#also fun fact i made this piece in a dream of mine and then woke up and said ig thats what im making today lol

[depths-of-escapism-archive]

i don't know who ive become

#vent art #edgy art #made with krita #my art #digital artwork #art #digital art #krita #krita art #artists on tumblr #tw horror #tw bad mental health #tw suicide #okay time for the part where i talk lol. honestly i didnt make this with the intention of it being seen as a suicide at all but looking back #on it i can see how someone might view this as a suicide? so thought id tw it as such #also fun fact i made this piece in a dream of mine and then woke up and said ig thats what im making today lol #also i am aware of how my stupid asleep brain probably just mixed the chelovek oc from the ghost and pals song #and mixed that with my own old oc #im very original lol #also i have a slt version of this on my computer but im currently exhausted and laying in bed so this original version i have on my phone #will have to do until probably tomorrow

[imsothoroughlymodern]

The Way You Look At The Stars (Kyle Spencer x Reader)

Lol I wrote this for class and thought it would be fun to post. We love a good friends to lovers moment. This does use feminine pronouns but if anyone wants I can release one with gender neutral ones. Also tumblr keeps formatting it weird and I can’t fix it, if anyone knows how to let me know! Hope you enjoy!

Kyle’s breathing had slowed to a point that I wondered if he had fallen asleep. I didn’t dare take my eyes off the stars to check. I knew if I saw him sleeping, I would inevitably think about how cute he looked. Or if he happened to be awake, our eyes would connect for a heart stopping moment, but then he’d see the clear distress on my face. And I couldn’t have either of those happening.

It wouldn’t have been the first time he fell asleep like this, I thought, drumming my fingers on my stomach, trying to distract from the prominent pit that was resting low within.

There had been multiple times during our frequent stargazing trips that Kyle had magically fallen asleep on the hood of his car. I would always scoff, brushing a piece of hair off his forehead, but I would never wake him. He needed the rest.

The first of many times, he woke up close to sunrise and we huddled together, watching. In hushed whispers, I made fun of him, only complaining a bit about my own lack of sleep. He quickly jumped down, grabbed a checkered blanket out of his trunk, and slowly coaxed me off the hood.

“There!” He presented proudly as he laid the blanket down on the hood, patting it once for good measure.

I merely raised an eyebrow at him, too tired to come up with any response.

He rolled his eyes at me, chuckling to himself. He grabbed my hand gingerly and I felt myself being led back on to the hood without realizing it.

“This blanket,” he explained as he watched me feel the soft material underneath us, “was mine when I was little. Whenever I had a bad dream or something, it would always help me fall asleep,”

He began to lie down, pulling me down with him, snuggling into the blanket. I couldn’t help the smile that crept onto my face as I whispered “Cute,” feeling my heartbeat quicken at his sudden rosiness.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I thought that it might help you sleep too the next time we’re here,”

His eyes flitted away from mine for a split second, his cheeks growing pinker by the second. I was left speechless by such a seemingly innocent yet intimate act. Before I knew what I was doing, my hand reached out for his, lacing our fingers together. “Thank you, Kyle,” I said, barely holding back the other words I wanted to tell him. His mouth opened as though he wanted to say something in return, but he ultimately decided against it, settling on a contented smile before closing his eyes once again. I inhaled deeply, admiring his dimples, before falling into a much needed nap.

Hearing Kyle sigh next to me, I was brought out of the pleasant memory and back to present reality. Feeling the very same blanket underneath us, I almost laughed, realizing how recent that memory felt but knowing it had been longer. I had been harboring feelings for Kyle for longer than I would care to admit. I snorted, thinking of how horrified my middle school self would be that I still hadn’t made any moves. I felt Kyle shift closer, as I received a mental scolding from a kind of superficial eighth grade me.

***

The first day back from summer break was the beginning, and the buzz throughout the new eighth graders was that Kyle S. was now hot. I didn’t understand what anyone was talking about, he couldn’t have looked that different from when I had seen him just two weeks earlier. Plus he was just… Kyle. The same Kyle who cried in fourth grade because I stole his brownie at lunch. Kyle, who vowed to steal my cat one day when I wasn’t looking. Kyle, who had been my best friend for far too long to ever be “hot.”

The rumors were forced to remain as fact until lunch, for our schedules seemed to clash until that point. Filled with determination, I quickly made my way to our meeting spot, certain that nothing had changed. Upon arriving at our designated location, I found not Kyle but an unusual crowd of people. I looked down at my phone, double checking that the text he had sent did indeed say that he was at our spot, I hesitantly called out “Kyle?” hoping that he was buried somewhere deep inside the crowd.

Almost instantaneously, the swarm of eighth graders dispersed and allowed Kyle to step out from where he stood in the middle. “Y/N!” he screamed, running towards me. He engulfed me in a familiar hug, my eyes wide. Maybe… Kyle had changed? I was definitely having to stand on my tippy toes to return the hug, and was it possible that his voice was lower? Pulling away I blinked at him, a strange thump in my chest.

He grabbed my hand, calling out a “catch you later,” to the group of fans he was leaving behind, leading me into the lunch room as if this was the new normal. Kyle wasted no time telling me about all that he did at his Grandma’s house and how he wished I could have been there. I nodded along, trying to ignore the way that my best friend had transformed before my very eyes. Almost nothing had changed, but also so had everything. I brushed it off, he was still the same old Kyle. Surely these feelings would be gone by the next day, right?

How aggravated would middle school Y/N be to know that they didn’t go away? That they instead grew even stronger over the course of four years? I almost laughed, thinking about how she pissed would be to find out that we ended up liking everything about him, even the way that he would do the stupid things that boys do. Would she be upset knowing that I had given up and accepted that my best friend was destined to be just that?

***

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Kyle asked, his face popping into my field of vision. My eyes widened as I stared into his twinkling ones, he certainly hadn’t changed too much. He was close enough that I could see that stupid freckle that resided on the tip of his nose. Placing my hands squarely in the middle of his chest, I pushed him away, his proximity clouding my already murky mind.

I twisted my body to the side listening to his fake wounded complaints. Now, with my body facing him, laying on my side, I stared up at him smiling. ‘YOU’ my mind screamed as I patted the spot next to me, indicating he should lay back down. He clumsily made his way back down, causing the car underneath us to shake. I couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped my lips, “You’re gonna break your fucking car,” I told him.

Now back at eye level, Kyle’s eyebrows shot up, feigning innocence, “Betsy??” he patted the hood beneath him, “She’d never do that to me, I bet she’s offended you even said it,”

I watched as Kyle’s nose scrunched up, clearly proud of his little joke. I rolled my eyes in response, for nothing else came to mind. I found it hard to insult him when I could only think about how his hand had now found my own, gripping with clear intention to not let go but still gentle as ever.

My breath hitched as he scooted closer, “No, really, what’s up?” he asked, his features now concerned.

I sighed, what wasn’t up at that point? Clearly, my unrelenting feelings were a red letter issue but I couldn’t exactly share that one with him and the rest of the world. I settled on the easiest issue, “Tomorrow,”

He muttered out a small “ah”, I knew he wasn’t the fondest of talking about it either, “Kinda hard to believe we’re graduating already, right?” We’d had such a conversation once before. We had found out that though we welcomed the new beginnings, when you’re simply living for each day, the future is a bit daunting. His hand squeezed mine.

“What would middle school us think of us now?” I joked, slowly brushing one of his blonde curls out of his face.

Kyle breathed in slowly for a second before responding, “Well I know that little Kyle would probably be losing his shit right now,” he laughed for a moment before letting go of my hand and turning over to be on his back once again. My stomach twisted, what did that mean? My mind raced as I sat up. That laugh was one that I knew all too well but one that I never enjoyed. It was the laugh that he used to try to soften the blow of whatever bad news he had.

I stared down at him, trying to prepare myself for what was about to happen. Kyle’s eyes seemed to look everywhere but my own. They finally focused right past me to the stars as he gnawed on his lower lip. I couldn’t help but admire the light of the stars in his eyes. I almost laughed remembering how he had almost this exact look on his face when he asked out his first girlfriend. Although it had been three years since that event, it felt as though history was repeating itself. Except this time, I did not know what the outcome would be. I did not know if I was about to be left alone with my feelings. I did not know if he was going to go off with someone else. I did not know if fate had decided to smile upon me, and change the repetition of history.

I turned my head slowly outward, gulping, “Why?” I asked. I closed my eyes, terrified of the answer. Was this the end? Could it be a beginning?

I opened my eyes to see Kyle sitting up as well in my peripheral, “I mean,” he began, “I had this big thing for you in middle school,”

My breath hitched and before I could even think about what a proper response would be, I heard myself go, “Huh,” my mouth went dry. Huh was a severe understatement.

Clearly Kyle thought so as well for he repeated “Huh?” with a laugh. I finally allowed myself to look at him. Wide eyed, I stared at him. Lip still between his teeth, he stared back. It was the kind of eye contact that left me feeling as though he could see every thought running through my head and understood every single one. As we blinked at one another, I felt I could see his as well. Every moment of tension, every confession unsaid, every single year, full of feelings.

Kyle cleared his throat, “You know,” he began, licking his lips, “The first time we came up here was when I really knew. That it was the real deal y’know? The way that your eyes just lit up seeing the stars. I remember thinking ‘oh this is why I got my license’ which is stupid but… I was 16… you know?” He turned his gaze to the sky momentarily, “I almost said something but you were just so happy… So I just watched and hoped that one day you would look at me the way you look at the stars,”

He turned back, locking our eyes once more, suspending time momentarily. The world stopped as we both processed the years of unsaid confessions, and the knowledge that all of them were about to be uncovered. I felt as though a weight had been lifted off my chest, one that I hadn’t known was there until it being finally gone. So much to say and there would never be enough words to properly express what I was feeling in that moment.

His hand found mine once more, “Can I kiss you?” he asked in a mere whisper. I nodded. The kiss wasn’t anything too exciting but to us it meant everything. A slow first kiss shared between lovers, lovers who were friends for years, waiting anxiously for this moment, thinking that it would never happen, yet there we were. A kiss filled with a relief that we didn’t know ever existed. There we sat, on the hood of his car, kissing, not even realizing the rain that had begun around us.

#ahs #american horror story #ahs coven #kyle spencer #kyle spencer x reader #evan peters x reader #evan peters #American horror story coven

[fangirlfics]

Trouble Sleeping (Loki x reader)

I swear if this deletes for a third time Im gonna cry 

KINDA A SLOW BURN BOIS

also I didn’t finish reading it over for mistakes bc I’m lazy 

summary: y/n and Loki used to be very close friends and sometimes when she had bad nightmares he’d use his magic to calm her mind, a few years have passed and they’ve grown apart. Her nightmares come back and hesitantly she seeks Loki’s help again 

word count: 3,592 wahahahaha

y/n leaned over one of the balconies that overlooked the kingdom’s private garden. The weather was perfect, the temperature ideal, sky blue, and the plants were all thriving feet below her. Despite the scenery however y/n’s attention was fixated elsewhere. 

Down in the depths of the garden, propped up on one of the fancy golden benches was the youngest Asgardian prince-Loki. His dark raven hair was combed back as he turned to the next page in his novel, the cover matching the shade of green displayed on his clothes. y/n couldn’t help but sigh as she watched the handsome prince, they had once had an unbreakable bond. It was always Loki and y/n-best friends, one wouldn’t be seen without the other. But somewhere among their late teenage years, Loki had become more cold and distant towards y/n-leaving her alone in the giant halls of the castle to wander alone. That’s when her and Thor’s relationship grew stronger-she had always been friends with the God of Thunder but after her and Loki’s relationship crumbled to pieces he was there to cheer her up. 

“Oh there you are!” Thor’s voice boomed-pulling y/n from her daydream. y/n glanced once more at Loki before turning her attention to her tall friend. “I was looking for you!” He beamed. 

“What can I do for you, your highness?” y/n asked with a playful voice.

Thor smiled, putting his hands together before continuing, “I was hoping that you would join me and-” his words faded as he glanced down to the gardens and caught sight of Loki. y/n’s attention soon turned to the railing in front of her as she traced her fingers along it’s smooth surface. “You still watch him.” Thor told her, his normally enthusiastic voice was now dry and serious. “How long have you been thinking of him?”

y/n furrowed her eyebrows, playing with her fingers. “I never stopped.” She confessed, “I know it’s foolish but I can’t help it, I..miss him more than I can even begin to explain.”

Thor was silent as he watched the girl glance back down at the gardens then to the sky. “Let’s go...horseback riding.” He suggested, getting y/n attention. “To lift your spirits, we can go with Sif a-”

“No.“ y/n blurted out, “nobody else-I don’t want to embarrass myself again by falling off my horse.“

Thor chuckled, “nobody is going to think low of you-” he looked at y/n once more sensing her silent plea ”very well then, just us.” He agreed, making her smile.

“Thank you.” She laughed, giving him a hug. It caught Thor by surprise but he then loosely wrapped his arms around y/n in return. “Thank you for everything,” y/n whispered, “really, I don’t know what’d I’d do without you. I’m blessed to have a friend like you.”

“Of course.” 

Neither of the two friends noticed that down in the gardens Loki clenched his jaw, snapping his book shut and silently retreated to his room-they also didn’t notice the pair of blue eyes staring through the window at them, when they returned laughing on horseback. 

_____________________________________________________________

 There was fire everywhere, thick black smoke made it impossible for her to breath. She was choking-desperate for air. She fell to the ground as the fire closed in quickly-it’s heat trapping her in the room. There was no hope, no help was coming and it was impossible to escape, with a loud crack the ceiling caved in leaving her trapped screaming out as the furious flames burned her alive. 

y/n woke up with a start, beads of sweat lined her forehead although her room was cool and she found that her hands were shaking. Realizing it was just a dream she lied back down, covering her face with her hands as she tried desperately to fall back asleep. She got no more sleep that night.

The same thing happened again in the coming days and three days later while in training, y/n who was running on less than four hours of sleep was doing rather well. In one quick movement she jumped up-kicking the sword right out of Fandral’s grip. 

“Very good!” Volstagg commented from across the room.

“Yes.” Fandral agreed, “show me that move and I’ll show you some of mine.” He winked.

“Just give me a time and place.” y/n responded playfully, earning a laugh. 

“Impressive.” Fandral commented at her response. (she normally responded to his joke flirting with an eye roll) 

“Yes impressive.” Loki commented from behind Fandral. “That y/n can apparently chase after two men at once.” He said this while staring casually at Thor. Sif went stiff inder the tension and Thor opened his mouth but y/n spoke first.

“I’m sorry?” 

“Well by the looks of it, you can’t seem to decide between Thor and-” 

“Brother that’s enough.” Thor warned, taking a step forward.

“I’m just putting out a warning, you do know what they say about these sort of things.” Loki remarked, not meeting her eyes.

“You know full well that I am not chasing after anyone.” y/n said, growing aggravated. 

“It sure seems that way.”He then opened the door to the room and left.

“You know what?” y/n responded, dropping her sword to the ground with a loud clang “I am tired of this.”

 “y/n I think it best if you ignore him.” Sif spoke up, “nobody is accusing you of anything, we all know you aren’t that sort of person-”

“Thank you Sif, but I am not taking this.“ y/n exited the room in pursuit of Loki, who was a few paces ahead of her walking calmly. 

“I don’t like being followed.“ He simply called out to her, because his room was only about a minute walk away from the training room he reached it fairly quickly.

“What is your problem?“ y/n asked him, putting her foot in between the door and it’s frame as Loki was about to shut it.

“I don’t have a problem, now if you’d excuse me I’d like you to leave me alone.“ 

 “Then leave me alone.” She huffed, “hold your silvertongue and stop acting as if you’re above me because you’re not.”

“Is that all?“ He asked her calmly, “you’re done with your childish tantrum?” 

“Oh you are so-“ y/n narrowed her eyes.

“So what?“ Loki asked with an eye roll.

“Terrible.“ y/n blurted, earning a cold laugh from the God of Mischief.

“So I’ve been told.“ He stated bored.

“No, I mean you’re really terrible and for so many reasons.”

“Such as?“  

“You want a list?“ y/n asked with a bitter laugh, “ok well you think you’re better than everyone and you’re not, you poke fun at other people because it’s amusing to you and-and everyone-I mean everyone thinks that you’re a snake, ever since we were younger, and I can’t believe I’m just now realizing that..they’re probably right.“ He swallowed hard furrowing his eyebrows, “you used to be my best friend Loki, I’d defend you from people’s accusations when you weren’t around and..I wasted my time because you are everything people say you are and worst.“ She saw the look in his eye, she hurt him-good now he understood how it felt. 

Loki glanced away-looking down at the girl again. “Is that all?” He asked, trying desperately to remain collected. y/n scoffed. “You may think you know me but I know you much more, don’t forget, I’ve been inside your head. People may think I’m a bad person but I can live with that, you on the other hand can’t stand the fact that someone might not like you, so much so that you’ll break down about it. You’re a weak fighter, you’re not as clever or as witty as you seem to think, and frankly I don’t understand the fascination Thor seems to have with you, you’re nothing special.”  

y/n pulled her foot from the doorway. What happened to us? She was about to cry and she did not want him seeing that. “Is that all?” She asked, reciting his previous question.

“Yes.“ He spat coldly. 

“Good.“ She turned to walk away as Loki stayed in his place trying to keep the impression that he didn’t care.

Late at night y/n tossed and turned in her bed, trying to fall asleep after waking up from a particularly realistic dream-she had thought that by laying still she’d trick her body into falling asleep but that didn’t happen. She knew that she had been able to power through the last few days with almost no sleep-but she’d certainly crash if she didn’t get any sleep soon. The thought of making a visit to Loki for help came to her mind, but she really didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing she wanted/needed his help. Screw it. She thought after another couple of hours, her clock read 2:35 as she swung her legs over her bed and slipped on her slippers and robe. 

The halls were dark and empty except for the occasional guards, which she was careful to avoid (she didn’t want to raise any suspicion). Thank God her room was only a three minute walk from Loki’s. It was once she was already in front of Loki’s door that she started getting second thoughts, but she was there already and the worst that could happen was getting the door slammed in her face or no answer. She raised her cold knuckle, letting it hover over the door’s fine wood before knocking. “It’s y/n..” She announced barely above a whisper, “trust me I really don’t want to ask for your help but I see no other option an-”

The door opened a small crack. “you do realize what time it is, right?” Loki’s annoyed voice asked-he didn’t sound like he had just woken up, maybe he was having trouble sleeping also.

“I know.” At her response Loki opened the door wider, revealing himself in a pair of emerald colored pajamas. “Look I know-” at the sound of approaching footsteps (guards) Loki stepped aside, giving her a cue to get in. She did, turning to face him one he closed the door again-his back facing the door he put his hands on his hips.

“What do you want?”

“I can’t sleep.” She said sheepishly, “I just-I’m getting the same nightmares again and I thought that maybe just this once you could, you know..” She put hands up, wiggling her fingers to imitate magic.

Loki rolled his eyes, “first off that’s not at all how magic looks, second why should I help you?”

“Just this once!“ y/n practically begged, “please. I’ve have not been sleeping at all I just need one hour. I won’t make you sleep on my couch like I did when we were younger, you can just...alter my thoughts or something and I’ll leave and-” 

“Fine.“ Loki agreed, grumpily. He walked back over to his bed, getting in between the covers on the left side. “Well?“ He asked when she stared blankly at him. He rolled his eyes again, “Obviously if you go back to your room I won’t be able to sense when I have to alter your thoughts and you’ll just come back to make a racket when you have another nightmare.“ y/n nodded slowly, making her way to the right side of the bed. “Besides it’s a big bed, just stay on that side-away from me.” She laid down, hesitant at first as she tightened her robe around herself. Loki leaned over, placing a finger and thumb over her temples to enter her mind. 

When she woke up she was in the same exact position that she was in when she went to bed and Loki was standing directly above her looking annoyed once again. It was still dark outside as he looked down at her from where he stood. “It’s about time, I’ve been trying to wake you up for the last two minutes.”

“What time is it?“

“6:05..the castles about to start waking up, you should leave before more people get uo to avoid being seen.“ y/n nodded in agreement. 

“Ok“ she walked to his door, turning to watch as he laid back down in his bed. “And Loki..“

“What?“ He sighed.

“Thank you.“ She said softly, leaving the room right after. Loki was left surprised.

“Look I know I said just once-” y/n whispered that night outside of Loki’s door, it was past 2 a.m. again, but surprisingly Loki let her in again.

“The faster you stop pestering me, the better.“ Loki told her harshly. He had woken her up at 6 a.m. again like he had done the the last time. The time after that Loki woke her up at 7 and the time after that she had woken up past 8 to see Loki sitting in a chair some feet from her sharpening his knives-when she had asked him why he hadn’t woken her up he had simply reminded that he could just teleport her back to her room, that way nobody would know she had spent the night there.

Flash forward a month later, y/n tiptoed to Loki’s room in her nightgown again, the nights were getting hotter which had led to her to leave her robe behind. When she had reached Loki’s room she didn’t need to knock, since he now left it unlocked for her. 

Once she laid down on the right side of the bed (more towards the middle now rather than all the way on the edge) Loki laid down about a foot from her. They didn’t go to bed right then however, since they had formed a habit of talking before falling asleep. “Have you been sleeping better?” Loki asked the girl beside him.

“yes.” 

“Good...”

y/n rolled onto her side to face Loki, “Thank you again.” He nodded. “You know for someone who hates me, you’re actually quite kind to me.” The corner of Loki’s mouth folded up slightly,

“I don’t hate you...” He rolled over onto his side to face her, “but what I do hate-“ he then had explained the entire plot of a book just to express his hatred for one detail in it. 

y/n woke up in the middle of the night with a start, her nightmares had came back. As it turned out Loki wasn’t in the room but when he got back with a glass of water he noticed she was off right away. “I’m sorry.” He quickly apologized, sitting beside her, “I was just-I didn’t think-”   

“I know, it’s fine.“ y/n told him, but his hand was still on her shoulder and his blue eyes still held worry in them. “I’m just-I’m going back to bed...“ Loki nodded, watching as she laid down again. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?“ She nodded.

