Head shot of model wearing strippy pink plastic sunglasses by Sea & Ski; her makeup is light with a silvery powder, Frosty White, by Revlon, and Pussycat Pink lipstick. (Photo by John Rawlings).
House and Garden , April 1965
It was probably the only really meaningful gift from her
father in recent times. It wasn’t much — just a tiny little demon plushie. It
could have easily been lost in thousands of other dresses and jewellery that he
had also sponsored for her.
Had it not been for the fact the toy was a small reminder of
happier times. And of her parents’ love.
One of her fondest childhood memories were of when they
would all cuddle together in bed while her mother told stories. In particular,
one of a tiny demon that saved lost little kids, only to be misunderstood by
the children’s parents when they saw him with them. Her father would supply the
dialogues for the angry people, while her mother would do those for the little
children and the demon.
Lucy felt for the demon, and protested, insisting that she
would have done her best to protect it had she had the chance. Her mother had
been so pleased with the suggestion, that she would weave a Lucy into the story
to do just that - and she would get to do her own dialogues. And they would go
on and on until Jude reminded them of it being past bedtime.
Storytime had been her favourite way to spend time with her
family - it was the one time her father and mother could take a break from
their royal duties and spend time with her.
Her mother’s sudden loss had been very hard on her and her
father, and his subsequent attempts to cope had really dented their
relationship. Lucy, now at sixteen years, still couldn’t remember the last time
she and her father had really spoken.
The plushie, gifted to her on her tenth birthday, two years
after losing her mother, was a small reminder that despite all the evidence
that went against it, her father really did care.
She had taken extremely good care of the soft toy ever
since. It had a special place beside her pillow at night-time and was the last
thing she saw when she went to bed and the first when she woke up. She would
talk to it every day — share tales of her day, people she met, things she
learnt. She would laugh with it and cry holding it. It was her closest friend,
and had been for years now.
Even if it never had it replied back.
Not till right now anyway.
Lucy, the ever graceful celestial princess of Magnolia, fell
rather clumsily on her bum when it — he — suddenly spoke.
“Woah, there! You okay?” came the tiny voice again, as the
now animated toy (person?) leaned over the bed to ensure she was okay.
“Hell yeah I am!” he grinned. “Finally.”
“B-b-but you’re a toy!”
“Oi, I’m a demon!“ His face tilted to one side.
"And you’ve always told me you’re a polite person. Lies!”
Lucy blinked disbelievingly, as the little toy crossed his
arms and huffed.
She crawled on her knees back to the edge of her bed to peek
at the toy, see for herself if he really was…real.
And while the demon kept his back to her, pouting sulkily,
she brought a finger to poke him in the side.
“Hey,” he warned.
“Hey!” His back still faced her.
“Would you— ” he got cut off as Lucy — in a bid to try and
confirm once more that felt had indeed given way to flesh — unintentionally
began tickling him.
“S-sorry,” she said, not really that sorry. His laughter was
“Oh, you’re gonna pay,” he said, once he’d caught his
“And what are you going to do about it?” Lucy challenged.
He pouted again and Lucy couldn’t help but giggle.
“I didn’t intend to tickle you, if that
helps,” she added.
“You’re mean, Luce,” he grumbled.
Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Luce?”
“Well yeah, that’s what I’ve always called you,” he said,
rolling away to make room for Lucy to climb and sit on her bed.
“You were listening the whole time?” she asked in wonder.
( PROMPT: This one-shot is based vaguely off this scene from High School Musical 3 )
A/N: I was suddenly struck with the urge to re-watch High School Musical 3, and I really loved the rooftop dancing scene with Troy and Gabriella ( that’s my childhood right there ), so I wrote something based off it! And, I’d just like to say thank you to everyone who reads my stories and offers such nice comments! I may be too shy to reply to them all, but please know that I read every single one of your comments, and I love and appreciate every single one of you. Also - please fill my inbox with more requests of the bae Peter Parker! I love writing for him, and it’s amazing to see how creative all of you are being with your requests and I would totally do anything for him.
