torn paper

all right. so. this is a Harry Potter AU, in rambly and abbreviated form.

  • this is a version of events where, on the morning of November 1st, 1981, the police are called to a house in Surrey.
  • when they arrive, a large man with a red face and a moustache is waiting for them, brandishing a baby.
  • to be more accurate: he is brandishing a basket. the basket contains a baby.
  • he tells the police that his wife found the basket on their doorstep that morning. “Gave her the shock of her life,” he says, with a chuckle that does not seem the least bit sincere.
  • the police officers have a lot of questions about this, but the man does not have any useful answers. his wife, he tells them, is not in any shape to be interviewed. “she’s been poorly,” he says, “and we’ve got a baby of our own to worry about, keeping us up at all hours.”
  • the baby in the basket seems to be about a year old. he is cheerful, seems healthy aside from a cut on his forehead, with a crooked sticking plaster on it. he has startlingly green eyes.
  • there is no identifying information in the basket, except for a torn scrap of paper with ‘his name is Harry’ on it in a delicate hand.
  • there is nothing else to be done, it seems. the officers take baby Harry, and leave.
  • one of them comes back a few days later for a follow-up interview with the woman who found the baby. she seems a little fragile, and her own baby, in the next room, keeps up a constant shrieking tantrum the whole time the officer is there. “I’m sorry,” the woman says, with a brittle smile. “this has all been a bit much. I recently lost my sister, you see.”

Keep reading

russian classics aesthetic

Brothers Karamazov: orthodox monasteries, deep woods, starry nights, the sound of paper being torn, dimly lit rooms, withered roses, an unfinished letter, piles of books, the sound of shattering glass, ticking of clocks in a silent house, heavy wooden furniture, the air before a storm, the smell of earth, a crowd of people dressed in black, distant murmurs, emptied streets, the fear of walking alone in dusk

Crime and Punishment: coldness of the skin against a blade, slender pale fingers and slightly shaking hands, a red stain blooming on white fabric, lonely steps in a corridor, the slow dripping of water, looking out of the window into the thickening darkness, a single dying candle on the table, listening to one’s breath and counting heartbeats, too many stairs, the desire to be invisible, a subtle memory of kind word

The Idiot: classical statues, wealth covered with dust, a dark house tainted with inherited madness, an unsettling feeling, long walks in a park, useless chatter, a silken ribbon forgotten on a bench, a melancholic face, an unexpected spring rain, the joy of reading one’s favorite book, the clarity of mind after fully perceiving the world around, looking at cloudless sky  

Anna Karenina: fields of crops, flowers brought from an early morning walk, the wind caressing a girl’s hair, a bowl of fruit, the smell of ripe pears, the clatter of a spoon against porcelain when stirring tea, children’s laughter coming from the garden, soft sunlight and white curtains, the sensation of velvet against skin, pearls from a ripped necklace spilling on marble floor, a sudden silence in a room full of people

War and Peace: a glass of wine, the brightness of  a crystal chandelier, white lace, a raging snow storm, the sound of a door being gently closed, the moment of holding one’s breath before walking in a ball room, indulging in looking at a beautiful earring against light, the sound of a saber being drawn, closing one’s eyes for a moment while dancing, the sweet smell of strawberries, a pair of gloves left on an armchair, light scent of powder

The Master and Margarita: the chaos of a lively city, ambient jazz in expensive restaurants, jumping on a moving tram, the sight of Moscow from the roof of a house, yellow flowers in a vase, leaning out of the window, shelves stacked with books, a small tin box with old photographs, strange shapes in the night sky, laughing in the middle of the night on a balcony, colorful posters for a surreptitious magician’s show floating in the wind

Eugene Onegin: a lonely mansion, reading a book in the parlor, faint piano melody lingering in falling silence, long evenings, passing seasons, discussing french novels of the moment, unspoken thoughts, leaning against the door frame, quickly averted glance, eating a peach absent-minded, bright mornings, footprints in snow, a loud gun-shot terrifying a flock of birds nearby   

A Hero of Our Time: byronic boredom, getting up late in the afternoon, the hidden unspeakable sadness of existence, shakespeare’s tragedy opened next to untouched breakfast, cigarette smoke, polished boots, walking with one’s coat wide open letting the night chill break through to the bone, carved wooden chair, fading warmth of the ashes late in the evening, the thought of farewell  

Fathers and Sons: birch groves, morning mist, moss covered stones near a  moor, scientific books, white roses, cheap champagne, shabby pocket-watch, light-hearted irony, a maladroit cello sonata, freshly mowed grass, leaving thoughts come and go, a slow yawn, picturesque plates and bowls filled with traditional dishes, drinking tea on the porch, longing for the future   

Doctor Zhivago: a strange feeling of loss, writing poems in a diary, traveling by train, the hesitation before touching someone’s hand, the gaze of one lost in thought, the warmth of cinnamon, a scarf brightly embellished with flowers, a glass of water, two people listening each on the other side of the door, a threadbare jacket, the tempting void, the evanescent serenity of yesterday  

Dead Souls: horses in a merry gallop, delicious smells mingled, grotesque and bizarre tragedy, luxurious attire cheap soul, masks, a perfumed love letter, the triumph of sarcasm, an unattached wheel rolling down a dusty road, the atmosphere of commedia dell’ arte, puzzling speeches, a baffling caricature drawn on a handkerchief   

Cherry Orchard: a lone chair in an empty room, falling blossoms, old samovar, the unsettling need for change, a mirror reflecting full moon, the disappointment of a glossy object turning worthless after second glance, a piano out of tune      

Dating Richie Tozier Would Include...

- This is how you met

- After that, as the school year went on, the group he hung around clicked into place and you were happy to be part of it.

- Bill, Stan and Eddie were confused at why you and Richie suddenly liked each other, but they grew to like you too.

- Sass competitions. All the time.

- Getting Richie out of trouble is your job, usually.

- “WHAT HAPPENED?

- *Richie, with his heavily ruffled hair, bleeding lip and bruised EVERYTHING.* “I ran into a lamp post?