As she began drifting off she felt Loki take her hand in his. Later on in the night y/n woke up randomly, but she wasn’t facing Loki anymore-instead she was facing his dim window, she felt warm but not from the covers and to her surprise she realized that the prince’s arm was around her waist, keeping her close. Their legs were tangled mess at the bottom of the bed and she could hear his slow breathing as he slept peacefully. She looked around slowly, trying to figure out a way to move away to avoid the embarrassment when he wakes up-but just as she began to shift around she heard him speak up. “What time is it?” up. 

“Sorry...” She apologized growing red, “I don’t know how-“  

“It’s fine.“ She heard Loki whisper. 

“It is?“

“This is quite comfortable.“ He whispered again, then he moved slightly closer-resting his head on her shoulder and he fell asleep again-she assumed that he was half awake and didn’t fully process what had happened. She decided it didn’t matter and fell asleep again, after all he wasn’t wrong-it was comfortable.  

There was a loud noise that woke y/n right up, making her jump. Now she realized that she was facing Loki again, her arms were wrapped around his neck like in a hug, his head was nuzzled in the crook of her neck-their legs still a tangled mess. Bang! Bang! There it was again, she lifted her head, looking towards the door as it came again-bang! Bang! 

“Loki” She whispered, gently shaking his sleeping form. He ignored it, pulling her closer in response instead. “Loki, someone’s at the door.” She whispered, trying not to laugh. He sighed looking up towards his door.

“Just ignore it, they’ll go away it’s probably a servant or-”

“Loki!” Thor’s voice came from the other side of the door, “Loki, I know you’re in there! Open the door.” Loki rolled his eyes, standing up to make his way towards the door. 

He opened the door a few inches, “what do you want?” He hissed.

“I-” Thor paused, “are wearing your nightwear?”

“Why is that of any importance-what do you want?”

“er, Loki is there someone in there with you?“ Thor asked. 

y/n held her breath, afraid that somehow Thor would hear her from the doorway. “I-no!” Loki snapped, “What are you talking about?”

“Alright, alright I apologize. I’m here to ask if you have seen y/n? I’ve been searching for her, she’s normally turned up somewhere at this time it’s past 10.” 

“No I don’t know where she is, I haven’t seen her. Check the garden, she’s most likely wandering around there.“ He shut the door, turning back to y/n. 

“Past 10?“ y/n asked, covering her mouth, “I should’ve been awake two hours ago.” Loki shrugged. “Can you teleport me back to my room, I should go to the gardens since Thor’s looking for me.” Loki looked at the ground with an unfamiliar look in his eyes before nodding. “Thank you.”

The girl had spent more time with Thor training than she had expected that day, leading her to take an extra long shower at night to get clean. She hadn’t realized until she looked at her clock that it was past 10-normally she’d already be at Loki’s room by now. Quickly she dried her hair and changed into her nightwear. 

She was about to leave and opened her door and unexpectedly Loki was there with his hand raised looking like he was about to knock. They stared at each other for a moment before she spoke up, “Loki? What are you doing here?” 

He glanced to the side, not wanting to meet here eyes as she awaited his response, “I thought..” he said glancing at the ground before back to her, regaining his composure “that you-“

“Weren’t coming?“ She finished for him, he nodded.

“So I came to see if you were ok, I’ll leave.“

“Wait, no.“ She told him, grabbing his wrist and taking him by surprise, “I was just coming it was just taking me longer, but you can sleep here if you want since you’re already here...?” He nodded in agreement, stepping into her room.

He settled himself into the bed, opening his arms for her to crawl into which she quickly did. The two laid there for a moment, listening to the quietness as Loki slowly brushed through her hair with his fingers.      

“remember the other day when I said that you were terrible?“ y/n suddenly asked, getting Loki’s attention. He stopped running his fingers through her hair. 

“Yes, why do you ask?“ He responded cautiously. 

“I was just mad at you. I’m sorry.“

He took a moment to think to himself, “I didn’t mean what I said either."

“Can I ask you something?” y/n asked after a while later.

“What?”

“Why did you push me away?” She asked, shifting herself to meet his eyes.

Loki sighed-only it wasn’t from being aggravated this time. He backed up a few inches from y/n-staring straight up at the ceiling. “It’s because..”

“Because what?”

“I had noticed that you and Thor were becoming closer and decided to..abandon you before you did me. I thought it’d hurt less that way.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, everyone always seems to choose Thor over me, I just assumed you would, in time, do the same.“ He confessed, still not meeting her gaze. 

“Loki...“ she set her hand on his shoulder waiting for him to look at her. “I would never abandon you for Thor, sure Thor is my friend but so is Fandral, so is Volstagg, so is Sif and I’m not abandoning anyone for them.“

He nodded.

“And tonight..“ y/n spoke up again, “when you thought I wasn’t coming-“

“I assumed you wouldn’t need me anymore, especially after you had spent so much time with Thor.“

“Loki!“

“What?“

“Don’t be like that!“ y/n told him, sitting up, “I do need you! I’ll always need you, I need you don’ t doubt that, and not just because of stupid nightmares, because I care for you and I love you, ok?”

Loki smiled to himself, “you love me?“

“Yes you stupid-“ she stopped talking because Loki had leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss, taking no time to hesitate she leaned into him further deepening the kiss. After about a minute they pulled apart-resting their foreheads together. 

“I love you too.“

#loki #loki x y/n #loki x reader #loki fanfic #marvel fanfic #reader insert #marvel reader insert

[themadlostgirl]

When It’s Cold (6)

*We stan open communication, patience, and informed, enthusiastic consent when it comes to acts of sex baby! That being said I have gotten a lot more comfortable and better at writing smut (imho) so compared to smut I have written in the past this is more detailed and thus a lot raunchier sounding than anything you may have read by me before. Just wanted to put that out there before we go diving into this. Also, if I have not somehow made this clear enough already: SMUTTY CHAPTER AHEAD!*

~~~

Felix woke up a little stiff but otherwise happy. You were still asleep next to him. At some point in the night you both had turned over so he was spooning you. You fit into him like a puzzle piece. He really could get used to waking up like this.

You shifted in your sleep your back nestling further against his body. Felix froze as he realized that there was another part of him that had woken up this morning. Of all the days he could wake up with morning wood it had to choose the morning he was sleeping next to you and your ass was pressed right up against him. Okay. No matter. He can just move back so it isn’t touching you.

Felix slid his hips back from you but your body followed when he tried to pull away. He couldn’t push you away either since you were holding his free arm to your chest. Now that he was thinking about it Felix could feel exactly what it was his trapped hand was touching. So it seemed he was in a very awkward position. Your ass pressed against his erect dick and refusing to put space between it and his hand resting over one of your breasts where you kept it held. He really didn’t want to deal with the embarrassment that would come if you were to wake up while you two were like this.

He could just push you away and make a run for it. No. You didn’t deserve to be woken up like that. He started thinking of things to get his erection to go down but it persisted. It really wasn’t helped by the fact that you kept wiggling your butt against it either. If you kept squirming around it was never gonna go away.

“Hmm,” Your voice whined and pressed against him harder. You kept making small little noises as you squirmed and it suddenly dawned on Felix what was happening. You were having a dirty dream and were using the feeling of his erection between your thighs to get yourself off.

Oh this was conflicting.

He could either stay in place and let you ride this out, pun intended, and hope that you didn’t wake up or if you did wake up he could pretend to still be asleep and you could deal with any embarrassment on your own. There was also the chance that he could wake you up and you two could be mature about this situation and laugh it off in mutual embarrassment. Hell, it might even evolve into actual sex if he played his cards right. Then again he could still just run away and you two would never need to speak of this morning ever again.

He needed to make a decision soon because you were only getting more eager in your motions. Your breath was coming harder and he knew you would wake yourself up soon if he didn’t do anything. Damn it. Why did this have to feel so good?

“Hey,” Felix whispered, “Wake up. Time to get up, little girl.”

“Huh?” Your eyes were bleary but open, “Ugh…” You pressed into him again, still not fully awake. “Felix?”

“Right here,” He said, “You need to wake up now. You’re kinda...um...you are kinda rubbing…” Felix couldn’t get the words out. His face felt red hot.

“Rubbing?” You squinted over your shoulder at him. He sighed and glanced down at the lower half of your bodies. You looked down too and with a yelp leapt away from him. “Oh my god! Sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

“It’s okay,” Felix mumbled. He grabbed a pillow from the armchair to cover his lap. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You had your face hidden in your hands. Felix took a deep breath. You were so beautiful in the morning. Your bedhead and rumpled pajamas was the softest thing he had ever seen. He really wished he could have enjoyed it longer.

“Did I…” You whispered, your face still pointed away from him, “Did I cause it to be like that?” You pointed lamely to the pillow on his lap.

Felix gulped and clutched the pillow tighter. This line of questioning wasn’t helping to get rid of it.

“No,” Felix said, “Not in the way you’re thinking. It was already like that when I woke up you just kept it like that.”

“Oh god!” You groaned. You grabbed one of the blankets from the floor and pulled it over your head to hide. “This is mortifying.”

“Is it?” Felix said before he could think better of it. “Is it so bad to think that you may desire me the same way I desire you?”

“You what?” One of your eyes peeped out from your blanket cocoon.

“You heard what I said.” Felix took a deep breath. “I like you. I find you attractive. Why does it have to be embarrassing? It’s like you said: it’s just us here. Can we be honest without shame?”

“This is a lot to process first thing in the morning.” You were dodging. Felix didn’t blame you. He was trying to have a conversation you just weren’t ready for. Even though he knew you desired him you just weren’t ready to admit it to him yet. It hurt but he wouldn’t push you.

“It is rather early,” Felix sighed in defeat, “I’m gonna go get a shower.”

~~~

Felix walked past me and went up the stairs to his bedroom. My face was still uncomfortably hot as I replayed the morning’s events back in my mind. I had been having a pleasant dream about Felix. Instead of the hot and heavy dreams I was used to it was softer. Still sexual but it wasn’t dirty. In my dream he was making love to me. Sweet words whispered in my ear as he kissed me. When I woke up I almost didn’t realize I wasn’t dreaming anymore until Felix told me I was rubbing my ass up against him.

I had never felt more embarrassed! It also didn’t help that I was still turned on to the point I couldn’t even look at him lest I crawl back into his lap. I just wanted to crawl in a hole and die. What must he have been thinking when he woke up to me doing that?

But that wasn’t the entire story, was it? Felix had said he desired me. He wasn’t mortified by the experience like I was. He had been so sweet and honest about the entire situation while I cowered under my blanket. Why am I trying to avoid this? It’s all I’ve been thinking about for weeks! He practically told me I’d be more than welcome in his bed and I turned him down. What is wrong with me?!

I need to fix this.

I shot to my feet and ran upstairs. I paced outside of Felix’s room for a few minutes before swallowing back my nerves and going in. Felix wasn’t in the bedroom. I heard the sound of running water and remembered that he said he was gonna get a shower.

This felt eerily familiar.

I lingered in the doorway debating if I should leave and come back in a few minutes when he was finished or stay and wait. As I was trying to think of what to do the water turned off and Felix emerged from the bathroom.

It didn’t seem like he had noticed I was there as he strolled across the room over to his dresser.

Keep my eyes up, do not look down at his naked torso. Everything will be fine.

“Uh Felix?”

“Geez!” Felix jumped. The towel around his hips started to slip and he grabbed at it to keep it from falling. “Damn it woman! Are you trying to give me a heart attack? What are you doing skulking in my door?”

“Sorry, I just…” I entered the room and let the door fall shut behind me. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“And this couldn’t wait until after I got clothes on?”

“Yeah. I didn’t think that through. I just wanted to say that I didn’t feel right about the way things were left downstairs. I don’t know why I’m so nervous about liking you. Probably because I haven’t ever liked anyone like I like you before. I certainly have never really wanted anyone like I want you and that scares me too. But I don’t want to be scared. I don’t want you to think that I’m pushing you away because I’m ashamed of what I feel. I do find you attractive and I do want more out of this relationship but it’s daunting. I don’t know where I would even start.”

“Darling,” Felix sighed, he cupped my face in his large hands and bent down to kiss me. “We start right here. We start by admitting what we want. We can take it as slow or as fast as you want to. We have more than enough time to explore together. Okay?”

“Okay.” I stood on my toes and pulled him down for another kiss. It was quickly turning heated and Felix pushed me away. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I’m still only wearing a towel.” He said, “And you are turning into a tent if you get my meaning.”

“Oh…” I blushed. I gazed into his pale slate blue eyes. “Anything I can help with?”

Felix’s eyes went wide. “You can’t just say stuff like that to me.”

“Why not?”

“Cause I might end up taking you up on it.”

“That’s exactly why I said it though.”

“You know what you’re getting yourself into, little girl?”

“I hope so.” I threaded my fingers with his, “And for your information I am not a little girl. Not in height and certainly not in age.”

“Are you sure about that, small fry?” Felix chuckled, “Looking kinda short from up here.”

“This is a perfectly normal height!” I protested, “You’re just freakishly tall! You know what? Forget it. I rescind my offer. Have fun of taking care of that on your own.”

“I’m sorry,” Felix tugged on my hand keeping me close, “I can’t help but tease you. Come back.”

He ran a free hand through my hair. His gaze searching mine. “I want you to. God knows how much I want you to but I don’t want you to do it if it isn’t what you really want. Don’t go thinking you have to jump into the deep end to keep me happy. I’ll still want you regardless.”

“I’m not behaving irrationally, Felix.” I told him, “I want to do this and, y’know, maybe in exchange you can...help me…?”

“Brave girl,” Felix smirked before kissing me again. He was leaning back against the dresser. His hands wandered from my hips up into my hair and down again. I felt something poke against my stomach and tried not to squeak like was my knee jerk reaction.

“Still want to do this?” Felix whispered. His voice was a lot deeper than before. It sent a pleasant tingle down my spine.

“Yes please.”

Felix took a deep breath and nodded. With trembling hands I untucked the towel from his hips and it fell to the floor. I was staring directly into Felix’s chest. I wasn’t sure what to do now that I had him naked. I had many fantasies but trying to re-enact them had me trembling with anticipation and fears of inadequacy.

“Need me to help guide you?” Felix spoke softly.

I nodded dumbly. Felix tilted my chin up to kiss me. His other hand rested over my dominant hand and pressed it to his chest. Slowly he moved it down lower, all the while his mouth was still on mine. I felt wiry hairs touch my hand and I flinched.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Felix whispered against my lips, “You’re alright, darling. Nothing to be scared of here. Just keep your eyes on me.”

I took in a deep breath and relaxed once more. With his hand still over mine he guided it along his cock. Letting me get a feel for what it felt like to touch it. His breathing was calculated and slow, trying to retain a sense of composure as he moved my hand over him and palmed the tip. He hissed through clenched teeth and kissed me again a bit more desperately.

“Are you good to keep going?” He asked.

“Yes.” My own voice felt faraway.

Felix moved my hand back down to the base and wrapped my fingers along the shaft. With his hand still around mine he moved it up and down his cock in sure slow movements. His wrist flicked and twisted slightly as we went. He was breathing hard now and I could tell he was trying not to moan or buck into my hand.

“Felix,” I kissed at his shoulder, “You can enjoy yourself. Don’t be so worried about scaring me off. Let me take care of you.”

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”

I bit back a smile as I removed his hand from around mine so it was just me pleasuring him. I watched his face closely seeing what he liked and how to respond. It was so strange seeing this boy who was usually so stoic and rigid release his inhibitions and react how he wanted to in my grasp. I felt a surge of power as I started pumping him faster, the sound of his moans getting louder. Half mumbled words as his hips bucked against my fist. He kept one hand gripped on the lip of the dresser while the other held tightly to me.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his eyes were screwed shut, a small bead of perspiration gathered on his brow, “Fuck, I--” He broke off into wanton moans again.

“It’s alright, Felix. I want you to.” I trailed my lips along his chest, “Please Felix.”

He roared my name and bucked harder into my hand. Warm spurts of milky cum coating my hand in the process.

Felix panted as he rode out the tail end of his orgasm. Our eyes met and he pulled me to him crushing his lips to mine. “So I did a good job?” I chuckled against his lips.

“You were perfect, darling.” He collected his towel from the ground and wiped the cum from my hand. “Sorry about the mess. Looks like I got a bit on your pants too.”

“They needed washed anyway.” I shrugged.

“It’s your turn now.” He said. My eyes widened and he snorted. “Did you forget about that part?”

“A little. Got caught up in the moment with you.” I blushed harder. Felix brought me to him again for a sweet lingering kiss. “But I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” He grinned, “Chuck your pants in my hamper and sit on the bed for me.”

“Okay.” I turned to go.

“Oh, put this in there too while you’re over there.” Felix threw his towel at me. I caught it and tossed it in the bathroom hamper before stripping out of my pajama pants and tossing them in as well. I sat at the edge of Felix’s bed wearing only my panties and a sleep shirt.

Felix had pulled on some sweatpants and a t-shirt while I was waiting. My whole body was growing more jittery with every step he took towards me. It was a good kind of jittery though. My body thrummed with anticipation.

He sat down next to me. His hands caressed my face and left small kisses along my nose and cheeks. “I guided you, now you need to guide me.” He said, “Show me what to do. What you like.”

“Right,” I shook off my nerves. Shouldn’t be too hard, I just need him to do what I usually do when I’m alone. I can start slow. No need to rush.

I leaned closer and kissed him. As we kissed I moved his hand down to the hem of my shirt and slid it under so he was touching my bare skin. My skin tingled in the wake of his touch. His other hand followed as I encouraged him to touch my breasts. I moaned into his mouth.

“Soft,” Felix murmured, “I knew you’d be soft.”

“And your hands are rough.” I laughed slightly. Felix grimaced and started to withdraw before I pressed him back to me. “It’s okay. I kinda like it.”

I let him go so he could rub and play with my breasts. My shirt was hiked up and I quickly took it off so it was out of the way. He groaned next to me and after a nod from me he started peppering kisses along my chest. He took one of my nipples into his mouth and sucked on it.

The ache between my legs was getting stronger. “Felix,” I took one of his hands and started leading it lower down my body. “I need you to touch me now.”

“With pleasure, darling.” We laid down against the bed. “Show me what to do.”

“First, I like to play with my clit until I feel ready.” His hand slid beneath the band of my panties and I whined when he touched my clit. He rubbed it in sure slow swipes, circling it with care as I moaned next to him.

“You’re really wet,” He said. “Do I make you feel that good, little girl?”

“Yes,” I gasped as he sped up slightly. I clung onto him tighter, my face buried in his shoulder. “Want to make me feel even better?”

“Of course,”

“Slide one finger inside me,” I instructed. Felix listened and I let out a moan that was half yelp.

“Did I hurt you?” Felix asked, concerned.

“No, it’s just um,” I shuddered around him, “Your fingers are longer than mine so you can get deeper than I normally can. It feels really good.”

“Good, now what would like me to do?”

I instructed him on taking me slowly. Curling his finger and letting my cunt stretch before he added another. I was starting to lose coherency as he began pumping his fingers in and out of me. Curling and scissoring my wet, aching cunt until I couldn’t form words anymore. He kissed my neck, whispered words of praise in my ear as my pleasure was driven higher and higher. I risked a glance down and nearly came at the sight of Felix’s hand in between my legs. It was so strange to see something I pictured so clearly in my mind actually happening.

“Felix,” I moaned, grasping onto him like my sanity depended on it. “Feels good...almost--almost--need more!”

“What do you need? Tell me how to please you.”

“Clit. Rub my clit.” I begged.

His other hand went down and started rapidly swiping and circling my clit. I shouted as stars danced before my eyes. I was gonna cum any second now. “Felix! Fuck Felix, I’m gonna--I--”

“Do it,” His voice was dripping with desperation, “Please darling, I want you to cum. I want to know you feel good. Please cum for me darling.”

“Felix!” I dug my fingernails into his shoulders as my orgasm washed over me. My pussy clenching tight over his fingers which were still coaxing me through my orgasm to draw it out as long as possible. I rocked against him, my shouts turning into whimpers as tiny post orgasmic shockwaves rolled through my body.

“I got you,” Felix whispered, “I got you. You were so wonderful for me, darling. I’m glad I could make you feel good.”

“Not just good,” I mumbled happily, “Fucking fantastic is what it felt like.”

“Happy to hear it.” He popped the fingers that had just been in my pussy into his mouth licking the juices off. He licked his lips with a smile. “I knew you would taste good too.”

“I cannot believe you just did that.” I hid my face in his chest, “Why did you do that in front of me?!”

“Because as splendid as this morning has been I have not had anything to eat yet today and I figured I had a good enough snack right here.”

“Felix!” My face felt like it was on fire.

“Stop hiding, if you can’t take it when I lick you off my fingers how are you going to handle when I have my head between your legs drinking it up straight from the source?”

“You what?!” I snapped my head up so fast I hit him in the jaw. “Ow, sorry,”

“Okay, that might have been a little too intense for an after handjob pillow talk. I concede that.” Felix rubbed his jaw, “How about we cool things down for the rest of the day? You go clean yourself up, get a shower, put on something comfy. I’ll go make us something to eat and we can watch whatever movie you want. Sound good?”

I rolled on top of him and kissed him. I didn’t care if I could taste myself on his tongue (It was kinda hot if I was honest with myself). I just wanted to express these deep feelings stirring inside that I couldn’t adequately express. If this wasn’t love then I don’t know what else it could possibly be.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Felix chuckled, “Now can you get off me? As much as I would love to keep you here in my bed for the rest of the day I did promise you food and a movie.”

“If I must,” I rolled off him and collected my shirt from the ground. With a final look at Felix I smiled and scampered out of the room back to my own. I think this has to be the best morning I’ve ever had.

