#i have NO idea how this animal is called in english

[deus-ex-mona]

my [redacted] anime parody fic really do be bringing all them bots to the yard

[valeriehalla]

actual writing advice

1. Use the passive voice.

What? What are you talking about, “don’t use the passive voice”? Are you feeling okay? Who told you that? Come on, let’s you and me go to their house and beat them with golf clubs. It’s just grammar. English is full of grammar: you should go ahead and use all of it whenever you want, on account of English is the language you’re writing in.

2. Use adverbs.

Now hang on. What are you even saying to me? Don’t use adverbs? My guy, that is an entire part of speech. That’s, like—that’s gotta be at least 20% of the dictionary. I don’t know who told you not to use adverbs, but you should definitely throw them into the Columbia river.

3. There’s no such thing as “filler”.

Buddy, “filler” is what we called the episodes of Dragon Ball Z where Goku wasn’t blasting Frieza because the anime was in production before Akira Toriyama had written the part where Goku blasts Frieza. Outside of this extremely specific context, “filler” does not exist. Just because a scene wouldn’t make it into the Wikipedia synopsis of your story’s plot doesn’t mean it isn’t important to your story. This is why “plot” and “story” are different words!

4. okay, now that I’ve snared you in my trap—and I know you don’t want to hear this—but orthography actually does kind of matter

First of all, a lot of what you think of as “grammar” is actually orthography. Should I put a comma here? How do I spell this word in this context? These are questions of orthography (which is a fancy Greek word meaning “correct-writing”). In fact, most of the “grammar questions” you’ll see posted online pertain to orthography; this number probably doubles in spaces for writers specifically.

If you’re a native speaker of English, your grammar is probably flawless and unremarkable for the purposes of writing prose. Instead, orthography refers to the set rules governing spelling, punctuation, and whitespace. There are a few things you should know about orthography:

English has no single orthography. You already know spelling and punctuation differ from country to country, but did you know it can even differ from publisher to publisher? Some newspapers will set parenthetical statements apart with em dashes—like this, with no spaces—while others will use slightly shorter dashes – like this, with spaces – to name just one example.

Orthography is boring, and nobody cares about it or knows what it is. For most readers, orthography is “invisible”. Readers pay attention to the words on a page, not the paper itself; in much the same way, readers pay attention to the meaning of a text and not the orthography, which exists only to convey that meaning.

That doesn’t mean it’s not important. Actually, that means it’s of the utmost importance. Because orthography can only be invisible if it meets the reader’s expectations.

You need to learn how to format dialogue into paragraphs. You need to learn when to end a quote with a comma versus a period. You need to learn how to use apostrophes, colons and semicolons. You need to learn these things not so you can win meaningless brownie points from your English teacher for having “Good Grammar”, but so that your prose looks like other prose the reader has consumed.

If you printed a novel on purple paper, you’d have the reader wondering: why purple? Then they’d be focusing on the paper and not the words on it. And you probably don’t want that! So it goes with orthography: whenever you deviate from standard practices, you force the reader to work out in their head whether that deviation was intentional or a mistake. Too much of that can destroy the flow of reading and prevent the reader from getting immersed.

You may chafe at this idea. You may think these “rules” are confusing and arbitrary. You’re correct to think that. They’re made the fuck up! What matters is that they were made the fuck up collaboratively, by thousands of writers over hundreds of years. Whether you like it or not, you are part of that collaboration: you’re not the first person to write prose, and you can’t expect yours to be the first prose your readers have ever read.

That doesn’t mean “never break the rules”, mind you. Once you’ve gotten comfortable with English orthography, then you are free to break it as you please. Knowing what’s expected gives you the power to do unexpected things on purpose. And that’s the really cool shit.

5. You’re allowed to say the boobs were big if the story is about how big the boobs were

Nobody is saying this. Only I am brave enough to say it.

Well, bye!

[reasonsforhope]

"Inspired by an innovative Chilean forest restoration effort, the English town of Lewes is enlisting the help of dog walkers to rewild a local nature reserve.

Heavily degraded by foot traffic, the project co-opts dogs’ tendency to run about in the woods to spread wildflower seed from saddlebags strapped to a harness around the dog’s abdomen.

The idea mimics the function that wolves once played in that part of England, roaming over vast distances getting grass and flower seeds stuck in their coat, only to fall off and germinate somewhere else.

This helter-skelter seed-spreading is actually how many plants evolved to reproduce, and it’s key to maintaining a biodiverse and native ecosystem.

“We’re really interested in rewilding processes, but they often involve reintroducing big herbivores like bison or wild horses,” said manager Dylan Walker from the Railway Land Wildlife Trust who organized the project back in 2019.

“In a smaller urban nature reserve it’s really hard to do those things. So, to replicate the effect that those animals have on the ecosystem we aimed to utilize the vast number of dog walkers that are visiting the nature reserve daily.”

The saddlebags are filled with a variety of perennial plant seeds mixed together with sand. This allows the seed to be spread for longer across larger distances, while also providing a helpful tracking sign to inform the Trust’s employees where dogs are walking.

THE REWILDING MOVEMENT IN ENGLAND…

Salmon Return to the Heart of UK for First Time in 100 Years After Dam Removal: ‘It’s very rewarding’

‘Give Nature Space and it Will Come Back’: Rewilding Returns Endangered Species to UK Coast

Farmer Combats Flooding by Returning Creeks to Nature: ‘Wildlife That Has Come is Phenomenal’

Finally Rid of Invasive Shrubs, Scientists Use Lichen to Regrow the Celtic Rainforest in Loch Lomond, Scotland

2 Beavers Named Hazel and Chompy Reintroduced to English County–the First Ones to Live Here in 400 Years

“I signed up because it sounded like such a good fit. I was asked to place a harness on my chocolate cocker spaniel called Bertie and he ran around spreading seeds like wolves used to do many years ago,” Cressida Murray, a dog walker who regularly uses the nature reserve, told The Guardian. 

Wolves were persecuted to extinction in England as early as the reign of Henry VII, who reigned during the latter third of the 15th century.

“A community-based project like this not only helps engage and teach people about the ecological impacts of wildlife but also allows us to make our wildlife and environments richer in the process,” said Walker."

-via Good News Network, July 30, 2024

[thydungeongal]

The very specific quirks of English spelling and how they correspond to pronunciation are fun. The vowel sounds of "mute" and "moot" are identical and there are many similar pairs where the two words are either homophones or near-homophones depending on dialect ("droop" and "drupe"), but the fact that in "mute" the vowel is represented by the letter u tells us that sometimes there's a lil j sound there. Myoot versus moot. Same for "muse" and "moose." The word with the u in it is actually myoos while the animal is just a moos. No idea how we ended up here.

This is why you can't call your mutuals your moochuals, because "mooch" doesn't have the same initial consonant cluster. Or I mean you could but it would sound quite silly. They're your myoochuals.

[wheres-mylove]

puppy love - modern!cregan stark x fem!reader

Summary: Searching for peace in a quiet town takes an unexpected turn when your neighbor’s dog decides you have to be his new best friend. One look at the neighbor and you’re totally fine with getting a two-for-one deal.

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language!

Word count: 2.5k

A large painting of a wolf pack hung over the fireplace. (Y/N) stared at it, biting her lip.  

She wasn’t even sure she knew how to light the damn fire.

Was this whole thing a bad idea? Trading in her modern King’s Landing studio for a tiny house in Winterfell? A big city girl in a small town. Yeah, she might’ve officially lost her mind.

“I hope it’s to your liking, dear,” came the sharp but grounding voice of Mrs. Glover, snapping her back to reality. The elderly landlady was already fastening her fur coat.

“It’s... cozy,” she replied with her best smile. Didn’t want to admit to herself that she was feeling wildly out of place.

“Good.” Mrs. Glover nodded, satisfied. “Now, remember, once the snow hits, you’ll need to keep that fireplace going. Northern frost is a bitch.” She placed the house keys on the small wooden table. “Rent’s due by the tenth.”

“I’ll remember,” (Y/N) said quickly. “Thanks again for lowering the price.”

Mrs. Glover waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t even mention it. I’m in a hurry to get to Essos, and these silly umbrella cocktails are calling my name.”

The old woman paused at the door. “You sure you can handle moving everything in on your own? I have to head out, but the Stark boy lives just across the street. Strong lad, good arms, I’m telling ya. Handsome, too. He’d help, if you ask nicely.” She winked. “If I were only a few decades younger…”

“All good, ma’am,” (Y/N) cut in, her face heating up. “I don’t have much. A few boxes, really.”

“Well, if you say so, Miss Independent. Good luck!”

With that, Mrs. Glover disappeared with a screech of tires in her flaming red car, leaving (Y/N) standing alone in front of her new home.  

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She could absolutely do this. She’d unpack before sundown, get settled, and everything would be fine. Better than fine, even. This place was going to be a fresh start. An escape from the Big Disaster, also known as her last relationship.

She’d find the meaning of life in the wild North or however that saying went.

She was currently standing in front of her open trunk, debating what to take first. And then something licked her hand.

Slowly, she turned her head, still not fully registering what was happening, and met the gaze of big brown eyes belonging to a fluffy creature as black as the night. A light pink tongue paused halfway, as if waiting for her reaction.

“Oh, gods,” she whispered, frozen in place. “Are you a dog or a wolf? Please, be a dog. A friendly one.”

Her new friend barked in response and rolled onto its back in the universal gesture of please love me.

“You’re a dog,” she sighed in relief, dropping to her knees to give him a good belly rub. “A boy, huh? A beautiful one. But where did you come from?”

Animals don’t talk apparently. The girl glanced around instead. She’d left the gate open, sure, but he had to come from somewhere.

The dog let out a low grumble, tail thumping against the ground. She scratched his head, laughing softly. After a few minutes, he got up, shook off the dust, and placed one paw on her car.

“I’m moving into this house,” she informed him, picking up one of the smaller boxes from the trunk. She liked talking to pets, even though they couldn’t offer much in the way of conversation. “I’ve got a lot to do, but after that, we could—”

And just like that, the dog vanished as suddenly as he’d appeared. (Y/N) stood there, blinking at the empty yard.

“Bye?” she called out, shaking her head in disbelief. He probably went home.

She continued unpacking, but on her third trip to the car, she saw him again, this time with a tennis ball clamped between his teeth. He had so much hope in his eyes.

“Do you want to play?” she asked, amused. The moment she said the magic word, his ears perked up in excitement. “Where are you even from?”

She should have been unpacking. She knew that. But how could she say no to a cutie like him?

“Good boy!” (Y/N) laughed as the dog leapt into the air and caught the ball in his mouth, mid-throw.

“Excuse me, is he harassing you, lady?” she suddenly heard a low, masculine voice behind her.

The dog dropped the ball from his mouth, adopting a tragic, martyr-like expression.

She spun around, heart pounding, and found herself face-to-face with a man who looked like a classic Northern lord from the past. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark, wild hair and a beard that framed a strong jaw. He had these gray eyes that were both piercing and soft.

“He’s mine,” the stranger explained with a half-smile, clearly catching her staring.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to steal him, just so you know” (Y/N) finally spoke up, cheeks flushing. “He just... showed up. With the ball. So, I thought…”

Her awkward explanation was interrupted by his laugh, loud and kind.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t think you were kidnapping him,” he said, hands in his pockets. “I was just making sure he wasn’t bothering you. He must’ve jumped the fence. I saw you two from across the street.”

Ah. The young Stark. 

“No, not at all,” she reassured him, finally getting her words in order. “He’s well-behaved. What’s his name?”

The dark cloud of fur came closer and laid at her feet, cementing their new alliance.

The man hesitated for a moment. (Y/N) looked at him expectantly.

“Frosty,” he finally mumbled, looking at the ground.

It was the girl’s turn to laugh.

“You named this huge black wolf-ass looking creature Frosty?” she asked, scratching the dog behind his ears. He was absolutely delighted.

“He likes the cold,” Stark offered with a small shrug, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And you are…?”

“(Y/N). I’d shake your hand, but I’m doing something important. Nice to meet you though.” 

“Cregan,” he said, placing a hand over his heart with a grin. “Nice to meet you too. Frosty’s obviously on cloud nine. He’s usually not that trusting. Friendly with other dogs, sure, but picky with people. You must be special.”

Her heart swelled at those words. What an honor.

“He’s my first friend in Winterfell.”

Cregan smiled and looked at her car, noticing the boxes still inside.

“So, renting from Mrs. Glover?”

“Yeah, I just moved in from King’s Landing today.”

“City girl, yeah?” He whistled, leaning against the side of the car with a thoughtful look. “You’ve come a long way. But hey, I’m not complaining. We’re neighbors now. I live across the street.”

(Y/N) flashed a smile. “I’m not complaining either.”

“Please feel welcome to ask if you ever need anything. I’ll give you my number, just in case.”

Smooth, Cregan, smooth.

Rolling up his sleeves, Cregan walked over and hefted the biggest box out of the trunk like it was nothing.

“Now, let’s help you with that.”

That old hag was right. He had good arms.

The Northern frost was, indeed, a bitch.

But the warmth of the fire, the soft couch beneath her, and Frosty’s massive, fluffy body draped across her lap made the afternoon bearable. (Y/N)’s hand had long since gone numb from petting the dog, but his fur was addictive.

Her phone suddenly rang, breaking the peace. Frosty, naturally, didn’t move a bit. Not even a nuclear explosion could wake him.

Sighing, (Y/N) reached for her phone on the table, already knowing who it was. 

Helaena Targaryen.

“How’s the grass-touching and vet-seducing going?” came Helaena’s voice, sugary sweet and teasing, before she even had a chance to say hello.

“First of all, the grass is frozen solid,” she shot back, shifting slightly to keep her lap from completely losing circulation. “And second, again. There is no seducing happening.”

“Sure, smarty-pants. And you’re totally not babysitting his dog right now.”

“I mean,” the girl sighed with a reluctant smile. “said dog kind of invited himself here. And Cregan gave him a backpack full of snacks and toys, like he was dropping him off at daycare.”

He had also scolded him earlier for having dirty paws, saying that’s not how he raised him. The dog liked her, and she liked both him and his owner. Cregan turned out to be a veterinarian with a small clinic in town. He was working late today, so she had offered to look after his friend. Home office benefits.

Hel snorted loudly on the other end. “Oh my, he’s ridiculous. I love it. By the way, I did a tarot reading for you,” she announced, suddenly taking on a serious and spiritual tone. “The message is clear. Go after Cregan, let him chop wood and start the fire in your—”

(Y/N) groaned, facepalming. “You’ve got to stop. I’m not ready for this. And he’s just kind.”

“Kind of having a crush on you. You’re still hurting after that Gwayne situation, aren’t you?”

The mention of his name made her feel sick. “It’s not about him. I’m just... done with dating for a while.”

“Well, he was a moron,” Helaena said bluntly, her tone shifting from teasing to fierce in a heartbeat. “For the record, we all stopped talking to him. Aemond wanted to beat him up, but I told him karma would do the job.”

(Y/N) winced, though she appreciated Targaryens’ loyalty. “I’m tired of men.”

“You’re not tired of men,” Helaena corrected her. “You’re tired of idiots. Is Cregan an idiot?”

She knew he wasn’t.

“Hey, if you don’t make a move, I will.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Kidding. But please, please, for the love of gods, make him chop some wood for you.”

A strange noise woke her up.

It sounded like something was scratching at the front door. (Y/N) rubbed her eyes, groaning as she crawled out from under the warm blanket. A quick glance at the digital clock. 5:58 a.m. The sun hadn’t even thought about rising yet. The scratching persisted.

“If this is some kind of monster, I swear I’m not in the mood,” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep. Then came a familiar bark, and she frowned.

Frosty?

She cracked the door open, and sure enough, there on the porch stood Cregan’s dog, barely visible in the early morning gloom. Frosty barked again, hopped down the steps, and turned to look at her expectantly.

He wanted her to follow him.

