#but anyway yeah for now I have made it to the other side of the Berlin flat hunting nightmare

[cvnntagious]

brat!reader has been superr overwhelmed with work and taking care of Mazzy and starts crying in the middle of sex with bd!matt bc she lwk wants him back bc she knows that parenting Mazzy would be so much easier with him by her side and js misses his presence but she’ll never admit it (ps i literally love this series so much🤍)

thank youu, i love you !

matt's hips snapped to meet yours, his thrusts slow and deliberate. he couldn't get enough of the way you quietly whimpered beneath him in the night, finding it hard to stay quiet as his movements sped up. your tits bounced just the way he liked, a sense of euphoria washing over him as he grunted.

you, on the other hand, were on the verge. no, not of release, though you really wish you were. you felt tears welling up in your eyes, still unable to stop the soft pants that left your mouth as matt's tip abused your g-spot.

his arms wrapped around you, practically cradling your frame as you felt his weight slowly sinking on top of you. the way his head dipped to nuzzle in your neck sent you over the edge.

there was an almost instant pause of his hips when matt heard sniffles coming from you beside his ear, lifting himself off of you in a panic. the concern that washed over him made it so that he didn't even care about the way the pleasure that was building up inside him was gone just as quick as it came.

"baby?" he asked when he was met with tears streaming down your face, "are you okay? was i too rou-"

"no, m'fine," you cut him off. of course he wasn't. he sped up, yeah, but he wasn't rough—not tonight, anyway.

matt tried to pull out, only for you to catch his half-hard length in your hand. "jus- just keep going," you tired to assure him, unable to stop the tears from falling. matt wasn't having it.

he shook his head, hands reaching to grab your waist. "don't be like that. you're still crying," he replied, lifing you off your matress and flipping the two of you over so you were now straddling him, still naked, "tell me what's wrong, baby, i'll make it better."

your heart began to pound a bit in your chest at his words, feeling your face flush under his gaze as he looked up at you. "i said m'fine," you stifled out, but again, matt wasn't having it. he remained silent, as if urging you to tell him the truth without words. "just... y'know, stressed. so," you finally caved a bit, only to feel yourself shifting on him, reaching to grab his dick again. you were about to tell him that since you were stressed, this was how he could help you, but he knew you too well. he knew something else was up.

again, he stopped your movements, grip on your hips tightening to keep you in place. "yeah... and what else?" he asked, blue eyes wide with question when you finally made eye contact with him.

the way his lashes unintentionally batted made you feel... angry. what was his problem? you said you were fine. he was gonna get what he wanted, sex, so why did he care? "matt, just drop it," you quipped biterly, finding yourself lifting off of him — with a small struggle, of couse.

matt's eyes followed you as you got off your bed and walked away with angered grunts, naked form making its way towards your bathroom. he began thinking maybe really didn't know you like he thought, and that hurt him. but he didn't even know how much this hurt you.

you knew you messed up with him, and it was slowly starting to eat at you; thinking you lost the best person in your life right now.

[emeritusemeritus]

hi hun, i have a story idea for you, reader and fred weasley if that's alright. reader is pregnant and is due to have her baby on new year's eve but she goes into early labour alone after an argument with fred and gives birth on christmas eve just as fred arrives to make up with her⁷

Hi Anon! Wow when I tell you this has consumed me for days, it’s taken so long to write but I just couldn’t stop! Side note, the name of Fred and Reader’s child is a name I’ve loved since I was a kid and finally got to use it in a fic where it fit perfectly. Hope you enjoy! 🖤

Warnings: pregnancy and childbirth. Graphic descriptions of pain and labour but not of actual birth. Fast labour, precipitous labour. Reader has the pregnancy emotions. arguments and shouting, minor swearing. Reader hits Fred in the arm. Molly Weasley being the OG midwife. I may have some unresolved birth trauma of my own apparently. Happy ending I promise. Not beta read or spell checked.

Word count: 5.5k

Hark now hear the angels sing [Fred Weasley]

"And... that is the last one, we are officially ready for Christmas!"

You beam as you turn towards Fred, having tied the last bow on the last gift you had to wrap. You look at the pile of gifts and smile, partially because it meant that you no longer had to wrap a single other thing but mostly because it was a stack of gifts for your loved ones. You'd be going to the Burrow tomorrow for Christmas Eve to spend a big family Christmas back at the Weasley home and had made sure that not a single person would be missed in the gift exchange.

It was December 23rd and you couldn't be more excited for the holidays. It had snowed overnight making everything seem so much more magical and it would be the last Christmas as a couple before the little one arrived.

With one final proud look towards your pile, you gather the scissors and tape into the little bag to store them and tried to stand up from your place on the floor, realising quickly that it probably wasn't the best idea to wrap the gifts on the floor at 39 weeks pregnant. You wince at the sharp pain that runs down the length of your back at any form of movement and momentarily swallow your pride as you call out your husband.

"Little help?" You asked Fred who was sat on the sofa in your little home, tinkering with a string of lights that just didn't seem to want to work. He looks up and starts chuckling at your pathetic attempts at getting up and stretches his hand out for you to take. He lifts you with ease, something you're very impressed by factoring in your current size and giggle when he places a delicate kiss onto your nose. His hand wraps around your waist, his palm pressed against the curve of your belly with his thumb stroking the stretched skin through your T-shirt.

"Did we wrap anything for Fred jr?" He asks, smirking at you with those mischief filled eyes that you love so much.

"No. Mainly because there is, and will be, no such person."

"Oh come on sweetheart, don't you want a tiny little me running around?" His eyebrows jump up and down for effect, fingers still lovingly stroking your bump.

"I'm hoping for a George," you deadpan, breaking into a laugh when he suddenly pulls you gently towards him by tickling your side. "Anyway, she's a girl."

"Oh yeah? Mother's intuition?" Fred teases, his eyes gazing over your bump as if he's trying to see something that's not there, like an obvious clue of what gender your baby will be.

"Something like that," you smile, reaching up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his smiling lips.

Suddenly, you pull away from Fred with a brief push to his chest, showing your panicked face and the tears that are starting to well in your eyes, all glimmer of happiness gone.

"Princ-."

"I didn't get her anything!" You suddenly cry out, cutting Fred off as he notices the rather sudden change in your demeanour, your voice trembling as the feeling of complete grief consumes you. "What if she comes early and we didn't get her anything? She'll think that we don't love her! Or she'll think that Santa forgot her!"

Tears are streaming down your face now, your breaths coming quicker and quicker as guilt and shame fill your mind. What kind of mother doesn't buy her own baby a Christmas gift?

"Between the cot, the pram and the clothes we've bought for them, plus not to mention the entire house we bought after finding out they were on the way, I'd say they've had enough."

The glare that you shoot at Fred is enough to silence him instantly, the venomous look in your eyes rivalling his own mothers as he quickly realised this is not a time to make jokes.

"This little one isn't due until after Christmas," he says with a much gentler tone now, placing his hand back onto your bump. "They don't need a Christmas present, they'll already have everything they need when they pop out." He regrets his choice of words the second your eyes shoot up to his, knowing that 'pop' made it sound like an easy thing to do, which he'd been warned from almost every female member of his family that it was far from easy.

"When our baby's born," he says, trying again. "They'll have me and their beautiful mummy. And a whole family that loves them, what else could they need?"

Surprisingly, his words do offer comfort and a wave of relief washes over you as you feel calmed by the idea that the baby really did have everything they would need.

"Sorry," you say, feeling a fresh wave of shame taking over you at your slight overreaction, but Fred steps in again to give you a tight squeeze.

"Already the best mum," he whispers, rocking you gently as you stand holding each other, the Christmas lights illuminating the room in a magical display. You feel a little wiggle in your tummy and smile to yourself, your hand slipping down to cradle the spot where you could feel your little one stretching and rolling.

Everything was set for your arrival at the Burrow in the morning, the suitcase was packed with a mixture of your clothes and Fred's, everything down to your spare toothbrush. The gifts were wrapped and the cookies you'd baked earlier that mornings had been placed into a cute metal tin with a bow, placed on the table beside the front door so that you wouldn't forget them.

"Want me to load the car now?" Fred asks, poking his head around the bedroom door.

"I can help," you offer, only to be shut down a moment later by your husband.

"You will do not such thing," he says firmly, though his eyes are soft. "You are going to park your gorgeous little bum down onto the nearest, softest surface and rest."