---

(Previous) (Next)

#now if you will excuse me i am gonna go stare at a wall #felix imagine #felix x reader #ouat felix #ouat #neverland #peter pan ouat #roommate au #smut

[buglife]

Terra Lumina

A hollow knight au guide that I keep writing in. You can read all my writings and art stuff in the #terra-lumina tag. Mostly so I can just point to this post when explaining things awee. :3 Post subject to edits and changes.

Terra Lumina is an au where both Ghost (the little knight) and Quirrel are together and are the new rulers of Hallownest. So it's a royalty au! Pretty much it's slice of life where they do their best to be a better ruler than the Pale King ever was, ruling with kindness and intelligence. Seriously, like, the Pale King could have just talked to the Radiance instead of letting things snowball like they did. They both live in the new palace which is pretty much like the White House in that it's mostly dedicated to government with an apartment for the rulers to live in. It's where the old palace used to be, but now it's much greener and 100% less buzzsaws. It is post embrace the void ending and an everyone lives/nobody dies au where the only characters that are dead are those that were found so at the start of the game. Takes place about 5-7 years after the end of the game.

The two romantic rulers.

Ghost:Now taller than Quirrel and is the Shade Lord, god of void and dreams. Sovereign of Hallownest and rightful ruler due to king's brand. Can use telepathy but only does so with family/friends, as they are nervous about scaring people so uses sign language with them. Is very happy to have family/friends and overall liked by most folks. Is still scary to some and is sad about that. Married Quirrel. Considers Mato their adoptive father and calls them such. Still enjoys fighting (but for fun now). Since dreams are now their aspect, they gather up nightmares to help the population (and gives to their adopted grimmchild, Allegro, and Grimm themselves.)

Quirrel: Now called the Scholar King, rules alongside Ghost. He still has trouble believing that this is his life. Chaotic Good. Mostly deals with the logistics in running the kingdom. Adoptive mother is Monomon who found him when he was teeny tiny. Did not attempt to drown themselves, instead isolated himself when he thought Monomon was dead so Ghost had to find him. Still fights and can practically teleport. Spends free time in the palace library where a copy of all the surviving books were moved to and is free to the public to check out and read.

Family/Friends

Hornet: Still the Princess of Deepnest and was happy to have her mother Herrah rule again. Is officially Deepnest's ambassador and works closely with her sibling to be sure things that need to get done, get done. She won't admit it but she loves spending time with her siblings. Also randomly jumps Ghost to keep them on their toes and make sure they don't lose their skill. This can happen at anytime, anyplace. Is a close ally with the Hive and is helping the new Queen get used to her role. Also demands spars with Quirrel all the time because she does like her brother and law and the fact she doesn't kill him is proof enough in her eyes.

Mato: Dadmaster. Pretty much raised Ghost in between the end of the game to present day (and did a damn good job). Still lives in the Howling Cliffs and teaches students still, especially knight candidates. Is always on hand to cause trouble if needed. Is so proud you guys can't even. Keeps his home open in case Ghost and Quirrel need to hide for a bit. Officiated Ghost and Quirrel's wedding because of course.

Hollow: Part of the new great knights of Hallownest and is known as Hollow the Kind. Still likes to help people, and after having lots of care and therapy, is now more expressive and open. Is pretty much free to do what they please, and they choose to mostly patrol the kingdom and help when needed. Is constantly sneaking frogs into the palace because Hollow loves them. Can only use telepathy with other void beings and uses sign language to communicate otherwise. Is still missing an arm but had a magical prosthetic built. Loves to be in cuddle piles.

Tiso:Big brother figure and part of the new great knights of Hallownest. He is known as Tiso the Daring. Is actually a badass Captain America type fighter, just couldn't dodge a house sized mawlek and nearly died back then. Taught Ghost all the swears and often invokes 'Big Brother Rights'. Is also Captain of the Guard and has matured a lot since the end of the game. In a relationship with Myla and Cloth.

Cloth:Part of the new great knights of Hallownest and is known as Cloth the Strong. Makes sure people behave. Has healed from her near suicidal want to join her late lover, and now has a more positive outlook on life. Tends to organize tournaments that aren't fucked up and fatal like the Coliseum. In a relationship with Tiso and Myla.

Myla:Was saved from the infection, but it left her prone to sickness and a little weaker than most bugs. Compensates for still being cherry and wonderful to be around. Actually wicked smart and has helped Ghost restart the mining industry. Enjoys going to musicals/plays in her free time. Still loves being a geologist and provided most of the geological samples in the Capital's museum. Is in a relationship with Cloth and Tiso.

Ogrim: The only surviving great knight of old Hallownest. Is part of the new knights as Ogrim the Defender. Is the leader of the new knights and is a brilliant tactician. Has moved up from the Waterways to a new home and no longer lives in exile. Likes to plan parties and is generally doing better. He deserves it.

God Tamer: Real name is Xena (I seen it used around and I like it.) Part of the new great knights of Hallownest and is known as Xena the Tamer. Still works alongside her beast, ‘Pickles’. Has an uncanny ability to befriend dangerous beasts and pacifies them. Now has a small zoo’s worth of ‘friends’ that come and go for pats and treats. Dunks on Tiso a lot. Is surprisingly a conservationist. Will beat the shit out of people without hesitation if needed. Often fights new recruits to judge areas needing improvement. Has no tolerance for idiots. Was saved from the infection, but was not infected long enough to cause long term damage.

Allegro: The Grimmchild. Has chosen female pronouns. She is now past the grub stage and has left the kingdom to travel with her father, Grimm, to learn how to take over the Troupe. Still keeps in contact with Ghost through dreams and loves Ghost very much as their ‘Ren’. Was and still is, a little shit. Ghost misses them a lot but is comforted by her visits. Ghost saves nightmares to give to her so she can get big and strong!

Grimm: Considered a friend at this point, and taught Ghost about the dream realm. Visits through dreams. Ghost saves nightmares to give to him. Often has advice when needed.

Sheo/Nailsmith: Uncles. They both run an art school with Sheo teaching fine arts and Nail(Smith) teaching forging. They also run an art gallery. Are up to cause trouble whenever needed.

Oro: Uncle. The real sour one. Teaches new recruits and tends to weed out those that can make it from ones that can’t. Pretty much a drill Sargent. Ghost pays him not only in geo, but candy. Special, custom made candy just for Oro. It’s the only way they could get him to do this job. Oro won’t admit it’s also because he loves his former pupil no sir.

Monomon: Quirrel’s adoptive mother and currently is the royal researcher. Teaches classes as well. Ghost pretty much told her to do whatever as long as it will improve the lives of bugkind and she loves them for it. Is always down to cause trouble. Chaotic Neutral. Has some type of explosive with them at any given time. Tends to ‘vanish’ people who have wrong her or her son. Embodies chaos. Craves gossip. Former Dreamer and woke up when Ghost took the pantheon approach to defeating the Radiance.

Herrah: Queen of Hallownest and considers Ghost one of her children. Is happy to be Queen of her own people and is making up for lost time with her daughter. Likes to meet with the Hallownest rulers for a good shit-talking session. Is made of sass. Former Dreamer and woke up when Ghost took the pantheon approach to defeating the Radiance.

Lurien: Watcher of the Capital. Disaster. Will stay up for days on end working on things to accidentally invent new things in the process in sleep deprived delirium. Often gets drunk or high and contemplates the universe. Has the best edibles around I tell you. Is actually good at his job, which is finding suspicious things and investigating them. Former Dreamer and woke up when Ghost took the pantheon approach to defeating the Radiance.

Lemm: Runs the Hallownest museum and works in the back where he catalogs and studies findings and doesn’t have to talk to anyone and is the happiest he could ever be.

Seer: Holy shit she is old. Still lives in the resting grounds. Ghost visits often and brings tea and snacks. Grandma energy. Is currently working with Quirrel to recount as much as she can about moth legends and society so it can be preserved forever. It’s slow going because she is old, but it’s going.

The siblings: Are now at rest.

Everything else

White Lady: Is still alive and has left the gardens. She resides in a little hidden cottage outside the palace where she grows flowers. Is often called in to overlook agriculture efforts. Has long since revoked her crown and is content with a quiet life. Is not considered a mother by Ghost, and Ghost will not forgive her for her role in things. She is okay with this and hopes to atone someday for what she did.

The Pale King: Still fucking dead. Rest in Pieces you shit.

Eternal Emilitia: Is a member of the new noble class and takes her job seriously. She mostly keeps the other nobles in line when she can and helps delegate orders to places where they need to go. It’s like herding cats but she’s getting better with it the longer she’s around. Is respected by Ghost since she knows what it’s like to hit rock bottom and is quite sensitive to the needs to the people.

Radiance: Dead. Was going mad and in pain by the time Ghost got to her. Is now at rest.

Greenpath/Queen’s Gardens:Given back to the moss-kin and Unn. Unn has started to awaken more now that the infection is over and her children are freed from it’s influence. Is considered it’s own ‘kingdom’. Is in good relations with Hallownest.

Fungal Wastes: Still thriving. A hivemind made up of everything from microscopic spores to the entire fungal waste itself. The mushroom tribe trades with Hallownest and is in good relations with them. Still considered weird to most but they are good and peaceful people.

Mantis Tribe: Is in a good relationship with Ghost, Hornet and Quirrel, and not much else. Has complete independence but was asked nicely if they could help train the most dedicated of new guards/knights. Did not pass up the opportunity to be allowed to beat the shit out of willing Hallownest citizens who wanted to train.

Deepnest: Ruled by Queen Herrah and Princess Hornet. Good relationship with Hallownest and enjoys full independence. The beasts that reside are no longer hassled by Hallownest encroachment and thus does not push back into it. Exports silk products and is now a very prosperous nation.

Dirtmouth/Crystal Peaks: Still the same, but with now more people. All our favorite Dirtmouth folks are doing well. Elderbug is delighted to have a full town to be a mayor over.

City of Tears: Now called the 'Capital'. Plants are now on the ceiling to redirect water and stop the constant rain. It's much more pleasant now.

Colosseum of Fools: Left alone mostly. Ghost cannot stop people for wanting to go there if they are of sound mind to make the decision.

The Hive: Is now ruled by the new Queen Apis. Is fully independent and enjoys a cushy trade agreement with Hallownest and the rest of the various nations. She wonders if she will ever live up to her mother, Queen Vespa, but has many friends to help her grow into the role. Hive Knight is her loyal friend.

#hollow knight #terra lumina #au stuff #ruler au #ghost #quirrel #ghost/quirrel #myla/tiso/cloth #sheo/nailsmith #dreamers are alive au #everyone lives/nobody dies #my writing

[blubberingmess]

[Crazy]

Pairings: dark!Bucky x dark!reader

Summary: they say that when a person is in love, they would do anything for the person they're in love with. They're not wrong.

Warnings: mention of death, crazy couple, implied smut.

Note: I'm still a bit hazy and tired from the medicines so excuse my writing~

You sneered, stalking closer to the unconscious woman on the couch with a wine glass filled with water in your hand and a gun in the other. Her face makes your blood boil, wanting to just aim your gun and shoot her straight in the face but then she won't feel it - that's not fun.

Why are you so angry to this poor woman? She's no poor woman, she's a slut; going around and feeling up your man! No one does that-- no one does that and make it out alive.

Getting impatient, you dump the water onto her head before smashing it on her as well. She jolts up from her slumber, sputtering curses and incoherent words, only stopping when she finally noticed you standing in front of her with a dark aura around you.

"Good evening," you greeted monotonously. She looked up at you with wide eyes and started to shake as soon as she saw the gun in your hand.

"What are you doing? Please don't hurt me."

You rolled your eyes. "Chill, I ain't gonna do anything yet. I just want to talk to you for a second and I'll be on my way."

She gulped, already feeling the blood losing from her face as tears began to fall down pathetically. Yet? So that mean you are going to kill her?

You took her silence as a sign to continue, twirling the gun in your hand. "Why'd you kiss my man?"

"Y-your man?" She was taken aback by the question, genuinely confused as she continue, "You mean Bucky?"

You blink at her. "Yes."

Guilt flashed behind her eyes as she realized her mistake. "I-I'm sorry, I thought he's s-single. Well, that's what he told me at the p-party."

You blink again, before looking down on the wooden floor. "He did didn't he?" You whispered mostly to yourself.

Of course he would, he is single. But if he wants a relationship why'd he never came for you? You two are close and are friends, he could just ask and you'll throw yourself at him without a second thought. You're so in love with him you'll do anything, isn't that obvious?

Giving the woman in front of you a once over, your frown deepened. Is it because you're not pretty enough? That thought made your little dark heart crack inside your chest, feeling yourself deflate.

"Yes, yes he did. So please, don't hurt me."

You snapped out from your self degrading thoughts and glanced at the woman who is now has her hands clasped together as she plead for mercy. No ounce of pity can be seen on your face nor feel in your heart as you stare down at her. Deciding to end your fun early for the day, you slipped the gun back to its holster and grab your coat from the small couch behind you.

"I won't kill you." A pause. "But a friend of mine will." With that you made your way to the front door, ignoring the panic look in her eyes.

"What do you mean?!"

You're sick in the head and you know it, some people might get a hint or two but you don't care as long as they shut their mouths. You'll only care if it's Bucky, if he find out about little adventures in the dark and how unstable you really are.

You'd be heartbroken if he did, surely he won't look at you the same if he did.

You've lost your sense of morality and empathy for others the moment you saw him killed that man in front of you as the winter soldier. The look in his eyes that night still sents shivers down your spine and warmth in your core. You're too far gone that no one else matters other than him, not even those poor innocent lives.

As soon as you hopped on your bike, a loud explosion and a shrilling scream emits from within the house you were in just a few moments ago.

You smirk to yourself as your bike roars to life before driving away from the quiet neighborhood, feeling proud of yourself for not getting your hands dirty this time.

▪

You walked back inside the tower with a gloomy look on your face, still can't get over the fact that Bucky can't see you like the way you saw him - someone precious.

Sometimes, you just really need to take matters into your own hands. So you've made up your mind and started to think of a plan on how to tell him your feelings, and to make him accept that he's actually in love with you all this time; show him what he really feels. And you won't take 'no' for an answer.

The tower is conveniently empty considering most of the team are on the two week long mission just after the party. It'll be great. It'll be a dream come true.

"Morning, doll. Where were you?" A familiar voice asked and immediately, the gloom look you carry morphs into a giddy grin as your heart starts to beat fast against your chest.

In the kitchen stood Bucky, a cup of tea in his hand and a sandwich in the other while he stare at you with an odd look on his face.

He's not wearing anything but a pair of sweatpants. You gulped, realizing that it's the same dark gray sweatpants you've buried your nose into two days ago, rubbing it between your thighs until you've come undone imagining it was him instead, before sneaking back inside his room to put it back inside his drawer.

You shake your head and lifted up your hand, showing him the brown paper bag with the logo of your favorite bakery shop. "Just hang out with a friend."

His eyebrows furrowed. "A friend? That Josh guy again?" Before taking a bite of his sandwich and settling the cup on the counter next to him.

You grimace at the mention of the guy's name, placing the paper bag on the counter as well. "Josh was not my friend and he died a month ago remember? Got in a car crash just after our high school reunion the same night."

You don't really care about the guy, he'd broken hearts more than he can count - which is less than thirteen from what you recalled.

Bucky nodded his head in understatement, a neutral look on his face. "I remember, the guy's a douche, he deserved much worse."

To most people it'll probably real scary to hear such things coming out from a hero's mouth, but it made you feel the opposite. It made you look at him like he hung the moon. You bit your lip to prevent the smile from showing and coughed in you fist, pointing at the tea next to him.

"Gonna drink that?" Oh god, I hope you did.

Bucky raises an eyebrow and look at the small cup, seems to be contemplating about something as he stares at it for a good few seconds before his eyes lits up. "Want me to add some honey? It'll taste better."

You shrugged your shoulders, acting nonchantly but in the inside, you're freaking fangirling. "Sure."

Sitting yourself on top of the counter, you started to quietly hum to yourself while you let your head floats somewhere else. Did anyone found the body yet? You're kind of disappointed you're not there when it happened, must be fun killing the woman yourself instead of a small bomb.

"Here you go, darling." Your heart just skips a beat right there, feeling your whole body jolt in happiness. After Bucky gave you the cup, he silently watched you took a sip, a small dark smile playing on his lips but you're too busy thinking about the weird aftertaste of the tea to notice it.

"You sure it's honey? It taste... kinda off." You started to feel yourself getting drowsy, glaring at the half filled cup in your hands. A sudden pain was felt in your chest accidentally letting the cup go. It falsl down to the tiled floor, shattering it to pieces.

"(Y/n), are you okay?" Bucky asked with no hint of concern in his voice whatsoever, the smirk evident on his lips. He just stands there, his arms crossed over his chest as he casually leaned his hips on the counter.

You looked at him with wide eyes. "Y-You--"

Bucky cuts you off with a nonchalant shrug, giving you a boyish grin. "Saw an opportunity; had to take it."

Before you could utter anything else, your eyes rolled at the back of your head as you fall onto your back on top of the counter; unconscious.

He won't deny it, you look so good sprawled on the counter like this. Bucky sigh in disappointment, only if you're conscious and willing, he would've fuck you on the counter-- or any surface really--, show you how much he loves you; how much he cares.

But he know you don't feel the same way after observing you this past week, you've been out and about every early morning and sometimes on ungodly hour at night.

"If only you feel the same way, I wouldn't have to do this."

▪

You woke up with a pained groan, your wrist are tied up to the arms of the chair. Your head is still pounding but thankfully, the chest pain had subsided. Then you remembered Bucky, the tea, heart dropping at the memory.

"You're finally awake, I was started to get worried." You heard the voice of Bucky from somewhere in the dark room, eyes flittering around to find the source of the voice, but no avail.

"Bucky? What's going on?" You asked, a bit scared but also a small bit of hope blooming in your chest.

"I did what I had to do." Bucky watched you squirm from where he sat on a small couch in front of you, eyes going up and down your body before it focuses on your eyes.

"W-What?" You stutter out.

Here goes nothing, Bucky thought to himself, sighing. "(Y/n), you're the most beautiful woman I have ever met in my entire life. The moment I saw you after killing that old man on the rooftop as the winter soldier, I just knew I had to make you mine."

You pull your lips into a tight line as you silently listened.

"but I know you don't feel the same way so I decided to take you by force; drugged you while you're to busy thinking about some other men," he practically growls out, falling his metal fist on his lap. He heard you gasped and felt his heart clench, thinking that you're disgusted but he chose to continue, this time more possessive and controlling.

"You're mine, (Y/n), you hear me? You're fucking mine and no one else's. I don't care if you don't want me; I want you." He stands up, stalking towards your frozen body.

He huffed. "Don't try escaping or call the police, it's not use, we're far off from the nearest civilization and there's little to no signal in this area. You can't run away from me, doll. I will follow you wherever you will go. I will find you and I will never ever let you go."

Tears started to roll down your face, looking up at him with a small pout on your lips and your face flushed. "Really?"

With a cute face like that-- "Yes. There's no escaping me, doll."

"I'm so happy," you sob. Your heart is bursting at the seams at his declaration, wanting to just get pull from the restraints and hug him tightly.

Bucky took a double take, stopping in his tracks. Truth to be told, he expected you to scream bloody murder - feel afraid, although he doesn't like that one bit, it's the most... appropriate thing to feel at this moment even for him.

"What?" He clap his hands together two times and the lights suddenly turns on, blinding you for a second before resume on crying in happiness.

"I-- you were -- Bucky!" You started to hiccup, blubbering out incoherent words.

Bucky started to panic, running over towards you and gently cupping your cheeks with his large palms. "Hey-hey, baby, shh. I'm here, don't cry. What's wrong?"

Worry flashing in his eyes as he tugs on the restraints, it's not even that tight in the first place but he can't just untie you. You could attack him any moment, he needs to know if he could trust you first - but oh how he aches to tear the ropes away and cuddle you close until you calm down.

You started to calm down, leaning in to his touch. "Y-You love me?" You asked, sounding so hopeful and soft.

He cooed, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. "Oh honey, of course I do. I wouldn't do all this if I don't."

It's true, he wouldn't have bought a house in the middle of a forest if he didn't love you and want you all by himself. He wouldn't have killed Josh and the two others if he didn't. He wouldn't have been thinking about you 24/7, planning -- daydreaming-- on showing you how much you meant to him. He wouldn't have put the chip in your arm to know where you are and what are you doing. It's all for love.

"I love you too."

Wait-- "What?" He asked, dumbfounded before burrowing his eyebrows. He knows how you're good at acting, he saw how you manipulated the enemy agents that one mission, for all he know you're doing it to him right now. "I don't like being lied to, (Y/n)."

You widen your eyes. "I'm not lying, Bucky. I have been for years now."

He growls, not liking the way he just wants to give in and pull you closer against him this instance. "What about those men? You going out in the middle of the night or waking up at ungodly hour just to "buy some snacks"."

Bucky felt his blood started to boil. How dare try this shit to him?

You shyly look to the side. "There's no other men... I went to--" you trailed off with a quiet voice that even the super soldier in front of you can't hear.

"Speak up, (Y/n)," he orders, gently yet firmly tilting your chin up to look at him in the eyes.

You sighed. "I hate it when you flirt back with other women."

"What does it have to do with you going out in the middle of the night?"

"I'm... a murderer, Bucky. I know it's bad and the world sees me as a hero but I can't help it, they're taking you away from me," you hissed out. "So I killed them all before they could even attempt a second chance, because you are meant for me, Bucky."

Bucky's breath hitched at the venom in your voice as you admit on killing the women that tries to flirt with him, all of it just because you're jealous - and startlingly, he loves every second of it.

"I was about to do the same. I was planning on taking you away while you're sleeping but you beat me to it." You chuckled, tears already dried up as you gestured towards your bound wrists.