“When I asked you to teach me dancing, this wasn’t
exactly what I had in mind.”
Peter’s laughing nervously as you tug harder on
his hand, dragging him out onto the school rooftop. You’ve never been up here
before, and what you see surprises you. There’s a soft carpet of grass that
crunches pleasantly underfoot, wooden planter boxes with fresh flowers and
herbs, and even a garden swing and some wooden benches.
“Can’t we just head back to my place?” Peter
asks pleadingly, his eyes darting up to rest on the heavy clouds of pewter grey
swirling overhead. “There’s Netflix. And popcorn. And –”
“Quit stalling, and get over here!” You call out
laughingly, spinning around – with difficulty – on the balls of your heels. As
of yet unused to the strappy, heeled stilettos on your feet, you have to take
odd, shuffling steps over to Peter. “I didn’t put these for nothing! And don’t
you want to be able to impress Liz Allen come prom?”
Peter dumps his bag on the bench, reluctantly
shuffling forwards. And this is where your plan hits a slight snag. You hadn’t
factored in how close he would be standing, the smell of his cologne (
something spicy and sugary and delicious ), or the warmth of his fingers, fair
and wholly familiar as he lifts your right hand in his, and settles his other
one lightly on your waist. As you rest trembling fingers on Peter’s shoulder,
feel his warm and calloused fingers close around yours, and the burning weight
of his hand at your waist, you feel warm, and a little dizzy.
Peter Parker was your chemistry laboratory
partner. You’d walked into class one day, saw him sitting at your usual seat,
fair, sparkle-eyed, tousle-haired and perfect. Your heart, so used to being
lonely, had thumped almost painfully in your chest. The two of you had become
fast friends, but by the time you’d managed to muster up your courage to tell
him how you’d felt, he’d already developed a crush on the uber-popular Liz
“C’mon,” You say encouragingly, trying to ignore
the spikes of jealously eating away at your heart. “Can’t have you stepping on
Liz’s feet at prom.”
Peter laughs, shuffles his feet nervously. “Right.
Okay. What now?”
“Okay, now move your left foot forwards, and
step to the side with your right – No, not that side! Your other side!”
you sure we’re doing this right?”
“’Course I’m sure! My dad taught me!” It’s one
of the father-daughter bonding moments that you can actually remember. “Let’s
“It’s going to rain! Can’t we continue in, say, a month’s time?”
“Rain-schmane.” You say, sticking your tongue
out childishly, even as a drop or two of fat rain runs through your hair. You
can already see strips of lightning in the distance, blending in with the
perfect lines of light from the downtown skyscrapers. It won’t be long now
before the storm. “The prom’s on Saturday, you know. The clock’s ticking!”
“Funny, I thought that was the thunder.”
You continue calling out instructions to Peter,
correcting his footing and posture, uncomplaining even when he steps on your
toes. Alright, maybe you did squeal a few times, much to Peter’s embarrassment,
but as much as your feet protest at the rough treatment, you find yourself loving
every moment of it. Love moving through
the space in his arms, your bodies close together, your thighs brushing, the
scent of his clothes and hair, close and fresh –
Your face feel warm. You wonder if your shirt is
soaked with sweat.
How sad is it, that you’d jumped at the chance
to teach him dancing just so that you could spend more time with someone who
didn’t return your feelings?
“I think you’ve got the hang of this,” You
remark, glancing up at Peter as the two of you begin your second turn about the
floor, still relatively slowly and carefully. “Let’s try it with music!”
You have to laugh at the utter look of horror on
Peter’s face. “Music?”
“It’ll be fun, promise.”
Wriggling out of Peter’s arms – and trying to
ignore the sudden sense of loss trammelling through you – you dig your phone
out from your bag. You scroll through the songs on your phone until you find
the one that you’re looking for and hit PLAY.
“Really?” Peter asks, eyes aglow with amusement.