- *You raise an eyebrow*

- “…You know how Patrick Hockstetter always brings vodka to school?

- “Please no.

- “I may or may not have replaced it with vinegar. And bug replant.

- “I…I can’t even complain that sounds amazing.” 

- Stealing wearing his glasses.

- He acts pissed off but secretly thinks it’s kinda hot. 

- You help him when his mom having an episode, which happens a lot. Richie actually likes spending the night at your house because:

+ Movie nights™

+ Cuddles for hours

+ Junk food for days

+ Kissing sometimes gets heated, in the best way

+ You randomly boop his nose because fuck it he’s so cute

- When his mom is completely out of control he comes to your house with a hand shaped bruise on his cheek and you feel the urge to march right back to his house and punch her.

- You tried to help but he wouldn’t look you in the eye.

- Gently stroking his bruised cheek until he calms down.

- Richie doesn’t think you noticed that his eyes were red and watery but you did.

Even more cuddling

+ He’s the little spoon when he’s sad ‘cuz he likes to have your arms around his waist and you hug him from the back like a koala. You usually sling one leg over his hip and pull him closer 

+ Falling sleep on the couch

- You knew he only cussed to get the attention his mother never gave him, and you cussed right along with him so he wouldn’t feel alone. You knew that he needed attention so you gave it to him.

- Getting super defensive when people at school call him “Bucky Beaver” because of his buck teeth and glasses.

- You never call him this in public for the sake of his “trashmouth, practical joker” imagine but in private his nickname is Bambi because of his big doe eyes.

+ “I swear to god if you call me that one more ti-

+ “Mmm, sure Bambi.

+ He secretly loves how softly you say it. 

- You never told the other Losers that you were dating him, until Ben walked in on the two of you making out kissing a bit.

- To quote Ben: “I’m not even going to ask.”

- Over the summer you get a hammock

+ Sleeping on Richie’s chest

+ This boi has one foot on the ground so he can rock the hammock to keep you asleep

+ Cuz he thinks you look adorable when you’re dreaming

- When the missing children reports become too frequent Richie holds your hand a little bit tighter.

- You weren’t there when he was attacked by “It” but you knew something was wrong the moment you saw him.

- When he found a missing kid poster with his face on it in the Neibolt House, you were the one to tell him it wasn’t real. He wouldn’t be forgotten like the other kids as long as you were alive to remember.

+ Also you MAY have grabbed the paper, torn it to pieces, thrown the torn bits on the floor and stomped on them like a rabid donkey. For good measure.

+ *Richie has never felt so many emotions at the same time in his life*

- When Bill and Richie get into a fight after Neibolt House you were there to pick Richie off the ground but he swats your hand away.

- You’re shocked because no one will listen to you and Beverly.

- Trying to explain that IT will kill all of you if you split up. It’s no use. Even Richie stomps away.

- You attempt to pull him back to Bill so they could work it out but he nearly throws you to the ground to get your hand off his arm.

+ So, since his rudeness rubbed off on you, you punched him

+ By “accident”

- And for the entire month that the Losers were split up, so were you and Richie. 

- To get your mind off all the clown shit you went to the arcade. Well a humdidum dumbass is what you are because the arcade is where Richie is. ALL. THE. TIME. 

- But again, his stubbornness rubbed off on you, so even when you saw him, you refused to leave and resorted to avoiding him. You weren’t sure if he saw you; he was really into his game.

- And at 10:30, when the arcade was technically closed, he was still inside. He probably gave the owner money to let him stay. 

+ The arcade to Richie was like a bar to adults; a way to forget.

- You sat on the curb outside the arcade, sipping a slushie. You were supposed to go home, but since the clown at Neibolt you were scared of the flickering street lamps that lined your way home, and the arcade and other shops gave off a nice, bright light.

+ It was comforting in a way. Very aesthetic. 

- And Richie almost falls down on the curb next to you

- You want to be mad, but he looks so tired from staring at a screen all day, although you suspect the video games aren’t the reason his eyes are glassy.

- “Got kicked out?

- “Yeah.

- “Out of house or arcade?

- “…Both.

- You stand up and hand him the slushie, which he sips gratefully.

- “You’re leaving?

- He looks exactly like a puppy, with huge brown eyes and messy hair. Well, a puppy in glasses, anyway. 

- “If I’m leaving, you’re leaving with me.

- Richie gives you a sleepy smile and takes you hand.

+ The entire way to your house he slumps against you, sometimes falling asleep mid step and his head falls on your shoulder.

- This boi. This fUCKING BOI. WHO PLAYED VIDEO GAMES FOR EIGHT HOURS STRAIGHT. IS USING YOU AS A PILLOW.

- At one point he closes his eyes and walks with them closed, his cheek pressed against your shoulder for support.

- Remember those nights when he comes over after a really bad day? This is one of them.

- So for the night, you and him are too tired to think about the huge fight.

- In the morning tho, you wake up to slightly burnt bacon and very burnt toast.

- Which would be nice, but..

- “How did you burn the toast but not the bacon? The toaster has a TIMER.

- “It’s called Satan’s charcoal bread dispenser and you’re welcome.”

+ He’d feel soo bad for fighting with you??? Like, REALLY BAD

+ I mean, you did punch him in the face, so you and him were kinda even, but he still did all this extra shit

+ Playing with your hair

+ Sharing chocolate stolen from the store

+ Braiding your hair and you’re like “Richie??? You’re very good with your hands???

- Yeah… you probably shouldn’t have said that.

- Richie never stops smirking. Holy fuck.

- “You know what else I can do wit-

- “NO! Nope! No, no, no. Keep doin’ what you’re doing and shut up.

- Really though, no fucking white paper-ass motherfucking bitchass dumbass pixie stick addict looking clown with a shitty pumpkin guts Halloween wig could break you and Richie apart. Period. 


Imum Coeli (IC)

The  Imum Coeli (IC) is always the polar opposite sign of your Midheaven (MC). While the MC covers your career and external path the IC  has connections to family, past, and even family karma.