His eyes flickered to your wrist then back up to your eyes. "Why?" He still asked despite knowing what the answer is, he just wants to hear it coming from your kissable lips that he loves so much; wanting to know the taste of.

You gave him a genuine smile. "Because I love you and if I can't have you, no one can."

Bucky swings his eyes between yours, searching for any signs of deception and trickery but all he found was sincerity and love. You're looking at him like he's the only person in the whole world, and it's making him melt at the spot. Never once had someone look at him like that and he doubt he don't look the same.

"I love you too," Bucky breathes out before smashing his lips against yours. You moaned and was about to lift up your hands to tug on his hair but was stopped by the ropes, preventing you from doing so.

"Bucky?"

"Yes, baby?" He murmurs, pressing heated kisses on your jaw and down to your neck. You mewled when he softly bit that soft spot on your neck, craning your head to the side to give him more access.

"The ropes, please. I want to touch you."

You let out a small whine when he stops, leaning back to look down on the ropes before smirking, shaking his head from side to side. An side suddenly popped in his mind.

"Not yet, baby girl."

He stands up straight with his hands propped on his hips, his crotch at your eye level. You could see the prominent bulge in his pants and can't help but lick your lips. The action didn't go unnoticed by the former winter soldier making his smirk broadens.

"Can you be a good girl for me, (Y/n)?"

You peered up at him through your lashes and said in the most sultry of voices, pulling a groan from Bucky's lips.

"Yes, Daddy."

Yup, I need to rest.

*more to come*

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x dark!reader #bucky #bucky x reader #dark!bucky x dark!reader #dark!bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #avengers x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Breakable Heaven (pt. III) - p.l. dubois

Part I II

Here’s part III! One more part after this, then we’re going to be finishing up our time with Laurel and Pierre-Luc. It’s seriously been so so much fun writing this over the past few weeks, and I’m excited to get to keep the story going. Many many thanks to @hockeyboysiguess for being a great sounding board for Breakable Heaven so far, my favorite response of hers to anything I’ve sent has got to be “that’s rude.” So, enjoy! Reblog if you enjoy it, come scream into my inbox, and I still read every tag!

Part III

July 10 (sat)

Laurel was exhausted. Two hours after the wedding, her and her meager bridal party had shown up to her house, piling everything she hadn’t yet brought over to Pierre’s apartment into her SUV and Madeline’s white sedan. She left her old apartment with the keys at the front office and one last wistful look into the place that had once been her own. She’d miss it, she thought, as she and Pierre drove down the Ville-Marie Expressway towards his apartment, her fingers still trying to get used to the feeling of having rings on it. She’d only lived in the space for a year, but it was in that building that she started her dream job, that space that she adopted her dog, that apartment where she met one of her best friends and that place where she got married. 

They had spent a few hours half-heartedly unpacking her boxes; Laurel was excited to get settled in, but she was also the world’s worst procrastinator and even at 6 PM, all that she had managed to get done was folding some clothes and adding her book collection to the shelves in the living room. Pierre poked his head into the spare room — her room? — rolling his eyes when he saw her “progress.” “I was going to order in, what do you feel like?” 

Laurel hung up a blazer in the closet. “Pizza?” she asked hopefully. “Though I’m really going to have to teach you to cook one of these days. We can’t survive off of take-out and pasta alone.” 

“If that’s how you want to be,” he responded good-naturedly. “I’ll have you know that I can cook more than pasta, though.”

“Really?” Laurel asked, raising her eyebrows. “What’s the Chef Dubois specialty?” 

“I make a mean salmon,” he replied, before returning to the living room. That was another thing she had to get used to quickly as soon as they started going through the marriage process: Québec didn’t allow for women to take their husbands’ names at marriage. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought too deeply about, but Laurel supposed she’d always assumed that she’d take her husband’s name when she got married. But then again, she always assumed she’d get married under normal circumstances. Her parents aside, Cloquet wasn’t an absurdly conservative town, but it was still certainly something of an anomaly for a married woman to still have her maiden name. Which is what she was now. A married woman. Oh God. 

--

Pizza with white wine may not have been the most conventional choice, but it got the job done, Laurel thought as she lay in bed at half past midnight, the birds outside her door insisting on making her efforts to fall asleep as futile as her efforts to ignore them. She’d already been in bed for an hour; after dinner, her and Pierre watched a few episodes of Black Mirror — also probably not the best choice to do before bed, but oh well — before he wished her a good night’s sleep. She had taken a melatonin and drank a cup of tea before bed, put on a playlist full of rain noises, but nothing seemed to be working. Maybe it was because it was the first night in a new place, or the birds outside, or just the craziness and excitement of the day catching up to her. 

Laurel felt like a child again as she padded over to Pierre’s room, like she was five and back in Minnesota, crawling into her parents’ bed after hearing a wolf howl somewhere on the property. But really, she didn’t really care what she had to do if it meant she could get a good night’s rest. She knocked lightly on his door, careful not to wake up the dogs, who had long since fallen asleep in a corner of the living room. “Mmm?” he answered. She turned the doorknob. God, I hope I didn’t wake him up. She didn’t, as it would turn out; Pierre was propped up on his headboard, scrolling through his phone as he moved his eyes from his screen to her figure in the doorway. “You good? Everything okay?” 

Laurel shrugged, wiggling her hand. “I don’t know what it is, I tried everything but I’m just not able to get to sleep. I’d try and wait it out, but my sleep cycle will be thrown off for a week if I’m not able to get to bed tonight.”

He moved over from the middle, reaching over to the side of his bed and getting another pillow before throwing back the covers and patting the spot next to him. “C’mere.”

“Are you sure?” Laurel said, furrowing her brow, suddenly very aware of the fact that she was wearing an old t-shirt and panties, leaving very little to the imagination. 

He nodded, putting his phone down on the nightstand, smiling softly at her. “Of course. What’s mine is yours, eh?” That was all it took for Laurel to climb into the right side, claiming it as her own, and throw the duvet over her body. She fell asleep almost instantly. 

---

Laurel woke up to the unmistakable smell of bacon frying and the other side of the bed devoid of Pierre’s sleeping form. She straightened the bed before walking out, where she was greeted by two plates on the breakfast bar, a pot of coffee brewing, and her husband at the stove. 

“I thought you said you couldn’t cook?” Laurel teased, leaning up against the granite countertop. 

“Good morning to you too.” Pierre shrugged. “I hardly think being able to fry an egg and not burn toast qualifies as cooking, but I’ll take what I can get.”

Laurel stepped further into the kitchen, lightly dragging her fingers over his back in a silent thank you as she opened the cupboard. “Let me get the coffee, at least,” she said, grabbing two mugs off the shelf and the creamer out of the fridge. “How do you take yours?” Laurel asked, glancing at Pierre from the side as he buttered the toast. 

“A little bit of cream, more sugar,” he replied, sliding the plates onto the bar as she handed him his mug. “Perfect,” he said, smiling. A few minutes into breakfast, with Laurel just about to crunch into her second piece of toast, he spoke again. “So, I was thinking…”

She nodded. “I should hope so?”

Pierre laughed, ducking his head. “I was going to post something about the wedding today, online and stuff, but wanted to check with you first.” They had spoken about it once or twice before the wedding, both of them knew that it wasn’t practical nor honest to think that they’d be able to keep the news from everyone over the entire duration of their temporary marriage. And part of the “sell,” part of what she needed to prove, was that their relationship was real. And real would mean posting about each other online, real would mean flying down a few times a month — thank God her schedule gave her a long weekend, and thank God the flight wasn’t too long  — for games and galas and real would mean meeting his friends and him meeting her family and Laurel had to stop thinking about it all before her head exploded. 

“Go for it,” she said. “I don’t like having to hide from it any more than you do, so it’ll be a relief to let everyone know, give a heads-up to the four people on my Instagram page who actually care about my life. 

Pierre poked her arm. “Five, now.” He opened his phone, scrolling through the pictures Madeline had sent from yesterday. She had run a small side business doing photography in university, and insisted on taking their photos as a wedding present. “You deserve something beautiful to look back on,” she had said. The final book wouldn’t be done for a few weeks, but she had sent over the raw shots the night before. “What about this one?” He leaned over to show her. Their foreheads were touching, his arms wrapped around her waist as they stood in the middle of one of Vieux Port’s cobblestone side streets. Laurel’s fingers brushed the back of his neck, her other hand loosely holding her bouquet. If you didn’t know, they looked like a real couple. They looked like they were in love. 

“It’s gorgeous,” Laurel murmured softly. “I knew Madeline was talented, but wow. She outdid herself.”

Pierre nodded in agreement. “She did. I know I already told you, but you really did look incredible.” Laurel’s cheeks burned; she raised her mug to her lips, hopeful the oversized ceramic would cover enough of her face that he couldn’t see the effect his words had had on her. Laurel opened her own phone, scrolling through to find the matching photo. A few minutes later, he handed her his phone and she passed hers, giving their captions one last once-over before giving up their secret. Her eyes flitted across the screen.

Yesterday, I had the incredible fortune of marrying @laurel.klerken, the best person I’ve ever had the fortune of loving. I know it might come as a shock, and that we’ve kept our relationship under wraps since realizing after years of being friends that friendship just wasn’t enough any more, but this wasn’t a decision that either of us made lightly. Laurel, you’re an amazing woman, and even though it’s only been a day, an amazing wife. Whether it’s for your patients, your friends, or me, you make everyone around you feel warm, safe, and cared for beyond measure. You have a sharp wit and an even sharper mind, and I have endless admiration for how committed you are for standing up for what’s right, even when it’s not popular and even if it’s gotten you in trouble once or twice. Marriage is a partnership and a journey, and I’ve never been so excited to start a new adventure. 

Laurel sniffed, not even noticing the tears pricking her eyes until Pierre handed her a tissue. “Thanks,” she murmured. “You don’t think you’re laying it on a little thick, though?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Not at all.” One tap later, and it was posted. Three minutes later, his phone rang as they were doing the breakfast dishes. Cap ❤️ flashed across the screen. Pierre grimaced. “It’s the captain. I should probably answer this one,” he said, pressing the speaker button as he dried his hands on a spare towel. 

“You’re married,” Nick Foligno said, wasting no time. “Is this a fucking joke?” Laurel more than understood his apprehension, but the words still stung. 

“Yes I am,” Pierre said slowly, “and no, it’s not a joke. Laurel and I are legally married in the province of Québec.”

She could hear a labored breath from the other line, followed by an airy laugh. “What the hell, man?”

Nick was ultimately happy for them, and after being introduced to Laurel after they switched the call over to FaceTime he apologized for his reaction, but Laurel waved him off. “You’re just looking out for your boy is all. I’d do the same.” 

Nick nodded. “Take care of him for us, Laurel. Your address still the same?” He looked over towards Pierre, who hummed his assent. “Janelle and I will send you something. Something useful.”

---

July 28 (wed)

“Something useful” turned out to be a gorgeous set of Wüsthof knives and a stand mixer, the latter of which Laurel was nearly jumping out of her socks with excitement to try. Baking had long since been one of her favorite hobbies and her go-to method of stress relief; while she was grateful for the arm muscles her years of having to hand mix everything had given her, she wasn’t going to miss the extra effort. So Laurel Klerken was taking full advantage of her new toy. She had gone down to the Jean-Talon market in the morning, which was quickly becoming one of her favorite weekly activities. Especially with Pierre around to help her, she was learning to shift her speaking into the Québecois dialect, and her French was good enough to order from the vendors in their language and be understood. In her book, that was a win. The peak of summer meant it was berry season in Montréal, which meant it was time for Laurel to break out her nana’s blueberry oatmeal muffin recipe. And chocolate chip walnut cookies. And a French apple tart. Okay, so maybe she went a little bit overboard, but they had their desserts for the week and it made the kitchen smell so good. 

Pierre opened the door just as Laurel was pulling out the last pan of cookies, walking around the corner into the kitchen and raising his eyebrows at the view. She looked over at him. “You going to complain about your wife’s baking when you’re the primary beneficiary?” she asked, challenging him with a playful smile on his face. 

Pierre held his hands up in surrender, holding the mail between two fingers. “No.” He picked one of the cookies off of the cooling rack, taking a bite. “Definitely not.” 

Laurel nodded towards the mail, walking over to the sink to wash her hands. “What came in the mail?”

“Nothing much,” he said, shrugging. “Just a little letter from IRCC.”

Her eyes lit up. “Immigration finally got back? Did they send my card?”

Pierre nodded, handing her the envelope. It barely took five seconds for her to rip it open. “You, Laurel Elizabeth Klerken, are now officially a permanent resident of Canada. Congrats, babe.”

Laurel squeaked in excitement, dancing around in the kitchen , the holographic detailing on the card catching the glow of the late-afternoon light. She threw her arms around Pierre, giving him a kiss on the cheek that was just barely off to the side of his lips. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said breathlessly. 

“Don’t mention it.”

She pulled back, still smiling. “No, ‘don’t mention it’ is for when you bring home dinner without being asked, or take a drunk friend home from the bar. Not for things like this,” she said, wiggling her card. “This is everything to me, P. I get to stay in the city that I love, I get to stay at the job that I love. I get to —” She looked down, eyes widening. “I can finally get a health card!”

Pierre let out a laugh. “Out of everything, you’re most excited about that?” Being a dual citizen who lived in the U.S. for the better part of the year, Pierre understood the absolute chasm of accessibility that separated the American and Canadian health insurance systems better than most, but he still looked at his wife’s choice with incredulity. 

“Of course it is,” Laurel said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. She still had insurance purchased through her work, but the fact that now it was so much easier and official and came out of her taxes instead of having to try and navigate the bureaucratic system of forms and checks and private insurance companies made it so much easier. “It’s just nice to finally be a part of a system that acknowledges healthcare as the human right it is. That’s another thing about how it works in the U.S., it’s tied to employment a lot of the time so it’s not always a guarantee.” 

She gave a tense smile, leaning back against the counter. “I might seem a little worked up about it, but that’s because I am. Uh,” she paused, eyes flickering up towards the chrome-plated track lighting, “my dad lost his job when I was a kid. He was a foreman at a construction company, but then the recession hit in ‘08 and he was laid off.  We lost our insurance. Maggie and I were able to get on MinnesotaCare, which is the state insurance for low-income families, but our parents didn’t get approved. Not enough money to go around, I guess,” she scoffed. “Unemployment wasn’t paying enough and mom’s job isn’t full-time, so she doesn’t get benefits. Apparently they think healthcare is a benefit.” Laurel took another pause. “And then Dad had a stroke. It wasn’t serious, thank God, but the bills...Maggie was almost graduating high school and headed off to college, and money was tight even before the layoffs. We were able to come up with the money, but only because the community really came together, in a way I had never seen before. I still haven’t seen anything like it since. Bake sales, church fundraisers, garage sales.” The tiniest of smiles played on Laurel’s lips as she looked back up at her husband. “Do you know how much pasta Minnesotans can eat at a spaghetti dinner?” 

“A lot?”

“A whole hell of a lot,” Laurel confirmed. “But anyways. That’s when it became personal to me, and I think it’s why healthcare and access to quality care is still something that I’m still so passionate about and invested in. It’s why I became a nurse.”

Pierre walked over to her carefully, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. “It makes absolute sense, Laurel. I know that probably wasn’t easy for you, so thank you for sharing. It means a lot to me that you’re willing to let me in like that.” Laurel wasn’t a cold person by any means; she was one of the kindest and most giving people Pierre had ever met, even in the few months that they’d known each other. But she was someone that could be guarded at times — for very good reason — and it meant the world to him that she was willing to let him chip away her hardened exterior little by little to see the brilliance that lay within. 

She pressed against his side, her head resting on his arm. “You’re my husband. Why wouldn’t I?”

 ---

 Laurel was in the ensuite of her and Pierre’s room, washing her face before going to bed, when she heard her phone vibrate with a text. After that first night, Laurel had made it a habit of sharing a bed; she’d never slept better in her life than the past two and a half weeks, and even though she may have been loath to admit it, waking up to an incredibly attractive man — who was shirtless half of the time — wasn’t something she was about to complain about. “Can you get that for me?” She was expecting a text from her mom, something about confirming her and her dad’s flight times for their visit next week. 

“Laurel?” Pierre called cautiously. 

She turned towards him, patting her face dry. “What? Did their gate get changed or something?”

He shook his head, walking towards her and holding the phone out like it was a bomb. “It’s Maggie.”

Laurel’s mouth immediately went dry. “M-Maggie?” She took the phone, staring at the screen, open to the text. 

“Do you want to talk to her? You don’t have to if you’re not feeling up to it,” Pierre said, searching her face for any semblance of apprehension. As far as he knew, she hadn’t talked to her sister in years, and he didn’t know why that was suddenly about to change. 

She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I just...I have no idea what she wants. Why, after three years, is she finally deciding that she wants to be a part of my life again?” She looked down at her phone. 

So, I had to hear it through the Cloquet grapevine that you got married?? What’s that about, L? Maggie wrote. Laurel pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. The gossip train in her hometown was second to none; to be honest, she was a little bit surprised it even took her older sister this long to hear about it. She was already enough of an anomaly. Less than a quarter of her city had a college degree, even fewer left the state to do it, so her going to Toronto for university was practically unfathomable — even if it was closer than Texas, where her second-choice school was. So, needless to say, she was a frequent headline in the Cloquet rumor mill. She had heard it all. That she had run off to Canada to escape a high school sweetheart turned sour, that she had cut off all ties with her family, that she had shaved half of her head and dyed her eyebrows bright pink. The last one actually had some truth to it, but it was just the eyebrows and she was a drunk 20-year-old, and at least she didn’t get a tattoo of the Maple Leafs logo on her thigh like her friend Ethan. 

But this one wasn’t a rumor, and if nothing else, Maggie deserved to know that much. Not much to say. It’s true, if that’s what you were wondering. 

Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to find out third-hand?

Laurel rolled her eyes, sitting down with a huff on the edge of their bed. Not to be harsh, Maggie, but it’s not like you’ve wanted to be that invested in my life since you left home. How was I supposed to know if this was even your number any more? I don’t even know what country you’re in right now. 

Her response was almost immediate. I’m working at a hostel in Tokyo. But seriously? I know we haven’t been super close the past few years, but I’m still your sister, and I would have thought you’d tell me about something like this. Getting married is big. You don’t think you’re still a little young? Have you even finished school yet?

I graduated last year, I’ve been working at a hospital in Montréal for over a year, Maggie. And I know it’s a little early, but Pierre-Luc and I are happy. I love him, and he’s a good man and respects the hell out of me. I don’t really need anything else. 

It was a few minutes before her next text came through, this time in all caps. YOU MARRIED A FUCKING NHLER? Laurel grew up knowing hockey, obviously; you couldn’t really live in Minnesota and not, and she wasn’t even a half-bad skater herself, but Maggie had always been the more dedicated of the sisters. She’d been the one who was always begging their dad to make the two-hour drive to St. Paul for a Wild game. Even when money was tight, Doug always found a way to scrape up enough for the tickets as her birthday present in January. 

Denise from church didn’t tell you?

All she said was that it was some hot French-Canadian guy, and mom said you moved to Quebec, so I thought it could be any number. Fair enough.

Denise seriously called him hot?

Laurel could imagine her sister rolling her eyes all the way in Japan. Okay, fine, she didn’t say hot. But like...am I wrong? 

For the first time in a long time, her sister made her laugh. Yeah, okay. He’s hot. I’m very aware that my husband is a class-A babe. 

“You think I’m hot?” Pierre said, peeking over her shoulder and wiggling his eyebrows. 

Laurel’s cheeks heated. “Yes, okay. I think you’re very attractive. Happy?” 

“Very,” he responded. “I’m glad my wife thinks I’m hot. The feeling’s mutual,” he said before walking into the bathroom to brush his teeth, leaving her even more flustered than before. She turned back to her conversation with Maggie. My shift is about to start, so I’ve got to go. But I’m happy for you, L. I really am. You’ve done exactly what you want with your life, and I couldn’t be more proud. 

Laurel’s finger traced the words on the screen, a small smile on her face as Pierre came back into the room, throwing back the sheets. She plugged her phone into its charger, turning it face-down onto the nightstand. Things weren’t perfect between her and Maggie; far from it. One conversation over text wasn’t going to change that. But maybe, just maybe, there was still something there that was worth saving. After flicking off the lights, the last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the feeling of Pierre snaking his arm around her waist, pulling her to rest her back up against his chest. And Laurel let him. 

August 17 (tues 

It had been one of the worst days of Laurel’s life, and she wasn’t one for dramatics. Certainly the worst shift of her career. She knew when she chose to work in a pediatric intensive care unit, that it wasn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows. If she wanted sunshine and rainbows, she would have gone with something less taxing. Something like dermatology, or working in a pediatrician’s office, or being a school nurse. God knows she could hand out ice packs and tampons. But no, she had to pick critical care, and critical care with children, one of the most emotionally and mentally taxing areas in the entire healthcare field. She saw the highest highs, the incredible moments when a three-year-old girl with a brain hemorrhage was able to get home, or a twelve-year-old boy finally got a kidney transplant after having been waiting for years. She saw the highest highs, but on days like today, she also saw the lowest lows.  

Laurel carried her scrub top in one hand, her backpack slung over one shoulder, and tried desperately to regulate her breathing as she turned her key in the lock, pushing the door open. No matter how many times she had helped her patients breathe, she never seemed to be able to take her own advice. 

Pierre stood in the kitchen, making a smoothie, but immediately turned off the blender when he saw her face. “What happened?” he asked, gently taking her bag from her and placing it on the floor. 

Laurel collapsed into his arms almost instantly. “T-there was a little girl who c-came in yesterday from a car crash, and it was pretty b-bad, but she made it through the night and everyone thought she’d b-be fine,” she hiccuped, “but then right at the end of m-my shift she started coughing up b-blood and she was crashing, so I tried to do CPR until the t-team got there, but it didn’t work and we…” Laurel trailed off, sobbing, gripping the back of Pierre’s shirt like a lifeline. “We lost her, P. And the doctor on call was tied up with another patient, so I had to notify the family, and God, it was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do. She was only seven.” She looked down at her scrub top. “I have to go throw this in the washing machine before the stain sets.” 