“Hold on, buddy, let me grab my shoes,” she promised, her voice a mix of anxiety and sleepiness. She hurriedly slipped on her shoes, her mind racing. What if something had happened to Cregan? Was this a “dog leads the way to an emergency” situation? With a quick grab of her hoodie, she went after the dog. Frosty kept looking back at her to make sure she was keeping up.

In no time, they arrived at Cregan’s house. The door was slightly ajar, and her heart raced as she stepped inside.

“Cregan?” she called out hesitantly.

“Yeah?” came his voice from the right, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Cregan Stark stood by the kitchen counter, looking mildly confused with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. He was clad only in gray sweatpants, the silver wolf pendant around his neck glinting in the soft light.

“Are you okay?” she blurted out, still trying to catch her breath.

“Feeling great. Want some coffee?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

(Y/N) pulled out a chair and plopped down, staring at Frosty, who was wagging his tail like he had just saved the day.

“Am I a joke to you?” Frosty tilted his head, giving her an innocent look. "He came to my door like some heroic rescue dog. I thought—” She sighed, running a hand through her messy hair. “I thought something had happened to you. I figured you’d, I don’t know, passed out or something. I’m pretty sure I just aged ten years.”

Cregan cast a side glance at Frosty, lips twitching as he tried to keep a straight face. "Frosty, man, what’s the deal?” he asked the dog, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes. “This is not funny.”

“You really got that worried?” 

“Yes! And here you are, in perfect shape. Alive,” she muttered, her eyes trailing over his very much alive form, pausing on his very defined abs. “And half-naked. I might cry.”

That did it—Cregan turned away quickly, but she saw the grin he was trying to hide as he moved to make her coffee.

“Should I put on a shirt?” he asked, a little more serious now, glancing back over his shoulder. “If it bothers you.”

“No, you’ve got some nice muscles on your back,” she blurted out without thinking. Frosty rested his head on her knee, looking up at her with his big eyes. “And you,” she added, giving the dog a playful glare, “are lucky you’re cute.”

Cregan placed the mug in front of her.

“Thanks for the compliment,” he said with a smirk.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she replied, feeling the tension melt a little.

Cregan sat across from her, watching her for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face.

“You look good,” he said finally, sounding genuine. “Want some breakfast?”

Suddenly, it hit her. She was here, no makeup, hair a mess, and still in her pajama pants. She cringed, remembering her earlier comment about his fucking back.

“Uh, no, I’m good,” she mumbled, suddenly self-conscious.

“Dinner, then? Later. With me. I know a place. If you’d like, of course,” Cregan suggested quickly, his tone slightly tentative.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in surprise. Was he... blushing?

“Are you asking me out?”

He let out a soft laugh. “I’ve been trying to ask you out since the first time I saw you. Not sure if you noticed,” he admitted. Just then, Frosty went up to him and nudged the owner’s hand with his nose. “Oh, great, emotional support,” Cregan muttered, scratching the dog’s head affectionately.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief. “Yes.”

“Yes?” he echoed, hopeful.

“Yes,” she affirmed, her heart racing. “Just let me know what time, and I’ll dress up.”

He flashed her that charming grin, but then his expression shifted. “I’ve got an appointment with a chihuahua that bites people. I’m actually not sure if I’m gonna make it.”

She liked him so much.

“Do you think it’d be alright if I kissed you before the date, Cregan?” 

“Oh, please do,” Stark replied, voice and expression desperate.

Without overthinking it, she ended up sitting on his lap, being kissed like there was no tomorrow. Held by the strongest pair of arms that were also so gentle.

Frosty placed an approving paw on Cregan’s leg.

Well done, human.

[my-hobby-is-finding-the-source]

hey so this is kind of a weird request, don't worry too much if you ca't find em but. i found these gifs on a tumblr post YEARS ago and i even have a folder with some variations on these gifs but i have no idea what the source is. i know the CHARACTER is from the blur - coffee and tv music video but i have no idea where the gifs are from

i have a bunch of variants too if it'd help any but these are the main two, i think. if i'm right they seem to originate from 2008 or earlier ;_;

tysm!!

For the uninitiated, let's start with the context:

In 1999, the English rock band Blur released a single with their song "Coffee & TV", along with a promotional music video. The MV featured a sentient milk carton known as "Milky".

Later in 2005, the fanlisting site milkyfan.com was created, in celebration of the titular mascot. The site would encourage visitors to adopt a Milky by including one of several variations of Mliky in their forum signature.

This earlier animations are attributed to a member of the official Blur forum called dancingmilk. In the following years, more versions of Milky were added.

The credit for those later additions is given to DanAbnormal and Paiste, owners of the site milk-gifs.tk. This one surviving archive of this page can give us an idea of how renowned this lacteous lad was in his time.

[oceanicwriting]

the rabbit.

summary: after the battle of hogwarts, you decided to leave school and live among muggles to escape from all the memories battling in your mind. it's been five years, you have a job and a small house on the outskirts of the city. for a couple of months now, a little black rabbit has been visiting you almost every night, appearing between the trees and disappearing during the day. what's the secret?

pairing(s): rabbit!animagus!theodore nott x fem!reader

a/n: i know that theo's patronus is a fox/lynx, and if he was an animagus, that would be his animal form. still i like to think that his animagus is a bunny... english isn't my first language! please, be nice.

+18 smut, mention of war, nipple play, masturbation (mostly f!receiving), fingering, cowgirl, reference to oral sex (f!receiving), cursing

ㅤㅤㅤ there he was again. that little animal that has started visiting you since your last birthday, peering into the kitchen through the glass back door, patiently waiting for you to let him in. when you go to open it, the animal comes hopping in and settles down next to the burning fireplace. you had forgotten how cold it is outside.

ㅤㅤㅤ—do you want to eat something? —you ask, looking at all the vegetables you’ve cut up for dinner—. maybe… would you like a carrot?

ㅤㅤㅤyou already knew, from all the other times he’d wander around the house, that he doesn’t like carrots. every time you offered one to him, he’d wrinkle his nose for less than a second and move his mouth, making a small sound. at first, it seemed strange to you that he could understand, but you got used to it over time.

ㅤㅤㅤyou were once a student at hogwarts, a prestigious magic school, although now you live like a real muggle on the outskirts of the city. after the war and that last battle, everything had changed for you, taking courage to leave school, get a job in a non-wizard bookstore, and live like a simple mortal. every afternoon you come home to read a book, take care of the garden, or cook dinner if there are no leftovers. the magic that hogwarts had shown you no longer existed.

ㅤㅤㅤmany times, you had visitors from the magical world, friends, family, or teachers with some mission in the area. each and every one of them tried to convince you to return to that immense and hidden place. you couldn't do it. even if you tried, you knew that those memories full of nightmares and fear would not leave your cursed mind.

ㅤㅤㅤalso, there was a little black rabbit that came to you every night like it needed your company. how could you just abandon it?

ㅤㅤㅤ—should i find you a name? —you question, caressing the animal's back. your glass of wine and the book you're reading for the tenth time rest on the floor, while the little animal rests on your outstretched legs—. you can't keep calling yourself a little rabbit, right? a name...

ㅤㅤㅤyou look around the room for some idea. the paintings, decorations, and flowers that you yourself had cut from the yard. none of that seems to catch your attention, except for the jewel with a green stone embedded in a silver ring. even the animal seems to have an idea of ​​what that means, moving its paws in affirmation.

ㅤㅤㅤ—what do you think of teddy? —and looking into his deep and incomprehensible blue eyes, a familiar reaction runs through your body—. teddy...

ㅤㅤㅤand just with that, you should have seen it coming.

ㅤㅤㅤit was friday afternoon, the sun about to set between the mountains behind your house and the icy wind shaking the treetops. your hands are dirty, and while you put the tools in a wooden box, you think about dinner.

ㅤㅤㅤsuddenly, between the bushes behind you, you hear the movement of the leaves. a little scared, you turn around to notice how teddy appears weakly jumping. at first, everything looked fine, but you managed to notice that his hind leg bothered him in a strange way. you don't manage to take a single step when the body of the small animal disappears and in its place is the body of a man. a man you know very well.

ㅤㅤㅤ—ted-theodore nott? —one of his legs has a large bleeding wound, and the black cape is halfway on his shoulders—. no...

ㅤㅤㅤyour heart begins to beat hard, unable to approach his motionless body or run as far away as you can. you don't even know which option you want to follow. his eyes are glued to yours as you understand everything about that magical rabbit that had accompanied you so many nights. he had always been teddy, he had always been theodore nott.

ㅤㅤㅤthere were many memories in your mind that override the words you know he is saying, unable to hear him or put your breathing in order. after all those years, after having fought against him, after having missed him and hated him. theodore nott was right in front of you as a reminder of all the lives you saw go in your own hands.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i need help. i need you.

ㅤㅤㅤlistening to him talk was even worse for your fragile heart. the little sanity left in your body was in your hands, and you can't concentrate when the blood from his leg continues to stain the dying grass.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you can't be here. you have to go, theodore. i-i...

ㅤㅤㅤ—bella, please...

ㅤㅤㅤ—go away!

ㅤㅤㅤhe looks at you with a magnetic force and, letting out a small moan as he stands up, walks up to you. it's only a second that you have to escape, but you can't do anything. your entire body reacts to the simple presence of his person, his gaze, his touch, and his way of lightening the air.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i need you to help me —he says, caressing your cheek so slowly that you feel your body dying at that very moment—. i will leave if you ask me, but i need your help now. you are the best healer in the magical world.

ㅤㅤㅤwith your breathing ragged, denying the part of your brain that asks to run away, you help theodore enter and lie down on the couch. from some drawers in the living room you take out a small box with herbs and elements to make ointments that will help heal the wound.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you have to keep this on the wound. here —you say, passing a healing blade to press the wound—. i must cut the energy to enchant the bands.

ㅤㅤㅤas you lower the energy of the entire house from the basement, light some candles, and go back upstairs, the silence is overwhelming. with a potion, ointment, and enchantment, theodore is much calmer now.

ㅤㅤㅤyou still can't stop the rapid pace of your heart.

ㅤㅤㅤ—now you can go. —theodore looks at you from head to toe, trying to remember your figure into some part of his mind—. you spent months coming here, treating me like a fool. i really can't believe it.

ㅤㅤㅤ—would you have let me in? —he questions, getting up from the couch with a grimace of pain. instantly, you point your wand in his direction—. we both know you wouldn't. i came looking for you, i found you and you expect me to leave. after all?

ㅤㅤㅤ—theo... please.

ㅤㅤㅤ—do you want me to believe that you didn't think about me? i know you don't. i miss you, love. these five years have been nothing but torture since you left, and i... i need you.

ㅤㅤㅤyou deny, trying to erase the force that pushes the tears to your reddened cheeks. your hand starts to shake because, after all, theodore is always right. even if you wanted to escape your other life, to erase his absence or memories, you could never do it.

ㅤㅤㅤ—are you still with them? —you ask, in the middle of tears and afraid that the answer is affirmative—. you are still by their side, right?

ㅤㅤㅤ—i didn't come for that.

ㅤㅤㅤtheodore takes your wrist to take the wand away. his other hand travels from your legs to your back, tickling every area that his large, rough hand goes over.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you have no idea how much i missed you.

ㅤㅤㅤhe gently pushes you against a furniture next to the fireplace and with a click lights the wood you had put in the morning. his hand knocks everything on the table to the floor, taking little care of the creaking of the figurines or books.

ㅤㅤㅤ—haven't you missed me? —you can't talk. his hands have slipped under your shirt, and he presses between your legs as if he couldn't wait to feel you close—. i've seen you think of me every time you look at the amulets i gave you, reading my books and caressing their pages as if they were my body. do you think i don't know about all the photos you have saved? if you had... if you had the slightest idea that we were in the same place.

ㅤㅤㅤhis lips crash against yours with such overwhelming need that you can't help but follow the movement of his mouth. his lips demanding more, squeezing your back to join his chest to yours and his hand fitting perfectly on your waist make all kinds of emotions blossom inside you.

ㅤㅤㅤyour clothes fly in all directions, and theodore's kisses begin to descend from your cheeks to your collarbone, sucking and marking your neck so that you don't forget who you belong to. the sensation of his wet lips is so overwhelming and exquisite that you can't keep your moans under control. you were going to lose your mind.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i'm sorry —he whispers, then noticing the scar on your left arm—. i'm so sorry.

ㅤㅤㅤthe scar measures almost fifteen centimeters, going from your forearm to the beginning of your palm. he had made that one himself. the simple memory terrifies him, but not enough to make him lose his mind.

ㅤㅤㅤ—theo, that's already in the past.

ㅤㅤㅤ—no, love. —his hands caress your hair gently—. i know how much i hurt you, how much suffering it all caused you, and why you had to leave. and i'm so sorry. the last thing i wanted was to have you away from me...

ㅤㅤㅤafter the battle at hogwarts, your entire world had fallen to pieces. theodore would never be the person you fell in love with as a teenager again, and after the war, everything became even more blurry. you can only remember the nightmare in which hundreds of classmates fell into a dark hole without being able to save them. everything broke when it was theodore nott who fell without you being able to catch him.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i love you —you mumble, looking into his bright, amazed eyes—. i love you, theodore. i didn't have the chance to...

ㅤㅤㅤhe didn't want to hear it, not when you looked so pretty against the firelight. unable to not touch you any longer, his palms tighten on your legs to sit, with you in his lap, on the couch. your hands begin to unbutton his white blouse, while your mouths click in an exchange of saliva.

ㅤㅤㅤyour hips begin to move at the need for friction, seeking to feel the bulge that is getting harder and harder in his pants. theodore growls every now and then at the sensation of your movement and, without resisting much longer, rips off your underwear in one go.

ㅤㅤㅤ—devilishly perfect and ready for me. —his gaze runs over your body as if he's trying not to forget it again—. were you waiting for me?

ㅤㅤㅤ—y-you have no i-idea... —you try to say, but the wetness of his mouth catching one of your nipples and his hand squeezing the other doesn't allow you to formulate anything clearly—. t-theo...

ㅤㅤㅤyour moans, which had been whispered innocently, intensified much more at the intrusion of his free hand against your clitoris. your nails dig into his shoulders, and even though you try not to move your hips against the sensation, you can't stay still.

ㅤㅤㅤ—don't move. shit.

ㅤㅤㅤyou nod, biting your lip to try to obey the order.

ㅤㅤㅤ—theo... —you whisper, looking him straight in the eyes.

ㅤㅤㅤ—what's wrong, babe?

ㅤㅤㅤhis fingers playing with your pussy couldn't be more precise, complicating communication.

ㅤㅤㅤ—tell me, darling. or can't you talk?

ㅤㅤㅤ—i need more. much more. —the evil smile that spreads on his lips leaves you breathless—. ​​please.

ㅤㅤㅤhe takes your jaw to direct your mouth in a messy kiss that lasts less than you wanted, but everything gets much better after. stopping massaging your clit, he brings two fingers to his mouth, licking lasciviously and deeply. how could you avoid smiling at such an image? theodore, for his part, can only think that if he were an animal he would have looked for a way to sink his cock into you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—do you like what you see? —you nod strongly, eager and needy—. let's see how much you can take, shall we?

ㅤㅤㅤhis fingers, thanks to your own juices, slide without problem inside you. the warm walls of your interior feel like heaven for theodore's fingers, who doesn't ask for permission or approval to start moving his hand, curling his fingers to make you tremble and caressing every corner he reaches to hear you moan loudly.

ㅤㅤㅤhis other hand caresses your cheek with his thumb, erasing the small tears of pleasure that have run down your cheekbones.

ㅤㅤㅤyour body throbs everywhere, full of desire and intoxicated by the brown-haired boy's blue gaze. theodore was fascinated by the way you pressed yourself, splashing some of your own fluids on his clean pants and moaning shamelessly. he loved the way your tits moved with you and how your hair fell over your shoulders delicately. so fucking perfect that he could devour you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i-i'm going to cum.

ㅤㅤㅤ—no, did you think so?

