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goodnightoilcountry · 12 days

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jo's nhl fic rec list !

hi - welcome to my attempt at being a fic writer again. i have a wip list in the works but first things first: my fic rec list of all the works i've found and adored.

if you don't know yet, you will know soon that i am such a sucker for angst. i hope you find something new to love from the list below !

i will aim to update this weekly with new additions have NEW tagged next to it. additionally, if any fics become archived / deleted i will also tag it as such.

* updated thursday 25 april 2024 *

weekly note: so, i've sadly had to remove summaries of each fic to make way for new fics. i'm going to think of a solution to work around this, but whatever i do, this will still remain the masterlist for my fic recs!

like my selection of fic recs? have a player who's not been featured? let me know and i'll go on a deep dive for you!

ANAHEIM DUCKS

better man (trevor zegras) by @starry-hughes

hard to forget (trevor zegras) by @hockey-fics

something about the sunshine (trevor zegras) by @huggybug word count: 3k

last night in anaheim (trevor zegras) by @itsjusthockey word count: 2.3k

CAROLINA CANES

do i really have to tell you (brady skjei) by @senditcolton

this is how it ends (sebastian aho) by @silverstonesainz-archive

i could love you with my eyes closed (sebastian aho) by @matthewtkachuk

finish line (sebastian aho) by @silverstonesainz-archive

lover boy (seth jarvis) by @sydnikov

being bold (seth jarvis) by @sydnikov

9PM in Vancouver (andrei svechnikov) by @thewintersoldierdisaster

in five (andrei svechnikov) by @sydnikov

NEW - sunkissed: pt 1, pt 2 & pt 3 (andrei svechnikov) by @sydnikov

NEW - all the pretty girls (pyotr kotchetkov) by @unluckyhoneybee

COLORADO AVS

summers back home (nathan mackinnon) by @happer08

crushes with beefcake (nathan mackinnon) by @ohmyeyesmyeyes

i didn't have it in myself to go with grace (nathan mackinnon) by @mattyanonwrites

monday morning (nathan mackinnon) by @matthewtkachuk

colorado (for the first time) (nathan mackinnon) by @withwritersblock

FLORIDA PANTHERS

subtle (matthew tkachuk) by @hockey-hoe-24-7 word count: 3.1k

you say you hate me (matthew tkachuk) by @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys

all for you (4 times you tried to tell Brady you loved him, and one time matty did it for you): pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4 & pt 5 (matthew tkachuk) by @comphersjost

4 times you fake a relationship + 1 time you didn't (matthew tkachuk) by @hockeywhy

4 times you didn;t find the one + 1 time you did (matthew tkachuk) by @hockeywhy

homecoming (matthew tkachuk) by @doc-pickles

NEW JERSEY DEVS

gin, tonic, and tequila shots (jack hughes) by @hockey-fics

stay the night (jack hughes) by @eyesthatroll

everybody wants you, but i don't like a gold rush (jack hughes) by @sunkissed-zegras

invisible string (luke hughes) by @hugshughes

tidal wave (luke hughes) by @babydollmarauders

drops of jupiter: pt 1 & pt 2 (jack hughes) by @youunravelme

breakable heaven series: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4 & pt 5 (jack hughes) by @chewingcyanide

hey, i can be your boyfriend (nico hischier) by @theemporium

second best (jack hughes) by @chewingcyanideA

my heart's racing, and it isn't the exercise (luke hughes) by @sunnyskiesscareme

head start (jack hughes) by @youunravelme

first rule of fight club (jack hughes) by @thatintrovertedwriter

valentines (nico hischier) by @hischierdevils

reaching out (jack hughes) by @bedsyandco

clumsy (jack hughes) by @babydollmarauders

a walk down memory lane (jack hughes) by @letsgetrowdy43

lover of mine (nico hischier) by @ohmyeyesmyeyes

you're not the one (nico hischier) by @ladylooch

moth to a flame (jack hughes & trevor zegras) by @itsjusthockey

when the party's finally over: pt 1 & pt2 (jack hughes) by @itsjusthockey

NEW - off limits: pt 1 & pt 2 (nico hischier) by @hischierhoney

NEW YORK ISLANDERS

five times everyone knew mat loved you & the one time mat realized himself (mathew barzal) by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

bad luck charm (mathew barzal) by @matwith1t

show you (mathew barzal) by @islesnucks

to all the girls you've loved before: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6 (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme

the word wing-woman (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme

this is how you fall in love (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme

it's nice to have a friend (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme

we've come so far baby (mathew barzal) by @mendeshoney

TORONTO MAPLE LEAFS

cause i'm not ready (auston matthews) by @misshoneyimhome

3 times people asked you if you an auston were together + 1 time you finally are? (auston matthews) by @bedsyandco

we're parents? like actually parents? (auston matthews) by @austonwithan-o

moth to a flame (auston matthews ft mitch marner) by @marnerparty

VANCOUVER CANUCKS

lucky (quinn hughes) by @43-hugs

4 times everyone else caught on before the 1 time you and quinn finally did (quinn hughes) by @mrsensitive