Aries IC: Growing up has become separated from the family somehow, not necessarily physically or emotionally. Independent, different views. The past is filled with times of loneliness and/or aggression somehow. Karma has ties to standing out in the family. The past is usually not visited a lot. Anger, conflict, passion, or times of excitement are remembered most.

Taurus IC: Likely center of family somehow, probably the glue that holds everyone together. The family’s rock.  Karma revolves around bringing stability and routine back to the family or receiving stability and safety that was lacking. Past is easy to remember, proof of memories, sentimental items, clarity, but also possibly scars, broken walls, torn papers.

Gemini IC: Always the communicative family member, always knows what’s going on, nurtures and shares beliefs. Past can have a lack of communication, a lack of people to talk to/who will listen, and detachment. Is pushed by karma to connect family members, to be the messenger, to have an open mind when it comes to family. The past and memories are tied in communication, ideas, and information family members are attentive of and push forward.

Cancer IC: The karmic family ties are STRONG here. Might have to learn how to let go or there to teach the family to let go. The past is filled with hardcore family attachment but also withdrawal from nurture.Clings to family members, traditions, and views. Karma pushes them to reflect on family a lot, might be the most introspective and perceptive family member. Karma might make them the protector of their family. Can still feel the vibration of family traumas even if it was generations ago. Memories and the past are part of their being. Emotions are always tied to memories. They interpret memories via emotions.

Leo IC: The golden boy or girl of the family, rarely disappoints the family but also fears disappointing them. There are themes surrounding pride in the past, good or bad. Karma gives them an abundance of attention and self-esteem. Shines in the family, maybe restores honor, fame, or general pride in the family. Others in the family always remember them. Their memories are tied to ego and actually security somehow.

Virgo IC: Being overly protected, attempting to meet high standards, maybe extreme innocence, and worry/anxiety is tied to their past. Karma pushes them to bring order, routine, practicality, and self improvement to family members. They are the family critics but also helpers. They never forget or miss any detail from their past and present. Karma could push them to help family members in the physical world like take care of the sick, tidy up, financially support, etc.

Libra IC: Karma pushes them to bring harmony and peace to the family. They help members reconnect. Suppression of individuality, pressure to please others, and lack of training to deal with tension/conflict can be seen in the past.  The past is known to them mentally, intellectually but they can hide their feelings of the past for their own protection/fear.

Scorpio IC: Lots of mystery when it comes to this persons past. Maybe adoption, family members have many of their own secrets, or trauma. Karma pushes them to discover family secrets, to contain the family of its troubles, and to push family past long-standing pain. Can still feel the vibration of family traumas even if it was generations ago. Memories are tied to passion and emotions. They remember what they felt more than the events.

Sagittarius IC: Karma pushes them towards freedom and independence that was lacked in the family somewhere. The past is filled with control or a push to make them find inner security via independence and vitality. Their past can contain intense family beliefs, traveling, and judgment, either tolerant and open or closed and intolerant. Revisiting memories and regret is not common for them. They have their experiences and then move on.

Capricorn IC:  Family expects a lot out of them, past is filled with responsibilities, seriousness, maybe pessimism, and they grew up too fast. Karma gives them security and control of themselves and within the family. They can develop to be the family’s rock. They can regain the family’s authority. Memories tend to be painted in melancholy or over-practicality. They don’t like to share memories but keeps them like a picture in a wallet.

Aquarius IC:  There is karma surrounding being the family outcast/black sheep. They have a unconventional family and views of family. Karma pushes them 2 ways, to detach themselves from family for their own growth or learn to be apart of it in their own way. Can be forgetful of memories, they are stored in a mental library to only be visited if forced to or for practical means.

Pisces IC: Past has many illusions. Could have been mislead, highly sheltered, or manipulated by family. Engulfed in family’s emotions and history. Memories can get lost in emotional translation or trapped in subconscious. Has a hard time separating self from family. Karma pushes them to heal many different types of long-standing family wounds. Despite healing influences karma pushes on them strongly to find their own destiny away from family, likely healing in itself. Can still feel the vibration of family traumas even if it was generations ago.

Okay so it’s time for fluffy headcanon about MC and Damien’s happily ever after:
- MC’s handwriting gradually starts to improve because he and Damien write letters to each other constantly. Like every day. He’s not at Damien’s level of penmanship, but he’s getting better. He still seals his letters with the kitten wax seal though.
- They keep up the letter writing even after they move in together. ‘My beloved, could I trouble you to purchase a dozen of the finest eggs when you pay a visit to the grocer after work? I had hoped to make french toast when Amanda graces us with her presence this weekend.’
- They both write letters to Amanda while she’s at college too. She usually sends back a torn piece of notebook paper with ‘ok cool, love ya pops’ written in colorful gel pen and sealed with a sticker (she saves the actual catching up for phone calls and visits, but she thinks the letters are hilarious)
- She usually refers to Damien as her dad’s ‘suitor,’ until they get married and then she starts calling him stuff like ‘esteemed father.’ She also calls him Gomez Addams or Lestat at times.
- Lucien is slow to admit it, but he really warms up to his new family too, especially since his dad is so happy. He and Amanda become good friends and text often, he finds her easy to talk to and she grows fond of her new gloomy bro who’s actually sweeter than he seems.
- After Lucien goes to college and moves out, MC and Damien decide to get a dog. They want a hypoallergenic one though, because of course they want Lucien to be comfortable when he visits. They end up with a tiny fluffy Bichon who they name Queen Victoria. Of course.
- MC and Damien attend pretty much every Victorian themed museum exhibit or event or movie or whatever they can get their hands on. MC has honestly gotten interested in the stuff and lets Damien design him a whole historically accurate outfit too. He doesn’t wear it every day, but it’s kind of fun to put that stuff on for dates and special occasions.
- They avoid scary movies, but every so often there’s a gothic horror movie that’s just SO accurate with the Victorian costumes and has such FANTASTIC attention to detail and…yeah, they’ve got to go see it. Damien holds MC’s hand the whole time and hides his face on his shoulder during the really scary parts (MC lets him know when the scary bit is over and it’s safe to look again.)
- MC is usually pretty adverse to the outdoors, but he really likes working with Damien in the garden. It’s relaxing, and he likes to listen to Damien talk about the flowers and their meanings while they work.
- Damien really helps MC deal with the grief about his late spouse that he just wasn’t able to let go of yet. Damien’s attitude toward death and grieving is really just the thing he needed, and Damien assures him that it’s fine to take all the time he needs. It doesn’t matter that his spouse passed a while ago, that grief is still perfectly valid. Turns out it’s a lot easier to finally work through everything when he’s not trying to put on a brave face all the time for Amanda.
- When they finally get married it’s the most extravagant affair. A very historically accurate recreation of Victorian weddings down to the last detail (except for, of course, no one batting an eye at the two grooms.) MC cries because he’s a big softy. Damien cries too because he never thought he’d find such happiness. Those fancy monogrammed handkerchiefs get a lot of mileage.
- Just Damien and MC being so happy and healthy and in love!!