ㅤㅤㅤwithout warning his fingers leave your interior, leaving a void that is quickly replaced by the beautiful sight in front of you. theodore brings his fingers to his mouth and, with his other hand, unbuttons his pants. you had forgotten how big and long he was.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you taste so fucking good, sweetheart. do you want to feel it as much as i do? tell me you hadn't forgotten...

ㅤㅤㅤyour right hand makes its way from his abdomen to his cock, spreading the precum on the tip of his length. theodore can't stifle the hoarse moan that escapes his throat at the feeling of your soft hands going up and down.

ㅤㅤㅤ—enough playing —he says, pushing your hand away and taking your hips to position you better—. i need to be inside you, now.

ㅤㅤㅤ—w-wait theo —you mumble, feeling him make his way between your wet folds—. n-no...

ㅤㅤㅤ—i need you to take it all, love. i need to bury myself in you or i'll go crazy.

ㅤㅤㅤhis words manage to relax you a little more and he, still holding your waist, pulls you down by surprise. the gasp makes you whimper, but theodore can't control himself when you wrap him up so tightly.

ㅤㅤㅤwith the help of your legs and the grip tightening on your hips you can go up and down while his hips meet yours when they push up. the sound of your skin slapping against his, moans, groans, and creaks of the couch might have been enough to make you lose your mind.

ㅤㅤㅤ—t-theodore. more...

ㅤㅤㅤhe starts to trace kisses on your torso and says—: asking for more when you get tighter and tighter, aren't you?

ㅤㅤㅤyour synchronized movements begin to become disordered by the explosive sensation building up in your sexes. theodore helps you in the last thrusts against his cock and it happens as unexpectedly as his exit from inside you. both of you exploding against each other, mixing juices in his lap.

ㅤㅤㅤtheodore stays hidden on your neck for a while, kissing softly and calming his breathing. when he stops hiding, he dedicates himself to watching you for a while longer, loaded with lust and desire.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i love you —he says, and taking your legs, he spins you around on the couch to get on top of you—. that's why i'm not done, mia bellissima ragazza.

[yuutawe]

UNDER THE WATER. } yuta okkotsu . . .

ꖛ summary * an aquarium date with your nerdy boyfriend.

ꖛ warnings! * fluff + sfw‎ ‎ ‎ ‎college au, photographer yuta‎‎ ‎!‎ ‎ ‎ he's a nerd over marine animals, and you love it !‎ ‎ ‎ a lot of stupid facts about jellyfish !‎ ‎ ‎ ‎yuta is 20, reader is 21 in this (although nothing happens) !‎ ‎NOT PROOFREAD.

ꖛ about. * reader is gender-neutral. no anatomy specified + they/them pronouns and genderless nicknames.

ꖛ author's note * this feels really rushed but sighhhhh. just had the idea and wanted to write it down. i hope it's not bad for a first post here. english is not my first language, so i apologize for any mistakes.

ꖛ word count ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 899.

some say that love at first sight is nonsense, but yuta and you have a beautiful variation of this cliché: love at first click. you can still remember his surprised expression when he took the first picture of you. it was simple, an okay request. he needed a model to sit on campus to test the new camera. and then click. one photo became three, and he complimented your physique a lot.

nervous stuttering of calling you photogenic evolved into asking you to be his model more often — until you took the first step to ask for his number. and a year later, you two stand strong: walking down the aquarium while holding hands.

“oh, yeah— and jellyfish have no brains, hearts, or lungs! they’re very simple organisms, actually.” yuta rambles, pointing to one of the little creatures in question, which simply swims without thinking about much. it is surprising that apparently such thin glass can support such a large amount of water.

you nod slowly, hearing every word with the utmost attention, because, really, how could you not? he's usually so shy and speaks so little around other people, but at home or with you, he can just talk about his extremely nerdy interests. it was one of the things that brought you two closer, in fact. (although, it would have been better if he flirted back instead of rambling about the structure of a camera that one day…)

“so, how are they built like?” you ask, already knowing (superficially) that jellyfishes don’t actually have any of these organs. you just want to hear that gentle, smooth voice with a hint of excitement break it down to you.

yuta smiles so widely, as if he couldn't be happier that you asked. so cute, you think.

“okay, okay. think about it.” he lets go of your hand for the smallest of moments, to gesture as he explains — pouting for a second. but it is for the greater good of getting you to understand the biology of jellyfish. “their bodies are made up of just three layers— the outer epidermis, a gelatinous middle layer called the mesoglea, and the inner gastrodermis.”

again, you nod along to his explanation — even if now you're more focused on the cute way his fingers move to draw the patterns in the air more than the words themselves. but you can't resist the opportunity to make a joke.

“layers? like onions?”

“no, love, not like onions—” he sighs, almost sounding disappointed by your comparison. he pouts like a bunny about to throw a tantrum and stomp the ground furiously. you can't help but laugh at the way his lips curve, and you grab his wrist for an apology.

you bring his hand up to your mouth, kissing the back of it slightly. it always makes him red in the face, and he cups your cheek softly, trying to keep you close.

“okay, not like onions. got it.”

yuta huffs slightly — murmuring something about accepting your mistakes — before he goes back to rambling. however, now you are lost in thought.  jellyfish have an elementary nervous system with receptors that detect light, vibrations, and chemicals in the water. Along with the ability to sense gravity, these capabilities allow the jellyfish to navigate... it all goes over your head as you think: how did you two get here? from small texts and giggles, to letters and home dates. to stargazing to kissing, and so much more—

“love?” he asks, more worried than upset. “you’re silent. are you alright?” yuta is quick to reach for your hand again, his dark blue eyes reminding you that he is prettier than the ocean. soft, gentle and warming as a bonfire, but calm and fluid as the water.

“yes. just thinking about how much i like hearing you talk about stupid fish.”

he gasps dramatically, pretending to be offended. “just for you to know, despite the name, jellyfish are actually cnidarians, which are a type of invertebrate—”

before he can ramble any longer, your fingers detach from his, and both of your gentle hands come up to grab him by the cheeks. yuta would protest, but soon your lips are glued to his, and his brain melts.

all information about any kind of marine animal just disappears, and you are all that is left on his mind. the taste of your lips, the smoothness of your hands, the prettiness of your eyes. you, you, you.

you lean back, giving him that little smirk that tells the poor man you know exactly what you just did. you threw him off his feet.

“what were you saying, yuta? about— cnidarians?”

“i—” he sighs, smiling softly and muttering a what am i going to do with you under his breath. “i don’t actually remember.”

you chuckle, kissing his cheek and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. yuta bumps his nose against yours gently, and you hear someone complaining about young couples nowadays have no shame.

“what do you want to see next?” he asks lovingly.

“let’s take a look at puffer fish.” you mutter back, giving a small peck to his lips before pulling away. he smiles excitedly, going back to his rambles.

“oh, did you know that adult puffer fish have just four teeth, fused together into one strong beak? they use this to open clams or mussels, and scrape algae off rock—”

© made by spiralryomen on tumblr. do not copy, repost, translate my works in this or any other side — inspirations allowed with credits.

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Hide & Seek.

Post prison Reid x Reporter!reader

Read part two here!

Summary: The night with your boyfriend is going perfectly, and you couldn't be happier, until he receives an unexpected call telling him that information about an important case has been leaked to the press, and many doubts about you appear.

Words: 2,5k.

Warnings & Tags: mentions of crime. fem!reader. established relationship. angst WITHOUT a happy ending. mistrust and lack of communication. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: Again I apologize in advance for this, but I love exploring Spencer's character and his changes. It's so funny to know that the one from the first seasons would never do this but I love him anyway.

Your smile couldn't have been bigger at that moment.

After several weeks of work and no time to see your boyfriend or send him more than two text messages, you finally find yourself humming cheesy love songs next to him and hugging him whenever you want. You had only been in his apartment for a few hours after the universe and all the stars had aligned so that neither of you had to work that night and you could have your long-awaited quality time together. It was certainly much needed for both of you and could be a bit of a celebration for finally getting a raise.

The sweet smell of the candles you both had placed on the table mixed with the ingredients on the countertop, creating a much more homey atmosphere. After much thought, the two of you had decided to make some homemade cookies with different fruits to eat yourselves and give some to your friends. You had always loved baking, especially when it came to desserts, and being able to do it with Spencer was even better. Although you knew he was only doing it to make you happy because he was pretty clumsy in the kitchen.

“I think you have some flour here, sweetheart.” You could feel him running his finger over your face, laughing as he smudged you, then stepping back a little to look proudly at his handiwork. “You look so cute.”

“Really? You want to play, Dr. Reid?”

You raised an eyebrow and gave him a menacing look, and made a quick move to smear some flour on him and get on the same terms. But you barely managed to mess him up a bit when he gently grabbed your wrists and planted a kiss on your lips, pushing any thoughts of revenge from your mind.

“You cheated, it's not fair.” You murmured against his lips as you both pulled away from the kiss.

“I didn't do anything.” He replied in an innocent tone, kissing you briefly before pulling away to feed the cat. “I think this kid has been eating cookie dough because he doesn't want to eat his food.”

“He's an unruly kitten, just like his daddy.” You said as you watched Spencer pet him and laugh at your bad joke.

The two of you had officially been together for almost a year, but you had known each other for much longer. A coffee shop tucked away in the middle of town was the best place for an FBI agent and you, a news reporter, to meet and start talking. From the beginning, you knew there was something different about Spencer, and it was much more than the fact that he was the only man in the country who didn't know you because he didn't watch television and therefore the news you had anchored for years. He didn't care that your face was what people saw every day and that put you in the spotlight, he liked you for who you were and how you thought about the world.

“I think they'll be ready in a few minutes.” You reported after putting a tray of cookies in the oven.

You were about to ask your boyfriend where he kept the dishes, but when you turned around, you noticed he was still playing with the cat and you couldn't help but smile at how relaxed he seemed. It had been a good idea to convince him to adopt the animal that always followed you home and peeked out of the fire escape. Nothing made you happier than seeing him happy, so you followed your instincts and noticed that the kitchen was still organized as usual. You may not have lived with Spencer yet, but you spent more time in his apartment than yours and had already memorized how a couple of things worked, though you were afraid to tell him because you knew he had trouble opening up too much and taking such big steps in a relationship so quickly.

All your attention was on picking out the prettiest plates and pots for the cookies when his phone rang over the counter. Your hands were still dirty with flour and dough, so you didn't hand it to him and could only read that it was Penelope before you saw him answer.

“Yes, I'm with her now. We're making cookies, and yes, I'll bring you some. Yes, she says hello to you too.” You listened as Spencer repeated into the phone with an encouraging tone.

You barely listened to his conversation because you were nervous it was about work and that he would have to leave so soon.

“You're out of milk, I'm going to the supermarket downstairs.” You informed him quietly after checking the fridge, not wanting to interrupt his conversation. “I won't be long.” You finished, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips before leaving.

He couldn't help but smile like a fool at the kiss and stopped listening to his friend's voice on the other end of the phone for several seconds.

“The full profile was leaked to the press, along with details about the crime scenes.” Garcia's voice brought her feet back to the ground.

“What? How?” He asked blankly, needing to sit down to process the information. “We were very careful.”

Spencer thought the case was already closed, he had filled out the profile himself, they had everything they needed to make the arrest, and Emily had insisted on giving him the night off for it.

“We don't know, but it was on the evening news.”

Wait, the evening news? They were the ones you presented every day. It was strange that you hadn't mentioned it, since you'd just come home from work a few hours earlier, happy about your raise.

“Which channel was the first? Who gave the scoop?” His voice trembled slightly, as if he was a little afraid of the answer because his mind was telling him something he didn't like.

There was a long silence for a few seconds and his anxiety increased.

“You need to calm down and not jump to conclusions.” Penelope tried to be the voice of reason at the time and sugarcoated things a bit. But he insisted that he wanted to know. “She said so...she broke the news a few hours ago and I think that was the first network to do it.”

His whole world seemed to crumble before his eyes again and everything was a blur amidst the feeling of betrayal and bitterness that gripped his body. Every thread in his mind began to connect in just a few seconds, and for the first time in a long time, he hated having that ability.

“Reid, listen, I don't think it was her. Emily said we'd fix it, but you should know before you watch the news.” She tried to defuse the situation, but his words only made them feel more betrayed. “I forgot to tell you before because I didn't want to ruin anything, you looked so happy.”

Since meeting you, Spencer had watched at least a minute of the evening news every day just to see you, and everyone knew it. Only today he hadn't because he'd been busy trying to finish the damn profile so he could get off early and spend some time with you.

“We don't want you to jump to conclusions, we all know her and I don't think she would do this. Maybe it's a mix-up or...”

“Don't do that, don't try to make me feel better when she's the only one I tell about the cases.”

And about absolutely everything. He always talked to you about his dreams, his deepest fears, his hopes for the future, his worst moments, and even things he never thought to say out loud, even to his therapist. All his life he had felt silenced until you showed up to listen to even the most complex thought and his mental discussion of possible names for the cat you both shared and treated like a son.

Since his release from prison, his view of the world and himself had changed. He no longer felt worthy of love or anything good until you came along and insisted on entering his heart and saving him from the emptiness he faced every time he woke up in that dark, lonely apartment that you came to fill with light and the smell of cookies.

It weighed heavily on his heart that the bad thoughts that always haunted him made sense.

“I'll be there soon.” He finished, not paying attention to the thousand and one possible explanations and theories Penelope had given him so as not to blame you for everything.

He ended the call and walked quickly to the bedroom to find your computer for answers. You had been staying with him for several days and always used it for work, so it was on the nightstand. He was about to turn it on when the sound of the front door startled him and let him know you were back.

“Spencer? Where are you? Do you want to play hide and seek?” Your voice echoed through the apartment, coming closer and closer to the room.

There was no movement or sound from him, just silence, until you entered the room and saw him sitting on the bed with your computer in his hands. You couldn't help but be a little startled by his expression.

“Are you okay, love? You scared me.” You spoke as you approached him and took his hand lovingly. “Do you need to use my computer? It's out of battery, but the charger is in my bag.”

The strange thing was that Spencer didn't return your affectionate squeeze, he didn't even kiss your hand like he always did. He just froze in place and looked at you as if he was waiting for you to confess to a crime.

“Is something wrong?” You sat down in front of him and grabbed his chin to force him to look at you.

He looked at you for a few seconds and clenched his jaw, pulling away from your touch as if it burned him. “You tell me.”

Confusion washed over you and you bit your lip, trying to think of something that could have changed everything so suddenly. For a second you thought that maybe something had happened at Spencer's work and he had to go now, but his expression and his teary eyes said much more than that. Something serious had happened, you even thought it might be his mother and your heart shrank.

“I know what you did.”

You frowned at his words, trying to find some trace of a joke in all this. “What have I done?”

Once again, the room was filled with silence and his piercing gaze. You made a feeble attempt to approach him to give him some comfort as he looked like he was about to cry, but he rejected you and moved further away from you. He got up from the bed, put the computer down and looked at you as if he expected you to be the one to give the explanation.

“I don't understand this, baby. I really don't know.” You got out of bed and tried to get closer to him.

At your action, he backed away from you.

“Don't call me 'baby'. Don't pretend you don't know what you've done.”

The problem was, you didn't know what you'd done to give him that attitude. It had only been a few minutes since you left and everything was fine, so it didn't make sense that he was suddenly angry.

“I should have seen it coming before, how could I not, why would someone like you notice me? You obviously wanted this, you wanted to use me to get that raise and have all the fresh information.” Finally he seemed to react and started to blurt out everything that was on his mind without any filter. “I was an idiot to think you loved me.”

The confusion in your bright eyes only made things worse for him. His defense mechanism told him that you were an actress, that you must have known him well enough to manipulate him for so long and not even flinch. It made all the sense in the world that the whole perfect relationship you had was a sham, because he never understood how you, who had the fame and beauty to be with any man in the world, could have chosen him, a former addict who had spent months in jail and had more trauma than happy memories, to be your partner.

You took a step toward him, trying to process what he had just said. “I do, you know I love you.”

“Come on, you don't have to pretend anymore, I already know that you leaked the information I gave you about the profile.” He said after pacing the room a few times, trying to control his anger. “And maybe how many times you did the same.”