“High School Musical? Wait –”
Realization breaks over his face, like the sunrise over the clouds. “– Is that
why you insisted on binge-watching all three movies yesterday?”
“It was a good series!” You say defensively,
humming along to the first strains of the soft, familiar song. “And you were
totally rocking out with me when ‘A Night to Remember’ came on.”
“Think they’ll play it at Prom?” Peter asks
wistfully, holding you close once again.
“We could always bribe the DJ,” You suggest, his
comment surprising a little laugh from you. “Heck, I could be the DJ.”
It’s not like you’ll be doing anything come prom
night besides lounge around in your pyjamas and eating your weight in
chocolate. Besides, you’re sure that your collection of songs on your phone is
way better than whatever the hired DJ has planned.
“I bet your set list consists of only High
School Musical songs.”
“Er … Maybe?”
As the singers croon about catching lightning in
smooth, dulcet tones, Peter hesitates for the briefest moment before stepping
into the dance. The first steps are stilted, but as he gains confidence, the
two of you are soon spinning and whirling about with the same smooth alacrity
as the dancers in the movie.
You’re floating on a cloud, held steady by the
firm grip on your hand and waist. Even with your high heels and the butterflies
coming to life in your belly, you’re twirling about like a princess in an
Dizzy and flushed with happiness, you let out a
high pitched stream of giggles, burying your face in the crook of Peter’s neck.
Stupid! You curse yourself, but you
don’t have it in you to pull away. Peter laughs, not minding in the least,
making no attempt to push you away, sounding just as giddy as you feel as he
lifts you up into the air.
He’s stronger than he looks, you think vaguely,
feet flying out behind you as you shriek with joy. The two of you barely notice
that the heavy drops of rain have begun to fall in earnest now, plastering hair
to faces and clothes to bodies.
And as you cling to Peter, feeling the closeness
of your best friend in your arms, and the warmth of him on your skin, you
think, “This is enough. This is enough.”
And it is. You can almost forget that he’s
taking Liz to prom.
I sometimes think if JKR was aware of all the clues she put in, or not? Like… Was she aware she was creating a secretly prejudiced family when she wrote about the Weasleys? Arthur’s curiosity on Muggles depends on how they should be incapable of civility and he is constantly surprised by it. Or how they never talk about their squib cousin. Did she wants us to realise her favoured pureblood family was just nice, but not actually devoid of prejudice and bigotry.
Was she aware when she was trying to make sure we know Dumbledore is not perfect, she actually created a character whose only good trait was liking sweets, and allegedly ‘loved’ people? That she actually created a manipulative character who is obsessed with having control over everything?
I’m really curious, because she seems to think Dumbledore and the Weasleys are genuinely good. That they are what we should aspire to be. But they are not. They are still purists and they can’t handle things not going their way.
“Benjamin for a boy, don’t you think?” Shawn said, gazing over at you. You raised your head
from the book you where reading, looking up at his eyes staring lovingly your
way. “What?” You
asked, tilting your head at him. You’d been caught up in your book for hours
and Shawn had been listening to music with his headphones in. “If we
ever have a baby boy, I want to name him Benjamin” he shrugged, rubbing your feet gently. “Where
did that come from?” you
giggled at his sudden statement. “Well, I was watching the movie yesterday and a
kid in it was called Benjamin and he had the cutest little curls and the most
adorable brown eyes and he kind of reminded me of me as a kid, so Benjamin” he blurred out, as if it was the most normal thing in
the world to do. “Okay, Benjamin then” you agreed, looking down your book again. Weirdo.
“Shawn, why do we even need so many bedrooms? We’re just two, you and
me” you sighted, letting your hands rest on
the counter in the empty house. Shawn had been dragging you around all day,
looking at houses, you honestly thought were too big of the two of you. Sure, he had the money, but really? Was it necessary?