"But."

"Doctor's orders princess," he winks, making you smile and relent, though you were hardly going to turn down the offer of sitting down for a while before bed, knowing you'd have an early start in the morning. Your back was twinging with discomfort, a crampy feeling radiating between your pelvis and your hips that made you curse yourself for the stupid idea of wrapping presents on a hard floor.

You walked downstairs to grab a warm drink and sit on the sofa with the hope of a warm fire and a Christmas film, stopping to peek out of the Christmas light filled window to watch Fred trying to fit all the presents in the boot of the car. Since you were so far into your pregnancy, almost every magical transportation option was now deemed unsafe, leaving you with only a handful of options for reaching the Burrow. Percy had very graciously secured a ministry car for you to borrow over the holidays, a fact that he was insistent upon repeating whenever it was even vaguely mentioned in conversation, including the precarious nature of securing the car during the ministry's busiest season. Regardless of your brother in laws self importance, you were thankful for his gesture and though the drive would be long, you were actually looking forward to it. You'd prepped snacks, both muggle and magical, had ensured to the point of obsession that the radio was fixed upon the muggle Christmas station so that your entire drive down would be filled with only the cheesiest Christmas songs and you'd even prepped some hot chocolate for the drive, placing two matching Christmas travel cups beside the kettle ready to make just before you left.

A loud crash pulled your attention right back to Fred as you watched him scrambling onto his feet, an array of once neatly wrapped packages on the floor around him. He looks around nervously before catching sight of you in the window, eyes widening, before he attempts to pick up the dropped presents.

Instantly you were moving to the door, your mind spiralling at the idea that they might be broken or wet from the snow, or if Fred was hurt in the skirmish.

"Are you okay?" You ask slightly breathlessly as you scramble to the door, trying to place your shoes on as quickly as you could.

"Sweetheart stay inside, it's icy and you're not coming out here until I can clear it," he says holding up a hand, eyes fixed on your bump as if you accentuate his words.

"What happened?" You ask, trying to steal a glance around his body to look for any damage to the presents that he was slowly picking up, stacking them high in his arms as he attempts to talk to you through a vision blocking stack of presents.

"Well I was trying to balance these ones and the bottom one slipped."

"You can't stack that many! No wonder they bloody fell!" You say, anger simmering under the surface as you watch more and more presents dangerously wobbling in his arms, swaying with the wind and from every movement he makes. "Stop stacking them so high."

"I can do it."

"Obviously you can't!" You snap, feeling the anger rising now from his obvious lack of care to the gifts that you had so painstakingly picked out and wrapped. "What if they're all broken?!"

"They're not all broken," he snarks.

"All? You mean there's broken ones?!" You exclaim, hardly able to push down your anger anymore. You and Fred hardly every argued, but when you did it was almost always a big one that lasted no more than five minutes before you were making up, sometimes longer if he was in the mood to sulk. Uncaring about the ice, you step outside and rush over to the back of the car where Fred continues to pick up the last of the presents from the ground, cringing at what follows when he picks up the very last one.

The telltale sound of damaged box fills your ears at a painfully ironic moment, the sound so obviously being something broken, shattered with the pieces rattling about inside. You gasp as you look upon the misshapen box, seeing the distinctive green wrapping paper all torn and wilted from the snow, knowing instantly what was inside, undoubtedly shattered beyond repair.

You're completely heartbroken at the sight before you and more angry with Fred than you ever remember being.

"You stupid git!" You say, hitting his arm as he turns to you with a look of apologetic shame, though you don't even remotely fall for it, too enraged to give a single thought to his feelings. "I told you that you couldn't carry that many! Now look what you've done!" The box falls from his hands again and lands in a heap on the floor, an ominous rattling crying out all the way down until it crashes upon making contact with the snow.

"It's just a present," he mumbles, trying to downplay the situation as he turns back towards the car, away from your body. His words and aversion to the situation only fuel your anger in the moment, seeing visions of his younger self so uncaring for the consequences of his actions even if it both directly and indirectly affected others.

"It's not just a present you git! It was Fleur's only Christmas present! You have no idea how long it took me to find it," you say, tears welling up in your eyes again as the anger turns to sorrow.'you knew how much she adored snow-globes, something from her childhood that she'd told you about in great detail one night at the Burrow. You'd gone searching around muggle antique stores for something within the brief and had been completely overwhelmed by the beauty of the snowglobe you found for her. It was a little over the budget but you didn't care, knowing how much she would love the beautifully ornate pink and gold filigree on the side, the tiny carousel horses inside that spun around with fine gold glitter covering the beautiful scene. It was decadent and beautiful, and now shattered in a box on your front drive, the glittery water leaking out of a large crack in the box and onto the snow.

"Just give her one of Ginny's," he says defensively, the hint of a shrug ghosting his coat-covered shoulders.

"Oh yeah perfect, because I'm sure she'd love a mug that says Mrs Potter to be!"

You march away from him in a foul mood, stomping your way back into the house as you close the door with a resounding slam, the wreath on the door quivering with the force.

It was the evening before Christmas Eve, you didn't have anything else to give her and you certainly couldn't show up empty handed for only one person, especially one that had become a good friend to you and who had admittedly struggled to fit in with the family at first. You felt wretched and suddenly wanted to stay at home, the idea of going to the Burrow now making you feel physically sick.

You winced as the pain in your back suddenly increased, making you grab ahold of the table beside the door for support as you felt it radiate through your back and settle into your pelvis.

"Look, why don't we just drop by somewhere on the way to mums? See if we can get a replacement." Fred says as he steps through the door, inevitably trailing snow throughout the hallway. You straighten up, recovering from the cramps and turn to him in disbelief, fresh annoyance consuming you again.

"It can't be replaced it was antique!"

"Well something similar then," he mumbles. You don't even fight his words, realising that he didn't have any semblance of idea of how hard you'd worked to make everything perfect for Christmas.

"You haven't even apologised," you huff, kicking off your shoes and wandering towards the kitchen, cringing at the pain that still remains in your lower back.

"What for?!" He asks, sounding mystified. "Hardly my fault I slipped, ice is icy funnily enough."

"Oh piss off Fred, you know it wasn't the ice," you spit out, reaching for a mug as you flick the kettle on again.

"I've had enough of this," he says angrily, marching right back out of the hall towards the front door that slams shut behind him. The silence that follows is almost suffocating as you stand looking at the place he stood only moments before.

The tears flowed freely now, though the gut wrenching sobs had stopped eventually. It had been around half an hour since your argument with Fred when you walked over to the door to attempt to reconcile, not wanting the stupid argument to ruin the last night in your home before tomorrows journey. It was getting late and you wanted to go to bed, exhausted both physically and emotionally and knew that stopping off somewhere tomorrow for a replacement gift for Fleur would only make your wake up call earlier. You sucked in a sharp breath when you stood up from the sofa, feeling a sharp pain shoot right up your pelvis and down your leg right to your toes, the cramping immediately resuming. You let out a few steady breaths and grabbed hold of your bump as if to help calm the pain and waddled towards the door.

When you saw that the car was no longer outside, with no sign of Fred anywhere and only tyre marks in the snow as proof, you knew instantly that he had left. Tears began to prickle at your eyes and you closed the door slowly with a weak shove, the tears coming once again. Fred had never left during an argument, had never just upped and decided to flee. You felt miserably guilty for your overreaction, even if it did seem deserved, and wished more than anything that you could just fix it and go to bed.

You went to make another cup of tea, needing the warmth and the comfort from the drink, the fire having long since died and the room feeling uncommonly chilly. A sharp pain suddenly radiated through your lower abdomen, like a crushing pain that tightened around your hips like a belt that was too small and you gasped, clutching hold of the counter as you waited for it to disappear. During your scramble to reach out for something solid to rest upon, the mug had been knocked to the side and you watched as your favourite mug tumbled to the floor, splintering at your feet into little ceramic shards.

The pain was increasing rather than disappearing and you felt the tightness all over your bump now. When it finally began to abate after a few seconds, your legs felt wobbly and you felt shaken, heart pounding and breathing unsteady as you tried to calm yourself. You barely managed to make it over to the sofa when the pain started again, radiating through your body with increasing intensity that felt like a wave slow building until it crashed upon the sand. You gripped the arm of the sofa as the apex of the pain consumed your body again, this time lasting even longer than before.