5 times Quinn wanted to kiss you + 1 time he finally did (quinn hughes) by @bedsyandco

friend's don't (quinn highes) by @hischierdevils

third time's the charm (quinn hughes) by @thatintrovertedwriter

fearless (quinn hughes) by @theemporium

plus one (quinn hughes) by @bagopucks

growing up is (quinn hughes) by @adoristsposts

NEW - home (brock boeser) by @bedsyandco

NEW - nothing but love (quinn hughes) by @starry-hughes

NEW - can i be close to you? (quinn hughes) by @43-hugs

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piratefalls · 5 months

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another long list, except it's a day early because this is how i give thanks.

list one. list two. list three. list four. list five.

No Sense or Sensibility by inexplicablymine

“When and where was your first kiss.” Oh shit. The thing is… Alex actually has an answer to this one, it’s just a matter of admitting that it happened. ____________________ Kennedy’s. 7pm, Pub Quiz and Ice Cream. Every Monday ‘til death due us part. Alex liked his little routine, until Derryl got it in his head to host The goddamn Newlywed Game instead.

I'm Rememberin' I Promised (to Forget you Now) by Angelwithwingsoffire

It's been six years since Alex Claremont-Diaz graduated law school. And he's made a good life for himself, working with a firm he enjoys and making a difference in the world. Until a part of his past he'd thought he'd gotten over seven years ago walked back into his office asking for his help. To get a divorce. Which Alex has never done before. But he's never been able to say no, and he's willing to put his heart back under the bus for the chance at one more smile.

Rogue's Gallery by OrchidScript

Loathe as Alex was to admit it, Henry Fox was going to be a legend someday. He already was in the bureau depending on who was answering. Tied to art theft, jewel theft, one or two little sweet confidence schemes, and an alleged counterfeit Super Bowl ring, but caught on three counts of art forgery, the blond Brit had run circles around the Art Crimes division for six years. He was quick, smarter than the average bear, and more detail-oriented than a nuclear chemist. He had a penchant for nice suits, silk ties, and gin tonics with lime. He wrote letters to agents in taunting poetry, tucking them under windshield wipers or posting them to the office directly. Once, he managed to drop one directly into the pocket of a plainclothes officer without them seeing his face. _____________________ Henry Fox is a famous art forger, and Alex is the FBI agent who caught him three years ago. When one of Henry's aliases comes up attached to a new case, can the two put aside their cat-and-mouse past to put the copycat away?

Queer little ducks hold a special place in my heart. by anarchyat4am

Henry’s at a local Hispanic Heritage Month event browsing the art stalls when his gaze catches on a kid looking around with both purpose and nervousness. She’s fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt with one hand while she bites the nails of the other one, eyes alert and searching. Lost, then. And oh, Henry recognises her. She’s a regular at his bookstore, even at only six years old, and is there at least weekly with her dad—Alex, who she’d introduced to Henry as her papi—or various aunties and uncles, most of whom Henry doesn’t think are actually related to her. Keeping one eye on her, he lets his gaze sweep the vicinity but doesn’t see anyone else he even remotely recognises. Shit. He has to do something. “Sirena?” he calls gently. * Henry... is more than a bit useless around hot guys. So when he finds the lost kid of the gorgeous dad who frequents his bookstore, he pulls himself together until they reunite, only to then be devastated by the revelation that the man thinks Henry hates him. And, well... courage always rises, and all that.

just say you won't let go by viciouslyqueer

After dancing around each other for months, Alex and Henry finally get together. The morning after comes with a slight misunderstanding and comforting words.

We were supposed to find this by kiwiana

Still, half an hour after shaking Prince Henry’s hand for the first time, he finds himself back in his hotel room with one shoe and sock hurriedly tugged off and his right foot resting on his left knee. Just to check. Just in case Alex is somehow, by some miracle, about to become the first documented case of Surprise! You Can Totally Have A Different Soulmate, We Fucked Up And Your One Kind Of Sucks. No such luck. The words are the same as they’ve always been, etched into his skin in a careful, calligraphic font. The kind of handwriting someone might have if, for example, they came from the sort of family that valued tradition and etiquette far higher than letting their children write like normal human beings.