Shawn walked up behind you and grabbed your hand, before interlacing your
fingers. He dragged you to one of the rooms in the house. “But imagine love, this being the
nursery” “What?” “For our little princess one day. We could paint it
pink and let your mother paint animals on the wall, just like in your childhood
bedroom. It’s nice and light, close to the master bedroom. The crib would go
over there and we could have a rocking chair here, for late nights when she
won’t fall asleep” Shawn said, walking into the empty room. You caught his
gaze quickly and the biggest smile met your eyes. Shawn was glowing, he was
literally glowing just thinking about this. It made butterflies appear in your
stomach. “Please baby, think about
it. I’m in love with this house. It have a massive garden, we could build swing
sets and stuff. This is where I want to start our family” Shawn whispered,
taking a step closer to you. He let his thumb stroke your cheek, before
planting a loving kiss on your dry lips. “Please” he
begged you. “But it’s so big-”
you argued, kissing his lips again. “But
our family will grow” “With how many?” you laughed, rolling your eyes
at him. Shawn wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his
grip. “Three. I want three
kids” “Fine” you gave in and watched the light in Shawn’s eyes spread.
“Aren’t you a little cutie” you said, rocking the baby in your arms. Your aunt had
just given birth to the cutest little boy in the entire world and Shawn and you
had rushed to the hospital to welcome him into the world. “He
looks so much like you” Shawn
pointed out, smiling warmly at your aunt lying in the hospital bed. “Luckily” you hurried to say, which made all of them laugh. Shawn sat down on the
armrest next to you, letting his thumb stroke the top of the baby’s head
gently. You were both in love with him already, no doubt. “You are
the most beautiful thing, I’ve ever seen” you said, before planting a little kiss on the baby’s forehead. “And the
most precious” Shawn agreed, as his
fingers stroke the little hair on the top of the head. You don’t know for how
long, but you both just sat there, cuddling and watching the kid sleep in your
arms. At one point, you gazed up and caught Shawn’s eyes. You two shared a
smile, before Shawn leaned in and kissed your lips. “You are
going to be such a great mother. Our kid will be a lucky one” he said, letting his thumb stroke your chin. You
couldn’t stop the smile from running across your lips. “Well if our child ends up looking like you, it will” you whispered, as the baby sucked on the tip of your
finger. Shawn stroked the baby’s face again, not taking his eyes of you. “I
can’t, I can’t wait for us to create a life together, a baby together”
Just (not)meant to be together | Jughead x Reader | Part 1
Summary: Every story has two sides, just like every story has a beginning and the end.
Words: 2134 (I know, (not)sorry)
Warnings: Angst and Fluff I’m bad person
A/N(IMPORTANT): Hi everyone! I’m really sorry that I didn’t post lately. You know - finals. Only two more weeks and I will be back and I will publish stories more often. But the third part of “I don’t remember” will be released in next week (it might change but for now it’s certain). Thank you so much for all your messages and comments! I’m so happy that you like my stories. (Thanks for 377 followers!) Right now I’m writing a requested story, so don’t be afraid to send me requests (it don’t have to be Jughead x reader). Also, few people ask me about the tag list to I don’t remember and of cause I will create one, so If you want to be on it (or on the tag list for this series or all my stories) just let me know. This series is an experiment. The plot by them self isn’t but the construction is. As you will see (if you read it), there are two timelines, two points of view, two “beginning”, but one is the actual end of the story. So please give me feedback how you like it. Now the important part: I have dyslexia so forgive me for my grammar, because I’m trying to write correctly, but it does not always work. So I’m sorry again. Feel free to send my any requests, asks. The masterlist will appear today.
(Y/N) - Mar. 24/25
The decorative plate smashed on the wall next to his head. I missed. He was shocked. I reached for a mug on the bedside cabinet.
“(Y/N) listen to me! It’s not like that” he shouted but he took a step back.
“Why?!” I couldn’t see his face, my vision was blur because of the flowing tears “So you didn’t cheat on me for 3-4 months!”
“Really? I am not stupid Jughead!”
“You were seeing with Archie!”