Pierre pulled back slightly, gently taking the navy shirt from her, giving a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll do it. You need to rest. Take a shower, or a bath, get into some comfortable clothes. I’ll take care of dinner.” 

It was almost forty-five minutes later when Laurel finally emerged from the bathroom, clad in high school sweats and a faded Blue Jackets t-shirt. “I hope you didn’t mind that I took this one,” she said, picking at a loose thread on the bottom hem, “I hadn’t gotten to laundry yet this week.”

“It’s fine, Laur,” Pierre said, plating chicken stir-fry and rice. Cooking together had become one of their things; Pierre certainly wasn’t as hopeless as some people she had met, and he was right that he made an excellent salmon. But they couldn’t eat fish every day of the week, so Laurel broke out one of her few cookbooks and they had been making their way through the recipes together. They had finished breakfast and were making their way through poultry. Hence, chicken stir-fry. “You look better in it anyways.”

They ate in silence, her half-heartedly picking up forkfuls of rice only to put them down again. She smiled weakly at Pierre. “The food’s good, I swear. I just don’t have much of an appetite tonight.”

“I get that,” he said. “How about I put this in away in the fridge and you can get a yogurt or something? You don’t have to have a full meal, but you should eat something. We can watch something after, or you can go to bed if you’re not feeling up to it. Your call.”

“TV sounds nice, do you still have the old Parks & Rec recorded?” Laurel needed something she didn’t need to pay attention to, something that could just be background noise as she tried to sift through the emotions of her day and try to make sense of it all. 

He nodded. “Wouldn’t get rid of it before asking, I know how much you love it.”

They were curled up on the couch together a few minutes later, a striped blanket thrown over Laurel’s lap despite the weather outside still lingering in the mid 70s. It wasn’t for warmth, not really; it was for comfort. Pierre’s arm was slung over her back, his thumb absentmindedly moving across her upper arm. She leaned into his touch, hardly paying attention to the show. “Do you want to talk about it?” Pierre murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “You don’t have to, but it might help.” He wasn’t an expert by any means, but Pierre obviously knew that people died in hospitals, in intensive care units even more so. Which meant that there was an almost surefire chance that she had had people die on her watch, die on her shift. Had children die on her watch. And that didn’t mean she was a bad nurse or a bad person, but just that sometimes there were illnesses and injuries so severe that even the best medical care in the province couldn’t save them. So why was this one impacting her so intensely? Had she reacted this way before, with Madeline or her coworkers, and he just hadn’t seen it before? Or was there something different about this case, about that girl that made it hit closer to home for some reason?

Laurel took a shaky breath. “I know you’re right, that it’s not healthy to keep it all bottled up inside. But that’s what I’m used to, you know? I love my job, I do, but you have to compartmentalize sometimes. With this one, it’s just…” She searched for the right words. “It was so immediate, so in front of me, that I didn’t have any time to reach beyond trying to save her life. I didn’t think, I just went based on instinct and training. And she still died.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Laurel,” Pierre said firmly. “You did everything you could, you did everything right.”

“I know that,” she sniffed, “but it’s so hard to believe sometimes. That if I had gotten there a few seconds sooner, or if the crash team had been a little earlier, she might have survived. And I wouldn’t have had to tell a mother and father that their daughter was dead.” Pierre felt terrible, like there was nothing he could do, because there was nothing he could do, not apart from sit and listen. “I think it was different this time because I finally saw myself in their shoes, I obviously don’t have kids, not yet, but I imagined what it was like to have to be on the receiving end of that news, and it tore me apart, P.” Her voice cracked, and his heart broke. “Being the mom to a beautiful child and then all of the sudden having them all of the sudden stripped away? No longer living? I know that life’s not fair, but fuck, I thought I thought it would be a little better than this.” 

Her voice went silent, and Pierre took the opportunity to speak. “It’s not fair, and I think part of what makes you so good at what you do is the fact that you recognize that. You’re so dedicated to giving everyone that comes through those doors the best care, because you genuinely believe that they deserve it. And that’s incredible. You don’t get complacent, you’re never satisfied with just doing things adequately and just enough to get by. You give everything 110%, and that’s how I know the kind of incredible person you are.” He paused. “And I think every parent worries about their kid getting sick, or getting hurt. I know mine did, and I’d be willing to bet yours were the same way. Worrying means you care. And you care the most deeply, the most genuinely, out of anyone I’ve ever met. And I know, when the time comes, that you’ll make an amazing mother. Whoever gets to do that with you will be a lucky man.”

“You really think so?”

Pierre slipped his hand into hers. “Positive.”

September 10 (fri)

Laurel’s fingers tapped nervously on the counter as she waited for Pierre to bring the last of his bags from the bedroom. He didn’t usually schlep a ton of things back-and-forth from Montréal to Columbus every time he needed to travel, but his ticket came with two free checked bags and if there was one thing Pierre-Luc Dubois was, it was efficient. It was the middle of September, and that meant training camps. That meant leaving Québec. That meant Ohio. That meant not seeing Pierre for weeks at a time, when the longest they had been apart since July was a two-day trip to Québec City Laurel took with her parents when they visited in August. Over the past two months, they had settled into a routine, and that routine was about to be broken. Grocery shopping, him washing the dishes while she dried, falling asleep together and waking up with legs tangled in the middle of the bed. She knew that he liked his coffee with a little bit of cream and more sugar, that Georgia got fussy if she wasn’t let out in the morning but Paul was more of a night owl, that dessert wasn’t supposed to be on his meal plan every day but that she could always get him to break for a slice of peach pie. He knew that she needed two Advil on the first day of her period because one just wouldn’t cut it, that her favorite Disney princess was Jasmine because of her independence, and that she liked to light lavender candles when she was stressed. 

Pierre wheeled a bag out of the doorway. “That the last one?” Laurel asked, passing Phil’s leash to him as she held Georgia’s. He nodded. She spun her keys around on her finger. “Got both of your passports?” 

Pierre patted his jacket pocket.  “Right here.” It was easier for him; he could skip the wait in both countries. Exit Canada with the Canadian, enter the U.S. with the American.

It was 2 and his flight wasn’t until 4:15, but Laurel didn’t trust the traffic and she didn’t trust the wait times at the airport. “Guess we should get going then.”

“Guess we should.” Laurel grabbed one bag and he got the other, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and wheeling it out the door. It only took twenty minutes to get to the airport. Laurel pulled up next to the curb, double-checking the signs to make sure she wasn’t about to get fined for stopping, and put the car into park. Pierre was the first to open his door, grabbing both the dogs; Laurel followed suit a moment later.

“You’ve got to pop the trunk, babe,” Pierre murmured. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Oh, right,” she said, pressing the button on her key. It popped open with a telltale click; Pierre hefted out the black bag, she got the silver one. “Do you know how many people are going to have this exact bag? It’s going to be a nightmare at baggage claim, P” Laurel tried to joke. She always coped with humor. 

Pierre laughed, this time a real one. “Fair enough. Guess I’ve got a lot riding on my luggage tags,” he said, flicking one of the offending objects around the handle of the bag, the black one. Laurel handed him the other handle, their fingers brushing as he gripped the metal. He put a finger under her chin, tilting her head to look up at him. He could see the apprehension in her eyes. There were a lot of things that Laurel Klerken did well, really well, but lying was never one of them. She was always an open book. “Hey, don’t look so down, Laur,” he said softly. “I know you’ll be missing your personal space heater and Piper will miss her siblings, but you’re coming to visit in two weeks and it’s going to be amazing. I’ll introduce you to the boys and the other wives, you’ll get to catch one of the preseason games, finally see my place in Columbus. It might be weird being alone for a while, but —” He cut himself off. “Scratch that, it will be weird for a while, for both of us, but we’ll get through it. You’re a great person, and not a terrible wife either. People have done long-distance relationships that were longer distances for more time, and they made it through just fine. You’ll be okay, Laur. We’ll be okay.”

Laurel took an unsteady breath, trying her best to put on a brave face. “Not a terrible wife, huh? Well, you’re not half a bad husband either.” As she spoke, she was thinking over his words. How normal they sounded, but how abnormal that was for them. They weren’t a normal couple, all they really were were friends who got married — right? So why was he saying those things, things that made him seem like a real husband talking to his real wife, things that were making her feel that maybe, just maybe, this marriage wasn’t as much of a hoax as the thought it was? And it was only because of that, only because she was either reading way too much into a situation that wasn’t even there or was the premier of reading people’s body language and being able to parse out their unsaid words, that she did what she did next. She threw her arms around her husband, and she kissed him.

#hockey imagine #hockey writing #pierre-luc dubois #hockey #hockey smut #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl writing #nhl smut #nhl #nhl imagines #pierre luc dubois

[bondsmagii]

Regarding beloved toys becoming real a la the velveteen rabbit

ARCHIVIST

Statement of Matthew Calhoun, regarding a living childhood toy. Original statement given January 23, 1998. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

I didn’t have any friends as a kid. I’m not exaggerating – I didn’t have any. There’s always that one kid in every class who’s just… well, a reject, really. It sounds harsh to say, but I don’t really blame them for it. Of course, I would have preferred it if they’d just left me alone; ignored me rather than tormenting me, but that’s how it goes. I can’t excuse their cruelty, but I can excuse their dislike of me. I really, really can’t blame them. Now I’m an adult, looking back on it all, I really… well, is it bad to say it? I suppose I should just be honest. I’m about to admit to much worse. Alright – I hate my child self. I’m embarrassed by him. If I had a kid like that, I—I don’t know if I could say I wouldn’t love him, but let’s just say my sympathy would be limited if he was getting teased. I was unbearable as a child. I was a swotty little know-it-all; I snitched on my classmates; I always had a smart answer for everything. I’d try and get people to talk to me or hang out with me and when they didn’t want to, I’d stick my hand up and tell the teachers they were being mean. I was a grubby little kid, too, which wasn’t really my fault at all because my parents didn’t have a lot of money when I was growing up, but I had other gross habits I could have probably avoided. I didn’t like to brush my teeth, so my breath always stank. I picked my nose in class with absolutely no shame, wiping it underneath the desk. God, when I think about it now I could just throttle myself. Like I said, I don’t excuse the cruelty that my classmates – and sometimes my teachers – inflicted on me, but I do think back and wonder why I managed to feel so victimised over the fact nobody wanted to hang out with me. I mean, who the hell would? This, along with the fact I didn’t have much to do at home thanks to my parents’ low income, combined to make me both very bored and very lonely, and that’s what led to the reason I’m here today. It’s a confession, as much as anything else – the only reason I don’t want to go to the police is because I know they won’t believe me at all, whereas at least I stand a little chance of being believed here. Maybe then you can judge me accordingly. It’s what I deserve.

When I was eleven years old, I murdered one of my classmates. Her name was Vanessa Smith, and the newspapers reported that she had been attacked and mauled by dogs while walking home one late afternoon. Her injuries were so severe they couldn’t think of what else could do it. Of course, no dog was ever found. They tested so many of them, inspecting them for traces of blood, for pieces of human remains in their waste. Nothing showed up, because no dog killed Vanessa Smith. It was me. Alright, not by my own hand, but I was the cause of it. Let me try to explain.

When I was four or five, my grandmother read me a story called The Velveteen Rabbit. It’s a children’s story about a toy rabbit who comes to life because the little boy it belongs to loves it so much. I was fascinated by the idea, and for years believed that such a thing was possible. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t have any toy animals, or really any toys to begin with, because my parents really had no money at all. We lived in a tiny house where all of the furniture was on loan; we had one sofa, a wooden chair, a bare mattress to sleep on each, and really not much more. My parents were on a steady upward trajectory as I grew up, so by the time I made it to high school we were at least managing to present as normal, but when I was a kid my toys were whatever I could find in the garden. My parents would send me out the moment I got up and I’d come back in as it was getting dark; in the winter they let me stay out until bedtime, because it was warmer for me to be running around outside than sitting still in our heatless home. Those were cold, lonely hours, and as I grew I found myself thinking back time and time again to that story – about the power to give something life because it was so loved. I thought this was fully possible. I was only a kid, and kids will believe anything; that was also my general understanding of how babies were made – that two people loved one another so much that they created a third. Well, I didn’t have another person to help me, and I didn’t want a little brother or sister. I wanted a friend. The thought that I could bring a toy to life myself, just out of love, utterly consumed me.

First, though, I needed a toy. Even second-hand toys were out of the question, money-wise, and I had no friends to ask for cast-offs. In the end I improvised. I found a scrap of fabric from one of the old sheets my mother had fashioned into curtains, and I lay it flat on the ground and filled the centre with a few rocks for weight, and as many dry leaves as I could find. Then I pulled all four of the corners up, twisted the fabric down to meet the filling, and tied it off with an elastic band. The end result looked kind of like a radish, I guess, or a strangely shaped ghost. Still, a felt-tip pen gave it eyes and a friendly smile, and I even drew a couple of fangs at the corners of its mouth, just to make it a little more boyish. I called him Sammy, and he became my best friend. He went everywhere with me aside from school, because I knew damn well what the other kids would do to him. Outside of school, though? We were inseparable. We ate breakfast and dinner together, we went roaming around together, he watched me as I dug around in the back garden or on the trails behind the house. He sat on the toilet seat as I had my cold baths; he slept next to me in bed. When he got a little crushed and out of shape, or the leaves disintegrated beyond anything I could shape them back into, I would play at putting him to sleep so I could “operate” on him and fill him back up again. I still remember the glorious day that one of my parents’ pillows split beyond repair, and my mother, meaning well, I’m sure, gave me some of the stuffing for Sammy’s head. After that he was almost a proper stuffed toy, soft instead of jagged, but I think it was that improvement that doomed me. He got stronger after that. I started to dream about him.

I was eight when I first made Sammy. I was ten when the dreams started. At first he would just be there, normal as ever. I would be carrying him around, we’d be doing our thing. Then one day the dream was different. The two of us were sitting at the breakfast table and it was dark outside, but the sky was a strange, beating red. Sammy was sad; I knew this somehow. I asked him what was wrong, and he said to me, “I’ll never be a real boy without a heart”. Then he lay his head on the table and began to sob. I woke up, feeling utterly wretched; I wasn’t even scared. I pulled Sammy to me and cried myself. I was utterly despondent. I knew I had to do something, but what? That was when I realised I could make him a heart. It might not be great, but it would be something, right? That very morning I drew a heart on a piece of paper, coloured it in my most vibrant red, and tucked it into Sammy’s fabric, securely tied underneath the elastic band. I thought he seemed much happier after that, and increasingly I was certain that he wasn’t in the same place as I’d left him when I got back from school. This excited me, because I was sure it would work somehow. I loved Sammy more than anything. He was my only friend in the world. I knew that some day soon, Sammy would have to come to life.

The hearts kept getting crushed out of shape, or fraying, or otherwise getting worn. Every time they did, Sammy would whisper to me – no longer in dreams now. In my head, in my ear. His breath tickling my cheek, smelling of mulch. Always the same things. “I’ll never be a real boy without a heart.” I kept making new ones but he started getting angrier; they never lasted. “I’ll never be a real boy without a heart! I’ll never be a real boy without a heart!” I wanted to do my best for him but he was starting to scare me. I didn’t know what to do. I told him this. For the first time, I got the impression he was mad at me for being sad, when he never had been before. But what could I do?

I got my answer the summer I turned eleven. The rabbit had been left right out on the trail I always walked to get from my parents’ house and into the woods behind it. It had been mauled by something – a fox, I thought – but not eaten. Its chest was open, and its small little heart was right there for the taking. I don’t know why I did it. It was disgusting, and what’s more I knew that if I put a real heart in Sammy it was going to rot, and stink, and Mum would make me throw him out. I knew all this, but I still couldn’t stop myself. I walked quite calmly to the rabbit, carefully pinched its heart between my fingers, and pulled it free. It came so easily. Nothing needed to be cut or wrenched; it just slid out, and within moments it was tucked inside Sammy. I heard it begin to beat.

Sammy wasn’t mine after that. I still tried to love him, but I was scared of him. I couldn’t understand what had happened. I thought love was supposed to be a good thing, you know? That’s what I’d been told. I wondered what it meant, that my love had created this. Everyone else’s love created nice things, fun things, safe things, warm things. My love had created this… this monster, this wretched little thing… I loved it out of fear. I was too afraid to let it know of my contempt, because I didn’t know what it would do to me. I think it knew anyway, of course. I think it knew I feared it; I think it realised, on some level, that I still had some of the power. I could throw it into the fireplace, for example. I thought about that a few times; even thought about asking my mum or dad to do it for me, act like I grew out of Sammy and was embarrassed of him. Sammy could sense it. I could have done it, I think, when it had the rabbit heart. Only a small heart, a rabbit heart. Not good for too much exertion. But I hesitated, because I was scared, and I thought if I ignored it and just left the heart to finally fail – because it had to eventually, right? – Sammy would be back to begging me in dreams and I could get rid of him – of it – once and for all.

That’s not what happened. I was out playing in the woods, must have been August. It was near to school starting back, and I was stressed about it because for me that was a line in the sand. I’d tried to tell myself I’d get rid of Sammy before I started Big School, high school, you know, but I hadn’t done anything and I was really wigging out about it. Sammy was with me, of course, sitting propped up against a rock while I dug around in the mud by a small stream. I guess it was the running of the water that muffled the footsteps, because when I finally heard them and turned, it was too late. Vanessa was stepping out from between the bushes, and her eyes had locked on Sammy. She wasn’t ever overly cruel to me at school, but she laughed with the rest of them whenever I was being put through the torment of the day, and like all kids that age she had it in her to be cruel. I was frightened of her, in the same way I was frightened of all my classmates, and the look on her face as she looked between me and Sammy told me this was going to be wholly unpleasant. I just adopted the stance, you know: feet together, eyes down. Waiting for abuse. She asked me if this was my toy, and then she went on to tell me how stupid and ugly it was, and then she went on about me getting some real toys, oh, wait, you can’t afford that… normal stuff, and at least she wasn’t going to hit me, because the girls never beat me up. She did go to pick up Sammy, though, and I yelled at her not to. Not out of any protectiveness towards Sammy, but because I was scared. Vanessa didn’t know Sammy like I did. She hadn’t noticed Sammy’s beady little drawn-on eyes somehow managing to swivel, to follow her, to lock onto her. The way his smile widened slightly, and I finally noticed how many teeth he had.

“I’ll never be a real boy without a heart.”

She reached down to snatch Sammy up. She was saying she was going to throw him into the stream. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even call out a final warning. She reached down and he was on her. I still didn’t see him move. He was just… there, and there was blood, and I could hear something tearing, and Vanessa was screaming so loudly. I should have helped. I should have tried to do something, but I was too scared. When I finally managed to move it was to run away. I fled through the woods, not bothering to keep to the trails. I ran blindly, crashing through the undergrowth, falling, dragging myself up. When I got home my parents were both at work. I scrubbed myself, scrubbed the worst of the mud from my clothing, tried to breathe. Tried to convince myself that I had seen it wrong. Vanessa would be fine, right? I even managed to tell myself Sammy was scaring her for me, sticking up for me. I waited in terror for Sammy to come home, but he never did. I was glad, but I also… I mean, it’s always better when you can see the danger, right? The thought that Sammy was out there, of what he might do… but I never saw Sammy again.

Vanessa – or what was left of her – was found the following morning. The woods aren’t big. Pretty much as soon as it was light, search parties found her. I don’t think anyone was happy with the dog story. I’ve avoided looking it up over the years, but I’ve heard things here and there. I know they say that the injuries inflicted on her were severe, even for a large dog. It’s more like something you would expect from a bear, or a big cat. Plus none of her was eaten, I don’t think. I mean, I’ve never heard it. Nobody suspected me, because why would they? My parents didn’t even ask about where Sammy had gone. I guess they figured I’d finally grown out of it.

I don’t know if there’s anything you can do with this statement, or if you’ll even believe it. I doubt there’s much room for research. I just wanted to tell somebody. Maybe if I was religious this is the point where I might go to confession, ask to be absolved. I’m not religious, though, and I’m not sure I can be absolved of this. That’s it.

ARCHIVIST

Statement ends.

Mr Calhoun is right. Not much can be done in regards to looking into this further. Attempts to reach Mr Calhoun for a follow-up statement were thoroughly unsuccessful thanks to the fact that he committed suicide shortly after making this statement. The records show that eleven-year-old Vanessa Smith was indeed mauled to death by a large dog or dogs in August 1971, though the story never really gained traction in national newspapers and further information is scarce. Martin spent an afternoon looking through online newspaper archives for the area and managed to find only one piece of new information; something that could easily be dramatization considering the fact it stopped being reported within twenty-four hours. I include it here only because it seems significant regarding Mr Calhoun’s story. Apparently young Miss Smith’s body was badly mauled but mostly uneaten – there was only one missing body part, believed eaten, and that was her heart.

Aside from that, there is nothing new to say about this one.

End recording.

#tma #statement prompts #my writing #fakements #long post #anon #asks

[ardentmuse]

Congrats!!!!!!! I can't wait to read all the wonderful pics you write!!!!! This looks like so much fun!!! 39 for charlie Weasley please and thank you!!!

One More Month

Harry Potter - Charlie Weasley x fem!Reader

39. But then I remembered that I’m a naughty bitch.

Wordcount: 2.7k

Warnings: smut under the break, swearing, injuries, hurt/comfort, also, unprotected sex because they are wizards in a long-term relationship and we can assume magical birth control, right? Also, I’m married and so it is almost impossible for me to remember what pausing for the condom was like anymore. But you all should use protection. Super important. ☺ 

Masterlist

A/N: Did someone ask for Charlie Weasley smut? No?? Am I giving it to you anyway? Yes. Are you going to like it? Probably not, but it is what it is. The first half of the story could be general reader but the smutty part is written with a vagina-owner in mind, hence the fem!reader. But if you wish to ignore the smut, you can just stop at the little breaker line I put it. 

