spencer was in Mexico.”

“Sorry, my answer is still no. But, hopefully this will squash your concerns, Y/N!” she called you over, “This is Y/N. Jo will be placed with her. She is a pediatric doctor and currently has no other foster kids at the moment but all of her past kids have absolutely adored her. She always passes her surprise safety and wellness checks with flying colors.

“Hi,” you waved, intimidated by this huge group of frustrated people with guns on their hips.

“A doctor? So she isn’t even going to be home most of the time,” a curly-haired man scoffed.

“Actually, I own my own practice. I don’t work at a hospital so I usually have a regular 8-4 shift unless one of my patients needs urgent attention,” you clarified.

“JJ, don’t make me go,” a girl, who you could only assume was Callie, sobbed.

They were all staring at you like you were the worst person on Earth. You wanted to shrivel up and die. When you went through the process of becoming a foster parent, you thought this was a very admirable thing to do. You just wanted to provide a good home to kids in need.

“Do any of you have a key to Dr. Reid’s residence so Camellia can pack a bag?” you asked politely.

The woman closest to Callie that must be JJ pulled a key off of her chain and handed it to you.

“I’ll-um-leave my phone number and address here so you guys can contact me at any time or stop by. I understand your concerns but please know I try my absolute hardest to make sure all kids feel welcome and safe in my house,” you scribbled your information down on a scrap piece of paper.

“Are you ready to go, Camellia?” you asked softly.

She went around hugging everyone in the circle before solemnly nodding to you.

God, you felt like such an asshole.

-

After Callie finished packing her things from her bedroom in relative silence, you returned to the car.

“I don’t know what you like to eat but we can stop at the grocery store so we can get stuff you like and any other things you need,” you said.

You were met with silence from the backseat. You offered for her to sit in the passenger seat but she declined.

“Listen, I’m really not trying to be the bad guy here. Please don’t make me out to be one. I know you are having a tough time with your Dad’s situation right now but shutting everyone else out won’t help,” you spoke softly, “Trust me, I know.”

You sighed when the silence continued. You pulled out of the Reid’s driveway and headed to the grocery store.

-

You let Callie lead when you entered the grocery store, opting to follow behind her with the cart. She went immediately to the frozen meal section and started throwing them in.

“Camellia, that’s fine if those are what you want but just so you know, I love to cook so I can make you anything you want,” you offered.

“This is what I’m used to,” she spoke sharply, “My dad is not a bad dad, he just usually doesn’t have much time.”

“I never claimed he was,” you defended yourself.

After that, you kept your mouth shut. Clearly, she was a very independent girl and she had her own routine she liked to stick to.

-

You hauled all the grocery bags inside the house and unloaded them as Callie brought in her suitcases.

“So Camellia, I put all the food you picked out in these two cabinets. I mean obviously, you are welcome to anything in the kitchen but I just wanted you to know where the things you picked out were. I always have a grocery list on the fridge that you can add to,” you began to give her a tour of the house, “Bathroom is in there. There’s another upstairs. Here’s the living room with a TV,” you headed up the stairs, “Here’s my room.”

On your bed was an adorable toyger kitten cuddled up on your pillow.

“Oh! This is Winnie like Winnie the Pooh. I just got her a few weeks ago from a shelter. She is super friendly and loves snuggles so she will probably try to sneak into your bed unless you keep your door closed.”

“I don’t mind,” Callie spoke softly as she petted Winnie.

You smiled softly. These were the first words you got out of her that weren’t a rejection.

You continued the tour, “There’s a bathroom between our rooms but I tend to use the downstairs one so feel free to make it your own. And here’s your room,” you opened the door to a white room with a queen bed in the center, a small bookshelf, a few plants, and paintings.

“I hope this is good enough for now. We can go out this weekend to a home goods store if you want to redecorate. I’d even be open to repainting it if you want,” you offered.

Callie just set her bags down and nodded.

“Alright, I’ll leave you be. I’ll probably be downstairs for a while watching TV if you want to join. Let me know if you want me to make you anything,” you began to shut the door but Winnie slipped in first.

“Good night, you guys,” you smiled softly.

-

“Do you want me to wait out here or come in with you?” you asked softly.

Spencer had been denied bail, meaning he was transferred to a federal prison and Callie was going to be staying with you for a while. She had taken the news rather hard as expected when the team came over to your house to tell her. You still weren’t really accepted by the group so you mostly stood in the corner of the kitchen while they were all in your living room.

You had spoken to Eileen several times about Callie’s current situation. She gave you permission to do whatever you saw fit. This means you could opt her out of school one or two days a week if she wasn’t feeling up to it as long as she emailed her teachers and got her missed work in on time. You were researching different therapists for her to talk to because she didn’t seem to want to open up to you. You were also given a schedule of visiting times for her to visit her dad in prison.

“I’ll just go in alone,” she walked in the door to the visiting room, leaving you in the waiting room.

-

“Dad,” Callie tried to hug Spencer but the guard pointed to the ‘No Touching’ sign posted on the wall.

They both sat down defeatedly at opposite ends of the table.

“How are you?” Callie inquired, wiping her tears away from seeing her father locked up.

“I don’t want to talk about me, sweetheart. How are you? Emily and my lawyer visited yesterday and told me you had to be placed into foster care,” Spencer asked, concerned.

“It’s okay. Not the best,” she sighed.

“What’s happening? Are they hurting you? Are they not giving you enough to eat? Callie, I’ll have my lawyer on the phone and you out of there so quick,” Spencer frantically stated.

“No, Dad. Y/N is fine…nice, even. But she’s not you,” Callie cried.

Spencer’s face softened, “I’m so sorry, Callie. You don’t deserve to be dealing with any of this.”

“Just please come home,” she sniffled.

“I’m trying, sweetheart, I’m really trying,” he replied earnestly with tears in his eyes.

A/N: i will also be starting a series taglist if you don’t want to be added to my main taglist so just clarify which one you want to join! also i recommend listening to the song Home by Phillip Phillips because it is kind of like the theme song for this story

main taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187 @babymetaldoll @fics4arainyday @ssavanessa22 @all-tings-diego

series taglist: @ilovespencerreidmarryme