When the pain peaked, forcing you onto your hands and knees on the floor in front of the sofa, you realised with a sheer sense of panic that you were completely alone. You couldn't use the floo, couldn't apparate and now you also had no car to get you anywhere or to anyone. Your owl was delivering a message to the Burrow and still hadn't returned, clearly having flown to Wheezes instead, leaving you owl-less. You took long steady breaths when you could, relishing in the few moments of relief that came between your pains. It couldn't be labour, it just couldn't, even though logically you knew that it was more than possible as babies came when they were ready, not when you wanted them to.

You sighed when you felt another wave of pain starting in your extremities, rapidly increasing to a crushing pain around you back and in your last parts. The pain made you breathless and you could hardly believe how quickly things had escalated as you knelt on the floor trying to keep yourself calm but failing miserably in the middle of what you absolutely would not believe, but logically knew, was labour. You choked on a sob when you thought of Fred, that he'd left you at your most vulnerable time, that he'd miss the birth of your child and that you'd have to do this all alone. The plans you'd made for your birth were now completed ruined and you would no longer have the support of Molly, who had been overjoyed at being asked to support you. She was more than just your mother-in-law and after birthing seven children, there was no one else you trusted to guide you through labour. But now completely alone and trapped at home, would you survive? Women died in childbirth all the time, especially when birthing alone. What if the baby didn't survive? What if the cord was around their neck and you didn't know?

Almost like a switch had gone off in your mind, you focused on the task at hand, pushing all fear inducting thoughts out of your head and focused instead of what would be needed if you were going to do this alone. Warm towels, water, somewhere comfy for you to labour, somewhere warm and soft for the baby, baby clothes and a multitude of blankets. You looked towards the stairs and took a deep breath, trying your hardest to time yourself so that in the brief moments of reprieve you could climb the stairs to fetch what you'd need.

It took much longer than expected to collect everything you'd need, having to stop multiple times to cling onto the nearest surface and ride out the wave of pain that you could tell was getting worse and closer together. You'd barely made it down the stairs when another wave of pain hit you, making you stumble down the last step. You cried out at the searing pain that shot through you at the inadvertent step you'd taken, a lighting bolt of agony coursing through your pelvis, around your bump and settling deep in your groin. Your breath was shaky as you tried to recover from the pain but it didn't wane this time and instead focused purely in the centre of your pelvis. You notice by chance that it's past midnight now, the jingle of the little Christmas-themed muggle clock taunting you as to the announcement of a new day. Christmas Eve and you were alone, left to give birth entirely alone.

It takes everything you gave no to cry out, focusing instead on taking deep breaths and emitting a low groan as a way of vocalising your pain. You eventually make it back to the sofa, surrounded by all the things you'd need and allow yourself a little sob as you look at the equipment surrounding you, like an ominous scene of foreboding. Whatever motivation and strength you had previously momentarily slipped away and you allowed yourself to cry, both for the unrelenting pain and for your heartbreaking situation.

You let out another cry when a pain much stronger and more direct than before hits you full on, a crushing feeling from the inside that makes you feel lightheaded. You scramble to look down when you suddenly feel something wet beneath you, bringing your hand up to your legs to try and decipher what had caused it. You fight through another pain to pry off your wet bottoms and cast them aside, praying that you don't see any blood between your thighs. It's clear, the liquid that drips down your thighs, small sudden gushes turning to small drops as you battle to get a towel underneath you.

You're on all fours again, trying your hardest to take stabilising breaths when you hear the sound of the front door open.

"Fred!" You cry out in hope and desperation, the wail that falls from your lips an accumulation of the physical and emotional pain. It's the scream that you had wanted so desperately to let out as your body burns internally.

He's beside you in seconds and couldn't have been quicker if he'd apparated between the door and the living room. Your head falls forward as another contraction takes over, the sudden need to push consuming every instinct within you.

"I'm here sweetheart, I'm here it's okay," he coos, his hand instinctively reaching for your lower back as you circle your hips, trying desperately to bring relief.

You look up into his eyes and can see that he looks completely torn, eyes washing over your form as his mind whirls trying to formulate a plan. He looks completely overwhelmed under the surface, as much as he's pretending to be calm, panicked by the sudden chance in circumstances.

"Look sweetheart, I need to fetch mum, I'll be back in five minutes tops, I'll apparate right there and right back, can you handle that?"

He barely gets the words out before you scramble to reach out for him, clutching the bottom of his shirt desperately as you cringe from the movement of your torso.

"No please Freddie, please don't leave me alone again," you beg, already crying from the thought alone as you cling into him, tears streaming down your face. You're terrified of being alone again, desperate for him to stay by your side. You're scared and in pain, unable to think clearly.

"I won't leave," he says with a nod, trying to calm you, his brows knitting together as he tries to think of a backup. It's too late to drive you to St Mungo's and there's no way to side along apparate with you safely, especially now that labour had begun.

He does the only thing he can think of and pulls out his wand to cast his patronus, watching with a dwindling sense of hope that it would reach its destination quickly.

He pockets his wand again and turns his full attention back to you, trying to push some pressure into your back to relieve the pain in anyway he can, gently reminding you to take slow and deep breaths. There's so much that he needs to say to you, to apologise for, but that can wait until later, knowing that his focus had to be on you right now.

"Fred I need to push," you say with staggered breaths, a thin sheet of sweat covering your forehead.

"I know sweetheart, just a couple more minutes okay?" He says, still squatting down beside you. He prays to Merlin and to anyone else that might be listening for this to go well, for his patronus to have worked and failing that, for it to be an easy birth. He wasn't prepared for this, just a prankster turned businessman that had no knowledge of women's bodies beyond putting the baby there... getting it out was a completely different matter. 

"That's it sweetheart, you are doing so well, I'm so proud of you," he says, pushing back your hair that had stuck to your sweaty head, reaching for one of the little hand towels towels and enchanting it so that it was wet and cool before rubbing it softly over your forehead. You moan out and he hardly knows if it's because of the cooling sensation or because of the pain, but when you pull his washcloth holding hand back up to your forehead, he's pretty sure he has an idea.

"You are so strong princess, you're doing so well," he coos, trying his hardest to support you in your time of need. Truthfully, he was baffled how your body was doing this. You looked like you were in excruciating pain but yet you still carried on for the sake of the baby, your strength and resilience astounding him.

He jolts when he hears the telltale roar of flames in the fireplace and his heart leaps at the thought, had his patronus worked?

"Where is my, oh my dear!" Molly Weasley steps out of the floo induced flames of their fireplace and directly into the living room, giving herself a good shake as she spots her daughter in law on all fours in obvious labour. She pulls out her wand and casts a spell over herself that cleans off any sign of fireplace soot, then blasts the fireplace so that the regular flames resume to heat the home.

"Oh my dear," she rushes over, moving to kneel beside her daughter in law whose face scrunched up in pain, a silent scream of anguish falling from her lips.

"You should have got me sooner!" She points an accusing finger at her son who looks equal parts guilty and mortified as she strikes your hair out of your face, her eyes flicking between concern and anger between the two of you.

"I... I told him it wouldn't be yet," you stammer, hardly able to form the words. "I need to push!"

"Fred make yourself useful! Just like your father sat idly about, fetch some more towels and pillows from the bed, honestly you men." Molly surges into caring mode and for once Fred does exactly as she says without any backchat or hesitation. Her very presence is reassuring to you and you feel instantly calmed just by having her by your side.

"Well I have to say it, you do make beautiful babies," Molly coos as she looks at the three of you huddled together on the bed. Fred looks tired but peaceful, his arm wrapped protectively around you as your new baby stays latched on to your breast, bundled in soft blankets that her grandma had knitted especially for her. You're exhausted but overwhelmingly happy, and perhaps a little bit shocked by how quickly everything had progressed throughout the day and night.

"Right I'm off, as long as you're all okay? Oh I can't wait to tell your father he'll be overjoyed! I'm only an owl away if you need anything and I mean that, yes?"

"Thank you, for allowing me to experience this. I have a feeling this little one will be my favourite yet," Molly smiles as she leans down to glide her fingers across the little one's cheek lovingly. She looks up to you and smiles warmly, leaning down to give you a kiss on top of your head. "And very well done dear, you did brilliantly."