Two Halves Of A Whole

Requested by Anonymous 

Word Count: 4,264

Warnings: More plot than usual, more fluff than usual (neither of which you should get used to), a beautiful oxymoron of emotional smut, if there is such a thing. 

Please message me and let me know what you think. I deviated from my norm per request but still need your delicious feedback anyway before I get unsightly worry lines in my forehead, I’m far too young for them. Happy sinning! 

Dinner had been the worst kind of awkward - something that should have been happy but wasn’t. The boys were shells of their former selves, and the air was weighted with the knowledge of it. John was humorless and looked ten years older than he had before he left. Tommy was stoically absent in words and tightly reserved in actions. Arthur was the only one with any kind of fire in him, artificially fueled by the whiskey he’d been drunk off of long before the boys had stepped foot off the train in Birmingham.

It should have felt better to glance to the opposite end of the table and see Tommy, his chair no longer achingly empty. But you were discovering that there wasn’t much difference, his presence painful in its own way. The two of you had barely spoken, and there had been chances to, plenty ever since you two had desperately shoved your way to each other in the crowded train station.

Tommy’s crushing hug as people milled around you had been a false impression of what else he had to offer, taciturn and distant since the moment he’d let you go. Not anger, but an indifference - his arctic gaze blank when he managed to look at you at all.

“Just go on up love, I’ll finish these,” Polly muttered to you after dinner, the two of you scrubbing dishes and speaking in hushed tones, the house mostly quiet except for Tommy’s occasional footsteps on the floor above your heads.

“What if he found someone else?” you whispered, ignoring her and continuing your scrubbing. Polly was the only person you’d told your worst fear to. “What if he doesn’t love me anymore? Do you think that’s it?”

“Right, now you’ve lost it. Go,” Polly ordered, snatching the dishtowel from you. “Not even war could tear you two apart and you know it. Go on!”

“Fine,” you griped, dragging your feet as you headed upstairs. You had pictured it all very differently - you had been excited. Now you felt nothing but childish and avoidant, wanting to run into Ada’s room instead of your own, even though the man you’d loved since you were fifteen was finally back in it.

The pain of Tommy leaving had been unreal, your other half missing from a bed that grew colder each night he was gone. The two of you never stopped writing  - your collection of Tommy’s letters filled two whole spaces underneath loose floorboards in the room you shared. But reading them had eventually made you feel more helpless than ever, each one laced with a resigned pain as his heart grew heavier with each passing day. And now that heart stood in front of you, Tommy slowly poking at the fire in your bedroom with a hand in his trouser pocket.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind you felt loud and piercing, and when Tommy turned to look at you you thought he might be annoyed, your entrance breaking his peace. But if he was disturbed he didn’t show it, barely registering you before turning back around.

Unsure of what to do with yourself, you watched him. He looked taller somehow, manlier and domineering in a stance you barely recognized as something that belonged to him. The top-half of a scar peeked out from his undershirt, the red twisted skin warping on his shoulder each time he turned the fire.

Without thinking you walked to him and touched the skin lightly, tracing its shape, the edges looking like torn paper. The feeling of Tommy’s skin under your fingers was surreal, and your heartbeat felt loud.

“I remember when you - and Freddie - wrote me about this,” you murmured, “I thought it would be lower.”

Tommy continued to roll the fire, his voice blank. “Spend a lot of time picturing it, did you?”

“No,” you shrugged sadly, “couldn’t help it, I suppose.”

Automatically, like you used to, you arched up on your toes to kiss the back of his neck on the last knot of his spine your height could reach. Tommy’s shoulders briefly relaxed, his skin warm over the slacking muscles. But then they were tense again, stiff under your lips until he shifted his weight away from you, ending your kiss in such a way that made you feel like your chest had cracked.

“I have to go,” Tommy said, hanging the fire poker before walking towards his jacket. Dread crawled over your skin as you watched his back retreat, his eyes having yet to meet yours.

“O-Oh,” you stammered, feeling silly and unwanted; your face grew hot in the heavy pause between the two of you. “Have I done something?”

“No,” he answered you, breathy and dismissive. “I just have things to do.”

“Tommy,” you said quietly, watching him lace his shoes. “It’s late, and I thought you’d want to - I don’t know,” you shook your head in exasperation. “It’s been four years, Tommy.”

Intently focused on his coat, Tommy had nothing to say as he shrugged the black wool onto his newly-broadened shoulders.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice fractured and small.

Tommy winced, the only sign of life he had to give. Finally looking at you he sighed, scanning your face. Words unsaid rippled across his sculpted features and parted his lips until he thought better of it, the words catching in his throat and staying there. You caught the briefest flash of life in his eyes, a foggy window into heartache and torment. But then it was gone, his expression set as he pressed his lips against your hair quickly.

“I’ll be back later,” he turned and put his cap on, walking towards the door and unraveling you as he went.

“Is there someone else? In France?” you sputtered impulsively when Tommy had the door open halfway, tears beading in your lashes. “Tell me.”

Tommy sighed but didn’t turn, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “There’s no one else.”

“Then what is it then?” Your voice was growing loud in desperation, tears spilling onto your cheeks. “Is it me?”

“No,” Tommy’s voice was heavy, strained. “I have to go.”