“Wait, you think I'm some kind of spy or something...you're joking, right?” You tried to make sense of his words, wanting to believe again that it was a joke. It had to be, or the pain you felt in your heart at his rejection would definitely kill you.

The silence that followed his words was enough to know that he was serious.

“You're the only person outside the team I talk to about cases all the time. And you magically get a raise when there's a big leak.” His every word was like a knife in your heart, digging deeper and deeper. “You even broke the news a few hours ago, you're unbelievable.”

That was too much, and it was the move that pierced your heart with the knife.

“Do you really think the only way I can get a raise is to betray you? That I've been pretending for almost a year that I love you for my own benefit? Do you really think I can stoop so low and that my job is worth so little?” You asked him almost pleadingly, as if begging him to tell you no, but in vain. “Tell me it's not so, please. Tell me you don't distrust me.”

Silence. Lots of silence.

“Please...”

He said nothing again and that was answer enough for you. You loved Spencer Reid like you'd never loved anyone before, but you weren't going to let this go. You weren't going to keep begging him to believe you when you told the truth and never gave him reason to doubt.

“Fine. I hope you don't have to come back to me when you realize you made a mistake and ended up with the best you had.”

The pained look you gave him and the tears streaming down your cheeks stayed in his mind as you left your apartment keys on the table and walked away, closing the door behind you at the same time as the oven beeped.

His smile could not have been more nonexistent at that moment.

[ranchstoryblog]

Fandom Memories: HMFarm

Hmmm. So, nearly a quarter of you whippersnappers wanna hear about the good ol' days, huh? Well, back in the day, you wouldn't just hang out on one or two big websites to try to find people who shared your niche interests among a million random users. Everything had its own dedicated site, with its own special pack of weirdos that you probably wouldn't find anywhere else. Home grown fandom, sprouting from the cement sidewalks of the freshly paved internet like so many weeds with pretty little flowers on top. So, let's take a little stroll down memory lane and visit one of the oldest fan sites with Archive.org's "Wayback Machine."

Ahh, just like I remember it. This here is "Harvest Moon Farm." 'course, we just called it HMFarm, like the URL did. This used to be the place to be. The prime progenitor of all farmin' fansites in the English speaking community. Maybe not the literal first, but up until around 2005, this was where you would go if you wanted to know anythin' about digital farmin'. It truly was a magical place to visit.

This screenshot isn't the oldest design, but it's the one I fondly remember. The majority of my time using the site was during the lead-up to A Wonderful Life, which was probably also when it was the most active as an information source. Seeing the screenshots, checking the forums, speculatin', wonderin', dreamin'... It's a warm feeling. I can't really describe how it felt to look at these shots for the first time. Granted, they were mostly sourced from various places like IGN or Newtechnix, but who wanted to go to THOSE messy sites when all the info I wanted was right here? IGN wasn't telling me how to revive the Vineyard in Harvest Moon 64 while I was waiting for AWL news either.

Our first look at the character we would come to know as Muffy, the sheer novelty of being able to go into the townsfolk's glorious, 3D-rendered rooms, the apparent misidentification of flowering tomatoes... The webmaster, Gamergirl87, would caption each one as well. Some of the captions of those screenshots ended up not being exactly true, but it was the closest thing to on-going coverage we really had. Who else was there to trust?

It's a little off topic, but I think at one point after learning about the GBA connectivity, I must have dreamed about this very gallery and seeing a screenshot of a Gamecube-ized Popuri with the caption that Mineral Town villagers would visit after connecting the GC and GBA together. At least, I'm pretty sure it was a dream. I've met some people who claim they saw the same thing, but none of us have been able to find that screenshot or comment again.

The one that would most catch my attention was the one on the left here. I didn't have a PlayStation 2, so I was coming fresh off of the GameBoy and Nintendo 64 when going into A Wonderful Life. The pond, the mysterious glowing plants, the mood and ambiance of their lighting, the little tree on the door... Naturally, I mirrored it on my first day the remake was available.

It's a real shame that the message boards are poorly preserved, since it doesn't look like there was a news post about the pre-order plush cow. I was hoping to find the name of whoever it was that convinced me to commit my first ever preorder. I still have the receipt, but without the forum post it's really only tangentially related to HM Farm.

'course, just learning about existing games and upcoming games wasn't the only good thing HM Farm was for. As I alluded to, there was a whole community here! While it's a shame that the message boards aren't well preserved by the Wayback Machine, you know what is?

The "ideas" list! This incredible time capsule was one of the first "interactive" parts of the site, starting in the year 2000. It's kind of fun to see how many of these ideas actually happened. Obviously, new characters and personalities were probably expected, but Animal Parade would eventually feature a honeymoon, several games have clothing and other customization, a mall, city, and pig would be added as soon as GBC 3, a goat would be in A Wonderful Life... It's actually amazing how prescient a lot of the suggestions are.

I'd share the whole thing, but the amount of e-mail addresses involved gives me pause. Still, there's a couple I wanna highlight:

Considering how often I still hear about people wanting to marry the moms and people attributing it to just "the fans getting older," it's funny to see Laserion lay out that, no, we've always been like this. Right down to using Manna's unhappy marriage and Lillia's husband never returning as valid reasons they should be available.

Tuan145, on the other hand, I just find extremely amusing because of the specific "2002 Escalade" part. Yes, this is clearly the ideal vehicle for all farmers in the Story of Seasons universe. This is now accepted headcanon. The boat was added in GBC 3 too, so obviously a 2002 Escalade is going to be added any day now.

Another thing that's amazingly well preserved is the site's fan art section. There's a few missing images here and there, but for the most part the entire thing is open to explore. People of basically all ages and skill levels happily submitted their creations, including original characters, digital art, traditional art, crossovers with popular series like Sailor Moon, a liiittle bit of drug use... Y'know, all the kinds of things you'd expect to see in a fan art gallery of the day.

Even better, some of the artists are still doing art today! Looking around, I quickly discovered one of my favorites, Rina Cat, is now on Blue Sky. I made sure to ask for permission to repost their art before including it here. Reaching out to everyone would be a bit much though, so I'll just encourage you to just browse the gallery using the Wayback Machine yourself. There's poetry and fanfics too!

There's a lot more to the site, including useful bits of history like keeping track of release dates for games, pre-release screenshots, and information that was only available on Japanese websites at the time, but I'll leave it at that for now.

Unfortunately, though the site continued to be updated until 2010 and stayed online until 2021, it's no longer available on the regular internet and the URL doesn't seem safe to access anymore. I wanted to include an interview with the former webmaster as well, but all their readily available contact information was tied to the website and I haven't had any luck so far in finding other means of contact. If I have any success, I'll be sure to make a follow-up! If you have any memories of HMFarm, or other fan sites, I'd be happy to hear about it.

[yuurei20]

how muscle is the boy and who the most buff because i think silver gym clothes is lying

Hello hello! Thank you so much for this question! I have been hoping to talk about this for so long ⚔️

There is something special about the school uniform and gym clothes cards 👀

Summary 1) Sprites do not always visually represent what is actually happening in the game 2) Yana does not have full control over what can appear as sprites 3) Yana illustrated the gym clothes and school uniform cards from start to finish by herself!

Details/Sources 1) There is sometimes a disconnect between what the sprites are doing and what is actually happening in the stories, as the limits of the medium mean that they can only portray so much.

We will be told via dialogue that what is actually happening is different from what we're seeing on screen, which is where the "novel" part of "visual novel" has to do some heavy lifting.

(above: We are told that Idia is riding Ortho, Jack has tanned and Kalim is wearing glasses, without anything represented visually.)

This is also true of Silver being unusually well-muscled, with characters referencing such repeatedly! (especially in Book 7, for spoiler-reasons that cannot be shared on this blog)

(Ortho: "Silver is also incredibly built!")

In a vignette Silver explains he was able to beat a man in an arm-wrestling contest who had successfully beaten several "burly" members of Savanaclaw:

"All of Ruggie's burly friends had tried, but each lost within seconds. At first the owner went easy on me. Worried he would hurt me, he said. But once he realized I was no pushover, he stopped holding back...It was no easy feat, but all their encouragement helped me eke out a victory."

As for how Silver can possibly be so well-muscled, he explains it is from life with Lilia:

"I've never really struggled with anything involving physical fitness...my daily life back home was training enough. Drawing river water, chopping firewood...Chasing around the animals who lived nearby must have helped strengthen my legs as well...once I stalled while climbing a sheer cliff, and (Lilia) climbed right up beside me to show me how it should be done."

2) In a tweet posted on 2020/5/12 Yana talks about submitting her idea for Crowley to be wearing a vacation outfit in Book 4, despite expecting it to be rejected.

So it seems that she does not have complete control over how the sprites look: she designs the characters but is maybe not doing the game development work of physically implementing them, and there are others who can approve of or reject her ideas based on in-game limitations.

Was a canon-accurate Silver sprite maybe one of those rejections?

Effort was even made to give Silver muscle in the 2nd anniversary PV, so it does seem to be an important point.

3) We do not know too many details about the team that is helping Yana with card illustrations but we know they have been there from the beginning, with the recently released English-version of the first visual book (called "The official art book" in English) providing translations of Yana's notes to the colorists for the ceremonial robes and labwear art.

(Above: hand-written notes seen on Kalim's labwear and ceremonial robes base art)

She also references a graphic artist in her 2020 interview for the Magical Archives:

"As for the illustrations, this was my first time having my original drawings cleaned up by a graphic artist. I am a very rough draftsman by nature, and I make overall corrections before a piece is complete. No matter how careful I am in my original drawings, sometimes details get confused, so whenever I receive a draft back from the graphic artist, I become a useless original artist who is constantly going back to say, ‘I am so sorry, but can you please make these corrections?’" - Toboso Yana (Magical Archives game guide)

But the gym clothes and school uniforms (the original batch of R cards) were different: Yana says she did them all by herself from start to finish, as they were going to be most people's first introductions to the characters.

Disney Twisted-Wonderland has been released today.  ・Character design ・Main scenario creation ・Card illustration (all rarities / including finishing for the R cards) ・Supervision of personal scenarios (writing several as well) I handled everything above. I hope you enjoy it! - Toboso Yana (Twitter, 2020/5/8)

I felt that the initial R school uniforms and sportswear cards are special, as they are likely to be the first introductions to these characters, so I was in charge of them all. I am grateful to have been trusted with them. - Toboso Yana (Twitter, 2020/4/13)

So there we are! 🥳

If anything we can maybe consider the base card art for the gym clothes and school uniforms as more "canon" than the sprite designs of those same characters, even though the sprites are what we're used to seeing, as card art is not being forced to change the characters' appearances in order to fit the limitations of Live 2D sprites ⚔️ Maybe!

(The sprites have this same issue with height! In the game Epel is made taller while Malleus is made shorter, in order to fit his horns in the screen.)

[81buttons]

'Childcare, skates and kisses'

F1- OS

Franco Colapinto x reader

Summary : Where Franco and you have to spend a day together with your niece

Warnings: So, I kinda realize Idk anything about kids’ ages, so maybe she’s too young for the stuff she’s doing, but whatever, you just play along… lots of fluff ‘cause I really need it. It’s just Franco with kids it’s cute, it’s sweet, that’s all. And maybe a little flirty hint (because, well, it’s Franco) & English is not my first language so sorry :) and i already gave a name to your niece sorry

I’m posting this fic 'cause I’ve had the idea since Vegas. Just to be clear it’s not saying Franco should have kids or anything—he’s still young... It’s just a cute story and it works well since I found out a few days ago that I’m an auntie for the first time,  hiiii !!! To a little niece, so the inspiration came naturally !

NB: Y/B/N = your brother's name

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Franco parked in front of your building, slamming the door of his car with a sigh. He was tired, still a bit out of it from his last trip for a GP, but happy to be back with you after a long race weekend. All he wanted was to curl up in your arms, enjoy your smile, and maybe have a quiet evening together. He knocked softly on the door and waited. A few seconds later, the door opened… but instead of your usual smile, a little girl around five years old, wearing a unicorn pajama, with messy little curls and holding a stuffed animal way too big for her, stood there, looking up at him with a bright smile that reminded him of someone.

— Hi! Who are you? the little girl asked cheerfully.

Franco stammered, clearly confused:

— Uh… hey? And who are you?

He looked behind her, trying to figure out what was going on, but all he could hear was the sound of a cartoon playing in the living room. Before the little girl could answer, you appeared quickly, holding a towel to dry your hands.

— Oh, babe, you’re here! Sorry, I didn’t hear you knock, you said with a soft laugh.

You walked over, lifted your little niece into your arms, kissed her cheek, and gave Franco a quick kiss hello. But Franco, still frozen, couldn’t resist teasing.

— So… do you have something to tell me? Like… we had a baby and you forgot to tell me? he said, raising an eyebrow playfully.

You burst out laughing at his shocked face, and your niece giggled in your arms.

— Silly. This is Emma, my niece. Remember, I told you my brother needed me to look after her today?

Franco sighed, pretending to be relieved:

— Oh, okay. Because I was wondering how I could’ve forgotten something like that. She’s a mini-you, it’s kinda creepy. I thought it was a tiny version of you.

You set Emma down and invited her inside. The little girl, curious, didn’t take her eyes off Franco.

— Are you Uncle Fran? Emma asked excitedly.

Franco raised an eyebrow, glancing at you, amused.

— Uncle Fran? That’s what you call me now?

— I might’ve told her a little about you… She was super excited to meet you, you admitted with a smile.

Franco bent down to look Emma in the eye and pretended to be serious.

— So, you must be… Princess Emma, the mini-version of your auntie Y/N. Nice to meet you, young lady.

Emma burst into laughter and reached her arms out for a hug. Franco, touched, picked her up.

— I hope you didn’t inherit your aunt’s temper, or we’re in trouble.

— No, I’m funnier than her, Emma replied with a laugh.

— Hey! Traitor! you protested, pretending to be offended.

Franco laughed out loud, and you all walked into the apartment. He noticed a tray of cereal, fruit juices, and toast on the table.

— You could’ve told me. I would’ve brought some candy or something, he said.

— Since when you need an excuse to eat candy? you replied, rolling your eyes.

Emma sat down in a chair, but as soon as Franco sat next to her, she climbed onto his lap.

— I want to eat on Uncle Fran’s lap! she declared.

Franco raised an eyebrow, amused.

— Well, princess, you don’t waste any time, do you?

While you made a cup of coffee, you shot a playful look at Franco.

— “Watch out, don’t let those pretty eyes and angel face fool you. She’s going to get you to do whatever she wants,” you warned.

As if to confirm your words, Emma started laughing with an adorable smile. Franco was done for. 

He burst out laughing, beginning to hand her pieces of toast while listening to her chatter about Frozen, the butterflies she learned to draw at school, and her love for unicorns. You watched the scene, amused, as Franco seriously engaged in her conversations, even giving his opinion on unicorns.

When Emma finished her bowl of cereal, she looked up, eyes sparkling.

— Uncle Fran, is it true you’re a race car driver and go super, super fast?

Franco paused dramatically.

— Hmm… who told you that?

— Auntie Y/N, she said mischievously.

Franco looked at you with a teasing smile.

— Oh yeah? You talk about me to everyone, huh?

— Not really. Just to people who care, you replied with a playful look.

Emma tugged at Franco’s sleeve.

— Do you go as fast as Lightning McQueen?

Franco nodded, amused.

— Exactly, mi amor. Like Lightning McQueen, but better.

— And do you always win?

Franco leaned in close, whispering like it was a secret.

— Of course. I’m the best.

From the counter, you burst into laughter and couldn’t help but tease.

— Not always, huh? Sometimes Uncle Fran gets overtaken.

Franco placed a theatrical hand over his heart, pretending to be hurt.

— What’s all this slander? I’m a champion!

Emma, with admiration:

— I think he’s the best!

Franco winked at her and tickled her, causing her to burst into giggles. You watched them, touched by their immediate bond.

You rolled your eyes, but a fond smile played on your lips.