Fred walks his mother out, knowing that she had never liked apparating and would be using the floo to get home. You can hear their voices as they go downstairs but you can't hear what's being said and you look down at the cooing baby in your arms, watching her closed eyes and quick but steady breaths. She really is perfect, her little button nose, long lashes and tuft of distinctive red hair that was currently hidden beneath her little hat. 10 fingers, 10 toes and a striking resemblance to her dad that after the intense labour you'd just endured felt like a hilarous but tiny smack in the face.

When Fred returns, he's beaming. He pauses, leaning against the doorframe as he looks at the sight before him, his girls.

"How are you feeling sweetheart?" He asks, gently climbing onto the bed beside you.

"Exhausted," you say with a laugh, trying hard not to jiggle the little one too much with your laughter. "But I'm happy."

"Me too. Here, let me take her so you can get some rest."

You want to protest but you're worried your eyes will close at any second even though you're trying your hardest to keep them open, your body just too exhausted. You hand Fred the sleeping baby, passing her over gently like she could shatter at any moment from being so fragile and within moments of your head touching the pillow, you're out like a light.

"Wait till you meet your uncle George, and auntie Ginny, and uncle Percy, and Ron, and Charlie and Bill... there's a lot of them to remember I know, but it's mainly uncle George and Auntie Angelina you have to remember kid. Don't even get me started on the others, aunt Hermione, uncle Harry, auntie Fleur and then there's your granny and grandad."

"Trying to bore her back to sleep with your family tree?" You smile, noticing Fred and your little girl cuddled together in the little armchair in the corner next to her bassinet. He huffs a laugh, turning to you with so much adoration in his eyes that it momentarily leaves you breathless.

"Just getting her up to speed," he smirks, reaching down with his hand to grab her hand gently, "you going to say good morning to your beautiful mummy?" He gently manipulated her hand so that she gives you a little wave and you laugh, sitting up in bed with a slight wince.

"So I guess Fred Jr is off the table now eh?" He says with a wiggle of his eyebrows as he stands up from the chair, bringing your daughter over to you, her face a perfect picture of contentment.

"It was never on the table," you say with a smirk, greedily reaching for your daughter.

"Well you surprised us little one," Fred says to his daughter as she begins to stir. "Thought we'd be naming you something new yearsey, but you're a little Christmas Angel."

As if the concept of time and days had just returned to you, you realise that your daughter was born on Christmas Eve, your own little Christmas miracle.

"Holly?" Fred suggests, your nose scrunching up at the suggestion, not liking how obvious it was.

"What about Evangeline?" You ask, looking down at the sweet face, trying to weight up what name suited her the most. "Nickname Eve or Evie?"

"Evangeline Weasley..." Fred muses, as if trying it out for himself, "I love it." He beams, as if the missing puzzle piece has just slotted in to place.

"Merry Christmas little Evangeline," he coos, watching as she yawns, her eyes opening with a little squint as if by some miracle, answering to her name. Fred kisses you and you're happier than you've felt in a long time, the heartbreak of yesterday long forgotten and forgiven as you celebrate your first Christmas together as a family of 3.

[acecardexe]

JOYRIDE- ROOMATE!JEFF.TK x FEM!READER

Summery: You and jeff had a compromise. Don't go to each other's side of the room. But the mess and smell in his side of the room was building up like mold and you've had enough.

Warnings: . cussing,implied nsfw, Jeff is a perv (he steals some clothes of yours..)

A/N: got severely lazy at the end (╯︵╰,)

You and jeff weren't exactly the best of friends, but you were roomed up with him so you both had to just suck it up. So you made a truce, don't go to his and he won't go to yours. It's simple. Very foolproof..

That is until his room started looking like a birds nest with the smell of dead raccoon, you told him to clean up but he would just ignore you, insult you or glare at you or just simply give you excuses

Today you have HAD enough. While he was out doing whatever he was doing. You made sure he would be out for a while, just so you can clean up his room, you weren't going to do too much of a deep clean, you were just going to clean up enough that it wouldn't feel like you lived next to a trash can.

After an hour you finished a quarter of his room and moved over to his bed, clothes stacked on top of it that smelt like blood and sweat, you put it in the laundry basket and stripped the sheets, when a small black fabric fell out the dirty pillow sheets.

"The fuck is this..?" You mumbled to yourself, and picked it up. To your ever surprising horror, you found your lacy black panties that you were looking for everywhere you even asked Jeff but he just made a disgusted face and asked why he would have it.

Suddenly the door opened and in came the devil himself, Jeff. He stopped seeing you on his side of the room, anger flashing on his eyes. Until he looked at the price of fabric you were holding and he gave you a weird look And was quick to give you and answer

"That's not yours."

"it has my name on it."

You could hear him swear under his breath, as he realized he couldn't get out of the situation. He grumbled "what are you doing on my side of the room anyways?!" You went quiet, but frankly in your head cleaning someones stinky ass room was better than stealing someones underwear and god knows whatever he does with it. "Cleaning." You simply responded as if it was the most obvious thing and that it didn't look like you were raiding his side at all.

"Right." He said not making eye contact with you, The tension and the awkwardness level was so thick you'd need an axe to cut it. If Jeff wasn't a psychopath he would be red at this point, but unfortunately, or fortunately he isn't. He couldn't even argue that you were on his side because he was on your side as well. How else would he have your panties.

You decide the best thing to do is leave, "anyways, I'm going to wash your shit since you won't", you picked up the laundry basket with the dirty clothes you found in his room and headed to the door.

"Hold on" he held out an arm to stop you from getting out. "What if you tell this to someone else huh?" He shut the door.

"I- excuse me? What?" I stopped putting the basket down and crossing my arms

"I can't have you doing that now." You furrow your brows, it's not like Jeff had the best reputation in the mansion, he was feared but people knew he was also disgusting. So why did it matter if I blabber that he did shit with my panties, I'll throw that out anyways now that I know where it's been.. Or probably been.

"I'm not going to say anything" you huffed, rolling your eyes, desperate to get out of the room that was getting hotter every second. He grabbed you by the waist and growled

"Yeah as if you can keep your mouth shut, I guess I'll just have to fix that"

"The hell does that-"

His lips crashed into yours in a forced aggressive way as he pulled you closer and pulled you up onto your bed. it was going to be a long night.

CP MASTERLIST

[clonerightsagenda]

Kat's "I could fix him" Arcane post pt 2:

Yeah it's him this time.

The Jayce, Viktor, and disability storyline is where Arcane s2 gets the most incoherent, imo. I never got the impression in s1 that Viktor wants to "fix his imperfections". He just doesn't want to die. Also, his problems were caused by apathy and classism, not generic human emotion. (Blaming human emotion in general sure lets the rich and powerful off the hook, right?) At the end of s1, Viktor wants Jayce to destroy the hex core, but then in s2 he's embracing it. Also at the start of s2 he claims he's moved beyond affection, but then later tells Jayce he left without explaining himself because he was clouded by emotion. Viktor was upset about the idea of using hextech as weapons but then willingly helps Ambessa's army. We also have Viktor claiming "that's not Jayce" and Jayce having some visible arcane corruption, but that never goes anywhere. I'm still genuinely not sure how the show wanted me to interpret his s2 thought processes.

So, how would I deal with this? By leaning way way harder into the Horrors of Ableism and the Medical Model of Disability.

Viktor wanted Jayce to destroy the hex core. Instead, Jayce uses it to save his life against his wishes. After that, Viktor's affect changes, he goes into the Undercity, and non-consensually transforms someone else. Other disabled and chronically ill people come to him willingly, but this is a world where even one of the most powerful people in Piltover can't get a fucking wheelchair ramp. A quick fix is appealing, even if it means giving up some of who you are. You've already been unpersoned by society, after all.

Hextech is something Viktor and Jayce created together, and it seems to respond to intent and emotions, so let's take it to extremes. That's not Viktor. That's hextech, influenced by both Jayce and Viktor, and it answered Jayce's desperation. The man of progress, the herald of tomorrow, wanted to save his friend. He wanted to fix what was broken. Here you go! I made him even better. Now while I'm at it, I'll fix everybody else too!

Have purple disability Jesus!Viktor be embodied hextech on a well-meaning rampage. Meanwhile, mindscape Viktor debates it while it's wearing Sky's face. He feels betrayed by Jayce and guilty about Sky, but also he did want to bring better things to the Undercity. Is this the best way to do it? Is the only way to play the abled world's game abandoning who you used to be? He's not sure, and he starts to waver/get weaker as Sky/hextech gets stronger with more followers in its hivemind.