A sob fell apart in your chest as the door shut, Tommy taking the little warmth and hope you had as he left. The bed bounced as you dropped onto the mattress, the coldness of its deafening emptiness burning through your dress and into your skin. Heartsore and tired, you put your face in your hands and cried.

******

Warmth enveloped you, soft and homey as you lay in bed. Eyelids fluttering, you drifted through the beautiful purgatory of being in between sleep and wakefulness. The air was cold as you breathed it in, smelling like the crisp, dry sweetness of coming snow as it briefly dredged your thoughts from slumber to visit the night.

As you rolled over and back into dreamland, the spicy smell of skin and whiskey filled your nose and you sighed in longing.

The brief pang of pain - one you had grown accustomed to - reminded you of what dreams felt like. Curling into the memories of Tommy’s warmth under the sheets, you found him there and slid your arms around his neck, ignoring the giggling French dolls in your mind that tried to beckon you towards nightmares instead.

Listening to Tommy whisper your name like a siren’s song, over and over, distant and far away, you groaned with content as you leaned back into the pillows. Somewhere in your conscious mind you knew Tommy - or a version of Tommy - had come home. Whether he still loved your or not was an issue for reality in the morning. The Tommy who was here now, drinking in your skin and whispering to you with whiskey lips was the Tommy that both your memories and your dreams knew well, and it was the one you chose.

But the Tommy of your dreams began to feel oddly real, his kisses hot across your collarbones as he twirled strands of your hair around his fingers and pulled at them gently. The taste of whiskey drew you one step closer to the land of the living, Tommy’s tongue warm with it as he finally pressed his lips to yours, kissing you and groaning with a deepness that shook your bones awake.

Without thinking you kissed him back, grateful for any scraps of love he could painfully tear from himself to give you. No matter how much you wanted to question, to speak, you didn’t dare break the trance of Tommy moving over you, pushing your nightgown up to your ribs while you traced the planes of his bare chest. Although the taut bands of muscle over his frame were new, he still felt like home and you hoped you did too.

Kissing him was easy, a seamless dance that you had gone too long without - although neither of you had forgotten a step. Running your hands over him, you reacquainted yourself with the new feelings of his knotted scar and the short velvet hair on his head. The thin skin below his ear was still soft on your lips, the growl it produced was still hungry. You felt each knot of his spine, trailing a finger up and down their ridges.

Tommy returned his lips to your neck and you opened your eyes, feeling him nudge your knees apart with one of his to settle his hips between your legs. The candle had been blown out, the bedroom nothing but moonlight-colored shapes. As wakefulness began to clear your mind, Tommy’s kisses stopped feeling like love and began feeling like desperation, your body Tommy’s idea of a solution to a problem he hadn’t been able to solve with whiskey and fighting.

Failing to hide your emotion, you inhaled shakily and Tommy immediately halted, your chest rattling with the thickness of uninvited tears. Tommy inched back up to you and pressed his forehead to yours, swiping the moisture from your cheeks with his thumbs and shushing you gently.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, feeling like it was your first time all over again, vulnerability laced into every bit of you as you shook your head until Tommy held it still. “I’m sorry, Tommy.”

“Don’t be,” Tommy whispered, rubbing circles into your temples before he laid in the crook of your neck. You felt his eyes scrunch shut against your skin.

“If there’s somebody else-”

“It’s not somebody fuckin’ else,” Tommy snapped. Cold air rushed into the space between you as Tommy pushed up and away from you, sitting back on his heels, hands on his thighs. He muttered to himself before wrenching his eyes shut again, bowing his head with a voice edged with exasperation. “It’s me, alright? It’s fucking me. Fuck.”

A hurt you hadn’t felt in a few weeks took hold of you and sunk in, your soul weighted with the same heaviness was planted when Tommy’s letters had begun to get bleaker. The hasty scrawls of ink on the scraps of foraged paper had seeped with an unsoothable pain, but now it was here before you, the grief dark as it bled from him.

The calm that only realization could bring came over you as you watched twelve steady rises and falls of Tommy’s shoulders, thinking he looked as lovely as you had ever found him. Sitting up, you brought the sheet with you and settled on your knees before him, your face even with the top of his drooping head. The faint moonlight shone on what remained of his longer locks, making their glossy darkness pallid and flat.

“You can tell me, Tommy.”

“There’s nobody fucking else-”

“Not that - I believe you,” you interrupted him as gently as you could, reaching up to touch his chiseled cheek. “You can tell me anything Tommy. That hasn’t changed. Has it?”

Tommy laid his hand over yours, pressing it harder into his pale skin. He looked at you with a set jaw. “I’ve changed. Things have changed.”

“I know,” you said softly, the two of you observing each other for a few moments as a carriage passed outside, hooves clopping heavily in the empty night.

Sweeping a lock of dark hair from his forehead, you smiled and felt the dried tear stains split dryly on your cheeks. “Do you think that scares me, Thomas?”

“I’ve done things,” he said simply, not answering your question. He didn’t look at you as he rubbed your cheekbone, following the path of his thumb with sad eyes. “And I’ve seen things. Alright? It won’t be the same.”

“Do you love me any less?”

“No,” he whispered, voice strained with emotion as he squeezed your hand for emphasis. “That will never change.”

“And I don’t love you any less, Thomas Shelby. You don’t scare me.” Craning your neck to silence his protests with a kiss, you murmured against the softness of his lips, “I don’t need you to be the same - we don’t need it to be the same. I love you, and all the demons you brought back with you, too.”

Tommy’s forehead pressed against yours as he shut his eyes and sighed heavily, your noses brushing. Pulling you close, he clutched you to him with a need that kept you silent, his hair tickled your shoulder as he settled into the crook of your neck. Stiffening slightly in surprise before sliding your arms over his shoulders, you let him lean on you and trailed your fingers over the freckled skin of his back, exhaling emptiness so you could fill your lungs with him.

Time passed, the paleness of the moon lightening your bedroom as it rose higher in the black sky. Tommy held you tightly, a silent statue even as his eyes wet the dip of your collarbone, the drops pooling there as you brushed the top of his head slowly. Knowing he didn’t want words, you said nothing as you played with different locks of hair and gazed out the window at the black spread of rooftops.