“Alright, champion, since you’re so perfect, could you do me a favor?”

Franco looked at you, a teasing sparkle in his eyes.

“Hmm, depends. What’s the favor?”

You walked up to him, holding a brush and a little flower hair elastic.

“Could you do Emma’s hair while I finish getting ready?”

Emma, hopping with excitement, added:

“I want braids today! Like Elsa!”

Franco raised an eyebrow, confused.

“Braids? You want me to do braids?”

Emma jumped off his lap and ran to grab a blue snowflake hair clip. From across the room, she yelled:

“And my Elsa clip too!”

You crossed your arms, mischievous.

“So, champ, ready to take on the challenge?”

Franco sighed dramatically.

“Fine, okay. But if I mess up, you won’t hold it against me, right Emma?”

Emma trotted back, handing him the clip before sitting down obediently in a chair. Franco stared at the brush in his hands like it was a complicated object.

“So, do I start by brushing? Is that the thing?”

A smirk formed on your face as you sipped your coffee.

“Congrats, you’ve already got the basics down. Keep going, genius.”

Franco began brushing Emma’s curly hair, but the knots made it tricky.

“Ouch, Uncle Fran!”

Franco panicked slightly.

“Oops, sorry, sorry.”

He struggled to separate the strands to make braids, but nothing stayed in place. Passing through the living room, you couldn’t help but smile at the scene.

“Everything okay, champ? Getting through it?”

Franco grumbled in response.

“This is tougher than a gp, your thing.”

You burst out laughing, watching him struggle.

Emma, still cheerful:

“You’re funny, Uncle Fran!”

After several failed attempts, Franco gave up on the braids and went for two pigtails.

“Well, Emma, I think pigtails suit you better than braids. Don’t you think?”

Emma nodded, eyes shining.

“With my Elsa clip?”

Seriously, he pinned the clip to the side and let out a sigh of relief as he admired his work. You came back into the room and inspected the result.

“Well, it’s not perfect, but I’ll admit, you did okay.”

Franco shrugged, pretending to be modest.

“That’s called natural talent”

After breakfast and the hair episode, you suggested a trip to the park. Emma jumped for joy at the idea. Franco, though clearly tired, agreed with a shrug.

“Alright, princess, let’s go to the park. But if you tire me out too much, it’s Aunt Y/N who’s going to have to carry me back.”

You crossed your arms with a smile.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll end up carrying Emma AND her backpack.”

Emma, already bouncing near the door:

“Yeah, Uncle Fran!”

Franco shot you a teasing glance.

“You see? I’m the favorite here. Sorry, baby.”

Amused, you grabbed your bag while they got ready to leave.

The trio arrived at the park on a beautiful winter’s day. Emma immediately ran towards the playground but quickly turned around.

“Uncle Fran, come with me!”

Slouched on a bench next to you, Franco sighed.

“She’s got too much energy, that little one.”

You chuckled softly.

“Come on, Uncle Fran. Show her you’re the king of the playground.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Franco stood up.

“Fine. But if I get hurt, you’re massaging me tonight.”

You smiled, teasing.

“Watch out for making a fool of yourself instead.”

With a wink in your direction, he went to join Emma, who was eagerly waiting for him…

Emma climbed up the slide and called out to Franco.

“Uncle Franco, look at me!”

With his hands on his hips, Franco responded,

“I’m watching, princess. Show me what you’ve got.”

Emma slid down laughing, arms in the air. Franco clapped loudly.

“Bravo! But you know, I’m the champion of the slide. No one can beat me.”

Emma looked at him, surprised.

“Really?”

To prove his point, Franco climbed up the slide. With his height, he was clearly too big for it. From a distance, you burst out laughing as you watched him get stuck halfway up.

“Need some help, Uncle Fran?” you shouted teasingly.

Struggling to move, Franco replied,

“No, no, I’m fine!”

Emma, cracking up, encouraged him.

“Uncle Fran, you’re too big for the slide!”

Finally, Franco managed to slide down, landing in the sand, covered in dust. He stood up, proudly brushing himself off.

“There you go, mission accomplished!”

You gently teased him.

“Yeah, really impressive…”

Walking over to you with a mischievous grin, Franco said,

“Jealous? Want to try it, baby?”

You shook your head, amused.

“No thanks. I like to keep my dignity.”

After a busy morning, you all sat down on a blanket while Emma played, building castles in the sandbox.

You said to Franco, a bit admiring,

“You’re really good with kids.”

Franco shrugged, pretending to be modest.

“Of course. Kids love me. I’m irresistible.”

You rolled your eyes, smirking.

“Still as humble as ever. You know that doesn’t work if you’re the one complimenting yourself?”

Franco winked at you.

“You’re lucky, Y/N. I like your brother, but I like his little princess even more.”

You let out a playful laugh.

“And now I have to deal with two kids…”

You both burst out laughing, interrupted by Emma, who came running toward you, super excited.

“Look at my castle, it’s so pretty, right?”

After their trip to the park, you all returned to the apartment. Emma, full of energy despite the already busy morning, didn’t seem ready to calm down.

“Uncle Fran, can we play a game?!” she squealed, bouncing up and down.

Sinking into the couch, Franco gave her a tired smile.

“A game? But I’m an old, tired man…”

Emma placed her hands on her hips, her face determined.

“You’re not old, Uncle Fran! You’re just lazy!”

You burst out laughing, sitting next to Franco: “She got you there,” you teased.

Franco raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended.

“Lazy, me? Alright, little princess, what game do you want to play?”

Emma clapped her hands, excited.

“Hide and seek!”

Franco raised his hands in surrender.

“Okay, but I’m warning you, I’m the king of hide and seek. No one’s ever found me.”

Emma crossed her arms, determined.

“We’ll see about that!”

And so, the game began.

Franco slowly gets up, stretching exaggeratedly, before signaling to Emma.

“Alright, it’s you who counts, little spy. But no cheating, okay?”

Emma closes her eyes, placing her hands in front of her face.

“I’m counting to ten. Get ready, Uncle Fran!”

Franco gives you a quick glance, a mischievous smile on his lips.

“Watch closely, baby. I’m about to prove I’m the best,” he whispers.

You roll your eyes, amused.

Emma starts counting out loud.

“One… two… three…”

Franco quietly runs through the apartment, looking for a hiding spot. He hesitates between hiding behind the living room curtains or in the bathroom bathtub, but finally decides to lie down behind the couch.

Emma finishes counting.

“Ten! Here I come!”

She opens her eyes and looks around.

“Hmmm… where’s Uncle Fran?”

She walks through the living room, checking behind the curtains, then turns to you.

“Auntie Y/N, do you know where he is?”

You give her a teasing smile.

“Maybe. But I won’t tell you.”

Emma squints her eyes, as if she suspects something.

“You’re kidding! That means he’s close by!”

She runs into the living room, circling the couch. Franco, lying on the floor, deliberately lets part of his shoe stick out.

Emma lets out an excited shout.

“A-ha! I found you, Uncle Fran!”

Franco pretends to jump in surprise.

“Noooo! How did you do that?!”

Emma bursts out laughing.

“I’m too good!”

Franco stands up, lifts her into the air, and spins her around gently.

“Okay, okay, you’re the best. But now, it’s your turn to hide.”

Emma runs off to hide, her laughter echoing through the apartment. Franco turns to you.

“She’s probably going to pick an obvious spot, right?”

You shrug with a smile.

“Maybe. But pretend to have trouble finding her, or she’ll get upset.”

Franco nods, playing along, and starts searching loudly.

“Hmmm… maybe she’s here?” he says, deliberately checking under a cushion.

“Nope.”

He moves toward the kitchen and opens a cupboard.

“Or here? Still nothing… Where could she be?”

Emma, hiding under the table with a tablecloth hanging all the way to the floor, tries to hold in her laughter. Franco walks past the table, then stops, glancing at you.

“This is impossible. She’s evaporated,” he says dramatically.

You join in on the game.

“Maybe she snuck back home.”

Franco pretends to panic. Emma bursts out laughing, giving away her hiding spot. Franco suddenly turns his head.

“What?! That sound?!”

He quickly crouches down, lifts the tablecloth, and finds Emma, who’s laughing uncontrollably.

“A-ha! Gotcha!” he exclaims, grabbing her.

He lifts her onto his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, making her laugh even harder.

After several rounds of hide-and-seek, Emma, tired, settled onto Franco’s lap on the couch. She was playing with his hair while he held her gently. Sitting next to them, you watched the scene with a soft smile.

You rest your head on Franco’s shoulder, happy to see him being so sweet with your niece. This simple but perfect moment of closeness reminded you once again why you loved him.

A little later, Franco insisted on making something, even though he wasn’t exactly a master chef.

Franco, rummaging through the fridge: “Let’s see… Eggs, cheese, ham… Perfect, I’m making you an omelette.”

You cross your arms, a teasing smile on your lips.

“An omelette? How original… Should we call a food critic to rate it?”

Franco taps his chest, feigning offense.

“Babe you’re talking to a master of simple, efficient cooking. I can make meals with an even emptier fridge. Get ready to be impressed.”

You hold back a laugh.

“You don’t make them, you order them.”

Franco rolls his eyes, amused.

“Yeah, well… We do what we can, okay?”

Emma, sitting at the table, watches him with admiration.

“I want an omelette with lots of cheese, Uncle Fran!”

Franco turns to her with a smile.

“Of course, princesa. Anything you want. But if Auntie Y/N keeps doubting my chef skills, she’ll get a tiny omelette.”

You shake your head, amused, and decide to set the table while Franco prepares the meal.

After lunch, Emma enjoys a yogurt, but your phone rings. It’s your brother. You pick up immediately.

“Hello? Oh, Y/B/N, are you okay?”

On the other end, your brother sounds stressed. He explains that he’s stuck at work because of an unexpected emergency and won’t be able to pick up Emma as early as planned.

“Can you pass me the phone, please? I need to explain it to her.” your brother asks.

You look down at Emma, who’s playing with her spoon, and hand her the phone.

“Emma, it’s your dad. He wants to talk to you.”

Emma eagerly takes the phone.

“Hi, Daddy! Are you coming soon?”

In a soft but apologetic voice, her dad explains that he won’t be able to come because of work. Emma nods, but her smile fades.

“Okay, Daddy…”

She hands the phone back to you, clearly disappointed.

Seeing the little girl sad, Franco sets his napkin down and kneels next to her.

“Hey, princess. Why the long face?”

Emma, her eyes downcast:

“Daddy was supposed to take me to see Santa and have a big hot chocolate. But he can’t come…”

Franco thinks for a second, then claps his hands.

“Alright, here’s what we’re gonna do. What if me, Auntie Y/N, and you go see Santa together?”

Emma looks up, her eyes sparkling.

“Really? You’d come with me?”

Franco, with a big grin:

“Of course! And I promise we’ll get the biggest hot chocolate we can find.”

You cross your arms, teasing:

“And I’m supposed to carry all the gift bags, right?”

Franco raises an eyebrow.

“Obviously. Who else?”

Emma bursts out laughing, her mood completely lifted.

A few hours later, you arrive at the mall, lit up with Christmas decorations and twinkling lights. Santa is sitting in a big red chair, surrounded by fake presents and a giant Christmas tree.

Emma, jumping with excitement while holding Franco’s hand, looks at you eagerly.

“Uncle Franco, do you think Santa will recognize me?”

Franco, with a serious smile, replies,

“Oh, of course. Princesses like you, he never forgets them.”

You can’t help teasing the little one.

“And maybe he’ll ask you why you didn’t listen to Uncle Franco when he told you to eat your vegetables at lunch.”

She stares at you, horrified.

“No! Uncle Fran, did you tell him?”

Franco bursts out laughing.

“No, mi amor, I’ve got your back. But next time, eat your veggies, okay?”

She nods vigorously, clearly relieved.

When it’s finally her turn to meet Santa, Emma climbs onto his lap, her eyes sparkling. You take out your phone to capture the moment, while Franco, next to you, can’t take his eyes off her, touched by the sight.

“She’s really adorable. She looks so much like you.”

You shoot him a playful look.

“At least she doesn’t have your ego, though.”

He pretends to be offended but just smiles, absorbed in watching Emma happily chat with Santa.

A little later, Franco insists that you all go to the mall’s café. He orders a hot chocolate with lots of whipped cream for Emma, a coffee for you, and a hot chocolate for himself.

He shows his cup to Emma with a smile.

“See? Even big guys like me love hot chocolate.”

The little one bursts into laughter.

“With lots of whipped cream, like me?”

“Exactly.”

You watch them, amused, rolling your eyes but unable to hold back your smile.

As you leave the mall, Emma, holding Franco’s hand and hopping with joy after her huge hot chocolate, spots an ice rink set up outside, surrounded by twinkling lights and Christmas music.

“Ohhh, Auntie Y/N, Uncle Fran, look! An ice rink! Can we go, please?”

You furrow your brow, eyeing the ice. “Oh, um… I don’t know, Emma. It looks slippery, and dangerous, and…”

“But, Auntiiiee… I just want to try, just a little bit!” She gives you that irresistible puppy-dog look.

Franco, next to her, grins slyly. “Come on, love. Let her have some fun. She’s small, and there are helpers to guide them.”

You sigh, already knowing you’re going to give in. Emma knows exactly how to make you crack. “Alright, fine. But only if she has all the safety gear.”

“Yessss! Thank you, Auntie Y/N!”

Once at the rink, you find a helper ready to assist the kids on the ice. Emma, equipped with skates, a helmet, and elbow pads, looks like a little doll in her pink puffer jacket and matching gloves.

She awkwardly glides on the ice, laughing out loud and sometimes holding onto the barriers or the helper. Franco, by your side, watches her with a fond smile.

“Look at her. She’s adorable. A real champion.”

You smile, touched. “Yeah, and so brave. I could never do that.”

Franco turns to you, a teasing smile on his lips. “Never? You mean you’ve never skated before?”

“I have, when I was little. But I was awful. I kept falling. And I’m not about to embarrass myself today.”

“Baby, that’s part of the fun. Besides, I’m here. I’ll hold you up. I promise.”

You hesitate, looking at him. “Franco, no. I’m definitely going to fall.”

He insists, a charming smile on his face. “If you fall, I’ll catch you. I’m your safety net.”

You roll your eyes, but Emma, from the ice, starts cheering you on.

“Auntie Y/N! Come skate with us! It’s so fun!”

After a lot of persuasion, you finally agree to put on skates. Franco holds out his hand to help you onto the ice.

“Oh my God, it’s so slippery. I’m going to die,” you murmur as you put one foot on the ice.

Franco laughs softly. “Baby, it’s an ice rink, and I’m right here. Relax.”

You grab his arms immediately, refusing to let go. “I’m warning you, if I fall, I’m killing you.”

“If you fall, we’ll fall together. It’ll be romantic,” he teases.

With a lot of effort and you clinging to him like an octopus, you move slowly on the ice. Franco chuckles as he guides you. “Baby, you know you’re supposed to move your feet, right? You’re just hanging onto me.”

“I’m moving my feet, you liar! It’s just… Aaaah, that guy’s going to run into us!”

A fast skater passes by, and you panic, losing your balance.

As you slide backward, Franco tries to catch you but loses his balance too, and you both end up on the ground, laughing uncontrollably.

“I told you I was going to fall!” you say between laughs.

“Yeah, but you could’ve avoided dragging me down with you!” He laughs too, lying on the ice.

Emma, having seen the whole scene, approaches slowly with the helper’s help.

“Auntie Y/N! Uncle Fran! Why are you on the ground?”

You try to get up, still laughing. “Because your Uncle Fran is terrible at skating.”

“Hey! You fell first!” Franco retorts, helping you get back up.

He rubs your back, concerned despite his smile.

“You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m fine. Just my ego.”

“Your ego can take it. But let’s call it a day, okay?”

You both make your way to the edge of the rink while Emma continues to skate joyfully with the helper. Your cheeks are still red, and you glance at Franco.

“I hate you for making me do that.”

He plants a kiss on your temple, smiling.

“No, you love me.”