Sit. Down. Please Stay. by politics_and_prose

Alex adopts a dog he found abandoned on the side of the road. She's nervous and he wants to make sure he knows how to give her the best life possible. Enter Henry Fox and his beagle David.

muscle memory by stutteringpeach

It's been ten years since Alex was in London to stage a PR friendship with Henry after ruining the royal wedding. It's also been ten years since Alex dropped to his knees in front of Henry in a Kensington Palace kitchen. But now Henry's in the Hamptons for the summer, and who should he bump into? None other than Alex Claremont-Diaz, who happens to be working in New York all summer long.

The Perils of Midsomer Residency by clottedcreamfudge

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you that care should be taken, given the Mountchristens' local influence?" Liam nods. "Sir." Luna then turns to Alex. "Do not piss anyone in that family off." Alex throws his hands in the air. "So many aspersions have been cast on my good character this morning that I could start a fucking farm. An aspersions farm." Luna narrows his eyes. "Correction," he says, "have another coffee and then do not piss anyone in that family off. Don't make me regret fast-tracking you through the ICI Development Programme." * After getting shot in the line of duty back in Texas, June forces Alex into a change of scenery. Because how much can really be going on in the quaint little English county of Midsomer?

something that feels like forever by dearestalez

“You’re crying,” she pointed out. Alex choked on a laugh, wiping his eyes. “I’m just-” he sniffed, holding her so delicately Henry felt herself melt into the touch. “I’m so happy for you, baby.” — alex and henry are so in love it makes me want to rip out my heart and stomp on it but slash pos

behind brick walls by weather_stained

After Henry and Alex move in together, it takes quite a while for them to fully adjust to their newfound freedom. Alex very much enjoys watching Henry grow more comfortable in his own skin after a lifetime of looking over his shoulder.

It's a (Birth)date by Celaestis

5 times Henry is oblivious that they're dating and 1 time he isn't.

Save a Horse, Ride a Princess by affectionatelyrs

“I have to say, this is all quite literal, don’t you think?” Alex wouldn’t know literal right now if it hit him in the head. “Huh?” Henry points at Alex: “Pillow Princess,” and then to himself: “Cowboy. Ready to ride and all that.” Alex nods dumbly. “Right.” - Or, Alex and Henry dress up as the ultimate couples costume for Halloween — themselves — and they both feel some kind of way about it

baby boy by smc_27

It starts as a joke. Alex taking the piss about how much money Henry has. How he could have anything he wanted, from anyone he wanted, if only he just asked.

My Songs Know Secrets You're Sick of Keeping by ma_lark_ey, paythe_piper

"How about this," Alex offered, "If I win AOTY, I announce Henry and I in my acceptance speech. If I don't, we do it your way." OR: Alex is a world famous pop punk star, Henry is still the Prince of England, and the public is onto them.

Au Naturel by cmere

The French doors leading to the office are thrown open, so he has a moment to take in the scene in front of him: Alex, lying on his stomach on the floor, feet kicked up and crossed at the ankle, surrounded by books, papers, and two open laptops. None of that, however, catches Henry's attention as much as Alex's hair, secured in a small, messy knot on top of his head with nothing but a single wooden chopstick. Henry blinks rapidly several times. "Alex," Henry says, somehow hoarse. Alex's head whirls around. There's a single, perfectly curled tendril over the apple of his cheek; his scruff has hit the mystical, magical point where it's more soft beard than prickly shadow; his reading glasses sit atop his adorable nose; and Henry realizes with sudden gravity that he's not entirely in control of his physical responses anymore—something has to give. Alex hasn't really been bothering with some of his usual upkeep, and Henry is kind of extremely into it.

You deserve my love by whateveridk

“I’ll leave as soon as you tell me to." Henry had turned towards him, stealing himself, sticking his chin out, and said “leave.” Alex has been picking up the pieces ever since. Two years later, living with Nora and June in NYC, it still haunts him, but it's fine. Whatever, he is fine. And then... Breaking News: Prince Henry comes out as gay So it's not fine, Alex is not fine.

sex ed in 6 steps by coffeecatsme

“Please tell me you used a condom, Fox,” Alex drawls out, leaning against the wall, and Henry chokes on his next breath.“Excuse me?”“You’re gonna tell me all about this tomorrow, but for the love of God, tell me you used a condom and we won’t have mini Henrys on campus anytime soon.” Or, 5 times Alex thinks Henry's straight and 1 time he finds out the truth. Or, 5 times Alex jokes about Henry's sex life and 1 time he gets to be a part of it.

More Than A Makeover by everwitch

The Fab Five—Alex, June, Nora, Liam and Spencer—descend on a New York based shelter for disenfranchised queer youth to give the place a much needed makeover. As the week progresses, sparks start to fly between Alex, the culinary representative of the queertastic quintet, and Henry, the sweetly charming founder of the shelter. It’s a deeply emotional week full of unexpected realizations, and certainly a week that strengthens Henry’s friendship with Pez in ways that neither of them quite knew they needed. As the week comes to a close and the Queer Eye team say their goodbyes, it remains to be seen what will become of the warm connection between Alex and Henry. Will it last, or was it too much of a perfect miracle to ever grow into something real?