“Y/N, what are you doing here,” Charlie whispered as you lifted the blankets to his cot in the hospital wing in the wee hours of the morning. You pressed your finger to his mouth just as he started his final word. And soon you were hidden up to your neck in your boyfriend’s temporary covers.

A rogue bludger had decided Charlie’s shoulder looked like a nice place to collide during that afternoon’s friendly. That alone would have been fine – Charlie was made of tougher stuff – but the hit had toppled him off his broom. Hooch managed to catch him before he fell to the ground but not before his body collided with the opposing team’s left hoop. The sound his leg made as it snapped against the metal still made you cringe, but Charlie seemed unfazed. Some bruising, some healing to the bone, some rest and a few days off the pitch was all that the incident required. But those were Charlie’s injuries. Your injuries – the ones to your brain at the idea that you could lose this sweet man you loved so much so easily – were not so easily cured. 

“Was doing my rounds,” you hummed into his shoulder as you planted light kisses upon the exposed skin. Charlie was sleeping in only his boxer and the feel of his bare skin, hot and smooth against your fingers, was such a welcome feeling, a reminder of his health and virility even in his moment of weakness. “And I thought you could use some company.” 

Charlie smiled, or at least you thought he did. It was hard to tell with your head buried against his chest and your hands roaming the exquisite expanse of toned stomach and ribs that lay before you. He let out a light hiss as your lips moved across a bruise upon his shoulder but it was immediately followed by a sigh as Charlie fell further back into the pillows. His hands found root in your hair, encouraging the kind of healing only you could give him.

“You know you could get in quite a lot of trouble for sneaking in here,” he whispered, but his shallow breaths as your fingers teased at the edge of his boxers made it clear his words were simply platitudes to his future guilty conscience. 

“You know I thought of that,” you hummed, tickling at his earlobe, “But then I remembered that I’m a naughty bitch.” 

Charlie felt you smile against his neck as his hands held tight to your waist, securing you against him. He swallowed.

“Love,” he warned, as your fingers continued their journey southward. At the lightest caress of your fingertips, he closed his eyes and threw his head into the pillow.

Your hand gave a gentle squeeze to the hardened silk of him that only your hands had ever the joy of knowing.

“We only have another month until we’re out of here. Then you’ll move in with me in Romania and we can do this every morning if you want. But, please, love… you know I can’t say no to you.” 

You paused your hand to meet his gaze. His expression made it clear that his mind was waging a war; he clearly desired you but also desired to not get caught. 

You lifted your head to kiss him slow and pure of the mouth. His hands found your hips and held you close as he slowly explored you with his tongue. 

“Every morning then,” you whispered to him. 

“I can’t imagine you’d want me every morning.”

“I can’t imagine that I wouldn’t.” 

Charlie chuckled and held you tight to him. The heat radiating off of his body warmed your heart, just another pleasant reminder of the closeness you two would be able to share so soon. You imagined walking around your new home naked for the majority of your first month together, just in awe of the fact that you got to see him, all of him, whenever you so wished it. 

As his laughter subsided, you rested once more against Charlie’s sternum, allowing your cheek to enjoy the soft scrapping of his chest hair. 

“Whatever you say, love,” he whispered against your hair before planting a kiss upon your brow. And within a minute, you felt his breathing even out and sleep find him, and you fell asleep soon after. 

Your sleep was not nearly as restful as your partners. You had stopped by with the hopes of giving him some comfort and soon he had filled your mind with ideas about all the wonderful ways you might enjoy your freedom and privacy upon your graduation – images of a much more forward Charlie, leading you by the hand to your shared bed, worshipping your body with his own, showering you in kisses upon parts of your skin only he could see, making you come with him as the morning light broke through the trees, leaving you to feel the gentle ache and emptiness between your legs as you recovered throughout the morning. 

And that was the thought you woke to in the darkness of the hospital wing. Charlie’s mouth was buried in your hair and he softly whispered your name, dreamily and slurred. His hips were rocking with a steady rhythm against your thigh in a way that let you know his dreams were not all that different from your own.

“Charlie,” you whispered, rubbing this hair from his eyes, the sweat sticking them to his forehead. 

“Charlie.” 

“Ba-by, that’s… it,” was all he managed as he squeezed tighter to your waist.

“So good. So perf–. Mine.” 

He was fully erect against your rear, his length straining painfully against his boxers. You loved this man who was dreaming of you, whose fantasies were filled with his partner alone, and as your heart swelled, you realized it would be cruel to leave him in such a tortured state. 

“Charles,” you said, hoping your irregular sound would jar him somehow. When he didn’t seem to stop his gentle rocking into you, you turned in his arms pressing your core against him and felt the jolt through your body at the sensual reminder of the kinds of pleasures that wonderful shaft of his could bring you. 

“Ugh,” Charlie groaned, squeezing you more. You leaned forward and captured his lips in a kiss, soft and sweet. He loved you, even in his dreams, and nothing felt more right and pure than that. 

Charlie’s hand squeezed lightly at the flesh of your ass, and somehow, that little movement was enough to rouse him fully. 

“Sweetheart?” he whispered as he rubbed his eyes. 

You didn’t respond with words, instead kissing him once more, though this time with much more tongue, as you ground your body into his. His moans alone had turned you on quite a bit. This man would be your joy and your torture, so it seemed. 

His hands found your hips to help you in your motion. You were straddling him fully now as you lost yourself in your kisses, a sloppy, sleepy make-out, so different from the normal control Charlie maintained. His length ran against you, finding home against your core underneath your school skirts, pressing into your panties and sliding between your folds in a deliciously tempting way. He was like stone for you and your body could do nothing but crave him. 

You pushed yourself down hard on him and he groaned against you mouth, biting at your bottom lip. His breathing was staggered and he was heated all over. You wanted to strip him more to relieve him of his burning but there was nothing more to remove but the thin piece of silky cloth that alone was providing you with any semblance of self-control. 

“Love,” Charlie said against your mouth, encouraging you to pull away from just a second, “Would you still consider yourself a naughty bitch?” 

Charlie didn’t need to clarify. His fingers were dancing low between your thighs, having slid from your hips to tease at the lining of your panties, already soaked for him. 

Holding his gaze, you reached your hand back to grab at his shaft. He bit his lip, suppressing a needy moan. And that was all the encouragement you needed to pull him from the confines of his boxers. His fingers danced against your core as he shifted the small fabric that had hid your entrance from him. Together, looking solely at your other, you each shifted so your bodies would meet. And with a hard push from your hips, Charlie’s tip found home inside of you.

“Fuck,” he whisper-yelled against his pillow. He quickly looked back at you. “So good,” he added, “You’re perfection.” 

Even just his bulbous tip instead of you was enough to begin to relieve that aching need in your core. He stretched you so gently, filled you in a way that only he could, and even though the painful longing was reduced, it was quickly replaced with a rather carnal desire to drain him of everything he had to give you. 

With a wicked smile upon your lips, you held his shoulders and rolled your hips down, taking the length of him into you in a single thrust. You couldn’t suppress the groan as your eyes rolled back with pleasure as he bottomed out inside of you. Part of you seriously mourned that inch of him that never got to know you intimately, that poor little bit of his shaft that simply couldn’t fit, not until his final push where he would bury himself full in you to sputter to orgasm. You wanted all of him. 

Charlie pulled you down so you were chest to chest, taking over the work of the slow and calculated thrusting that left you dizzy. He was making quick work of bringing you to orgasm, strong thrusts the continuously stroked your just right, the soft roll of his hips that rubbed your clit against his pelvic bone, and the gentle nipping of your ear and neck as he breathed you in. You were putty to him, to mold as he so fashioned, to heal his spirit as well as his body from the pain it had so endured. 

As the sounds of his strokes inside of you, wet and persistent, grew louder to your ears, Charlie locked his arms around you and sat upright. You held tight to his shoulder to not lose your position, but Charlie had other plans. He lifted himself up on his strong thighs, holding you tightly to him so your legs had no choice but to fall back behind his back. You were now sitting upon his lap in the way school children might sit for story time, criss-cross apple sauce,  but when he rocked his hips into you, you knew you were far from childish games. 

“Oh, god,” was all you managed as you rested yourself in his arms. The new position was intimate, heavenly, to hold each other so close, the closest two humans could ever be, felt like the sort of promise you hoped you would exchange in much nicer clothes someday. 

“The name’s Charlie, love. So sad you’ve forgotten,” he whispered in your ears as he continued to languidly explore you. You couldn’t help but laugh. He really was his father some days, though you didn’t really want to be thinking about that at the moment. 

With your laughter, he picked up his pace and his hand began working the space in between you. Your nerves were on fire for him and as he touched and stroked that bundle at the top of your folds, you thought you would light up the both of you.

You screamed as you felt your body clenching down on him. Charlie had grown inside of you, so hard and full that you didn’t think you could fit him any more. It was torture so beautiful that nothing could ease your pain but your own release.

Charlie’s mouth captured your own to stifle the moans. His hand caressed your lower back, helping you to rock your hips into his cock and his hand so you might find your release even sooner. And with that movement, you did. You spasmed and clenched against him, enjoying the feel of your body trembling for the man you loved. He held you close and whispered into your ear that he loved you as you whimpered in your release. Waves of electricity rocked through you, each more pleasurable than the last, until your felt that joyous calm that Charlie’s strokes always provided. 

A few more thrusts and Charlie was collapsed back against the pillows, his whole self finally home in your body, his head contracting with each wave of ejaculation that coated your insides. As he softened, you felt the new type of fullness of his seed inside of you, claiming you as his own. As even though you knew children were quite a number of years down the road for you, the idea that part of Charlie might live inside of you, a reminder of your coupling, was unreasonably pleasant. 

“I agree,” Charlie whispered as he lifted your hips off of him, “You are indeed quite naughty.” 

You giggled as Charlie handed you some tissues from his nightstand. He took a few himself and began the gentle process of cleaning up the sore parts of your body. 

“It’s your fault for being so beautiful,” you said. You tossed the tissues off the bed and into the bin, and, after a moment, reached for your wand and transfigured the clump of tissues into a crumpled bit of parchment, eliminating any signs of your nighttime escapades. 

“I’ve got bruises all over my body, I broke a rib, and I have a black eye. I’m not too beautiful at the moment, I’m certain.”

You looked up to assess your lover for the first time since the sun was just beginning to break through the clouds outside. His nose was quite dark, hiding the freckles you loved so much, and his eye was quite swollen and puffy. His hair was a mess of red curls, fallen from their normal ponytail and cascading in uneven segments around his head. He was a bit worse for wear, but he was still your handsome Charlie.

You kissed him once again. “Still beautiful.”

“And you are still delusional.”

You laughed as you lifted yourself from the bed and gathered your robes. 

“Dorm will be waking soon. Gotta get back, love.” 

Charlie began to nestle once more into the covers, the exhaustion of his injuries and of his orgasm coming together all at once. You finished your dressing at kissed him one more on the forehead. As you began to walk away, he caught your wrist. You turned to see his eyes open again, staring at you with all the love you knew you felt for him in return. 

“One more month,” he said before kissing your palm.

“One more month.” 

As you slipped out of the hospital wing, you looked once more upon his bed. Charlie was already sleeping once more, his arms thrown over his head and his broad chest rising and falling in peaceful slumber. Clearly the healing magic your lovemaking gave him was doing its worth. 

You smiled and returned to your dorm, thinking about that simple sight and how lucky you’ll be when you get to see it each and every morning for the rest of your life together. 

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt,  @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug, @igotmadskills, @hazelandcoconuts, @yallgotkik

Harry Potter tags: @tessimagines, @0-lost-in-stereo-0, @whysoseriouspadfoot, @eldritchscreech, @luckyvirgo, @hellizhelusive2, @lexrius, @sapphireorchid, @amazingwonderlandnapkin

#harry potter #hphm #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley #charlie weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #hphm imagine #hp hogwarts mystery #charlie weasley x mc #charlie weasley x you #charlie weasley x jacob's sibling #charlie weasley smut #smut #reader insert #ardentmuse almost 2k celebration #lexrius #lia talks

[piratewithvigor]

The Big Five

Summary: A newcomer to L.A., Y/N isn’t much for anonymous sexual encounters, but there are 5 exceptions.

Word Count: 1530

A/N: @niksixx​ and her story Number 73 spurred a big list of comments and ideas and I got this idea as a result of the discussion. Also my first attempt for a reader insert, so we’ll see how this goes. 

It’d been a lifelong dream of mine to move to California. The beaches were my original motivation when I was really young. My landlocked home state offered no such luxuries and they were too far away to visit, save for a few very special family vacations through the years. As I got older, the music scene began to be my enticement. Beaches were nice and all, but the guys who walked them were somehow growing nicer in my eyes. 

My Sweet 16 Birthday trip was when I decided I had to make a place for myself in LA. They were my kind of people. The crazies, the weird, the musicians, the lovers, the dreamers, the shakers, the movers… It was my city. The trip had taken months to save up for, both on my and Y/B/F’s parts, but on our final day, we made a pact that we’d return in a few years, with more savings. Enough to carve ourselves out a little place in the city. 

It took a while. A lot longer than either of us anticipated when we were thinking with our dream-clogged teenaged brains, but we made it a reality. The jobs we found after we made the move weren’t great, and neither was the apartment we were sharing, but it was our new home. Two bedrooms, a bathroom and a communal room that connected the entryway with pretty much everything else. At first, I’d been skeptical over getting a two-bedroom instead of saving a little by sharing a bedroom. Once Y/B/F started getting her nails into the beach boys we ogled as kids, I was only rueing not getting more rooms between us. 

That wasn’t to say she was the only one having all the fun. I was much more careful about getting myself into situations, but I slipped up once or twice. Or exactly five times, as Y/B/F liked to remind me. Five anonymous, deeply animalistic, frequently kinky, occasionally intimate sexual encounters. I never took them to our place. I never got so carefree that I trusted the hookups with my address. That was something only official boyfriends got to know. Y/B/F could always just tell what I’d gotten up to. My walk of shame was painfully obvious, but never so shameful that she didn’t press for details over breakfast. 

I knew the first one was going to be a hit-and-run the moment I saw him. He was the California man I was mentally lusting over since the idea first hit me. Long hair, eyes that oozed sex appeal once he caught you in his gaze, and had likely fucked everything with legs in that bar, stools and tables included. A second shot gave me the nerve to go over to him, but it turned out to not be needed. He was on the stool beside me at the bar once I turned to go over. I can’t remember what we said, only that his unfairly deep voice was lowering my inhibitions more than the alcohol ever could. Less than an hour later, I was gripping handfuls of his soft red hair and he was fucking the last of my coherency away. He was the first, and Y/B/F spent the next month pointing out every ginger she could to try and find the man whose name I couldn’t remember if I tried to get herself a taste of the honey.

Number two was different in every way imaginable. He was the California man I would have pictured as a kid. Blonde, toned, smiling brighter than the sun, and giving me the feeling that he could have been my best friend in the world. He probably could have been if I hadn’t left his place in a hurry after realising that it was Monday morning, and not Sunday morning, like I had thought. His address melted away from my memory with the hangover and by the next weekend, I was just hoping I’d never see him again, way too embarrassed to have been the one to run away before the other woke up without even a note. 

My desperate attempts to avoid blondie coincidentally knocked me into the arms of number three, whose name, I learned, was Duff. His was the first name I learned, but I was never sure if he was fucking around with me or not. I’d been staring across the room at the back of his head for so long, debating if it was in fact blondie or if I was just being paranoid. His own paranoia made him look back at me a few times and eventually stalk towards me, demanding why I was staring. I wanted to laugh off the mistake, but so many things about him caught me off-guard that I couldn’t do anything besides chuckle awkwardly. I didn’t intend to go home with Duff, but he lured me in quick and mercilessly. I left him my number, but without him calling back, he was resigned to number three.

Number four was the first encounter that came from a completely clear head. Clear from alcohol, anyway. Turns out, adrenaline is a mighty powerful aphrodisiac. LA had gotten me fairly used to regular catcalls. Catcalls, and sometimes even being followed down the street, Somehow, it never got me used to a stranger nearby turning onto my catcaller and threatening him with a new pet snake he had been carrying fairly secretly under his pile of hair. He insisted I come up to his apartment so I could call someone and he could make sure I wasn’t alone going home. He would, he said, but his snake needed to be fed immediately and not left unsupervised in a brand new environment. The call kept getting pushed further back as he introduced me to all his snakes, later including the one in his pants. Y/B/F didn’t say anything when she picked me up, but her eye roll spoke volumes. 

The siren call of the music scene had been beckoning me for ages, but I had always sworn to myself that I would never sleep with a guy just because he was a musician. That was a major fucking lie. Why wouldn’t I want to sleep with a guy who had dedicated his life to moving his fingers as swiftly and precisely as possible? It made number five a dream come true. He didn’t even need to bring me home to turn me into a mess inside and out. Innocent gazes and hands slipped under my skirt were all I needed at the table, and once he pulled me into the band’s dressing room, he got his turn. 

I’d hooked up other times, of course, but they were the only five I never heard from again. Never saw again, either, even when I was looking for them. It didn’t discourage me from still having fun. The only thing that did was the sounds of Y/B/F and her new boy toy duking it out all night every night. I knew I was just as bad when I got my shot at them, but it was almost depressing every time I came home empty-handed. After the third week of going out with nothing to show for it, Y/B/F almost had to drag me out for the last Friday of the month. 

“Is it a crime to just want to stay in on a Friday night for once?”

“It is when the only reason for that is because you keep striking out. It’s not happening tonight,” she insisted as we stood in line for the club.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Five bands tonight, including Izzy’s. With four to five guys per band, that’ll make twenty to twenty-five guys desperate to score with a hot piece of ass like you.”

“And a hundred girls for other options.”

“So you might get sloppy seconds tonight. At least you’ll get some,” she shrugged as we entered. I hadn’t met her boyfriend, Izzy, yet. Our schedules only seemed to line up when they were in bed together, and I had absolutely no desire to meet a guy right before or right after he scored. The only reason I had allowed her to take me out tonight was because this was his band’s biggest bill to date. Sure, they had to share it with other bands, but the crowd was going to be worth it. According to her, the other four guys in his band were almost as cute. 

We took our spots in the front row. With Izzy’s band opening, we had to be at the top of our game. Cheerleading was the name of the game. If they were actually good, it would be all the easier. 

The anticipation was eating me alive, but was promptly replaced with a mixture of nausea and arousal when Guns N Roses, as they called themselves, took the stage. My knees buckled the instant I caught a glimpse of the red hair. Ginger didn’t seem to take much notice of me, but Duff, Blondie, Snake Boy and Izzy all seemed to get the same kind of realisation I did when our eyes met. The Big Five. All together as a band.

#Writing #The Big Five #GNR #Classic Rock #Axl Rose #Izzy Stradlin #Duff McKagan #Steven Adler #Slash #self insert

[multifandomcentral]

Becca’s Top Ten Fics to Get Through Quarantine

Bc ao3 is the only way I’m surviving this.

Say Hallelujah, Say Goodnight by @alivingfire (E, 110k) An angel/demon AU that I first thought was based off of good omens. It’s not, and it’s so much better than I could have ever expected, It is so well written and had me crying, laughing and on the edge of seat the entire time. So worth the read! I couldn’t put it down.

There’s Such a lot of World to See by @crinkle-eyed-boo (E, 125k) A Doctor Who AU where Louis is The Doctor and Harry is based off of Clara. One of my all time favorite fics, I’ve honestly lost count of how many times I’ve read it. I’m a huge doctor who fan, but you don’t need to be a whovian to read this! The author does such a good job explaining the universe within the fic that literally anyone could read it. It’s seriously so good go check it out!

Avengers Series by whimsicule (The Dead of July, M, 117k) (Every Promised Land, M, 110k) An Avengers AU where Harry is Captain America, Louis is Bucky, and I have not been the same since first reading it back in high school. These two fics are honestly what made me into a Marvel fan. They’re both a slow build and angsty as ever but so so so good!

Piece by Piece Series by @sadaveniren (Piece by Piece, M, 3.4k) (Fallen Far From the Tree, M, 42k) A tooth rottingly fluffy Mpreg fic that is just so wholesome I melt every time I read it. It’s cannon compliant, taking place during the last leg of OTRA, and just honestly so sweet. Mpreg is definitely a guilty pleasure of mine and this series is definitely my favorite one. I’ve lost count at how many times I’ve read it.

a ghost in my lungs (it sighs in my sleep) by callabang (T, 7.8k) This is one of the first fics I’ve ever read and it’s honestly the sweetest thing. It’s OT5, with an inkling of Larry, where Louis is a ghost and the boys move into his childhood home. It’s honestly a great read if you’re looking for something short and sweet.

These Inconvenient Fireworks by mdasch and everydayslike Honestly an iconic fic that I waited way too long to actually read. Once I finally did it skyrocketed to one of my absolute favorites. The OT5 relationship in this fic is amazing, and TIF Zayn is my favorite fic Zayn ever. Never has a fic made me laugh as much as this one, but also cry my eyes out at the same time. I’ve also never wanted to hit two characters over the head with a brick as much as I did L and H in this fic, but the end makes it so so worth it. Definitely fluffy but also DEFINITELY angsty. Just read it, it’s an icon for a reason.