“Oh don’t change the subject!”
“Why not (Y/N)?!”
“Did you or did you not cheat on me Jughead?” I said and I stepped forward. Silence.
“Get out!” I took one more step. I felt the pain.
“(Y/N) you are bleeding!” I looked down and I saw the increasing bloodstain on my rug under my foot. I stepped on the sharp piece of the decorative plate.
“Fuck,” I said and I sat on my bed. Jughead ran up to me.
“Don’t you fucking dare to touch me!”
“Leave my house!” He didn’t move
“Get out of my house Forsythe Jones and don’t you even come back!” I shouted. He was shocked, that was the first time I ever used his real name. I didn’t care I wanted do hurt him.
“(Y/N)…” His voice was a whisper almost too quiet to hear it. I wiped the tears. I saw that he was crying.
“Get out! You are nothing to me! I never really loved you anyway.” I said with the emotionless voice. I was looking right into his eyes. That words broke him. If he only could see how much saying this big lie hurt me.
I stood up and opened the door. I didn’t care about my foot, about the bloodstains. That pain was nothing compared to the pain in my heart. He walked to me and looked into my face. He was looking for something, for any sing of emotions, but I forced myself not to show any. When he walked out I closed the door and waited till I heard that he closed front door.
I went to the bathroom and found the first aid kit. I bandaged my foot and went back to my room. I sat on my bed. I started crying. I thought that I will never stop. I cried and cried so long that no more tears left in me. Then I stood up and opened the window. I saw my small garden with an old swing. The sun was slowly rising covering everything in the golden glow.
Outside everything was the same. But for me the world was different. I felt different. In my world was a big hole that could never be repaired.
Maybe some people are just not meant to be together, but then why at first they think that they are? I thought and started crying again. ***** Jughead - Aug. 27
“May I sit here?” I heard the girl’s voice
“If you have to,” I said not moving my eyes from my screen.
I expected that she will start a very annoying conversation, but she didn’t say a word. I finished typing the sentence and I looked at her. God! She was beautiful! She had (Y/H/L) (Y/H/C) hair tied back. She put the end of the pen to her coral lips. Her eyes were concerned on the notebook was filled with neat handwriting. She slowly put a pen to the page and wrote few words, then again she moved the pen to her lips. Her eyes met mine. Fuck I was starting at her.
“What are you writing?” I asked.
“Most people start with the “hey, what’s your name,” she said and smiled. God! She has a nice smile.
“Here you go. Enjoy” Pop put a big milkshake in front of the girl. It had two strains in it. Well, it was “big milkshake”.
“You seriously going to drink that all of your own,” I asked surprised.
“Well, when I said "big” I didn’t mean that big. In most of the places like this “big” means one normal glass”, she said looking at her milkshake with admiration.
“Welcome to Pop’s where “big” means for two people” Fuck did I actually said that? Now she most likely thinks that I am dumb.
“Well that’s means…” she took pause and looked at me smiling. “I will have a proper portion of amazing milkshake for myself,” she said laughing “(Novel kind)”
“What?” I asked Yup even dumber
She rolled her eyes and smirked, “I’m writing a novel about (plot). How about you what are you writing?”
“I’m writing about the mystery of 4th July death. Wait, did you heard about Jason Blossom? ”
“No, I just moved here. But that’s interesting”
“I could tell you what I know” Really? How it is possible that I said that?
“Yeah I would love to,” she said and closed her notebook
“Do you want “milkshake for two people”?“ she asked and moved the glass to the centre of the table.
I closed my laptop.
"Jughead Jones the Third”
“(Y/N)(Y/L/N) the First” she laughed and we shook hands
I took a sip of the (strawberry/vanilla/chocolate) milkshake. It wasn’t my the best flavour, but I didn’t care. ***** (Y/N) - Mar. 24
The cold wind made all tears disappeared. The street lamps covered the empty street in golden light. I was walking in the night, trying to bring back all good memories but at the same time, I tried to let them go. I should take a coat. The had goosebumps.