The rhythmic coexistence between the two of you began to lull you to sleep, your breathing matched. Tommy’s hand tracing your spine was mesmeric, grazing your skin slowly as you leaned on each other.

Tommy straightened when he felt you start to flirt with sleep, your wakefulness willingly returning when he pressed his lips to yours softly. Feeling him move your legs around his waist felt as natural as it ever had, the muscle memory eager to be remembered.

Whispering your name whenever he got the chance, Tommy held you tight and ran his hands wherever they could reach, as if he was finally realizing he was home, and you were real. You finally felt like you weren’t kissing someone who was lost, the movements of Tommy’s lips against yours were not empty of life, no longer a barren forest.

The rough callouses of his hands scraped you in a way that made your back arch and your breaths grow heavy, Tommy suddenly insatiable in his need for your skin, swearing as he gripped you everywhere he could.

By the time your hips had begun to roll into each other’s you were hot with wetness and hunger, gasping wispily as Tommy sucked at your neck and murmured to you, sliding a hand under your nightgown to trace one nipple and then the other. Fingers curled into his muscles, you held him tight as you felt his cock harden against you, the dry friction of his boxers on your lingerie the most pleasure either of you had had in years.

By the time Tommy tossed you backwards onto the pillows your clothing had made piles on the floor, Tommy’s boxers lying dangerously close to the dying but still capable fire. His skin was stark in the moonlight as he crawled over your body, eyes shut as he savored the taste of your skin, sheened with sweat.

But his lips were all you wanted to taste, and you clawed for him until his face was near yours again. Kissing him fervidly, you traced Tommy’s cheekbones and held his head to yours as your tongue danced gracefully with his. When he pulled away and held himself over you in silence a single strand of fear brushed you, taunting.

“What is it?” you breathed, your hands trailing down his hardened biceps.

Gazing at you half-lidded, Tommy eased down onto his forearms after a few moments and shook his head. “I’ve missed you, love.”

Tommy moved lower to run his tongue over your nipples, your chest hitching shallowly and then deeply when he slipped a finger into the hot wetness between your legs, running up and down with a tantalizing slowness.

“Have you missed me?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

Tommy hummed in approval, moving down your body until he could watch himself work, leaving love bites on your inner thighs while he pushed his finger inside of you, his smirk devious and familiar as it crept across his face when you arched into him.

Your skin was peppered with marks by the time your impatience had grabbed hold, and it felt ethereal to finally beg, “Fuck me, Tommy.”

“Mm,” Tommy considered, kissing your hipbone softly and smelling your skin. “Not yet. I have some indulging to do.”

And indulge he did, taking his time on you as he graced all the spots that had fallen to neglect in his absence. He easily found the patch of skin below your hip that made every nerve swear, he hadn’t forgotten that dragging his lips along the ribs below your breasts made your toes curl; his hand softly rubbed circles onto your clit all the while. By the time his mouth was back on your inner thigh he had your hips pinned to the bed to stop their wriggling.

Obliging at long last, Tommy’s lips were silk on your pussy as he kissed you, the lightness of his brushes against you as eager with enthusiasm as they were gentle with reverence. Spreading your legs with his elbows, he held them open and steadily flicked your clit with his tongue, watching you with glinting eyes that were onyx with pupils.

Trying to contain yourself was a useless act, and you didn’t care if you woke up all of Small Heath, crying out as Tommy’s tongue inside of you made your hips arch from the bed. Sliding his hands beneath you to grip your ass, he refused to let you twist away and rose with your hips, holding you to his mouth.

Writhing with only your upper back against the mattress, your hips danced helplessly and Tommy easily followed, sucking at your clit and humming in appreciation until the vibration made you start to whine.

Shivers of pleasure lit your skin on fire and you bunched the sheets in your fists, his tongue ruthless against your increasingly sensitive clit. Easing you back down onto the mattress, he replaced his tongue with his fingers, rubbing skillful circles onto your clit softly.

“How long has it been, love?”

Heavy breathing was your only answer, no space for words between the increasing speed of your gasps, your muscles tightening around him.

“Too long, that’s right,” he smirked, hastening the pace of his fingers on your nerves. “Cum for me.”

If you had the breath you could have laughed at how good it felt, your body rippling as your world fuzzed around the edges. Tommy curved his fingers into your g-spot and stroked, the sight of you toppling over the edge making him voracious, his nails sinking into your thigh.

“Look at me,” he ordered, hoarse with desire.

Chin on your chest, you barely succeeded in keeping your eyes on his while you came onto him, your brows knitting deeply as your mouth fell open. Tommy watched you with a mix of unending adoration and unrefined lust, cooing to you as he coaxed out the last wisps of orgasm that had been waiting for him to do so for far too long.

Tommy finally dragged his eyes reluctantly from yours and exhaled sharply as he watched your pussy spasm around his soaked fingers. Leaning back against the pillows, you let the stars fade from your vision and waited for him, jerking slightly in sensitivity as he kissed up your wetness.

The taste of you on his tongue was something you’d missed, and you drank it in as he returned to you, your head rising from the pillow to meet him. Tommy caught you, cradling you close as he nipped at your lips, reaching down to slide his fingers in and out of you until you were whimpering again.

“My turn?” you asked, jutting your bottom lip out before biting it.

Tommy watched you darkly and growled, spinning your vision as he quickly took you up in his arms and lifted you off the bed to set you on your knees.

Smile spreading voraciously, you waited patiently for Tommy to straighten and step closer to you, your mouth falling open in unashamed wantonness at the sight of him.

Pulling at his legs hungrily you brought his cock to your mouth, teasing him as you ran your lips up and down the side of its length, staring up at him with doe eyes.

“I thought about this very often, you know,” you murmured into his skin, running over him.

“Is that so?” Tommy mocked mildly, watching you and twirling a piece of your hair around his finger. “Such a vivid imagination you have, dirty girl.”