Hiding Place by @alivingfire (E, 365k) A heavily cannon compliant soulmate AU set mainly in the early days of 1D (but covers the entirety of their journey). This fic is definitely a bit of a slow build, and can get kinda angsty, but is also so damn fluffy my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. I’m not kidding when I say I read this fic nearly for 12 hours straight and still could not get enough. It took me only three days to read it in its entirety and I really didn’t do anything else until I finished. The OT5 relationship in here is amazing and I honestly cannot rave enough about this fic.

dusted in gold series by frenchkiss (Under the lights tonight, M, 21k) (Love me blue, M, 79.5k) I’m just going to use the fic’s summary here bc it’s perfect. Harry’s an A-list supermodel, Louis’s his make-up artist boyfriend. They’re something of a dream team. I just recently found the sequel so I’m still working my way through that one, but the first part is another amongst those very first larry fics I ever read. I’ve read it countless times since, I just love this one so much. 

It’s a Better Place (Since You Came Along) by phdmama (M, 52k) This is one of those fics that I didn’t know I needed until I had stumbled upon it, and boy do I love it so much. Kicked off quarantine with this one in fact. It’s a magical AU as well as a soulmate AU, set on a cruise ship. It’s both Larry and Ziam (and one more ship but I can’t say or it’ll give away part of the plot) and has a really great OT5 relationship as well. I literally read this in one night, went to sleep, woke up and read the whole thing again. I absolutely adore it. 

To Embroider Your Waist With Corals by @smittenwithlouis (M, 100k) If I’m not mistaken this was THE first larry fic I’ve ever read. It’s a fantasy AU where Louis is a harpy and Harry is a mermaid prince, and they practically grow up together. It’s really sweet and also can get a bit angsty, but ultimately it’s really just a fun, mystical adventure watching these two grow up together and fall in love. This one definitely holds a special place in my heart.  

#fic rec #my top ten fics (so far) #say hallelujah say goodnight #there's such a lot of world to see #the dead of july #every promised land #piece by piece #fallen far from the tree #a ghost in my lungs (it sighs in my sleep) #TIF #hiding place #under the lights tonight #love me blue #it's a better place #to embroider your waist with corals #larry fics #louis tomlinson #harry styles #one directions fics #one direction #larry stylinson

[saintheartwing]

Invader Zim: The Pigshit Troll, Part One

Dib didn't like Zim's creative writing stories, and he made that clear to everyone. Now everyone is sure he's the troll going around blasting other people's work and writing horrible, awful things. With his reputation cratered and people despising him...what's to be done? 

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Creative writing! One of the best, easiest ways to express yourself in the school setting. It would be a nice and simple way to boost one's grade point average, too.

But it also told people a lot about the sort of person you were, and that was as clear as could be when it came to the "student" called Zim. Dib was very well aware of that. He scowled a bit as he looked through some of the stories Zim had written, all of them were made available on the school's website just like his was or Zita or Sara or his own sister Gaz's, and there were distinct personalities shining through. Dib had spent a long time reading them in his room, his black, scythe-like hair slicked back a little, adjusting his glasses, wearing his usual black jacket as he looked the stories over.

Gretchen had a lot in common with him. She too liked to write mysteries or science fiction tales. Stories of the fantastic. One particular story had a distinct "Carrie" esque influence, a rather homely-looking girl finding out she had psychic powers and was trying to learn "how to blow shit up with my MIND" as she kept saying to her friends and family around her. It actually ended up working, a Poop cola can shaking about on the table to a pineapple and a watermelon getting blown apart to, at long last, the principal's car going up in a glorious bang right before his eyes, thereby ensuring that she would never, ever again get sent to detention or his office for anything.

Sara's stories showed her strict Catholic upbringing, there was much emphasis on guilt, forgiveness, redemption and religion. She had, however, also shown a clear talent in action schlock, FUN action schlock. Dib was surprised to find himself enjoying her tales of the Saints that she'd adapted into stories for others to read, Saint Sebastian taking more arrows than Boromir in Lord of the Rings, Peter racing for his life to escape a hostile city that wanted to kill him, ducking down every grimy alley he could find, and, of course, her magnum opus was on Saint George, the famous "dragon slayer". Not only did she detail a fantastic fight, but George's refusal to renounce his faith, terrible torture sessions, being sliced and diced on a wheel of swords that STILL didn't kill him before finally being decapitated on a city wall. Sara had clear talent for gripping your attention.

Gaz however, loooooved to write horror stories. One particular story stood out. He was in it. Investigating a haunted house, Gaz had written that Dib had heard a grandfather clock chime when the house had been abandoned for over a hundred years, and the clock couldn't still be working. All of the parts were long since rusted and broken down. Then, he was chased by an axe wielding ghost, cracking through the floor, down into a big dungeon…where even more axe wielding ghosts laid in wait! The ending was a horrible twist one too. He woke up in his bed, all of it had clearly been a dream…until you saw the "OR HAD IT?" at the end, with a special illustration she'd made of Dib holding his own severed head up above his body.

But then it came time to Zim's stories. And were he not wearing that black fake hair and fake contacts, Dib knew the little alien invader would be grinning his zipper-toothed grin with a dark, smug light in his ruby/maroon eyes. That little green-skinned piece of crap.

Zim's stories had serious grammatical errors. Zim's stories had him winning all the time. Zim's stories had him doing disgusting, horrible things to humans and especially to Dib, and to his family. Zim seemed to relish in getting to write all of this down and he LOOOOVED seeing the look on Dib's face when Dib was looking at his smartphone, because he knew, he could tell when Dib was reading one of HIS tales. Dib had a unique mixture of disgust, anger, irritation and revulsion that blended together like a bad smoothie, and Zim was drinking it aaaaaaall in…and loving every second of it.

"This doesn't even begin to make sense!" Dib proclaimed, reading the latest story Zim had written. "Why would I ever, EVER help you…YOU…conquer the galaxy? I've spent my whole life trying to keep you from conquering Earth! Literally, years of my life! You expect me to just do a personality 180 and be like "Irken tyranny is fine"!?" He remarked aloud at Zim, giving him a dark glower. "Oh, and then there's this one, this one here…" He pointed at his smartphone screen. "This one just comes off like a torture porn. How did the teacher let you get away with it? It's just you torturing me for no good reason and rubbing your face in winning. And THIS one expects me to be HAPPY that you're conquering the universe using demonic artifacts so the Irken empire reigns supreme! And then you...kidnap my sister? And you murder people in front of her yet expect us to overlook all that awful stuff because you had a sad past? My childhood has sucked, I didn't grow up to be a megalomaniacal sociopath like you!"

"Bully for you." Gaz remarked with a grunt. "Dib, it's just some fanfics and stories, it ain't a big deal."

"Yeah well maybe not, but it's still gross to me, okay? And if he wants to write about it, I get to complain about it. That's my freedom of speech." He grunted back as Zim smirked and stuck his tongue out at Dib. He had a nice, easy way to get under the human's skin and there wasn't anything he could do.

Nobody had any idea how bad it was going to get.

The next day, their English teacher Nick called the students to pay attention at the front of his class as he walked in, his expression solemn, quiet and disturbed. "I found some…very insulting, horrible reviews put up on the school website, reviewing the stories. I would like whoever wrote them to come forward." He intoned, the rather hairy-armed and hairy-chested young man sighing as he folded his arms over his green t-shirt, Dib looking from him to Zim, then to the rest of the class as they immediately took out their phones to check.

Sure enough, the reviews were astoundingly cruel. They weren't even competently put together.

"THIS STORY IS PIG SHIT! THIS STORY IS PIGSHIT!"

"PIGSHIT FUCK YOUR PIGSHIT NARDS YOU DERPIN PAN!"

"THIS STORY IS PIGSHIT!"

"REVIEW MY STORIEZ! u/3211346 REVIEW MY STORIES OR I WILL FIND YOU IN REAL LIFE AND FORCE YOU!"

"Sheesh." Dib frowned. What the heck was all this? It was all in caps. And it had been left not only on stories done by his classmates, but on other classes too. It was odd…nothing linked them at all. After all, the classmates in the grade older than him were super focused on that silly show "Moon Sailor". And Gaz's class, except for her, had all written tales about "Nakuro the Ninja", they were reeeeaaally into anime and manga lately.

"I don't want to believe anyone in my class wrote these reviews but all of the English teachers are asking their students. So…whomever may be behind these? Step forward."

And that's when some of the kids looked right at Dib, murmuring and muttering amongst themselves as Dib glanced back.

"Why are you all looking at me?" He wanted to know, frowning.

"Your stories didn't get that many bad reviews." Sara remarked.

"I still got some, though!" Dib protested. "Besides, that's not a good enough reason to think I did it!"

"But you're always complaining about ZIM'S stories really furiously and being all pissy." Said Zita.

"Why would I leave an anonymous review complaining about his stories when I've always been open about the fact I hate him?" Dib inquired. "I'm gonna all of a sudden decide after years of complaining about him to hide my complaining behind a mask because…why?" He wanted to know. "Furthermore, all of the "pig shit" reviews are advertising someone ELSE'S stories, not mine! That's not my account he linked! And I'm not even interested at all in those ninja stories or those silly Moon Sailor tales, look at the ones I favorited or left signed reviews on, none of them are in those fandoms. I'm not interested in them, so why would I leave any kind of review, even a raging, hateful one on them? Wouldn't I leave one on something I actually care about enough to get angry or furious over?"

"Yeaaaah, but there's a LOT of hatred in these reviews, and you're the only one in class who gets THAT mad about Zim stories." Gretchen confessed. "It does look kinda bad."

"But whenever I complained about Zim's stories, it was because they were so mean and cruel and misanthropic and Zim was just getting away with being a jerk! I laid out all my points well. And I sure didn't just write in all caps and with bad grammar!" Dib added. "You can't just assume I did it!"

But the kids murmured and muttered amongst themselves as Dib frowned, turning away, Zim sniggering at his misfortune. "Yeah, real funny, Zim. Real funny."

The rumor spread through the school. Poor Dib kept getting really insulting messages left for him on all of his work. Even when none of it even MENTIONED Zim, he got the horrible reviews, accusing him of being a troll, of being "Pig Shit".

"Look at this!" He told the guidance counselor, Mr. Thildari….before he remembered the man with soft white hair and a soft yet dark voice was literally blind and couldn't see it. He wore a white long-sleeve shirt and white pants and sat next to Dib on bean bag chairs in the nice "safe space" he'd set up in his office.

"Could you read it aloud?" The man softly inquired.

"Yeah…sure." Dib sighed. "Heh-hem. "you bash stories all time about Zim, tbh and you bully authors here. you are just as bad as any villain you're bitching about so get the fuck over yoself you preachy hypocrite. if i see more writers quit their storys because you a sneaky, evil person karma will come for you. i hope you believe in Jesus because yo gnna need him and the good Lord to save your sorry ass from going to hell".

"My, my, how very rude of them."

"It gets worse. Some garbled nonsense here too. "nvkdfjsl:Derpin pig shittin h*** humpin nards suckin pan!" And THEN there's " You big fat white nasty smelling fat b*** why you took me off the m*** schedule with your trifling dirty white racist a** you big fat b*** oompa loompa body a** b*** I'm coming outside and I'm going to beat the f*** out of you b***". I mean really?! Oompa Loompa body?! Racist?! Where's all this coming from? And then this guy calls me the q word! What is WRONG with these people?!"

"There has to be some way to stop it." Mr. Thildari remarked softly.

"I don't know HOW. How am I supposed to convince them it isn't me?" Dib groaned, burying his face in his hands as Mr. Thildari gently stroked over his back, and quietly sighed. "What could possibly be good enough for them?"

"I wish I could tell you." The guidance counselor told him. "All I can do is promise you, I'll be here to talk to you. To be as a shoulder to cry on."

"I'm glad you're so good at it." Dib confessed softly as he wiped his eyes on his sleeve, sniffling a bit, trying to fight back tears. "People don't realize how…how fuckin' SHITTY it is. It's this daily grind, waking up every day to see nothing but shit flung at you just for having an opinion they don't like, for trying to make the world a better place, for trying to hold people accountable for the awful things they say and do."

"Well Dib, remember, Zim has the right to write stories, even if you think they're awful or dark or cruel."

"Yeah…sure. Doesn't mean I don't get to complain about them!" Dib muttered. "Everyone forgets that. They just want to be free to post anything up with no critique. But this? This isn't critique I'm getting, this isn't like me pointing out character inconsistencies or how meanspirited a story feels, this is just bashing, this is just trolling, this is just swears and vulgar crap and yelling. That's not free speech, that's like…HATE speech. So what am I gonna do…" He murmured, burying his face in his hands. "…what am I gonna do…"

…what indeed.

Author's Note: Every single review you see from "Pig Shit" and quoted by Dib is literally word for word either what I've received, or what I've been accused of writing. And Dib's views are my own. And that's all I will say for now.

#fanfic #the pigshit troll #pigshit #review #Invader Zim #Zim #Dib #gaz

[schrijverr]

Quiet

Will had always been quiet, this is the story of how he found and lost his voice again through a happy boy in the middle of an awful war.

On AO3.