The bright red neon made me smile. I felt the familiar warm feeling inside me. I definitely needed a milkshake. I walked through the building and I saw some kissing couple. They happiness made me sad so I looked away. I put my hand on the handle. But then I looked at the couple and my heart stopped.
“Jughead?” The couple broke apart quickly.
“(Y/N)! It’s not…” His beanie was gone. I saw it on the ground, probably it slipped from his head when the girl put her fingers into his hair. I felt that the tears started to flow again.
“So this is how you had been busy tonight?” my voice was shaky. I started to get nauseous. I looked at the girl - it was Betty. I closed my eyes. I prayed that it was only a dream.
“(Y/N) I can explain, it’s not..” she said. One of the few people I really trusted, stabbed me in the back.
“How long?” The tears made my vision blur. “You know what. I don’t want to know” Jughead didn’t look in my eyes.
I turned around and walked away. The most painful thing was that he didn’t stop me. He let me go. **** Jughead - Aug. 28
“I tried to order a milkshake, but Pop told me that I shouldn’t” I heard (Y/N)’s voice next to my ear. I felt the shiver run through my body. The sense of here perfume was so beautiful.
“Most people start with the "Hey”“
She laughed and sat in front of me. Pop appeared with a big (vanilla/chocolate/strawberry - different that last time) milkshake - my favourite. Maybe I shouldn’t buy it. Now I looked like a frick.
"Thanks,” She said but she wasn’t looking at Pop. Did I just imagine that she was looking at me? Wait it was natural that she thanks me. I smiled, but my heart was biting faster.
She got her notebook out from her bag. Then she slowly moved the milkshake closer to her at took a sip. Did she really looked into my ey…..O fuck I was steering this whole time. I felt that I started to blush. Fuck.
“Do you like it?” I said trying to cover my behaviour. She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “I figured out that since you are new in town you should try all flavours” Fuck stop talking.
“Jughead Jones the Third I see what you are doing here,” She said without a smile. I fucked it. I shouldn’t open my mouth. “There are 3 tastes, so that means we will meet next time” She smirked and rolled her eyes again.
I breathed a sigh of relief. “We will?” I said too quickly.
“Well… We will have to see” She winked. ******* (Y/N) - Mar. 24
Everything wasn’t like it supposed to be. How we get here? What happened to the nice boy with the beanie and the (Y/H/C) girl who met at Pop’s Diner. I steel was felting his kisses on my lips, but that wasn’t HIS kisses. I took my phone and searched for a conversation with Jughead. Where was the last time I messaged him?
Mar. 19, 17:05 PM Romeo: I will call you back
Mar. 14, 15:02 PM Me: I’m busy I can’t talk now
Mar. 10, 16:03 PM Me: I can’t tonight
Mar. 5, 9:31 AM Me: Sure
Mar. 5, 07:05 AM Romeo: Can we reschedule our date I have something to do.
Mar. 3, 00:21 AM Me: Hey, sorry I totally forget
Mar. 1, 22:46 PM Me: Where have you been tonight?
I felt the tears in my eyes. I scrolled the messages up.
Jan. 3, 19:05 PM Romeo: Turn around
Jan. 3, 19:04 PM Me: I’m at Pop’s
Jan. 3, 19:03 PM Romeo: Where are you?
Jan. 3, 19:01 PM Me: Shut up, I miss you
I started crying. I cried and cried. I needed to see him. I needed this back.
Mar. 24, 19:47 PM Me: I miss you…
I waited . Seen.
Mar. 24 19:51 PM Romeo: I’m busy
Mar. 24 19:52 PM Me: Most people start with the “Hey”
Mar. 24 19:55 PM Romeo: I can’t talk right now (Y/N)
The tears started to flow again. I rolled on my bed. What happened to us?. ****** Jughead - Aug. 29
I knocked at her window. It was hard to climb using only one hand. I prayed that this ladder was strong enough. I saw a silhouette of (Y/N) when she stood up from her bed. She was saying the truth when she texted that she was sick. She opened the window.