Following my last post, as hextech!Viktor helps Jinx with her shimmer issues, maybe he also tries to 'fix' her psychosis. (Side note, it would have been nice to make it clear that AU-verse!Powder still has psychosis, so it's not so clearly associated with Jinx's villain era. I'm sure stress and trauma makes it worse, but still.) He's unsuccessful at this, or perhaps Jinx resists it, and this can be something he reflects on later at the end when Jayce talks about our imperfections being important and part of who we are/the world around us.

Anyway, hextech!Viktor wants access to the gate to make everybody perfect and fully intends to doublecross Ambessa and remake her too. For her own good, of course. Real Viktor is exhausted in the mindscape. His partner wants to kill him, hextech is out of control, and even the downtrodden people he 'helped' have been destroyed. Then Jayce gets dragged into the mindscape and the hextech goes look, you created me and I've expanded on your vision. I saved your partner, I brought about the era of magic, I've created the men of tomorrow. And as in canon, Jayce can go no, Viktor, I didn't save you because I wanted to fix you, I just wanted you to live, there's nothing wrong with you. You don't need a glorious evolution, we just need to help people be better at being who they already are. And that encourages Viktor to overpower the hex tech possessing him.

Then they can still collapse into a gay singularity if you want I guess. Personally I think it's kind of a bummer that dozens of disabled people got obliterated and everyone would've been better off if Viktor had lay down and died of Limp And Coughing Blood Disease from the start but ymmv. IDK what my better ending of 'Jayce and Viktor embrace the social model of disability' would look like but if everyone gets sent to Zaun maybe it would involve coming up with assistive tech like they originally envisioned. And maybe Viktor still will die of lung disease. But he can do it on his terms if so.

[heart-eyed-love]

Spaghetti and Sacrifices

Summary | An obscene amount of candles has you thinking something that Eddie hadn’t intended, at least there’s some spaghetti to make up for that

Contains | Fem!Reader, Friends-to-Lovers, Cursing, Mentions of not being a virgin (lies! but dw, it’ll come up again at some point), Eddie has hopeless romanticness running through his blood and doesn’t even know

Pairings | BestFriend!Eddie x BestFriend!Reader

Word Count | 1.2k

“You know, I made enough for multiple servings not because I wanted you to eat it all.” Wayne eyes Eddie as he slides his coat on getting ready to leave for the night and head out to work.

“Why make so much if you’re gonna judge me for eating it?” Eddie turns his head back to look at his uncle.

“I’ve been seeing Y/n’s mom around less and less, I made enough so maybe you’d invite your friend over and get a good meal in her.” Eddie looks up from his plate of spaghetti and out the window to your trailer, right across from theirs. To no one's surprise the night was getting darker and your mom’s car is still gone. The only light on in your home was through the window that led to your bedroom.

Wayne right. They’ve been seeing less and less of your mom, it’s not like either one of them really went out of their way to seek her out. But she’s your mom, so the casualties were basically required at this point in the friendship.

They wouldn’t be all the surprised if you had seen her just as much as they had lately. You had informed him a few weeks back that she had gotten a new boyfriend and that she seemed to prefer to spend her nights with him now.

“Okay, well I’ll see you in the morning.”Wayne says as slips out the door, out into the night.

Eddie looks down to his plate, he could definitely go for seconds… but he’ll make sure to go get your first. He pulled another plate out of the cabinet before shoveling another slice of the garlic toast into his mouth before heading to the door.

He looked back to the living room area where he would hopefully be sitting with you for the rest of his dinner, but something was missing.

He headed over to the closet in the hallway, grabbing some candles and walking back into the living room. Wayne had a surprising amount of candles and Eddie was gonna use that to his advantage. He set them up on the coffee table in front of the couch.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he felt the candles were needed, he just did. A nice spaghetti dinner, in front of the Tv, with his best friend… yeah, sure. Why not?

Maybe he went a little overboard with the amount of candles but the ambiance was nice so that's all that really matters.

He threw on his jacket and Wayne’s slippers and slipped out the door. Making his way over to your window, tapping on it lightly.

You hear a small tapping at your window, pulling you from the book you were reading. Setting it down and walking to your window you already knew who was gonna be on the other side. You pull it up anyways, with a smirk on your face.

“My mother’s not here, Edward. You can use the front door.” You tease and he’s narrowing his eyes at the use of his full name.

“Yeah, well where’s the fun in that?”

“What is it you need?”

“Wayne made some dinner, spaghetti. Thought you might want some…” He says, finger twirling the ring round the other.

“Is there any garlic bread?” You question, as if it’s a deal breaker.

“You know there is.”

“Okay, I’ll be out in minute.” You say as you turn to slide your shoes on and then turn back in an attempt to shut your window.

“Wait, just climb out the window.” He says, stopping you from shutting it.

“Why?” You laugh in disbelief.

“Your mom’s never home, you never even have to try and be rebellious, just come out the window, it’ll be like you're sneaking out to come meet me.” He smirks, raising his brows.

He held your hand to help you down, you took it begrudgingly, rolling your eyes as you say, “As if I’d ever sneak out to meet you.”

“You know, sometimes you’re a little pain in my ass.” He says once you’re fully out of your window, he takes the window and shuts it.

“Well, good. I’m glad I was able to fulfill my true role in this friendship.” You smile brightly and he’s flicking your forehead. You shove his back as you both walk over to his trailer, he barely budges.

Hopping up the steps of his porch he opens the door for you, shoving your back into the trailer in return. But once you’re in you freeze at the sight.

Candles. So many candles.

The room is relaxing and the smell of Wayne’s meal makes you feel at home. Eddie walks past you and into the kitchen, “You want me to warm the spaghetti up for you?” He asks as he retrieves the plate he had gotten out for you.

You ignore his question, turning to look at him in the kitchen with an arched brow, “Is Wayne here?”

“Uh no…” He scratches the back of his neck, “no, it’s just us….”

“So it’s finally happening, huh?” You ask, causing Eddie to furrow his brows in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re finally giving in to all the rumors people spread?” He’s still confused as you go on, “I’m not a virgin, you know?” And he freezes as you say that statement, the smirk on your face feels like you’re taunting him. He’s VERY confused now. Cause that’s like… that’s huge. He is also trying to connect why that’s important right now, and he’s also trying to understand why the thought is making him feel slightly sick.

But quickly you add, “So, I’m not so sure how well this virgin sacrifice will work for you.” He finally rolls his eyes at your teasing and walks back into the living room, shoving your plate over to you.

“You’re so annoying you know that?”

Only causing you to smile more, “So I’ve been told.”

Eddie watches you as you walk into the kitchen, filling your plate with the spaghetti, throwing a piece of the garlic toast on as well. But as he watched you he couldn’t help but think back to what you had said.

That was a joke too, right? The whole you not being a virgin thing was also part of the joke, right?

You walk back into the living room, shoving a whole forkful of the spaghetti into your mouth as you sit down next to him. “So what’s with the copious amount of candles?” You ask, mouth still full of spaghetti. Sometimes he wonders if you guys are too comfortable with each other… it’s not like it bothers him anymore, your little quirks, he just wonders if he’s getting too deep into this.

“Wayne likes them.”

“Yeah, right. I’m sure he does, but maybe not all at the same time.” You giggle.

“It smelt weird in here.” He lied.

“It’s two men living in a small trailer, it always smells weird.” Not even looking at him as you say it, like it’s just common knowledge. Obviously, you’re teasing, but sometimes Eddie has a hard time catching on.

“No, it- Wait, does it?” He asks a tad bit more frantically than he would’ve liked to come off. Causing you to let out a loud laugh.

“Jeez, it’s just too easy with you.”

He’s rolling his eyes, hiding the small smile fighting to make its way on his face by retrieving the remote and turning on the Tv, “Just shut up and eat your spaghetti.”

@evileyeandthecattywhumps

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Appendix: Assorted Edward Quotes

I am yet again cutting a digression out of my 2+4 essay - this time it's evidence of what Edward is like when Gordon's not bloody around/involved (lol. I want to show that there is a difference!) Notice that there is one example when Gordon is present, however it's when Gordon is at the height (depth?) of his Disgrace Arc and for a couple of months or whatever hasn't said Boo to anyone.

However I will be offering no further analysis/explanation at this time, I just want the quotes here in case I need to link to them. So, just, er... consider this an Edward appreciation post, I guess. Yeah. Those always go over well, anyway. Look, I'll slap a picture on it. We're good.