Ships: implied Blakefield

Warnings: Canon character death, suicidal thoughts and war

~~~~~~~~~~

Will had just turned eighteen when the war broke out. He was old enough to sign up for the war effort and he did along with millions of others. He’d always been a quiet kid, but he loved to read and he had been taken by the grand adventures the characters went on, so he hoped that this would be the start of his very own adventure.

This hope was crushed almost as soon as Will arrived on French soil. He was send to Marne to fight by the river Ourcq. Will didn’t know it was called this at the time, he had only learned that days later when they’d dug themselves in, Germans on the other side. When the battle was done, the fields turned into no man’s land and when the idea that this war was an adventure was beat out of him. He looked and only saw a new sort of slaughterhouse.

Yes, Will had always been quiet, but now, now he barely say a word.

He eventually got some friends, it was hard not to become acquainted with some people when most of your evening activities consisted of sitting around together. They talked about everything and nothing, Will learned more about people’s sex-life than he had ever wanted. He even shared some things about himself, although it was far out of his comfort zone to do so.

There was Hendrickson, who was full of smiles and laughs, with more jokes stored in his head than there was time to tell them.

There was Ryan, who had big dreams of becoming a politician and marrying a rich girl, never taking offense in the reverse marrying-rich jokes from the others.

There was Holland, who shared the silence with Will when the rambunctiousness got too much, but who also had a voice of gold that helped them when the nightmares got too bad and the days too long.

There was Graham, who was as dirty as he was religious, much to the amusements of others, but he was there to say the prayers when it seemed like their last moments had arrived.

Then there was the Somme.

Hendrickson fell in the first wave over the trenches, the closed formation proving a mistake. Ryan got stuck in the barbed wire and shot, the munition not enough to destroy them like they’d been promised. Holland blown up by their own mines that were timed wrong, too early and too late. Graham, who had bled out with his cross still clutched in his hand. And Will, the one who survived.

He survived every god forsaken day at the Somme, all 171 days he lived. He got a medal and a leave out of it, along with memories he could never forget and nightmares that would haunt him till the day he died.

His mother and sister knew he had never been a talker, but they weren’t prepared for the silence that Will carried with him.

He had been back for a few days, Lance Corporal Schofield, leading by example on the front lines when the new supply forces came. They were all fresh out of training with hope in their eyes and young unhardened faces.

Will avoided them as much as he could. He had done this song and dance before. He would sit with them, get to know their names and faces, personality traits and then they would die. And Will couldn’t go through that again, so he found a tree and made it his tree. He sat there when he had time off and he didn’t talk to anyone unless he had orders.

The new Privates soon learned to leave him alone, no one wanted to mess with the quiet one that had been here since the start. One of the longest surviving soldiers on the front and how he wished that fact was different.

Yes, everybody left him alone, just like he wanted, everyone except one.

Lance Corporal Blake, who had gotten that rank on good instinct at training before he had even arrived. He was young, just turned nineteen around Christmas. He was young and it showed, it showed in his enthusiasm, his smiles and in the stories he told. He was a goof and he lightened the mood around camp, always in for a game of cards or some small talk.

He was the opposite of Will in every way, but still he had chosen Will to follow around everywhere.

He was there next to Will when the man woke up and he would follow him to the Mess, they were assigned to dig together and to be the look out. Yet Blake didn’t get bored, he just talked and talked, with happy hand movements and open smiles. He wouldn’t look expectantly at Will when he asked a question, but Will didn’t answer, instead he would shrug and move on like nothing happened. He would even sit in silence next to Will and watch the sun go down.

Will was waiting for the day the smile disappeared and the stories ceased, when Blake would realize the hell he’d found himself in and give up on being lively or, even worse, when there was a battle from which Will would return once more, but there would be no Blake the next day, because his body had become part of the landscape while his soul went up to the heavens and all his mother would get was a letter about how brave he had been. Will hoped the day would never come.

It was early January 1917 when Will opened his mouth without having to for the first time in months. He had barely been aware that he had done it, he had only answered Blake’s question. The boy had been going on about his home and the fields when he had asked Will: “So yeah, I help in the fields in the summer. Where are you from? What do you do in the summer?”

Will had shrugged and said: “London, but not really the good part. I just work in the factory, or I used to at least.”

Normally after Blake had asked a question he would continue on talking, but now he had fallen silent. He was looking at Will with an open mouth, which Will only noticed after he looked at the other when he had fallen silent for a few seconds. He raised an eyebrow and asked: “What?”

His own eyes had grown wide the moment he realized what he had done. He had talked, but that wasn’t the thing that bothered him the most, it was what came with the fact that he had talked that worried him. He only talked when it was necessary or when he was close with someone. It hadn’t been necessary, so that only left being close.

He couldn’t afford it to be close with someone, but now he was. He hadn’t even realized it, but Blake had grown on him and now they were friends. He was friends with Blake and it was too late, when the boy died, the last piece of his heart would die as well.

His brain was screaming at him to run away, to get away from Blake and hope his heart hadn’t gotten too attached. That he could still cut his ties with the other if he ran now. He was almost turning away when Blake smiled and he realized that he was in too far. He knew he couldn’t turn away, not now and not later, his heart had gripped Blake close and wasn’t about to let go.

Still smiling and unaware of the turmoil he was causing Blake said: “That’s still necessary work, Scho. I mean, helping on the fields isn’t exactly glamorous either, but it is fun. You see, me and Joe used to go there and just fuck shit up when we were little and now those people are our bosses, but we were never caught, so they don’t know it was us. We made a game out of it: how many times can we vaguely mention the stuff we got up to before they figure it out? It’s amazing.” and Blake was chattering on once more, leaving Will to follow him, because there was nothing else to do.

He had been a quiet kid, whose silence was a shield that was now slowly being thorn down.

Three months later and Will said about one fifth of their conversations, not nearly taking the lion share, but still talking quite a bit, much to Blake’s excitement. In that short period of time Blake learned that Will had a mother who also worked in the factories and a father who had died at Verdun, but his sister had married quite a well off man and she didn’t need to work at all, she could care for her two children. Twin girls that Will loved a lot, he had jokingly commented that he was the fun uncle however unlikely that may seem, but that was also because he was their only uncle. He had surprised his friend with his dry comments and banter. Blake also learned about Wills love for books and poetry and he listened to Will softly recite them while they sat together watching the sunsets like they had always done.

It was now early April and they had fallen asleep by Wills tree that had slowly become their tree. The Sargent was waking Blake up telling him to pick a man and grab his kit. Will already knew, who Blake would pick, of course he did, because that’s what he had done since he arrived. He had picked Will and Will had followed his lead.

The mission they were send on seemed impossible and Will wanted to wait, to prolong their time together, because something deep down told him that this wasn’t going to end well. It wasn’t going to end well and Will would live, because that was all he had done, he had lived while everything collapsed around him. But Blake wouldn’t listen, he kept on walking and Will kept on following, because there was nothing else he could do.

When the rat tripped the wire he thought that his end had finally come, he vaguely felt bad that Blake would be buried with him, but an ugly and bigger part of him was glad that he didn’t have to live on while Blake died, but then there was a hand pulling him along and miraculously both made it out of there alive.

Will got a bit of hope, so far everything was going as well as it could. Maybe they would make it, both of them, with Blake chattering and he himself commenting here and there. Then they were suddenly talking about medals and Will almost said too much, laid himself bare for this boy, but he stopped himself.

He had never said a lot and he wouldn’t say too much after so long of quiet.

Blake took it in stride, he always had and he didn’t mind to continue chattering on and ignore Wills faults like nothing had happened. Will had never been more grateful for a person than he had been for Blake in that moment.

They walked on until everything suddenly went to shit. Stupid planes, stupid pilot and stupid naivety, they should have kept walking, they should have shot the pilot, but they hadn’t and now Blake was bleeding out in his arms asking the always quiet kid to talk and Will tried, he tried so hard. He told Blake he would write his mum and that he knew the way, that he would find his brother and complete their mission, but more than that he couldn’t say, no matter how much Blake was pleading.

The sounds were stuck in his throat, only exploding out when the soldiers in the truck wouldn’t help him when he had to go on, he had to.

He was focused, he just needed to find the Devon's, find Joe. Silently he was walking, but the quiet kept building up in his head until the dam broke when he found the woman with the baby. He recited a poem, it had been Blake’s favourite and he wanted to never stop telling it, but the church bells rang and he had to go, he had to keep on walking.

Not walking, running. He was running through the streets then he was flying through the air and then, then he was floating. For a moment he thought he was floating away, up to the heavens, but he couldn’t he had a mission. The boy that was singing reminded him of Holland, but Holland was dead along with Blake and soon these people would be as well. They would die if he didn’t keep on running, the mission wasn’t over yet, he could still save them.

Then as almost as suddenly as it had started the mission was over, he was standing in front of Joe and wordlessly gave him the rings that had been on the warm fingers of his brother not even a day ago. He stood there feeling empty, before stumbling over the field where he sat under a lone tree and looked out over the field. It was a sunrise and not a sunset. It was quiet and there was no chattering. He was alone and everything was opposite to normal and it would never go back.

He tried to write the letter, but the quiet kid that had found his voice again had run out of words to say.

The page stayed blank.

#RR writing #1917 #1917 movie #will schofield #Tom blakex will schofield #Tom Blake #joseph blake #Blakefield #tw: war #tw: suicidal thought #canon character death

[good--bye--binary]

Animal Crossing: New Horizons Daily Journal - Day 3 (March 21st, 2020)

If yesterday was all about getting to know the island better, then today was all about getting to know myself better.

First, I woke up to find myself no longer sleeping in a tent, but rather in my new, permanent home! Which begs the question: how in the world did the construction crew (Mr. Nook?) manage to build an entire house around me, including wood floors, while I slept? I mean, I know I was tired from going a tad overboard with all the things I did yesterday, but I can’t imagine I’d ever be able sleep through a house being assembled as I was sleeping in it!

But I digress. I spent most of the day crafting, arranging the furniture and décor I’d ordered through the Nook Stop Terminal and directly from Timmy (or is it Tommy?) in Resident Services, and experimenting with some new looks for myself! First, I freshened up my hair color as the old dye had faded away. Then, using a handy design feature on my Nook Phone (which I also upgraded to Custom Design PRO today), I was able to recreate one of my favorite flannel shirts that I had accidently left at home. My old home, that is. Wow, it still feels strange thinking that Cinnabar is my home now…

What? I’m not crying, you’re crying!

When I stopped by Resident Services today, Mr. Nook congratulated me on my new home, offered to upgrade it further, and provided me with a complimentary Nook Miles Ticket, which allowed me to visit another nearby, uninhabited island. I discovered a plethora of new bugs and fish to catch, helped myself to several coconuts (which aren’t native to Cinnabar), and even met a new friend, Rex! He told me that he was on vacation and wondered what it would be like to live on a remote island. We didn’t have a ton of time to talk, but he seemed like nice enough of a guy that I invited him to move to Cinnabar if he wanted to make that dream a reality.

I made another friend today too, a fellow resident of nearby Evershade named Wolfie. We shared fruits, visited each other’s islands, and had a wonderful chat. It was such a wonderful time, in fact, that I forgot to take even one picture of us together! I’m sure will meet up again soon though, and I’ll be sure to get a picture then. They’re a really fantastic, creative person and has a really fun theme in mind for their island: Luigi’s Mansion. They already had references to Polterpup built on their island and a beautiful dress that they made in the Custom Design app, though their masterful design skills put mine to shame!

Today was also the first day that I spent a significant amount of time wandering the island late at night, and my gosh, what a different place it is! I was attacked by not one but TWO tarantulas! It’s not all scary, though, as I bumped into Wisp, a nervous little specter that was more afraid of me than I was of it. I scared it so severely, in fact, that its body literally split into pieces that spread all across the island! Collecting and returning them to Wisp was the least I could do, but he was also gracious enough to reward me for my effort with some beautiful wallpaper, perfect for my new home.

#acnhdiarychallenge #cinnabarislediary #acnh #acnh switch #acnh spoilers #ac new horizons #new horizons #animal crossing new horizons #new horizons spoilers #animal crossing #animal crossing switch #nintendo #nintendo switch #ac rex

[kanene-yaaay-o-retorno]

Just like any other night

Kanene’s Notes: Sugar! /0/

Spice! \0\

And everything nice! \0/  

To create the perfect fluff

But Kanene accidentally (unless...)

Added an extra ingredients to the concoction--

Angst!!

*Explosion*

*Evil crackling*

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! Good Omens belongs to the incredible Neil Gaiman and  Terry Pratchett; Aaaand the characters of this fic (and AU) themselves belongs to @10yrsyart

* Read here to know the AU Ducks and Dolphins and click here to see everything cannon about the D+D. It’s  f a n t a s t i c! Reaaad!  ^w^)s2

* I didn’t really asked a permission by myself, but this post kind of give permission to write about the AU? (I really hope so xDDD), so, if you also want to write about them please don’t be ashamed ! (And give credits, pleaaaase! :D)

* Something around 1.200 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* This is not cannon. This idea just came because everytime I thought in a fluff, plots of Az cheering up Crow were all that appeared, soooo I tried to challenge me a little and make the opposite. I hope I managed to demonstrate even a little bit of their personality (and don’t have misunderstanding them) well!

* Fanfic em português brasileiro daqui á pouco Thankys for reading, my lollipops! I hope you enjoy this day! Hug a demon, hug an angel and don’t forget to drink water!! Byeioo!~

                                     [~*~]

Aziraphale is calm, stoic, precise, bold, moralistic, firm, direct and ruthless if necessary. He is also sincere, generous, comprehensive, limpid and kind. He is as a pillar, a base. Something concrete, someone who you can lean on for support, trust, belief.

He knows very well how separate his work from his personal life. His feelings from his mind. He is rational, leaded primary by his brain and not-

And n-not-

(Come on. Control your breath. Control yourself. One… two…three…)

In any way, under absolutely no circumstances by his feeli-

(Focus. Focus on something, something, some- a book! Take one of the books. Right. Very well. Focus!)

…

Damn.

His breath came out a little weaker, shaking. He tightened his grip in the fabric of his pants, closing his blue eyes and trying to focus on his own heartbeat, which seemed to reverberate in his dry throat,  attempting to correct his breathing with its.

Inhaled and exhaled. Inhaled and exhaled. Rested his head against the couch, sinking a little deeper into it. Some part of himself was thankful that it was already night, which meant the bookstore were closed and there was no danger of an incident.

There was no danger.

He settled back a little more on the furniture, held the book again, with a little firmer grip than needed as he readjusted it to a more comfortable position where there would be no danger in his thick, warm tears researching its pages, eventually falling and blurring the words of its lovely sentences.

At least it was night, a night just like any other night bathered in a weather of every other nights where there would be no incidents.

“Angel…?”

… Damn.

Crow approached closer to the upright, perfect posed form, seeking his eyes and staring deeply into them, their gold glittering in the night pitch. Az didn’t tried to hide these vulnerable moments, at least not anymore, but neither did he showed them when they became present. His voice came out a little faltering, yet in the calm and characteristic tune he always had.

“Crow, dear, I thought you were already sleeping.”

“I just woke up for a cup of tea.”

They both knew this was a lie, still none of them really mentioned such information when the one with dark hair as the ebony of the night, a night just as any other one, removed the book of his carefully manicured hands and held them for a moment, intertwining their fingers as he got closer enough to finally entwining him in a hug. He loosened the hold for a brief second, only to position the angel’s head on his shoulder, and then tightly hug him again. It was as he was trying to  show that nothing, on Earth, Hell or Heaven, would be able to hurt the angel without going over him, first.

It might seemed as any other previous hug, if it wasn’t for the fabric of his pajamas getting gradually wetter and the slight shivers and sniffles that slipped from the mouth of the one with blonde, almost white, hair. His cry was silently, and for a light of moment, Crow remembered his own cry, which could be described as any other, just a bit louder and with rumpled clothes.

He shook lightly his head, focusing in the present, in the possibilities, the sentences and words that would be said after the storm. His mind felt lethargic and yet running in full speed almost at the same time. Crow combed Az’s hair and gave small, but big in meaning, pecks in his neck without even noticing.

The time itself lost meaning in this piece of time.

A hand tapped softly his back and his head slightly lifted. It was the signal to break the touch, and it was promptly obeyed.

“Do you want to talk about this?” His voice was a special whisper, packed, designated and delivered to just only one being in the entire universe.

“There is nothing to be said.” Even with everything, his voice still lacked major flaws or slips. It was made of a calm, sad nature. “It is just…” And the owner of hundreds of books, reader for thousands years and maestro of words ended up losing himself in them.

‘It’s just…’  Crow wondered if even the humans, at some point of their existence, could understand all the feelings and sensations between the lines that this phrase could possess.

Probably.

Everyone does, in some way or another, doesn’t it?

The black-haired never paid much attention to time, especially after such thing already fulfilled its basic function of lead him as far as possible from that particular century. However, this day, he almost could see the sand of hourglass pouring grain-by-grain as he let the angel running his fingers through his hair, pressing his back on the blonde’s sweater and stroking the back of the other’s hand with his thumb. His warmth and presence were the necessary reminders that Az needed to focus on the here, in the Bookstore rocked by this ordinary night, and now, with the best company he could ever wish to be.

A piece more of time was spent. Maybe two, three, and perhaps a little more.

…

“We should go out.”

“What are you rambling about, Crow love? We always go out.”

“No. I mean… for something different! Not just a lunch.”

“A day to just wander, you mean?”

“Maybe.” Shrugged, pondering, his tongue absently wriggling in the ar. Az tightened a bit more the touch, feeling lighter as allowed his mind travel and dance between some possibilities for the future meaning of this conversation. “We should make a picnic!”

“A picnic?’

“Yes! In any place, nearby or far away! We could take the food or milacre it there. I can give you a ride.”

His head turned, his heart floating and expanding when he saw that the trail of tears had faded from his husband’s face, and now the red was also beginning to gradually leave his skin.

Az pondered for a few minutes, eyes gleamming.

“I don’t think I’ve ever married at a picnic before.” Smiled, and part of his soul melted with the beauty in the other’s happy expression, along with the smile that also was painted in the demon’s face, he was absolutely sure.

“Let me tempt you, then.” Crow hissed, carrying on their internal joke, since they, after their last wedding-lunch, decided that from now on there would be no more dates, only weddings.

Az raised an eyebrow, giving him a playful disbelief look. Their foreheads met. The angel closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling a light, which came neither from the stars, cars, poles and nor the living room lamp, little by little filling his being.

“I love you, Aziraphale.” Their eyes met.

“I love you too, my husband.”

Perhaps they had spent some time like this, in silence, enjoying themselves. Perhaps they had slowly moved away right after the talk, holding hands, a warm feeling in their chest. Who really knows? It is a moment only for them, so let it be.

“The preparations should be started, then!” The one with blue limpid eyes, now up, excitedly leaded to the kitchen. “Milacre a massive amount of food certainly would alert your side just as mine, so, I believe the best option we got is cook by our own.”

Crow scowled, which evolved to as annoyed expression as received the lightly incisive and inquisitive look from the other, puffing up his cheeks and deviating the glare as he dispirited followed his steps into the other room.

“Fffffffine.” Gave up of the dream to sleep that night. However, deep inside, he knew worth it just to watch the blonde-haired angel calmly, excited walking his eyes and fingers through the Recipe Books were under his care. Urg. The sacrifices that must be made. “But I’m not using a patterned apron!”

And the cars drove through the streets, the stars hardly glowed in the sky and the worlds kept not an even bit silent during that sunless hours, just as any other night of any other day. Nevertheless, on that store, more specifically a Bookstore, at that moment and for those two, maybe this wasn’t a common night anymore, and would definitely lead to a day not even a little ordinary, either.

A recipe book was open, some bright smiles (maybe trying to help the stars?) too.

“Sure, my dear. I would never…” replied Az, trying to decide which color would most highlight Crow’s duck patterned pajamas.

#Good Omens AU #Ineffable Husbands #Crow #Az #Ducks and Dolphins #fluff and angst #Hurt/Comfort #Fluff #Angst #They're so lovely <3 #Alternative Universe #Picnic #D+D AU #Oneshot #Kanene's Fanfic #Kanene's Art #Reposting because I'm gonna delete this from my other account #<33

[starbuck]

Choir Music Recs!

As promised, here is my list of choir songs that I recommend to everyone, not just choir folks. It’s definitely highly biased to my personal taste and experience (so much so that I’m organizing it by school year!) so this list is just a tiny fraction of the amazing choir music out there that you can find and listen to on youtube or elsewhere but it’s a good place to start at least!

I’ll be linking one or more recordings that are online free for each song and I’ll also include a little personal blurb with each rec because why not (but feel free to skip those and just listen to the music - I won’t be offended)!

Now, without further ado, here’s the list!!

Freshman year:

There Will Come Soft Rains by Kevin Memley

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn, would scarcely know that we were gone.

I’m a little short on recs for freshman year since I was in Select Women’s Choir rather than Chorale but I couldn’t make this list without including this song. This was the first of three pieces I sang in high school that’s an arrangement of a Sara Teasdale poem. Without this, I might not even know about one of my favorite poets! And the music is so beautiful that there’s no better introduction to Sara Teasdale. Fun Fact! I had a “solo note” in this song because all the other Soprano 1′s were afraid to sing a high A (cowards).

Sophomore year:

Jenny by Ryan Kerr and Nick Myers

In the darkness, in the starlight, I hear angels sing your name as they bear you through the heavens to the light from which you came. Quietly the strain falls out of tune. Shadows steal across a lonely moon. I miss you so.

This song was and is of such massive importance to me that I don’t think I could possibly overstate my love for it. The lyrics and arrangement are so gorgeous that Chorale just sort of melted together as we sang it. And we cried. There was a lot of crying. The recording I’m going to link is from one of my high school’s concerts last year because some seniors (who sang this with me when they were freshmen) wanted to sing it one last time and got a small group together to do so. There are possibly “better” recordings out there, but I could never listen to one that isn’t from my school because I know how much love it was sang with there. (Not pictured in the video: me, in the front row at the concert, quietly singing along to the Soprano 1 part.)

My Soul’s Been Anchored in the Lord by Moses Hogan

Do you love him? (Oh yes!) Do you love him? (Hallelujah!) Do you love him? (Oh yes!) God almighty! (Are you anchored?) Are you anchored? (Oh yes!) YES I’m anchored my soul’s been anchored in the Lord!

There are no lyrics I could possibly include that could hope to get across how truly incredible this song is so my advice is to just have a listen - you will not regret it! This was essentially Chorale’s anthem sophomore year; we seriously loved singing this because it was just SO fun! All I regret about high school choir is that we didn’t sing more from Moses Hogan because holy moly are his arrangements amazing!

Sleep by Eric Whitacre

Upon my pillow safe in bed, a thousand pictures fill my head. I cannot sleep my mind’s a’flight and yet my limbs seem made of lead. If there are noises in the night, a frightening shadow, flickering light, then I surrender unto sleep where clouds of dream give second sight.

This is the piece that got little fifteen year-old me to raise my hand during rehearsal and and say “I think this song might be about death” to which my choir director replied something along the lines of “no shit” (but in a nice way because she’s not a mean person lol). This is one of the most beautiful choir songs I’ve ever heard and the quintessential Eric Whitacre piece full of “big smushy chords” and dissonance. If you don’t listen to anything else on this list, listen to this one. Also! the recording I’m linking here is from Voces8 which is a group I highly recommend checking out in general.

Junior year:

I Should Be Glad by Susan LaBarr

I should be glad of loneliness And hours that go on broken wings, A thirsty body, a tired heart And the unchanging ache of things, If I could make a single song As lovely and as full of light, As hushed and brief as a falling star On a winter night.

This is an arrangement of my favorite Sara Teasdale poem, “Compensation,” which I have included the full text of above. When I sang this piece, I, and most of my Choralemates as well, I believe, misconstrued the text to mean “I ought to be glad” rather than its actual meaning, “I would be glad (if...)” which drastically altered our interpretation and made us dislike it quite a bit. Since getting into Teasdale’s work though, I revisited the poem and realized our error. With my reading now correct, I appreciate this arrangement a lot more and I wish I had understood it at the time because it truly is a beautiful work in all ways.

Rytmus by Ivan Hrusovsky

(uhhhh just listen to it lol)

Here’s a fun one! We definitely struggled to get our tempo up on this one because of how challenging the music was to learn but it’s quite the thing to listen to a choir that gets it right.

Only in Sleep by Ēriks Ešenvalds

Only in sleep Time is forgotten— What may have come to them, who can know?

Another Sara Teasdale poem! This one probably made the largest impression on me because Chorale ended up singing it at a funeral so it carried some heavy emotions for us. Another piece that is beautiful in every way.

No Time by Susan Brumfield

Rise, oh fathers rise, let’s go meet ’em in the skies. We will hear the angels singing in that morning. Oh I really do believe that, just before the end of time, we will hear the angels singing in that morning.

I almost gave up on looking for a good recording of this piece on youtube, not because there aren’t a lot to choose from by talented choirs, but because I think there’s a certain amount of awe one has to convey to sing this piece correctly. I sang it with Quartet to open our Spring Concert (which had been transformed into a memorial concert for a beloved teacher who had passed suddenly and also moved from our school to a massive theatre downtown, so you can imagine the kind of pressure we were under). Needless to say, we were terrified, but this piece is also terrifying so it sort of fit and we sang it well. (Note for the video: this choir is absolutely incredible but the person recording goes a bit nuts with the zoom function of their camera so maybe don’t look at the screen as you listen!)

The Storm is Passing Over by Charles Tindley and Barbara Baker

Have courage my soul and let us journey on, though the night is dark and I am far from home. Thanks be to God, the morning light appears.

The sister song to ‘No Time’ at the previously mentioned concert! This was my favorite piece I ever did with Quartet and we often randomly broke into it during rehearsals the next year because we loved it so much. I spoke up about this song during a Quaker meeting I attended at some point because I had an epiphany about the lyrics and it felt like the right thing to do in the moment. Afterwards people told me what I said was good but I think they were just being nice. (Notes: the song begins about one minute into the video I linked and also, check out the full original lyrics by Charles Tindley here - they’re incredible!)

This Marriage by Eric Whitacre

May this marriage be a sign of compassion, a seal of happiness, here and hereafter.

This song is just gorgeous. It’s relatively low-key for an Eric Whitacre piece but its understatedness highlights the beauty of the arrangement. I don’t have to tell you that Rumi was an amazing poet but also I love how the end of this piece just descends into joyful singing without words. When one is out of words to speak, then one must sing.

Loch Lomond by Jonathan Quick

Oh! Ye’ll take the high road, and I’ll take the low road, And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye, But me and my true love will never meet again, On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.

I’m cheating a bit by including this on the list because I did not personally sing this piece. However, five guys who were in Chorale decided to form a small group and sing this song at both the memorial concert and the funeral so, having heard them sing it a handful of times in such emotional settings, it was special to me as well. (Note for the video: the intro is very goofy and the actual song begins at 1:10 so skip to that! It’s truly a fantastic performance and it sounds very like what my Choralemates did since it’s a quartet.)

Senior year:

Will the Circle Be Unbroken by J. David Moore

I was born down (I was born down) in the valley (in the valley) where the sun refuse to shine (where the sun refuse to shine) but I’m climbing (but I’m climbing) up to the highlands (up to the highlands). Gonna make that mountain mine!

This song was taught to us and directed by our student teacher from the local university. A lot of our student teachers in past years had been awkward and too nervous to truly engage with us but she was the best we ever had. This song was unifying for us and always a delight to sing. The recording I’m linking is from a concert at my school the year after I graduated where they reprised the song and it’s as wonderful as ever.

The Wisdom of the Moon by Susan LaBarr

in the dark of night, let me learn the wisdom of the moon. How it waxes and wanes but does not die, how it gives itself to shadow knowing it will return whole once more.

This was the song that I had the largest and most extensive solo in throughout my entire high school choir experience so it made quite the impression on me. And beyond that, the poem that forms the lyrics is so beautiful. Sometimes I’ll just be minding my business and suddenly think “(God of the two lights) I love the sun” and suddenly I’m singing the whole song to myself. There’s actually a recording of Chorale singing this song with me as the soloist so I’m going to link that version (although there are other wonderful versions out there as well that I encourage you to check out!). Credits to my friend Giovani for the first solo, mine is the second, descant-y one!

Hold On! by Moses Hogan

Nora, Nora let me come in; / de door’s all fastened an’ de winders pinned! 

Just keep yo’ hand on de plow, / an’ you hold on, yes, you just hold on! 

Nora said, “You lost yo’ track, / you can’t plow straight an’ keep a lookin’ back.”

At least we did one other Moses Hogan song while I was in Chorale and this one did NOT disappoint! It’s one of my all-time favorite choir pieces to this day. Further, it caused me to look into the parable being referenced here which led me to this wonderful article that I will never miss an opportunity to plug even though I’m not personally religious! The other day when I decided (for some unknown reason) to clamber up a steep rock face rather than just walking up an easily-accessible path, I got nervous halfway up but was too afraid to try to climb back down so, without even thinking about it, my brain supplied me with the beginning of this song and before I knew it, I was quietly singing to myself “keep on climbin’ an’ don’t you tire, ‘cause ev’ry rung goes higher and higher!” and I made it safely to the top. 

Ubi Caritas by Ola Gjeilo

(it’s in Latin lol)

Not a whole lot to say here other than that no choir recs list is complete without Ola Gjeilo and this piece is beautiful and haunting. 

Unclouded Day by Shawn Kirchner

Oh, they tell me of a home far beyond the skies, they tell me of a home far away, and they tell me of a home where no storm clouds rise, oh, they tell me of an unclouded day.

One of my favorite pieces that I ever did with Chorale, even out of these. It’s so beautiful and uplifting and I think of it every time I step outside and the sky is perfectly blue. Another song that truly just has to be heard to be believed. The recording I’m linking is of the NDSU Concert Choir which has so much amazing choral content on its youtube channel and I highly recommend you check them out further!

I Will Lift Mine Eyes by Jake Runestad

The sun shall not harm you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will keep you from all evil, He will keep your soul.

Honestly, I’ve blocked out many memories of high school because it was such a truly awful time in my life, so when an old Choralemate of mine posted on her instagram story about how the time when Chorale sat down before singing this song and talked about our emotions and what this text meant to us, I was heartbroken that I didn’t remember it. What I do remember though is that, at our concert, an alumni who had graduated the previous year and had been through a lot of awful stuff sat in the front row and mouthed the words along with us while crying and we all cried while singing it. There was a connection we all made through this piece and, although things were pretty awful a lot of the time, we got through it together and that means a lot to me.

//

Now that the main list is done, here are some pieces I didn’t personally sing but I still love a lot and recommend wholeheartedly:

- I Can Tell the World by Moses Hogan

- Bright Morning Stars by Jay Althouse + bonus link of another version

- Lux Aurumque by Eric Whitacre

- Earth Song by Frank Ticheli

- Famine Song by Matthew Culloton

- The Seal Lullaby by Eric Whitacre

#here's the post!!! #yay! #edit: forgot a link! fixed now!!