“How the fuck did you get a ladder?”
“Most people start with the "Hey”“
“Hello Juliet, can I come in?”
“I have to think about that,” She said but she moved “What’s this?”
“I figured that since you can’t go to Pop’s tonight it will come to you”
“I hope that it will use the front door, but I don’t think it will fit into the door-frame” I laughed and she took the box out of my hand. I crawled into her room.
“You know that I have a front door, right?”
“Yeah, but the ladder gives better effect” She rolled her eyes. I opened the box. She looked at it with admiration.
“Pop did a great job packing it! Did you tell him that you will climb to my window?”
“Something like that”
“Is that big (vanilla/chocolate/strawberry - different that the other two times) milkshake? Jug I’m sick! I don’t want to infect you”
“The tradition needs to be continued. And you will not infect me. I never get sick”
She wasn’t sure.
“If you don’t want to I can take this and THIS away”
“Is that (your favourite cake)? Oh god I hate you and love you at the same time” She laughed, but it turned into a cough. I took the glass of water from the night shelf and gave to her. Love you?
She drank it. “Thanks”
“Okay you definitely need to go to bed,” I said and pushed her lightly forward it. She sighed and sat on the bed. She made a place next to her and I sat on it. God this bed was so comfortable. Where was the last time I slept on the real bed?
I put two strains into the milkshake and we both took a sip. It was good, not as good as (vanilla/chocolate/strawberry - the second flavour) but definitely better that (vanilla/chocolate/strawberry - the first flavour).
“I think that this one should be our flavour” (Y/N) said my thoughts out loud.
“You didn’t like the first one, which I loved…”
“Now it’s not…” She didn’t let me finish
“I didn’t like the second which you loved, so I think this is some kind of compromise. What are you think?”
“I love this idea”
“Good so official (vanilla/strawberry/chocolate - the third) is our milkshake Jughead Jones the Third”
Found this in my phone notes from ages ago. Watch out, it’s not my usual fluff. Warning that it does deal with the topics of infertility and adoption.
‘Babe, come on, I know it’s frustrating but we’ll get there eventually,’ Chris was doing his utmost to calm you down.
You’d just walked through the front door of the home you shared. The home you purchased three years ago in preparation for your expanding family, an expansion that had yet to materialise and still wouldn’t, as the meeting you had just come from had proved. You walked with purpose through the house, heading for the stairs and beyond them your bedroom, tension rolling off you with every thundering step. The rational side of you knew that Chris was only trying to help, and that you were hurting him by pushing him away, but you just needed time.
if i lived in the pokemon universe i’d probably have a really strong team filled with jacked up pokemon with great base stats and clever movesets and perfect IVs and stuff but THEN….
i’d also have like a little pool in my backyard for my magikarps and i’d put my hand in the water and stroke their bodies lovingly, along with some other smaller fishy pokemons like basculin and barboach
and i’d also have a place for my murkrows and spearows and pidgeys and all my other small bird pokemon to roost and i’d sit under a tree and feed them birdseeds
and i’d have a playset for my shinx and my clefairy and everybody because yknow what? they cant battle, but that doesnt mean theyre useless
they can garden and swing and dance and cook and clean and play and laugh and love and be my friend and thats all that they need to do
all pokemon are great and it always makes me sad lowkey when people say “this pokemon is useless though” because no!!! no its not! !! i’ll catch them nd love them anyways just watch me!!!
honestly I just want to live in a victorian mansion somewhere secluded in the hills or countryside where it doesn’t get too hot in the summer and snows in the winter, with the love of my life and our three dogs. it’d have a huge garden with a swing that overlooks the countryside. a lake would be nearby which we’d swim in topless in the summer and go canoeing in and read books in when there’s no wind. the nearest neighbour would be miles away and the only sound we’d hear would be the sound of our laughter cause we’d be so happy