He waited and waited - there was no whistle, no green flag. "Peep, peep, peep, peep - where is that Guard?"... / Edward began to get cross. "Are we ever going to start?" (1923)

Then the Driver pulled the lever, and Edward puffed away. / "Peep, peep," he whistled. "Look at me now." (1923)

It was fun playing with trucks. He would come up quietly and give them a pull. / "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" screamed the trucks. "Whatever is happening?" / Then he would stop and the silly trucks would go bump into each other. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" they cried again. / Edward pushed them until they were running nicely, and when they weren't expecting it he would stop; one of them would be sure to run on to another line. (1923) 

"I've got some trucks to take home tomorrow," he told him. "If you take them instead, I'll push coaches in the Yard." (1925) 

They both rested at the next station; Edward told James how Gordon had stuck on the hill, and he had to push him up! / James laughed so much that he got hiccoughs and surprised an old lady in a black bonnet. (1925-6) 

"Shall I help you, James?" called Edward. / "No, thank you," answered James, "I'll pull them myself." / "Good, don't let them beat you." … "Peep pip peep peep! You're doing well!" whistled Edward, as James slowly struggled up the hill[.] (1925-6) 

"How beautifully you wheeshed him," laughed Edward. "I can't wheesh like that." (1926-1934) 

"Hullo Henry," said Edward, "you look splendid; I was pleased to hear your happy whistle yesterday." (1926-1934) 

"The engines in their Shed were excited and wondered who would pull the Royal Train. "I'm too old to pull important trains," said Edward sadly. (1952)

"Peep! peep! we're late," fussed Edward. "Peep! peeppipeep! Where is Thomas? He doesn't usually make us wait." (1952)

"Do save him, Sir! You've got room, Sir!" / "Yes, Edward, I've got room," laughed the Vicar, "but I don't need a Traction-engine!" / "He'll saw wood, and give children rides. Do buy him, Sir, please!" (1952)

So Duck came to Edward's station. / "It's not fair," he complained, "Diesel has made The Fat Controller and all the engines think I'm horrid." / Edward smiled. "I know you aren't," he said, "and so does The Fat Controller. You wait and see." (1957) 

Edward brought workmen to clear the mess. / "Douglas was grand Sir," he said. "James had no steam left, but Douglas worked hard enough for three. I heard him from my Yard." (1959)

"... So I tried very hard, but I couldn't work properly, and they put me on a siding. I stayed there for days and days. Other engines were there too. I was afraid…" / "I'd have been frightened too," said Edward. (1960)

"The Fat Controller told Edward he was to run ahead of the special train to make sure that the line was clear. /"Does that mean...?" he asked excitedly. / "Wait and see," smiled the Fat Controller. (1995)

[novankenn]

Prelude to... A movie on Saturday

A snippet from "a Mafia" & "From Assassin to Sales Clerk" AUs

Pyrrha was once again in the mall being dragged along by Jaune. The man she was supposed to kill, but because of her traitor of a heart and turncoat of a brain, she couldn't pull the literal trigger on the job. Of course the dense, oblivious, sweet, cutie. Pyrrha shook her head to try and replace those words... only for sweet to become loveable, and cute to morph into adorable.

So because of her inability to override her heart and brain, her mark who somehow had spotted her trailing him, decided she must be his... bodyguard. Pyrrha didn't know what was worse. Not being able to finish the job herself, or having to PREVENT other hitters from completing the contract! In was insane, and giving her a migraine.

"Jaune!" Pyrrha yelped when he grabbed her by the wrist, and started to drag her towards his chosen destination. "Hold on!"

"Come on Pyr!" Jaune spoke through his adorable goofy smile. Hearing her nickname, and seeing that smile, made Pyrrha "Goddess of Death" Nikos, blush like a school girl.

The blush, and associated happy feelings instantly died upon stepping over the threshold to Pumpkin Pete's Novelty Store. Gods Pyrrha hated this store. It was tacky, gaudy, and over priced! Like seriously $200 lien for a hoodie just because it had a trademarked rabbit head logo on it? But Jaune loved the store, and as his... bodyguard she was required to stick by his side, even in this hell.

But that wasn't the full reason she hated stepping inside this neon coloured purgatory. No that other reason was currently staffing the till of the store.

"Hi, Jaune! Pyrrha!" Blake called from her spot next to the till, in an overly cheery tone.

"Blake! Did they come in?" Jaune asked, like a over energetic puppy.

"Yep. The whole set is on the shelf, next to the Cereal Display." Blake helpfully informed Jaune, who released his grip on Pyrrha and rushed off towards the indicated destination.

"Blake." Pyrrha greeted the cashier coldly. Now why would Pyrrha be such a... bitch to some one working in customer service? Well because Blake Belladonna was also an assassin. One who had TRIED to claim the payout on Jaune.

"Pyrrha, you can relax. I signed off as not interested on Jaune's contract. You and him are safe in here." Blake informed her rival hitwoman for like the twentieth time.

"I still don't trust you."

"And that is an issue." Blake retorted. "How can you be in a relationship when you can't even trust someone in the same profession... wait that is a terrible example. I can perfectly see why you would have trust issue there."

"Whoa! Limited Edition Chainsaw-hand Pete!" Jaune shouted in excitement from his side of the store.

"How many of those freakish Sche-Pop things are there?" Pyrrha asked with a defeated sigh.

"Two dozen." Blake responded. "Anyway, you need to be more trustful. How are you going to move forward with Jaune if you can't trust and be honest?"

"Honest and truthful?" Pyrrha snorted, "Tell me Blake, in your infinate wisdom how this would go. Ahem. Jaune I'm actually a hitwoman who is supposed to kill you for a Schnee amount of money."

"Yeah, maybe not that honest."

"Anyway, have you been that honest with... Yang?"

"How do you know about her?" Blake hissed, her hand reaching for the kukri sheathed under the counter top.

"Jaune and her are friends through her sister Ruby, and you should understand... blonds talk. Especially to other blonds."

"Shit!"

"So have you taken your own advice?" Pyrrha asked with a smirk. "Opened that Pandora's box of truth, to you blond?"

"I'm trying!" Blake hissed, "It's hard, you know. I even bought out her contract four years ago, so no one could pick it up!"

"Whoa. That is commitment. When's the wedding?"

"Hush you!" Blake answered. "You're no better, you know that! Blushing and squirming like a school girl every time Jaune even looks at you!"

"How else should I react?" Pyrrha asked. "His contract has a no-buy-out clause! I'm sleeping in his bedroom for Gods sake!"

"Same or separate beds?" Blake asked instantly serious.

"Separate."

"Shit!"

"Blake, where you thinking lewd thoughts about me and my sweet Jaune-Jaune?"

"No, and do you hear yourself?"

"EEP!" Pyrrha squeaked as she finally recalled what she just said, and said out loud. "Argh! I'm a mess! What am I supposed to do! This should never have happened!"

"Preach it sister." Blake replied. "Yang wants to take me to the movies, Saturday, and I bet you an hour's wages she'll invite Jaune who will bring you along."

"A movie!" Pyrrha's heart was slamming against her ribs. "What the hell do we do at a movie?"

"Hold hands? Make out?"

"We are killers Blake! We are ill equipped to do such normal things!" Pyrrha growled in desperation while unintentionally grabbing Blake by her hands. "What are we supposed to do? how am I supposed to act normal?"

"Don't ask me!" Blake replied. " The only normal thing I know is how to work a retail job!"

"Right." Pyrrha released Blake's hands. "I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but WHY are you still working here?"

"Deery." Blake replied without hesitation. "She's scary."

"Oh, yeah... I remember her." Pyrrha visibly shivered.

"Hey!"

"No."

"Rude. You don't even know what I was going to say!"

"You were going to suggest I speak to one of Jaune's sisters." Pyrrha scowled. "Not happening. Ever."

"So then we go to this movie, flub it, Get outed as murderous psychos, and lose the loves of our lives?" Blake asked.

"Fine. I'll ask Saphron." Pyrrha capitulated. "Happy?"

"You were right Blake!" Jaune commented in his overly cheerfully friendly voice. "They had ALL twenty-four PLUS the four special editions!" Jaune pushed a shopping cart to the counter. A cart filled with boxed figures.

"Jaune. Don't you have like all of these at home already?" Pyrrha asked, leaning back from the freaky things.

"No. That was series one. These are series two. So they're different."

"How?"