Assenting with a hum, you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock until he groaned, gathering your hair in his hand. You savored him as he had savored you, relishing in every one of his shivers and low moans as you took the length of his cock into your throat over and over.

“Fuck,” Tommy swore, watching you work your mouth and your hands over him, his grip tightening in your hair as he began to push your head himself. “Just like that, love.”

With eyes to the ceiling, Tommy groaned deeply as he moved your mouth onto his cock roughly, the feeling of it making your pussy throb. You couldn’t help but touch your clit, whining around his length as you felt your own wetness. Tommy brought his attention back to you in a lustful haze, a devilish open-mouthed smirk on his face as he watched you.

Reflexive tears rolled onto your cheeks but you barely felt them, small prices to pay for the feeling of Tommy’s cock down your throat. You hummed in pleasure, your spine electric as you touched your clit, the taste of Tommy on your tongue. Just when your jaw began to stiffen did his breathing grow heavy, no traces of icy blue in his eyes as he grew closer to release.

But then he pulled you from him, allowing you a few gulps of air before bending down to kiss you deeply, his hands large on your face and words of love warm on his lips as he pulled you to stand.

Warmth spread through you as you threw your arms around his neck, jumping into his arms to wrap yourself around him, Tommy brought you both back to bed and held you in his lap, kissing you hard and breathing you in, insatiable.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you bit at Tommy’s neck as you sat on him and reached down to palm his cock, wet with your mouth’s work. A groan you realized was yours shook your chest as you felt the hard length of him in your hand, Tommy’s breath growing ragged again as you stroked him.

Tommy pulled you from his neck gently by your hair, grasping your head in his hands as he kissed you fervently, your moving lips inseparable by a pulling gravity. Pushing Tommy’s cock against your dripping entrance, you rubbed it against you until he moaned hotly into your mouth.

With a roll of his hips Tommy was suddenly inside you, hissing through his teeth as you moaned his name against his parting lips. Absence had tightened your pussy and you burned deliciously as Tommy took his time working his way in and out of you, each inch gained leaving you more breathless than the last. Tommy never stopped kissing you, his hands broad on your back as he eased you onto him completely, hushing your whimpers as you stretched for the size of him.

Stroking you strongly, Tommy rested his forehead on yours as he held you close, picking up his pace as he felt you relax around him, the long lost waves of pleasure rolling through your muscles. His words were hot in your ear and his cock was thick in your pussy as he fucked you until your eyes rolled and your nails left half-moons in his shoulders.

Soon the two of you were close, set to cum together with sweat-dewed skin and panting breath. Tommy’s gaze was searing and warm and home all at the same time, and you had no desire to look away.

While Tommy was gone every action had been an effort, every movement taking conscious thought to complete when your heart was miles away, in danger and alone. But thought was no longer privy to the world you two were now in, nothing but moans and aphorisms of love breaking the silence of night. Worries and horrors would never find you here, and Tommy was able to move without fear at long last, his hands never leaving your skin as he finally came home.

Witchtip: On a Budget!
  • Sigils are pretty much the cheapest magic you can work.
  • Spoken charms and mudras (hand movements) are free.
  • Buying pre-processed Cascarilla is a nice convenience but it’s a lot cheaper to grind your own egg shells. You were probably going to throw them out anyhow.
  • Think Creatively when you shop. Get to know the correspondences of kitchen herbs.
  • white chalk is crazy cheap and has tons of uses in magic. Circle casting, warding, sigil work. When you must buy, buy multipurpose.
  • Learn to sew, by hand or machine. You can get nice fabric at a deep discount at garage sales or cut up nice curtains from thrift stores. Tarot bags and cloths, altar cloths, charm bags, poppets - all cheaper to make than buy.
  • Brush up on local plant lore. Even if you gotta sneak trimmings outta the park. Free is free.
  • Save the brown paper bags from the store. They make good petition papers when torn up.
  • Energy Work. Sometimes you don’t need materials at all to get shit done.
  • Use Birthday candles instead of full size tapers for spells. They’re portable and burn just long enough to work a spell.
  • A lack of organization can work against you and cause you to buy stuff at stores you forgot you had at home. Keep a small composition book and write down your entire inventory of consumable supplies with key words. Example - “Bay Leaves. ½ jar in stock. Allspice, Nearly out. Ginger root. Out.” Take it with you shopping. This way when you have decided to spend, you’re not frustrated coming home and finding that you just restocked something you had plenty of. Update it during the new moon, or whenever you run out of something.
  • Use magic! I have sigils going for all kinds of stuff. Finding useful books at a discount. Finding things I need at thrift stores. Saving Money. Put your magic to work for you.
  • On the subject of saving money - Start a magickal piggy bank. (Mine’s a Pikachu. But still!) When you spend cash, dedicate a certain amount to your witchy fund. Got 75 cents back? 30 percent toward supplies puts one quarter in the bank. It adds up. Bless the bank to draw in Prosperity. Pick up change when you find it. Make a set time when you spend it. On your birthday or maybe every sabbat. Stress free pocket money.
  • Go hiking at the nearest public park trail or wooded area. Bring a backpack full of brown paper bags and small containers. Willow bark, witches burrs, acorns, black walnut hulls and wood, shavegrass, cinquefoil, four leaf clovers, pine resin, juniper berries, cedar boughs for smudge sticks, styrax resin, buck eyes, wild ginger, river stones, moss, antlers - all free. Make a tradition of it with a witchy or open minded friend. Be safe though.
  • Make a ritual of shopping. When you have money to spend, ask your God/Dess, Guides, Angels, or Ancestors to lead you to the things you need at prices you can afford. Leave them small offerings in return.
  • Decide before hand how much you can spend. If you haven’t made an agreement with yourself to shell out cash that day, don’t. The joy of a new purchase made in haste often wanes to be replaced with regret. Don’t taint your magic with regret over money. Your Magic is inside you. It isn’t something you have to purchase access to.