“Hmm… Maybe. But don’t expect me to get back on that ice.”

Franco smiles, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you both watch Emma laugh and skate, full of energy.

After their crazy day at the mall and the ice rink, Franco, Emma, and you finally make it back home. Emma’s cheeks are still rosy from the cold, but she’s buzzing with energy, even after everything. Franco’s got her in his arms, and she’s wiggling around happily.

“Uncle Franco, do you think we can have some candy before dinner?” she asks, eyes wide with hope.

Franco grins, teasing. “Candy? Well, you know, candy are only for good kids mi amor. Are you sure you’ve been good today?”

Emma pulls the most adorable pout. “Yes! I’ve been good!”

You can’t help but laugh as you take off your coat, watching their back-and-forth. “Franco, stop messing with her, she’s been perfect all day. Plus, you’re the first one to cave when she gives you those puppy eyes.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, still playful. “Hey, it’s not my fault she has your look. How am I supposed to resist?”

While Emma settles in the living room with some toys, you and Franco get started on dinner in the kitchen. You’re chopping veggies while he’s distracted, digging around in the fridge. But it’s clear his mind’s not really on food. When he shuts the fridge door, you can feel him right behind you before he even says a word.

Without looking back, you call out, “Franco, I know you’re there. Don’t even think about it, I’m busy.”

“Me? I just wanted to… watch,” he says in a teasing, innocent voice.

You feel his hands rest lightly on your hips, and he leans in close to your ear, his voice low and soft. “But honestly, babe, after a day like today, I think I deserve a little reward.”

You roll your eyes, a playful smile on your lips. Holding your knife, you turn slightly towards him. “Franco, Emma is literally three feet away. Can you calm down a bit?”

“Calm? Me? Baby, I’m perfectly calm.” His hands glide gently over your hips, pulling you a little closer to him.

You feel his warm breath on your neck as he adds in a more provocative tone, “But you know, I missed you, and it’s your fault. With you in the same room as me… How am I supposed to stay focused?”

A soft laugh escapes you, though you try to keep a straight face. “Franco, let go of me. And stop with your nonsense before I cut you off a finger.”

He leans in further to plant a light kiss just below your ear, making your cheeks heat up. “Oh, I promise I can distract you in a much more fun way…”

Blushing, you say, “Franco!” before turning completely around to try to push him away. But he stays right where he is, that cocky grin you know so well on his lips.

“What? I’m just trying to help…” He glances down at the cutting board, then back up at you, amused. “But honestly, cutting carrots isn’t really my thing. I prefer when you do other things with your hands…”

You’re left speechless, shocked by his insinuation, but before you can respond, he bursts out laughing.

“Franco, I swear, if you keep this up, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” you say, crossing your arms.

He tilts his head with a charming smile. “On the couch? Oh, babe, you know I can’t sleep far from you.”

He moves even closer, his lips almost brushing yours. “And neither can you,” he whispers.

You roll your eyes, but he sees your smile starting to give away your amusement. “You’re impossible, do you know that?”

“Oh, I know. But admit it, that’s why you love me.”

Before you can reply, he captures your lips in a soft kiss that quickly turns more passionate. You both completely forget where you are.

A little voice suddenly rings out from the kitchen entrance. “Ewwww!”

You both jump apart, caught red-handed. Emma stands in the doorway, hands on her hips, with an exaggerated grimace.

“What are you doing? Why are you kissing like that? It’s disgusting!”

Franco takes a small step back, a mischievous smile on his lips, while you turn bright red. “Nothing at all, Emma. Uncle Franco is just… annoying,” you quickly reply.

Emma, narrowing her eyes, asks curiously, “Annoying? Why? Did he steal a candy?”

Franco laughs and crouches down to Emma’s level. “No, little princess, it’s because your Aunt Y/N is really beautiful, and I love giving her kisses. And even though she pretends otherwise, I promise you she loves when—”

A well-placed dish towel smacks him on the shoulder, and interrupts his sentence. He rubs his shoulder, laughing out loud, before adding, “Plus, you see, princess. If I had stolen a candy, I’m sure Aunt Y/N would have already punished me.”

You hold your head in your hands, tired of his antics, while Emma looks at him skeptically before changing the subject.

“I’m hungry. Is it ready?”

“Not yet, sweetheart. Give us five minutes,” you say with a smile.

She nods and heads back to the living room, but not without a final warning. “Uncle Fran, be careful. If you bother Aunt too much, I’ll tell Santa.”

Franco raises his hands, amused. “Promise, princess, I’ll be good.”

You shake your head with a mix of amusement and frustration. “See what you’ve done? Even Emma is wary of you now.”

He shrugs. “But baby, I can also try to be really good with you… but I’m not sure you’ll like that version.”

You give him a light elbow in the ribs, but your laughter betrays you—despite everything, you adore him

After dinner, you all crash on the couch.

“Auntie Y/N, can we watch Frozen?” Emma asks, her big eyes all hopeful, her stuffed animal gripped tight like it’s her lifeline.

You laugh, shaking your head.

“Again? Haven’t we watched it, like, ten times already this year?”

Franco, clearly enjoying this, jumps in.

“Come on, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. Let It Go is a masterpiece. I’m all in.”

You look at him, half amused, half annoyed.

“Really, Franco? Don’t encourage her, she’ll want to watch it three times tonight.”

Franco grins and winks at you.

“I’m ready to duet with her if that’ll win you over.”

Emma bursts out laughing, clapping her hands.

“Yes, Uncle Fran, sing with me!”

You roll your eyes but give in anyway.

“Alright, alright. But you two watch and sing, and I’ll just chill and nap through it like always.”

You all settle on the couch: Franco in the middle, you on his left, and Emma on his right, all snuggled up with her stuffed animal. The movie starts, and Emma is totally hooked from the opening scene. Franco, though, keeps sneaking glances at you, grinning as you try not to give in to the song.

Franco, whispering: “Admit it, you’re gonna get up and dance when Elsa sings.”

You glance at him, not buying it.

“In your dreams, Colapinto.”

“Oh, trust me, my dreams are way better than that.”

You nudge him playfully, but he grabs your hand and kisses it gently, still smiling.

“Ugh, stop kissing!” Emma says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

You laugh out loud, and Franco raises his hands in mock surrender.

“Okay, princess, no more kisses in front of you. Promise.”

Emma nods happily and turns back to the movie.

As the movie goes on, Emma starts blinking slowly, her energy fading fast. You’ve leaned your head against Franco’s shoulder, half asleep yourself. Franco wraps an arm around your waist, the other one around Emma, who’s finally asleep against him, her stuffed animal still clutched tight.

Franco, whispering, glancing at you: “She’s pretty cute, huh?”

You close your eyes, barely mumbling.

“Yeah, she is. You’re not too bad as Uncle Fran either.”

Franco smiles softly and plants a kiss on top of your head.

Soon enough, all three of you are knocked out.

An hour later, your brother arrives, using his spare key after knocking with no answer. He freezes when he walks in, seeing you and Franco both out cold on the couch, with Emma curled up between you two, her stuffed animal still held close.

He stands there for a second, just watching, a soft smile on his face. Finally, you wake up a little, hearing a noise. You open your eyes, confused, and jump when you see your brother.

“Whoa, you scared me!” you whisper, panicked.

Your brother grins and says, “I’m here to pick up Emma. But… honestly, you guys are cute like this.”

Blushing, you sit up carefully so you don’t wake Emma.

“I’ll wake Franco.”

You shake him lightly, and he blinks his eyes open, looking half-dazed.

“What? What’s going on? Let me sleep a bit longer, please…”

You laugh, saying, “Wake up, my brother’s here to get Emma.”

Franco slowly sits up, but Emma, still asleep, clings to him like a little koala.

“No… stay…” she mumbles, half awake.

Franco gives you a soft look and smiles.

“I’ll carry her to the car.”

Franco walks your brother to the car with Emma in his arms. She stirs a little but doesn’t wake fully, and Franco takes advantage of that to buckle her into the car seat without a fight.

Your brother, smiling, says, “Thanks for watching her. She had a great day.”

Franco, grinning: “It was fun. She’s awesome, your little one.”

Just before leaving, your brother adds, “Hey, you guys mind keeping her next weekend? Just for a night?”

Before you can answer, Franco jumps in.

“Of course! We’d love to!”

You chuckle and shake your head.

“He’s gonna steal her from you, watch out.”

You all laugh before saying goodbyes.

When you and Franco finally got home, you were completely exhausted. Franco shut the door behind you, kicking off his shoes with a sigh of relief, while you collapsed on the couch, arms spread out like you’d just finished a marathon.

“Man, I didn’t think a five-year-old could be so… energetic.”

Franco flopped down next to you.

“She’s adorable, but yeah… I’m wiped. How does your brother survive every day? Does he have special training or something?”

You burst out laughing, resting your head on his shoulder.

“It must be in their DNA. I still haven’t recovered from today.”

Franco wrapped an arm around you, a mischievous grin on his face.

“So, Colapinto, you thinking about starting a career in babysitting?”

“Maybe. I mean, I’m pretty good at it.”

“Admit it, you’re a little jealous that Emma preferred me. She wanted to hang out with Uncle Fran all day.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Oh, stop. She liked you because you spoiled her. Mr. ‘I’ll skate, sing Let It Go, and have a tea party dressed as a princess with an Elsa headband.’ I can’t compete with that.”

Franco, amused, protested.

“What?! I looked amazing in that headband, and you know it.”

“Amazing, maybe. Ridiculous, definitely.”

You both burst into laughter, your shoulders shaking with exhaustion. Franco turned slightly toward you, his playful look softening into something more serious.

“Honestly, though, I had a great day. Emma’s awesome. But you weren’t bad either. Even though you freaked out on the ice and ended up falling into me.”

You gave him a mockingly outraged slap on the arm.

Franco gave you a heated look.

“What? I’m just saying you were irresistible. You remember on the ice? Clinging to me like your life depended on it? It was almost sexy, babe.”

“Stop teasing me! I thought we were gonna die out there!”

Franco smiled, one corner of his mouth twitching up.

“Die? A little dramatic, don’t you think?”

Blushing, you snapped back.

“Stop it! And I remind you, it’s your fault we fell.”

“Me?! Baby, I was holding you, but you panicked like we were about to die. You were literally clinging to me like I was your last hope.”

You gave him a soft tap on the shoulder.

“Well, you were supposed to be my last hope, Mr. Know-It-All.”

You both laughed again, but this time, the laughter faded, leaving a softer silence between you. Franco looked at you, his teasing expression giving way to something more serious.

“You know… watching her today, playing with her… it got me thinking.”

You looked at him curiously.

“Thinking about what?”

“About us. Maybe one day. Not now, obviously! I know it’s not the time. But… have you ever imagined yourself, you know, with a kid?”

You paused for a moment, your face showing a mix of surprise and tenderness.

“Honestly… I don’t know. It’s scary, right? Being a parent, it’s so much responsibility. And look at me, I couldn’t even convince a little girl to put on her hat properly today.”

Franco smiled softly, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, but you’d be amazing. Seriously. You have this way of making everything seem easier. Even today, with Emma, you were great.”

To lighten the mood, you teased him.

“Great? Are you sure we lived through the same day?”

“Absolutely. You were sweet, caring… a little panicked on the ice, but hey, nobody’s perfect.”

You laughed, nudging him lightly.

“And you? Mr. Perfect Uncle Fran. You really see yourself as a dad?”

Franco took a deep breath, thinking it over.

“Yeah… I think I could be. Today, when Emma looked at me with those big eyes and asked if I could carry her… it was like I really mattered to her, you know? And… I liked it.”

You looked at him, a soft smile pulling at your lips.

“You know, you’d be a really great dad.”

Franco turned his head toward you, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Is that a subtle way of telling me something, babe?”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head.

“No, not yet. But I see it, you’ve got a way with kids. She adores you. And you were amazing with her. I think you’d be an incredible dad.”

Franco shrugged, feigning indifference.

“Of course I would be. With you by my side, we’d make an awesome team.”

You gave him an amused look.

“You really know how to flatter a girl, huh?”

Franco gently pulled you closer.

“I’m just telling the truth. And who knows? Maybe one day, our little boy or girl will beg you to sing Let It Go with me.”

You burst into laughter, resting your head against his chest.

“If that happens, we’ll have to wait a while. For now, we’ve got a lot on our plates. But maybe one day…”

Franco kissed your forehead, gently squeezing your hand.

“One day, then. But only if you promise not to freak out on the ice in front of our future kid.”

“Promise… but only if you promise never to wear an Elsa headband again.”

You both laughed again, and you snuggled a little closer to him. The day had been long, but in this quiet moment, everything felt just right. Together.

[raggedytiger]

ragatha/agatha and pomni/penny human hcs!

(r)agatha:

is an english teacher!

yes she still loves horses. she used to ride them, & she loves old western movies.

owns cowboy hat and boots.

analytical and loves long & winding conversations.

has a very happy cat named sandwich.

patches her own clothes, doesn't have kids but if she did she would embroider their names into their belongings.

she still plays cello, she loves music in general, probably sings like an angel.

can't do any mathematics.

can drive, but like a lunatic. somehow has never had an accident though, so it's fine.

probably has a cute little baby blue/yellow car now, but definitely had a beat up offroader truck at some point that got put to good use. or maybe she still does, i'm not the boss.

total lesbian, a bit of a heartbreaker but not intentionally (women just keep falling for her)

goes to town/neighbourhood/community meetings. likely is/was in a knitting circle

absurd number of quilts in her home

pomni/penny:

is an accountant as we know, and cannot cook for shit as we know.

no pets she can barely take herself for walks. is more similar to a cat, but had a dog growing up. would love a collie or a dalmatian probably.

would name the dog something stupid like Thermometer Johnson.

she can drive, but nervously.

really quick thinker, like impressively, unless she's under HUGE amounts of stress. is literally always thinking at 100mph.

no sense of interior decor or personal style. all practical, kind of butch. really does kill a suit.

very much lesbian but not fully to terms with it. probably had short-lived relationships with men in which she was 'content' but didn't really care for it. seeing agatha as agatha for the first time was probably a crazy punch to her little gay heart. not to mention the cowboy gear.

autistic

watches 90s anime to wind down

listens to every single genre of music. passes a lot of time with headphones in, slowly making her way thru the entire world's discography

owns no band merch or anything though she just listens

can't sleep without a fan on, thunderstorm 12hr audio, blackout curtains, weighted blanket, water nearby

does not sleep a lot

both of them (going to call them pomni and ragatha for convenience):

didn't immediately recognise one another. i havent got an exact idea of how they reunited after getting out, but there were tears.

bonded in a very rare and unique way - they got to revel in the newfound joys of real life again. they got to eat delicious food, go on long, unobstructed walks in the real sun, be warmed by it, chew on ice cubes and shiver at the pain, listen to each other's heartbeats, listen to real music, read real books, smell soaps and flowers and sauces. they went to the supermarket together and read all the labels, and bought one of each type of fruit to try between them, and smelled all the candles, and touched all the blankets. spent a lot of time holding hands and kissing and i'm sorry to say, probably having sex, because holy shit, i'm real, you're real, we're real

now live together in ragatha's apartment, after pomni moved out of her small and confusingly-furnished flat.

both of them feel inadequate from time to time. this is resolved by a stern-but-loving talking-to.

sandwich likes pomni very much. pomni doesn't really get cats, but loves sandwich a great deal, and enjoys letting her sleep on her lap.

ragatha is very pleased to see her girls getting along.

ragatha cooks, pomni chops the veg. she often doesn't fuck it up

pomni cleans a lot as a 'thank you for letting me live here, i love you'. she's very much acts of service, ragatha is words & physical touch <3

they watch a lot of movies together. depending on how long they've been stuck, they might have culture to catch up on

ragatha wants to have a house with a garden one day. pomni starts germinating seeds from their fruit & veg like a weird science experiment. ragatha is delighted when she is presented with a baby tomato plant.

clothes are shared. ragatha's are bigger, but most of pomni's are ill-fitting anyway so it can go both ways. ragatha likes to dress pomni up in different outfits and have her do a little fashion show. pomni pretends not to savour the confidence boost.