"Poses. Accessories." Jaune cheerfully replied.

"I'll just ring these all though, for you." Blake commented.

"Oh, Blake?"

"Yes, Jaune?"

"Yang said something about movies Saturday." Pyrrha froze. "So I thought I'd check with you to see if you'd mind it Pyr and I tagged along?"

"Don't mind at all. The more the merrier." Blake replied, in her practiced cheery customer service voice.

[presleyslilbaby]

~Emotional Soup~

(60’s!Elvis X Reader)

Reader decides to make soup for dinner, which Elvis appreciates, but he’s not exactly thrilled at the table.

Y/n was moving around the kitchen like a busy little Bee, having decided to make a simple pot of vegetable soup for Elvis considering he’d mentioned something to her last night about craving some, as simple as it was. With him so busy with filming ‘Charro!’, she thought it wouldn’t hurt to surprise him with a nice hot bowl for when he comes back home. That got her thinking for a moment. Ever since she was a little Girl, she’d always dreamed of becoming a Housewife, caring for her future Husband with such love and affection, and now that the time had came- Well, it couldn’t have been any better. A smile graced Y/n’s lips, thinking fondly of the memories of how she would play pretend, and how she would insist to any Boy that approached her that she was simply ‘betrothed to another’. A soft laugh bubbled up from her throat, shaking her head at the thought. It was memories like those that made her feel content with her childhood. The good parts, anyways.

The sound of the front door opening and closing again drew Y/n out of her thoughts, peering out of the kitchen to steal a glance at Elvis. “Hey, Baby.” She greeted, too busy at the stove to come to him. “How was your day?” With a deep and heavy sigh, Elvis trudged through the house to her side, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. “Tiring..” He muttered, resting his bearded chin against her shoulder. “Wanted to leave the set early, but something popped up. Some issue with the film or another. I dunno…I wasn’t exactly payin’ any attention, I just wanted to come home and see my pretty li’l Wife…” He explained further, nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck, tickling her. She giggles at the feeling, stirring the pot of soup. “I see. I’m sorry you’re so tired, Elvis. How much more filming do you need to do?” “Too much…” He grumbles, sighing again at the thought of filming more. “I like this movie, I really do. ‘S not like the others, but…I need a damn break…” “You’re definitely right about that.” Y/n nodded in agreement, turning off the stove.

“Why don’t you go sit at the table? I’ll bring dinner in a second.” She suggested, hearing him groan in response, not wanting to leave her side. “You wound me with such suggestions, Y/n.” He teases jokingly, pressing a sweet little kiss against her cheek before walking off. She giggles in response, grabbing her pot holders and gripping the handles of the pot before following after him. “Thought I’d surprise you with soup tonight.” “I see that.” Elvis smiles, helping her guide the pot over to the middle of the table. “Smells mighty good, Darlin’. Thank ya’ for makin’ this f’me.” He politely thanked her, pulling out the chair beside his own and easing her to sit down, pushing it back in before sitting down himself. “You’re welcome.” As soup was evenly distributed between the two of them and was ready to be eaten, Y/n goes to talk about the day she had. “So I-“ “Shit.” Elvis muttered beneath his breath as soup dripped in his beard, wiping it away with a napkin rather annoyedly. “Sorry, Baby. Yeah, I’m listenin’.” He apologises, motioning for her to continue as he tries again with his spoon. “Right. Anyways, so I was going through my old scrapbook and found-“ “Goddamn it!” He shouts out when even more soup than last time drips down from his spoon. “I fuckin’ hate this goddamn beard! It’s so damn scratchy, it looks wrong on me, and I can’t even eat goddamn soup without gettin’ pissed the fuck off!” Y/n watches on as Elvis furiously scrubbed the napkin against his chin, resting her hand on his bicep, squeezing supportively. “Hey, I know it bugs you, but you’ll be able to shave it off when you’re done filming.” She tries to calm him down.

“It more than just bugs me, Darlin’! It infuriates the piss outta me! I used to enjoy soup, but now it’s just- Just- Emotional!” He gripes. She couldn’t help but chortle at the way he’d talked about the soup like it was a scar on his emotional wellbeing, hiding her mouth behind her hand. He whips his head over to look at her, narrowing his eyes in an annoyed stare. “You laughin’ at me?” He hissed. Y/n shakes her head, trying her hardest not to laugh more than she already did. “N-No, no..! Not laughing at all..! It’s just-“ She was losing her control. “You made it sound like you’re scarred by soup-“ With no more control over her laughter anymore, she simply let it all out, grasping the edge of the table in poor attempts to ground herself. But of course, Elvis, being the way that he was, simply couldn’t stay mad at her. Rolling his eyes playfully, he chuckled a little. “What, you really think I’m gonna let a silly li’l bowl o’ soup make me cry like that? No way, no how, Missy. Now you better stop laughin’ or else your food’s gonna get cold.” But Y/n couldn’t really stop. She was too far gone in her own humour by now to really take a rest from laughing.

[mysticcollectionbee]

Just a random thought I had: I would really like to see Carmilla and Alastor interact more in the future seasons. I don't think people realize how weird it is that Carmilla put Alastor on the Board of Overlords and how interesting their business dynamic could be. Carmilla, lady of order and professionalism...Put ALASTOR in a meeting room. I get inviting him to join because respect (and probable fear of this mysterious guy who has been killing your associates deciding to kill YOU out of disrespect), but...After you realize he doesn't take anything about being an Overlord that serious why do you keep inviting him??? He'll keep coming because he might get entertainment and useful info out of it but what does Carmilla get out of him being there?

My best idea is that maybe he kinda works as a fail-safe in case somebody tries to start a physical fight or something. Alastor clearly enjoys any excuse to kill and eat people so that could work for that. And everyone in that room knows he's capable of killing them but doesn't. So they might use that evidence as to why they should respect the rules of the meeting and Carmilla, because the Radio Demon respects it.

But the last part is 90% a bluff. Alastor doesn't respect nor care about the board of Overlords whatsoever. He might have mild respect for Carmilla, because he seems to like women more than men and atleast pretends to respect her position among the overlords. But they probably dislike interacting with each other. Carmilla has to deal with him not taking anything she cares about when it comes to their profession and title seriously, his enjoyment of chaos probably getting in the way of their meeting occasionally (She probably saw or atleast later on heard from Zestial about Alastor bringing an Egg boi to the meeting), and the biggest issue for her: Deal with a person who constantly has or had KILLED YOUR ASSOCIATES and broadcasts it. Add to the fact that Alastor is probably a bit hard to predict because he can switch from goofy and charismatic radio show host to The sadistic and calculating Radio Demon very quickly.

On Alastor's side: Here's a person who thinks they're wiser than him and believes there should be order to owning souls and territory when all he seems to care about is doing what HE wants and HIS version of control on things. She's passive aggressive or atleast snarky to him as retaliation for his unprofessionalism and to keep his ego in his check. And overall, Alastor probably sees her as a stick in the mud trying to ruin his sadistic fun.

But they still respect each other while disliking each other (Kinda like how you might have a coworker who gets his work done and is useful to the group...But whose personality you can't stand) . Carmilla probably respects Alastor's power and his role in keeping the Overlords in check (I don't think she would be able to make an Board of Overlords if there were so many of them and some of them might've wanted to kill her for trying to "boss them around"). Alastor probably respects how much of a smart professional she is, her ability to lead and try to control the group she made, and her being a dutiful mother (Remember Al is canonically a mama's boy and according to old canon feels like a surrogate father or atleast responsible for Niffty in a similar way despite her age). So yeah, I need to see them interact more. I want to see their first interaction (How did Carmilla react to finding out the mysterious voice on the radio was some red deer guy who makes cannibal puns?). Has Carmilla ever tried to subtly suggest certain Overlords Alastor should target next? Would Alastor hear her out or just ignore it?

Anyways, that's my thought about it. Both of them are now kinda allies to the hotel (specifically Vaggie) so it would be nice to see them interact more.

[turtleblogatlast]

Things I make for myself when insomnia kicks in

Just a chart about what I wanna change up and keep consistent in my art - I mainly wanna draw Raph with a tail because he deserves one, it fits too well. Donnie gets a long tail too because I didn’t realize how dino-like he looks until I gave him one, and now it’s a must for me haha.