-jbird
Eternal Greatness - Part 1

In quite a middle class town, near London, Derek and James, two high schoolers aged 16 and 17 would spend their time to go into the woods and either smoke weed or drink next to a fire place whilst listening to music. One day Derek and James were walking home from college when they decided they’d go smoke a joint in the words and maybe jam out to some songs whilst they were there. They decided to go further into the Forrest, as people kept walking their dogs past where they were trying to smoke. The carry on walking for over 10 minutes, casually joking about what they would do if they were too stoned to find their way back. Derek trips over a bunch of branches purposely put their, but hidden behind dark green ivy. They stumble across what looks like a demonic ritual ruin, not been used for a while, and what looks like a gravestone in the middle of the ritual circle. Derek and James look at each other. Those two just clicked and it really didn’t stop them from sparking up and not being completely phased at all by what they had stumbled across. As time went by, Derek was walking around stoned whilst James was sat on the floor pretending to play the drums. Derek squats down to read the gravestone, He finds a dirty, damp and nearly torn piece of paper marked with the words ‘Eternal Greatness’. The note reads some ingredients, that can only be found in a science lab, so they were that stoned they decided to agree on going after school, they’d sneak into the store room in the science block, steal ingredients they need and see what it makes. 

It’s 4:30PM the next day and they just see the last science teacher leave the college. They start to walk back in find there way to the science block, Derek using a key her swiped early whilst talking to his friend in the science office who needed to talk to his teacher about his grades, unlocked the door. They walk in to see nothing spectacular, like in the movies but just an average old store room. They lock the doors behind and read the ingredients carefully to creat a weird browny gold liquid. 

They look at the bottom of the note and it says in big letters ‘DRINK ME’. Derek hesitates as does James, however Derek takes a sip of the vile. Telling James it doesn’t taste bad and makes him feel alive, the transformation starts. 

James notices Dereks spots clearing up, and tells him, he’s shocked and touches his face and then looks at his hand. He watches in utter disbelief as he sees his fingernails grow ever so slowly and his hands become more dainty. He panics and looks at his other hand only to see his fingers crack painfully one after the other, snap and stretch longer and more feminine. He looks up his arm and see’s muscle start tone out smoother and longer. His arms are stretching outwards cracking and lengthening loudly. His legs move frantically, however the same effect of his hands are also happening to his feet. His shoes slide off as his feet become a smaller size. 

Derek rips off his shirt to watch his chest ever so slightly begin to broaden less and smooth out into a sturdy female torso, capable of holding a large pair of breasts. He sees his ribs snap closer and lengthen through his spine. He looks down to his waist to see it rumble inwards. He then sees his stomach hair, and arm hair disappear along with any moles. His head starts to sting and pull outwards of his skull. It grows down to his chest, an ideal length for beautiful hair. 

He screams in pain and pleasure as he hears a few more cracks in his stomach and chest, he moans in his still male voice as he feels a sensation that can never be felt. A warm, soft and electrifying sensation, filling his breasts, the skin stretching to fit this new build, he moans and grabs his now moderately sized breast cup. He then arches his fingers around his nipples, the circumference growing rounder and his nipples hardening more and more, becoming a sensitive and erotic feel. Attention then goes towards his groin. He stands up from his knees, he noticeably taller only by the smallest height though. The height of and 18 year old teenage girl.

 He took off his trousers and lowered his underwear down just over his knees. His penis, hard and below average size for this age, twitched furiously. Derek moans and stares fear and lust into James’s eyes as his penis shoots out, every last drop of semen left in his testicles. The less he had, the smaller his balls got. The moans of Dereks male voice from a low baritone progressively got higher as his balls got higher and higher into his body. The male moans now drowned out by a seductive young woman’s voice. Derek squeals as a slit cast open between the middle of what was left of his ballsack. Derek then looked down to then see his 4 inch penis, so hard and at a standard to which he had never seen his penis do before. Painfully drag it’s way into his body. Very slowly getting smaller, thinner and less erect, drops to his knees and then his chest, his ass high in the air and his now beautiful, soft legs spread wide. James saw Dereks new vagina forming, what was left of his shaft, slowly slither into a clit. Derek moaning in a beautiful sexual high pitched voice. Derek then felt his new genitalia form, his first instinct was to now finger his new pussy. He slowly rubbed around the wet, cum covered hole and found his new clit. A feeling he had never, but now had the pleasure of feeling. 

He then stopped and arched his back, pushing his ass higher into the air, his small boobs press hard against the concert floor, as the sensation he felt in his chest earlier, found a way to his buttocks, but this feeling was far more intense then his chest. The top part of his legs tremble in pleasure as waves of soft, cushiony flesh filled his ass. Derek moaned loudly as his ass pushed further and further into air, James stared in utter disbelief. What had happened to his friend? Derek cried in lust as his ass grew so beautifully round, every girl would be jealous. Dereks new feminine nails scratched the ground as he tried to grip something, but could only hear the scrape of his long fingernails dragging across the floor. The flesh around his ass had slowly stopped, rearranging itself to fit nicely on Dereks body. The lips of his new vagina forming neatly over his new lower half. He slowly trembles onto all fours. He then slowly stands up with his hands in his face. Crunching and snapping was all that could be heard. Derek cried in discomfort and then soon, relief. He turns around to James and James watches his best friend turn around, his lips still bubbling to become, kissable, and perfect cock sucking lips. 

James looks at Derek. He, wasn’t Derek anymore. She, was Danni, and, Danni, needed to explore her perfectly sculpted female body, to feel all the new nerves and experience something nobody else will. James is sat, he had been panicking so much he had resorted to tears. Danni slowly starts to feel her new breasts with one hand and her new, smooth pussy with the other. 

Danni, silently moans as she feels her breast in one hand, beautifully bubble, fuller and fuller into a DD. She stops playing with her pussy to fully experience and feel the transformation with her hands. She feels the flesh throw itself into her breasts and feels it grow between her fingers. Her breasts slowly stop growing at an E cup, and they were magnificent. 

James was shaking, he had no idea what to do. Danni still staring at him, slowly walks towards him and grabs him by the tie. She is slightly taller than him, to make James look up to her and for Danni to whisper to him, “Your turn…” .

END OF PART 1


My first ever caption! Hope you guys enjoy it!