pomni starts sleeping more

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 4

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: swearing, drinking/alcohol, mentions of sex, mentions of blood, violence, killing, angst, i hate the pacing of this but i rewrote it like three times and then gave up

series masterlist │my masterlist

after sharing your first kiss, logan becomes much more clingy. he’s attached to you at nearly all times. if you’d thought he was affectionate before, you had no idea what you were getting into. his favourite thing is to press his face into your neck, licking and biting the skin there, but it’s not just your neck. you’ve become a chew toy for a 400 pound man.

he’s never too harsh with it, always gentle with you. he knows you’re not as strong as him. it’s affectionate nibbling, like dogs biting their owners, and you love it because it’s such a clear sign of logan’s happiness.

it reminds you of the early days with logan, where he couldn’t stand to be in a different room as you, though now it’s no longer out of fear but out of a deep desire for closeness and companionship.

and things are good for a while, like that. you enjoy the ease of your unlabeled relationship. he’s yours and you’re his, in every capacity. there’s no need to put an arbitrary, man-made label on your relationship when most of it is quiet, unspoken. you’ve never really had a conversation about what you are, but it’s obvious.

you had thought yourself happy before meeting logan, at peace with the life you’d made for yourself, self-sufficient and doing all the things you loved. you weren’t slaving away at a corporate job, making hardly enough money to support your hobbies, leaving you with hardly any time to enjoy them anyway. it was good.

this is a different kind of happiness, one you’d thought was only real in fairytales. you feel as though he has some sort of six-sense telling him how you’re feeling, when you’re tense or unhappy. he makes you feel like a princess.

but all good things must come to an end. 

he starts to have more nightmares, takes to sleeping in the guest room because he doesn’t want to keep you awake all night with him. more often than not you’ll hear him shouting in his sleep, deep grunts of pain that have you rising from your bed and joining him, hoping your presence will soothe him.

and you like to think that it does. you never get too close to him when he’s tossing and turning restlessly, claws out, metal gleaming in the low moonlight streaming from the gap in the curtains, but you know that logan’s senses are enhanced, heightened, and so you hope that he can feel your presence even while stuck in a nightmare, that you can drag him out of it. eventually he always either settles or wakes up, though both are better alternatives than watching him struggle against an invisible enemy.

you’ve had a few more close calls, where his claws get a little too close, where you let your guard down and lean closer towards him even though you know better, because your heart aches for him.

he becomes more human by the day. he doesn’t tell you when his memories start to come back to him, but you can tell.

you can tell when you get home to find him on the couch with a bottle of whiskey that he must have gotten from the cellar, the one you’d never shown him how to find. it belonged to your grandfather, so you’d gotten it along with the house, but you don’t drink very often and so you haven’t made much use of it.

he takes large swigs of the half-empty bottle, the smell of whiskey on his breath and the taste of booze on his tongue when you go to kiss him. 

you can tell when he becomes less expressive with you, no longer sharing his emotions on his face or with his behaviour as easily as before. he doesn’t bound up to you and sniff you to check where you’ve been, to check if anyone’s gotten too close, their scent clinging onto your clothes. he doesn’t growl when he’s upset or annoyed, just grits his teeth and clenches his jaw tight.

you can tell by the way he holds back his little noises when you pull his head into your lap, scratching at his scalp and tugging on the longer tufts of his hair that you’d jokingly started to refer to as kitty ears. you miss the soft purring, the knowledge that logan was happy and comfortable with you.

sometimes you’ll plan out conversations in your head, acting out how you’ll talk to him and the words you’ll use and how he might reply. but when you try to ask him if he’s alright, placing a hand on his trembling one, sitting down in his lap so he can’t escape, he always shrugs it off. he tells you you’re sweet for worrying about him and kisses you until you no longer remember what you wanted to say.

there’s something happening in his mind that he’s not telling you about, but you chalk up all his odd behaviours to him needing time to deal with remembering his old life.

if his constant nightmares tell you anything, it’s that the memories returning to him aren’t positive ones. there’s a pain in him that wasn’t there before, a darkness that lingers behind his eyes, haunted by things he’s seen. you can’t imagine anyone would deal very well with the onslaught of traumas returning with a vengeance.

he doesn’t stop kissing you, doesn’t stop hugging you from behind, doesn’t stop surprising you by sneaking up behind you and picking you up out of nowhere, making you shriek and giggle. so you tell yourself you’re being dramatic, it’ll resolve itself in time.

it doesn’t.

he goes out to run through the forest, to hunt as the natural predator he was always meant to be, but when he comes back he won’t speak to you. he shrugs you off, locking the door to the bathroom so you can’t meet him in there.

it’s a small thing, but it’s a crack in the routines you and logan have been building together, the wordless nature of your relationship crumbling around you because all of a sudden it no longer feels like the two of you are on the same wavelength.

you cry silently on the couch, head in your hands, feeling like your world is collapsing. the perfect bubble that had settled around you and logan had popped, and now reality was coming in to destroy the fantasy you’d grown accustomed to. you should have seen it coming - in fact, you had, with every night he spent in a bottle instead of on your lips, but you’d chosen to ignore it.

he doesn’t seem to be as in-tune with your emotions anymore, and you wonder if it’s because he simply doesn’t care enough to try.

the through wrenches you in two.

you had given logan your heart, placed it in his rough, calloused hands and asked him to hold it for you. and now you could feel that very same hand, once so gentle and careful, squeezing tighter and tighter, a physical ache.

you need time away from him, away from the house where every corner has memories attached. so you journey into town.

you’re out for a while, walking aimlessly. the streets grow dark, the sun setting in hues of orange and pink behind the horizon, streetlamps turning on to replace the sunlight, though their dim glow is hardly an effective replacement. and still, you don’t return home, not quite ready to face logan.

it’s as you’re preparing to head back, muttering reassuring words to yourself under your breath, that someone grabs you from behind, a hand against your mouth so you can’t scream. you’re shoved into an alley, thin and dingy between two shops that have already closed for the night, their employees gone home to rest, no one around to hear your struggles.

you scream, though the sound is muffled, and cry and kick at your assailant, but he won’t let go. he’s stronger than you.

you think about logan, who doesn’t know where you are, who probably walked out of the bathroom with only a towel around his waist, stray droplets of water tracing down the grooves of his abs. you think about how on any other day you would have kissed down his chest to catch the water on your lips, not yet venturing below his waist, though you’ve done other things.

you hope you don’t die tonight. there’s still so much you haven’t done, so much you haven’t said.

and then the body holding yours is gone and you fall to the ground, knees scraping the pavement on your way down. you cry and cry, fear and anger and relief all washing together into a mess you can’t name. you barely notice the sounds of your assailant begging for mercy, or the low growl from your saviour. but you can smell the blood in the air, the tang of iron.

“what the fuck were you thinking?” strong arms lift you up and instinctively you squirm to try to get away, until a hand grabs your chin and forces your gaze upwards. logan’s furious glare stares back at you, his eyes narrowed and jaw tense.

“i- i’m sorry,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out, and you collapse against him. because even if he’s covered in blood and his claws are still out and he’s just murdered a man, even if he’s clearly angry and dangerous, you’ve never felt safer.

he’s quiet the whole way home. he doesn’t speak to you as he carries you inside the house, refusing to let you walk on your own, doesn’t speak to you as he cleans the cuts on your knees, doesn’t speak to you as he settles you down on the couch with a soft blanket fresh out of the dryer, doesn’t speak to you as he makes your tea the exact way you like it.

and then, “wanna tell me what you were doing out there? you know it’s unsafe for a pretty girl like you after dark, you don’t need me telling you that.”

“i just needed some air,” you argue, though there’s not much heat behind the words, staring down at your steaming mug of tea, watching the unmoving liquid as if it’s the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. logan scoffs, and you can see him in your peripheral vision, looking so unlike the man you thought you knew.

“there’s plenty of air here, we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

“you know what i mean,” you sigh, and he stares at you with his hands on his hips until you roll your eyes and continue, “i needed to be away from you! is that what you want to hear? you’re different lately and it scares me because everything was so great for some time and now you’re…”

“different?” he laughs sharply, “yeah, i’ve got my memories back. i remember every awful fucking thing that’s ever happened to me, every time i’ve been tortured. you know how many times i’ve been tortured? you think i’d act the same after that?”

“it’s not that,” you argue, placing your mug down on the coffee table, “we don’t sleep in the same bed anymore! you refuse to let me see you when you come home after hunting! you don’t cuddle up to me like you did before! you used to kiss my neck all the time and now you don’t! you’re just… pulling away. and i know i’m being selfish, fuck do i know it. but every time i’ve tried to have a conversation with you about this you shut it down so what was i supposed to do, logan?”

“you wanna have a conversation?” he shouts, “fine, talk.”

your breath is coming out in ragged pants. there’s a fire in your veins, a fury you haven’t felt in a very long time, it’s intensity paralysing you. you watch logan’s face, the way he stands before you, his imposing figure stretched above yours.

and there’s nothing you can say. the words you’ve been preparing every night before bed for days and days flutter away in a breeze. all you can do is watch his chest rising and falling.

“i wish you would talk to me,” is the only thing you manage to choke out.

“you’re not getting that version of me back,” he says, voice finally softening into something resembling his usual gruff but not unkind tone, “i remember who i am now. so you gotta let go of this shit, or you gotta let go of me.”

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog

if your name is in white it means i couldn’t tag you for some reason. i’m very sorry :(

[httpskuzuu]

BSD with pets

idk what I did

Fyodor x Reader / Akutagawa x Reader / Nikolai x Reader

I don't speak english, let me cry

summary: cute things about bsd characters and animals, idk

tw: nikolai is kinda oc (it's the first time I write about him, mercy), angst¿ at the nikolai part

Fyodor Dostoyevski

“Fedya.” You called as you knelt down to look under the couches. “Fedya!” you began to despair, you had already searched all over the house and still couldn't find your pet rat. Now, don't ask me how you convinced Fyodor to adopt a rat and give him his nickname, I don't know.

You had looked in every room but one.

You slowly walked through the house until you reached the place where Fyodor was always working. You knew he was there at that moment, you heard from outside the faint sound of keys being pressed, so you were justified in your nervousness, you didn't want to disturb Fyodor.

Anyway, you knocked on the door and stood tensely, waiting until a male voice said, “You can come in.”

“Fyodor, Fedya is lost, I can't find him.” You said the second you opened the door, while looking at him with a sad expression. It had been months since you had adopted the rat and you were already indescribably fond of him, instead Fyodor stayed more distant from him ( maybe because of the chosen name).

He turned to look at you as soon as you finished speaking, to see your expectant face for some answer or help. Expressionless, he removed his white ushanka revealing your beloved lost pet underneath.

“Fedya!” you yelled as you approached with your eyes full of life again. You held the rat between your hands carefully and hugged it. Laughter inevitably came out of your mouth. “What was it doing under your hat?”

“It climbed up me and got underneath.”

“And you left him there?” your smile widened as Fyodor nodded at your question. “I thought you didn't like him.”

“When did I say that?”

“It's just that you never take any notice of him.” You pouted to which the man couldn't help but smile.

“I don't like the name.” He quickly corrected along with a sigh, to which you could only laugh. “He's fine, doesn't bother.”

“I'm glad.” Gently, not wanting to disturb Fyodor or Fedya, you placed the rat back on his head, which curled up comfortably as Fyodor looked at you quizzically. “I think he'll be more comfortable there.”

Ryūnosuke Akutagawa

Your feet hurt as you took out the key to the apartment where you currently lived with your boyfriend. It was a long day of work, although you could quit and be unemployed without any problems, as Akutagawa can provide for you without any problems, you still wanted to have your own money and not be entirely dependent.

You walked in to find the place with all the lights off, you guessed your boyfriend was still out, not unusual considering his job at the Port Mafia. The weird thing was not finding Rashōmon, your cat.

You entered the room shared by both of them and there you saw one of the cutest scenes Akutagawa could be involved in. On the bed, Aku was deeply asleep, breathing peacefully as was Rashōmon, who lay on his stomach in a ball, with the man's hand on his back.

The latter wiggled its ears at the sound of your laughter stifled by your hands, not wanting to wake anyone. Despite your efforts, your pet opened its eyes, which stood out in the darkness. It seemed as if his eyes came out of nowhere, as his black fur was indistinguishable in the dull light.

You quietly approached him and petted his head, making him purr.

You changed your clothes to a much more comfortable one, still trying to keep the quietness of the place. You knew Ryūnosuke should be tired, so you didn't want to wake him up.

Carefully, you lay down next to him, covering them both with the soft sheets. You laid your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, while petting the cat with one of your hands.

With the mix of these calming sounds and the whole moment, you couldn't resist falling asleep.

Nikolai Gogol

You think it was a bad idea, adopting a white dove and calling it Kolya sounded funny at first, and Nikolai seemed to have no problem, but over time his behavior changed.

You don't quite understand, you don't know what goes through his head when he just stares at the dove in his cage. You had seen his emotions, those that he takes so much care that they cease to matter to reach freedom, but still you don't know what to do and you can't help but feel immense guilt.

One day you sit next to him, so that both of you can look at the animal for the desired amount of time.

“Do you want to release it?”

“It would surely die, and if it didn't, it would go home because it's not used to and doesn't want freedom.” Despite his somewhat subdued tone of voice, he has a smile on his face. You decide not to press him about it, after all it's only a matter of time and trust that he will tell you about how he feels, you just need to be as understanding with him as possible.

“Oh.” Silence once again imprints itself in the room, until after a couple of minutes you speak again. “And isn't there a way to teach him to be free?”

“Then he wouldn't be truly free. He would act as quoted, not on his own like free-ranging doves.”

“Mmmh, right.” Guilt still fills you, it's obvious you shouldn't have adopted the bird, a dog would have been much better. "But still, I think it's better that it's locked up in there. It wouldn't be free at all, but it would be close, don't you think?”

“Yes, I suppose that's better than nothing.”

Your hands gently intertwine and you drop your head on her shoulder. You'd be here long enough to comfort Nikolai.

I think you can tell which is my favorite

[pullupinarari]

Lean your weight on me [LH]

4. When we are together

Summary: a 9 chapter series where you are a famous singer, living the career of your dreams. But your chaotic schedule makes your body give in, making you lose your memory and forget (almost) everything.

Author’s note: I struggled a bit to write this chapter and I don’t know if I completely like this, but I’m really excited for the next chapters because things will go downhill again 🤭 anyway I hope you enjoy this!! Mwah

wc: 4247 - English is not my first language and this is barely proofread! Feedback is always appreciated

all chapters here

Every day is a new adventure to you. Every day you discover new details about you and your life, you meet new people - even if they have known you during your entire life, they’re still new to you. You feel like a child, uncovering facts about the world and how life works for you.

Lewis has been beside you every step of the way - during your doctor appointments, the sleepless nights, the sleepy days, the energy rushes, the anger accesses, the questions. And he would do it all as much as you need it him to, he would be by your side in a heartbeat whenever you called his name.

Slowly, you were able to keep some things in your memory - like your brain was starting to function properly again. But you still got overwhelmed when people would reach out to you with a lot of information, not giving you time to process everything. You would still cry when someone would insist on asking you “how can you not remember me?”, making Lewis stand up for you while gently asking people to leave you alone. It would always end up like this: you, cradled in his arms, as he would kiss your head and caress your hair, whispering how everything is fine, how you will be alright.

You lose your mind sometimes, you get upset, your anger consumes you when your mind doesn’t cooperate with you. But Lewis has the power in himself to say the right words, to give the best cuddles when you’re doubting yourself.

“Love, I’ll be downstairs doing some exercise, call me if you need anything, okay?” - Lewis tells you as he leaves a kiss on your forehead. You nod your head at him, snuggling your body closer to Roscoe as you and the dog explore some tv channels.