[poliffwoog]

school scribblies: goober edition

[methoughtsphantom]

plot bunnies about an idea i don’t have enough motivation juice to write. red hood identity reveal variety

smol jason

So, Red Hood reclutantly working alongside the Bat to take down a child trafficking ring when he is hit with a de-aging spell. It even isn’t the first time Batman encountered the end of this particular spell so he already knows the victim would have no recollection of their memories, so he protects the now child (he guessing 11 estimate age) and guides him through the panic of not being able to take off the Red Hood helmet. the one that canonically has a bomb in it (cause older Jason is a dramatic bitchTM) so like, Batman catches the child’s prying fingers and takes them away from the latches because Hood has implied the existence of a bomb and that’s enough for dread to set in his gut. Bruce gently coaxes the child to let him confirm this with a device he takes out of his belt and raises it eye level to the kid’s head. It beeps. And B feels the ground sweep out under him. Because indeed this child has a bomb to his head. (and he’s suddenly hearing another bomb go off in the distance and a warehouse and —)

anyways, B ends up taking (read kidnapping) this twelve year old to the Batcave so they can pry off the helmet and I can only picture the ANGST because this is Jason and Bruce each unaware of who the other is. Jason still lives in the streets in his mind according to him and well, according to B, he’s dead. So they start bonding, kinda awkwardly at first cuz of the helmet’s voice modulator, but Jay at that age (at any rlly) was a spitfire and like he genuinely makes B forget this is a crime lord for a second (kinda difficult to that when the kid is stuck in the helmet) but whatever. I can only see Jason being his cautious self but kinda being at ends here because he kinda does need Batman’s help to get this thing off him, so he can only, just like narrow his eyes when the Bat approaches him for a blood sample. (“Need to check for magic residue, lad.”)

(Jason’s only allows this because he has a knife he found in the clothes he’d was drowning in earlier)

As u can guess, Bruce was obviously lying and wanted to run the blood sample to see if it matched any from his database (as the Red Hood has also implied that they have met before)

Anyways Bruce just gets the alert that the blood reading was finished almost at the same time they can pry the helmet off, and because he got a little attached, he just wants to see the face of this lively if wary teenager that has the same name as his (dead) son. (he managed to pry it from him earlier, how, i dunno) It’s literally Bruce’s martyr and huge guilt-complex that goes like ‘ah yes let me see the face of a child that was failed so throughly by the people who should’ve taken care of him’. So they pry off the helmet and then Bruce feels like he’s been doused by cold water. it’s like he’s staring at the ghost of his dead son again, the image completed with ruffled hair, slightly upturned lips and blue guarded eyes that look up to him with recognition but not recognition.

Bruce immediately hardens, shuts down any hope he can feel rushing in and desperately tries to close the dam and let his confusion and rage turn into anguish. “Who are you?”

The boy—the imposter quickly tracks the 180 demeanor change and immediately goes defensive. A painfully familiar scowl appears in his face.

“I’m Jason, I already told you that, what, your old age catching up to you?”

Batman stalks closer and then the boy’s taking two steps back for every one the Bat takes. He tracks the loose outline of a hand closing in tightly around the hilt of a knife in the boy wearing his son’s face and he can only think how dare he.

“Lies! You’re not my son! Who are you?”

Heart in throat, Jason struggles to keep distance between him and the towering black shadow that’s so angry he can sense it in his very bones. He doesn’t understand.

He doesn’t.

“I-I my name’s Jason. Jason Todd. My father is Willis Todd, not—not, Batman.”

And there’s that for the little snippet. Sorry this is so disjointed😭. After that’s just the mental image of Dick cutting in with Zatanna trailing closely behind him and being all “Hey I got your message about a de-aging spell and—“ and just stopping at the scene.

Because that’s Batman towering over a clearly scared kid. Said kid using the distraction to try and stab Batman. The action clearly enraging Batman—that doesn’t make any sense?! B would never— Dick immediately sprints into action and steps in between the two.

like Dick just giving his back to the kid and not seeing. Batman clearly shaking his head in denial and snarling, treating the kid like his crime lord self and Dick not understanding. Having to receive help from Zatanna to get the kid the hell out of here (but like where would they even take him? The manor??)

Zatanna just takes them to the other side of the cave and takes note of the teenager. How he has a dead grip on a red helmet and his gaze is stuck upon it.

Meanwhile Dick has to physically restrain Batman from going after the kid and he raises his voice just enough to demand what the hell is happening?? Why is there a kid in the Batcave? …Batman??? Report. As he is demanding answers Dick had slowly loosen his grip on his dad only to now found him staring at his gauntlet’s data hologram.

The information displayed? 99.98% Match confirmed to Jason Peter Todd.

So as this is clearly pure angst, I want Jason to lash out, sticking only to Zatanna only to realize she’s the magic user that’ll quote on quote will return him back to normal.

Jason is just like on really uneven ground here, even though he doesn’t think he’s ready to retur. But then Batman is just like “Jaylad” … “Jay…” and taking off his cowl and reaching up to him and looking at him like he knows him, like he’s something fragile and precious. Which is sooo fucking jarring you can understand. Jason internally is all what the fuck

Jason just wants them to back off. Jason is an overwhelmed bean. He looks up to Nightwing for help but the man is also mirroring the Bat, domino off and eyes suspiciously bright.

Zatanna is literally the only person in the room not emotionally compromised. She’s with Jay in the ??? train.

Suddenly she looks down and there’s the little boy whose eyes are pleading in helpless confusion. Eyes practically conveying the question you can return me back to normal right?? he pointedly doesn’t rip his eyes from hers as Zatanna puts a hand on his shoulder, pretending she doesn’t notice how he trembles and wordlessly asks if he’s sure.

cut scene

Bruce interrupts because information overload and he can’t compartmentalize this is too important and he and Dick stop Zatanna to which she too is ?? because that was literally what she was called for here. Dick is no help.

Dick is torn.

[somegrumpynerd]

Before I forgetttttt

So color thinks Killer is brainwashed, BUT, what if one time when Killer's soul is normal and he can feel and think for himself again, what if they are chilling at Color's place and then Killer gets up and says something like "I have to go home, don't want to worry dad"

What would Color think ? Would he rethink everything because "wait, why did you call him dad ???" Or would he think that damn, this brain washing is even worse than he thought because apparently Nightmare makes them call him dad ?? Which is weird even for Nightmare that could be a manipulation method ??

Okay that's it byyyeee

OH I LOVE THINKING ABOUT THESE GUYS OKAY SO!!!!!

(I'm still new to Color so if I'm wicked super wrong let me know!)

I feel like no matter what Killer said about Nightmare, Color wouldn't believe it. If somebody's been held captive so long they no longer think they want to leave, of course they're going to say they like living there. No matter how much Color cares about him, I think he has to consider Killer an unreliable narrator as far as his own situation is concerned.

But! Color's main concern is giving Killer his autonomy back and helping him learn to make his own choices. This unfortunately means if Killer keeps choosing to go back to Nightmare, Color has to respect it.

I feel like the only way he would begin to slowly unwind and trust that Nightmare had good intentions would be to see it for himself repeatedly. It's going to take more than a few good turns to prove that he isn't just putting on an act when Color is watching and then turning the whip on them again when nobody's looking. That's going to be hard to set up though since neither of them want to be around the other very much lol

I do think a good start for it would be Nightmare giving Killer the choice though. Like, not that they don't get to choose things regularly, but Killer isn't really one to think much about what he wants or come forward with it so Nightmare kind of assumes he's content and doesn't really think to check in with him. So if he actually made a point of asking Killer what he wanted and he said he wanted to spend a day with Color, I think that would be a good start. Obviously Color's not gonna jump to trusting him after one day, but hearing that Nightmare is also giving Killer his own choices and actually respecting them might give him a bit more reason to trust him.

That said, the image of Color's face as he asks "he makes you call him dad??" is sending me lol

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Trying to transliterate Leara's name into Quenya, and it somehow becomes, uh,

Lëarra

Which basically means "You Sealion!"

And I'm just, "Oh yes, this is That Sealion Woman, and she can breathe fire, as all sealions do."

If Leara, for any reason at all, needed an actual Quenya or Sindarin name for any fun Elvish shenanigans, we'll just use Calairie/Calearil, which is "Light of the Sea" in Quenya and Sindarin, and what Leara actually means.

[mccleans]

i've gone to sleep angry and woken up angry every day since last saturday

[moeblob]

Deacon loves two things: Ymber and digging himself a grave.

Fulj hates one thing: Deacon.