Your eyes carefully scan through the images in front of you as you end up opening YouTube. The newfound world of people vlogging their days and posting them online, makes you come up with an idea: why not record your journey as well? It could be very helpful to you, to keep track of your progress, to take note of every new memory popping up in your mind, because sometimes, everything just feels like it’s too much for you.

The thought of it lights up your brain, making you feel excited about it. So you search for Lewis’ phone - not having access to your own just yet, not feeling ready to deal with the overwhelming waves of information that it contains. You take a seat on the floor now, as you place the phone on the coffee table in front of you, opening the camera and pressing record.

You smile at the image of your dog appearing on the video. “Will you help me with this, Roscoe?” - you ask, petting the animal as you take a deep breath.

“So, today is July 2nd, and it’s been three weeks - I guess? Since I’ve lost my memory. The doctors say that I suffered from a burnout, and they don’t know yet if I’ll be able to get all my memories completely back, so I decided to start recording these videos in order to keep track of my progress during this time” - you start explaining, your face scrunching as you try to remember all the tiny bits that you’ve been learning lately.

“Lewis was the only person I had some small recollection of, but I thought he was just my boyfriend. Turns out he is actually my husband, which is crazy” - giggles leave your mouth as you enjoy yourself while telling your story to the camera.

“So far, I’ve met Lewis’ parents - they were very sweet to me, and my mother-in-law makes the best soup ever! I recently found out about my best friend, her name is Grace and she’s is so cool! I met her the other day and we caught up a bit: she explained to me that we’ve been friends for twelve years now, and even showed me some pictures of us together. Unfortunately they didn’t rang any bells in my head, but I’m excited to know more about her, so she’s coming around later today so we can hang out together for a bit longer”, you pause to think about what more can you say.

“My routine feels like a new adventure every day. Every morning, Lewis and I go for a walk outside - with Roscoe of course, so I can get used to the environment around me. It feels like I’m challenging myself as I try to memorise the colour of every building on our block, and I try to get the colours right as I anticipate the building we’re going to see next. I’ve managed to get some right already” - as you continue speaking to the camera, Lewis leans on the door, his eyebrows showing a confused expression, at the same time that he’s mesmerised by the way you’re voicing your thoughts and feelings through this journey.

“What are you doing, baby?” - he asks, taking you out of your trance, his face curious as he slowly walks to you.

You look up at him, blushing a bit at being caught recording yourself. “I thought it could be a good idea to record my journey while I’m trying to get my memory back. I saw some people vlogging about different topics on YouTube and it seemed interesting. It might help me keeping track of my evolution” - your words make a smile appear on Lewis’ face, who kisses your head before leaving to take a shower, with an idea tingling in his mind.

Your husband comes back after his shower, meeting you in the kitchen while you were making yourself a fruit salad. “Want to see what I have in my hand?” - he asks, hugging you from behind with one arm as he kisses your shoulder gently. You look back at him, nodding your head in curiosity.

“Ta-daaa” - he says while he shows you his video camera, with a smile in his face and a giggle escaping his lips.

“Why do you have a camera in your hands?” - you question, confused by his face expression.

“If my girl wants to vlog, let’s vlog like pros! It’s more exciting to film with an actual camera instead of with a boring phone. Maybe we can even put all the videos together in the end and admire your journey to recovery” - he grins, almost drooling at how much he loves you, how proud he is of you and your strength during these hard times.

Your eyes shine as you hear his words - seeing Lewis getting involved in something that’s so important to you, makes your heart grow. And when words seem to fail you, you hug him tight, your bodies so close to each other that you can almost feel his heartbeat syncing with yours.

The doorbell takes you out of your moment, and Lewis goes to open the door, revealing a smiley Grace, that brings some flowers and a box on her hands. You greet her with a hug, trying to get used to touch with different people.

“I’ll leave you two alone so you can have some privacy, I’ll be in my office finishing some work. Call me if you need anything” - Lewis says after greeting your friend, kissing your head again before heading upstairs with Roscoe - it’s an habit that he has now: he can never leave the room you’re in without kissing your head, your forehead, your temple, without showing some affection and protection towards you. On the inside, he still blames himself for what happened, for not giving you as much attention as you needed, for not preventing what happened, so he’s trying to make up for it.

Grace notices the video camera on the table as she puts the box down in the kitchen.

“What are you up to?” - Grace questions with a curious tone.

“Oh, I decided to start recording small videos about my journey, so I can keep track of my progress! I actually mentioned you earlier on the first video, do you want to be a part of it?” - your best friend nods, excited to be part of your diary.

“I bought you your favourite flowers and your favourite cake. Maybe you should record your reaction tasting it?” - she suggests.

You place the camera in front of the two of you, and Grace explains to you how vanilla and chocolate cake is your ultimate favourite flavour ever.

“I can’t wait to take a bite, then!” - you answer enthusiastically. It will be nice to taste something that you used to love so much, right? Maybe it might help bring old memories back to you - at least, you expect it does.

But when you taste the fluffy texture of the cake, your face can’t help but contort in displeasure. The flavour doesn’t taste good to you at all, it feels sickening to your stomach, to the point when you have to spit it out, not having the guts to let it land on your stomach.

Grace gets concerned about your reaction. That’s your favourite cake, why aren’t you enjoying it? The girl takes a bite, to make sure the cake isn’t spoilt - and it really isn’t. It tastes good to her, so what’s happening to your reaction?

Your instinct kicks in - and you immediately call for Lewis, as if some emergency just happened.

He comes downstairs, meeting you in the kitchen and your face lets him know that something is wrong.

“Can you please confirm that this used to be my favourite cake?” - you ask him, not even paying attention to Grace anymore.

Lewis looks at the cake and tastes it.

“Yes love, this is your favourite one. It even was our wedding cake’s flavour, since you loved it so much” - he informs you, making your face screw in confusion.

“No, it can’t be. I hate this flavour! It tastes bad!” - you insist, not really believing what both of them are telling you. You don’t feel right, this doesn’t feel right. It’s just a piece of cake, but why aren’t things aligning?

Lewis looks at you speechless. He doesn’t know what’s going on, he can’t understand why some cake flavour is putting you on the edge so much, why can’t you just let it go? He tries to calm you down by holding your hands, reminding you to breathe, to take it easy.

But this is awakening something inside of you - more feelings of confusion, of pure frustration for not recognising yourself. You feel like you don’t fit the stories that people tell you about your old life.

And when you look at Grace, you can see the sadness in her eyes, the disappointment on her face. Your best friend is on the verge of crying by the thought of you not trusting her enough on what she told you - you still had to call Lewis to confirm her words.

She’s the person who was supposed to know you better than anyone, and she really thought it was a good idea to bring you something that she knew you would love - or at least, she thought you would love it. But now you hated it, and it’s like you just dug a hole in her heart.

Grace knows that it’s not your fault, and she doesn’t mean to make you feel guilty by any means, but the way she just mutters a “I’ll better go”, while collecting her belongings and taking the damn cake with her, seeing herself out, it’s enough to stain your chest with guilty, anxiety pooling over you now.

You can feel yourself starting to spiral again as the front door closes. “What have I done? Why don’t I feel like myself again? Now she’s upset and I didn’t mean to-“ - Lewis immediately cuts you off by hugging you, shushing you and all the thoughts in your mind for a second.

Still, you can’t help but let some tears spill from your eyes. This journey has been harder than any of you could imagine. It’s taking a toll on Lewis to see you struggling so much with something as simple as some cake - and now, Grace is also being affect by all this: and mainly by your attitudes.

Lewis is still holding you close, kissing your head time after time, trying to think about a way to help you, to distract you.

Your head sinks in his chest as your cries grow louder, desperation taking over you - the feeling of tiredness doesn’t seem to disappear, you can’t take this anymore. It feels like nothing is getting better and you keep hurting everyone around you, even if you don’t mean to.

“My love, look at me, please” - your husband tells you, while his hands carefully try to hold your head.

“This is all my fault, I keep hurting everybody, I’m such a burden” - your sobs are muffled by his shirt, you’re unable to look at him in the eyes after feeling like a failure, an unnecessary weight in his life.

“Y/N, listen to me” - he’s now distancing his body from yours, so you are forced to look at him, even if you avoid his gaze on you.

“You are not a burden, you could never be a burden to me. I decided to marry you six years ago because life beside you is easy, you ease my mind on my dark days, you lighten my heart when it feels heavy. I do everything for you, I will give you my life if needed, I will fight for you until my last breath. And it kills me to hear you say something like this, it really hurts me to see you going through all this, struggling so hard with something that you definitely didn’t deserved to go through” - he looks at you dead in the eyes as his hands are placed on each side of your head, trying to get his words into your thick brain.

“We all understand that you are going through something that none of us could even imagine what it feels like. And you need to let go of all that guilt, because none of this it’s your fault, my love. And no one is blaming you, we are here, by your side” - his voice sounds softer now.

“But some people act like they are upset with me“ - you try to say through your sobs.

“If people want to get upset, then let them be. If they don’t have the compassion and the understanding in themselves to be patient with you during this hard time, that’s their problem and maybe that will show you that some people are not worthy of your time anymore. But even if everyone decides to leave, I’m staying. There’s nothing that could ever make me leave your side, you’re stuck with me. So please don’t feel like you’re a burden - especially when it comes to me. You can lean your entire weight on me, my love. I will gladly hold you, I’ll take every ounce of it, I’ll deal with whatever I have to, I’ll lift you up and bring you back home, like we always did to each other. Because at the end of the day, it’s just us, our home, our family. And that will never change. You held me when I was struggling, and now you’re the one that needs me the most, so let me be here for you. We’re a team, baby, we’ll get through this together. So get this in your head, yeah?” - he finishes speaking, making you nod your head as his words fly straight to your heart, easing the pain for a bit.

You take some deep breathes, trying to overcome what just happened.

“Thank you” - you sincerely say as you give him as a small smile. He smiles back at you.

“Go put on some comfortable clothes, my love. We need to distract that mind of yours” - he says, preparing some snacks while you change your clothes, having an idea that might help you feel better.

You two get in the car, taking Roscoe with you. Lewis starts driving, letting you know that he will be taking you to a “quiet place where you can catch some fresh air”.

“It will be good for you, trust me on this” - he says with a knowing attitude.

You open the car window, leaning your head against the frame, feeling how the wind hits your face, how it pulls your hair and how those simple sensations have the power to make you feel alive.

Lewis’ heart calms down a bit as he sees you relaxing already, as you pet Roscoe on your lap, and admire the landscape in front of you.

Your eyes widen as you approach a field full of cows, surprised by how most of them are lying down on the grass.

“Lew, look! The cows are all lying down” - you note, pointing your finger at them, feeling like a kid that is seeing them for the first time.

“I once read an article about how the weather makes them lie down. I think it’s because it will rain soon, or something like that” - he explains, watching you take the video camera out of your bag. He slows down his driving, so you can have the perfect view of the animals, really focusing on their position while you giggle at the view.

Then, you turn the camera to yourself, recording how Roscoe is snuggled against you - probably feeling the cold air hitting him as well. You warm his body with your arms, grateful that you decided to use a sweater that you stole from Lewis’ side of the closet. Then, you recorded you and your husband, as you got closer to him and left a sweet kiss on his cheek, making him blush a little as you kept giggling, feeling way lighter than before. To be honest, the only time you feel you might get better, is when you two are together - just the two of you, your little family, your stories and the memories you’ve built together, and you’re learning all about them every day.

Lewis is positive that you could see the hearts forming in his eyes as he took in the sight beside him. You are still admiring the cows, a genuine smile spreading across your features, the type of smile that he missed seeing on you. Your aura looks brighter right now, distracted from the events that took place earlier, and he can’t help but realise once more how in love he is with you, and why he loves you so much - how lost he would feel without you in his life.

After some minutes, you two arrive at a park, full of big trees and beautiful flowers, adorned with a huge lake nearby. He takes the basket where he put the snacks that he prepared for you, and his hand grabs yours gently as you walk through the park, Roscoe following both of you faithfully in his leash.

You find a perfect spot near a tree, sitting there so you can watch the sunset that’s approaching and reflecting on the water in front of you. Lewis cuddles you in his chest, hugging you from behind as you two take in the feeling of finally being at peace after the storm that hit your brain a while ago. It’s been like this: each day is filled with ups and downs, but the most important thing is the way you two seem to overcome all of it.

The orange and pink colours fill the sky as you replay the cake scene in your mind. But instead of focusing on the bad side of it, you decide to use it as a way to know more details about your life.

“You said chocolate and vanilla was our wedding’s cake flavour, huh?” - you ask Lewis, interrupting the comfortable silence you were in. He smiles, snuggling his head on your shoulder.

“Yep. With cream cheese frosting and all” - he giggles while he remembers how the cake looked like.

“Can you tell me more about our wedding day?” - you can’t help but feel curious about it. It should have been one of the happiest days of your life and yet, there’s not much that you know about it.

Lewis takes a moment to think about what can he tell you about the most special day of his life. He thinks about how tears filled his eyes when he turned around and saw you dressed in white, he remembers your vows until this day, but then he has a better idea.

“Why not showing you some pictures of it?” - he said, as he takes his phone out of his pocket. He searches for the photos, handing you the device so you could scroll through the folder of your wedding pictures.

You stay silent for a while, admiring how beautiful your dress looked, how handsome Lewis was, the sparkle that was so noticeable in your eyes - how happy you looked, and you can’t help but sink into his chest a little more, finding that type of protection, that type of safety again.

“Heaven, by Bryan Adams, was one of the songs we danced to” - he informs you, as he slowly rocks your body side to side, and sings a bit of the song to you.

I've been waiting for so long

For something to arrive, for love to come along

Now our dreams are coming true, through the good times and the bad

Yeah, I’ll be standing there by you

And baby you're all that I want

When you're lying here in my arms

I'm finding it hard to believe

We're in Heaven

His voice sounds so sweet to your ears, you look at him to leave a gentle kiss on his lips, your head lying on his shoulder now.

“Tell me more” - you plead him, eager to know more about such a special day. Now that you’ve seen pictures of it, of how you two were dressed, of the venue, your families celebrating your love, it’s easier to try and imagine everything else from that day in your head. And trying to do it, makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, like you’re falling in love with your husband all over again.

“I dedicated this John Legend song to you” - he says, while he starts playing “You and I (Nobody in the World)” in his phone, not daring singing it again. You listen to the lyrics, making some tears swell in your eyes, while you see the way Lewis looks at you - like you are really the only girl for him, like it’s just you and him now, in this world, in this peaceful park, wrapped in your bubble of love and protection, like the sun is setting just for the two of you. You couldn’t feel more special, and you definitely couldn’t be more in love. You two kiss again, as he hugs you, cuddling you while still rocking you slowly, like he’s lulling you to sleep.

Your mind feels tired from everything that happened today, so you close your eyes for a bit. And while the calmness of nature surrounds you, you fall asleep in his arms.

But your mind likes to play tricks on you. It’s like a supercut of the previous events take place in your brain, playing it on fast forward, rushing your memories, making a wave of anxiety and fear wash your body.

Lewis notices your body starting to shake and sweat forming in your forehead while you’re sleeping, making him feel uneasy about your state. So he decides to call your name, gently shaking you so you can wake up.

But you’re too deep into this nightmare, your mind telling you that you’re alone, replaying Grace’s face over and over again - you disappointed her, and everyone else around you. No one cares about you, nobody loves you, you’re on your own with an empty brain.

Lewis calls your name louder, shaking you harder now, not stopping until you wake up.

And once you open your eyes, your heart beats a million times faster, your face is covered in sweat, your head hurting really bad, you feel hot and tired, like you just ran a marathon.

You look around, taking in the place where you are, growing confused since it’s a bit darker outside now. And when you realise you are in some man’s embrace, your instinct kicks in, gathering all strength in you to immediately get up.

“Who are you?! Why are you holding me?!” - you scream at him, distancing yourself from the man as fast as you can, scared that he might chase after you, once you see him getting up as well, begging you to stop and wait for him. But you don’t know him, you don’t know what he wants from you, you’re too scared and lost to stop, so you just run until your legs grow tired and your body gives in - everything around you turning pitch black again.

———

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