The Royal Wedding by DracoWillHearAboutThis

HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE HENRY OF WALES AND MR ALEXANDER CLAREMONT-DIAZ ARE ENGAGED TO BE MARRIED HM Queen Mary is delighted to announce the engagement of Prince Henry to Mr. Alexander Claremont-Diaz. The wedding will take place in the Spring or Summer of 2025, in London. Further details about the wedding date will be announced in due course. Prince Henry and Mr. Claremont-Diaz became engaged earlier this week during a private holiday in Paris. Prince Henry has informed The Queen and other close members of his family. Prince Henry has sought and received the blessings of Mr. Claremont-Diaz's parents. The couple will live in Nottingham Cottage at Kensington Palace.

A Toast to the Night by allmylovesatonce

Henry looks up from his drink and swears his jaw drops. Standing in front of him is one of the most beautiful men he’s ever seen. From his dark brown curls to the way his deep eyes gleam as he stands there, an awkward smile on his face. Henry is nearly sure this man is going to ask for his seat. He probably has some woman with him, scouring for a place to sit. “Uh, hi,” the man says. “Hi.” “Look, this is really awkward,” he says and Henry feels the confirmation in his gut — also maybe disappointment. “My ex-boyfriend just walked in and I really don’t want to talk to him. I was wondering if I could sit here with you so that he won’t talk to me.”

That's What You Get For Waking Up in Vegas by bleedingballroomfloor

The bartender slides Alex the whiskey and shot of water before turning her attention to the person behind him. He turns around at the same time as the person speaks, “Gin and tonic” in all rounded vowels, a distinct English accent shining through, and he swears his heart stops. “Holy shit,” Alex says before he can stop the words from slipping out of his mouth. “Henry?” When Alex is celebrating June and Nora's bachelorette party in Vegas, the last person he expects to see is his ex-boyfriend Henry, who moved back to London nearly a year ago. Waking up next to him the following morning, naked and sated with a marriage certificate poking out of his pocket, he starts to wonder if he's truly over Henry.

hang on 'til the chaos is through by ShyAudacity

David is lounging on his spot at the foot of the bed when Alex comes in. He opts not to turn on the light, not wanting to disturb Henry, but then quickly finds that the light is on in their bathroom. Henry must still be getting cleaned up before bed; Alex can say hello and check on Henry when he steps out. It’s weird that he’s still up. Henry was awake well before Alex was this morning and… come to think of it, Alex can’t remember him ever coming to bed last night. Alex has only made it through the top three buttons on his dress shirt when he hears a terrifying crash come from the bathroom. Clutching his chest, he steps towards their shared bathroom, afraid to see what’s on the other side. “Henry? …H, what was-.” Alex stops short in the doorway, startled to find the love of his life in a miserable heap on the bathroom floor.

Sad Again (Don't Tell My Boyfriend) by lucy_in_the_sky

After proposing to Alex, Henry writes a letter to his father reflecting on all the moments he’ll never get to share with him. AKA Alex comforts a mourning Henry and promises to be there for him, forever and always.

monster mash by matherine

None of Henry’s answers to “Who are you supposed to be?” are particularly funny to anyone but him, especially in his inebriated state, so he’s completely given up on making any sense when the latest person asks him, someone who he assumes is yet another sorority girl in a skimpy costume from the glimpse of a cheerleading skirt he gets while they brush past him to open the fridge. “George Villiers,” he offers. “Deep cut, England,” a decidedly male voice snorts, and Henry can’t help the way his head snaps up, eyes wide.

Take it Down Low / Make Me Get High by Mags (sparklepocalypse)

“Henry,” Alex rasps wonderingly, sounding almost entranced, “I want to eat your ass.” Henry’s train of thought screeches to a halt with such force that for a moment, he thinks he might’ve had a stroke.

how did a middle-class divorcé do it? by Time_Sequence

Not really concerned, Alex watched the typing bubble appear – disappear – appear again, like Henry couldn’t quite find the words to say what it was he was thinking. Most likely, he was trying to find the perfect sarcastic quip in response. What came through made him genuinely pause. HRH Prince Dickhead💩: You complete and utter moron Then, HRH Prince Dickhead💩: Royalty can’t marry divorcees If Alex had been having a good time before, he definitely wasn’t now. - When a joking interview reveals that Alex and Nora drunkenly married ten years ago, suddenly Alex's upcoming wedding to Prince Henry is jeopardised.

discreet packaging by demigodbeautiies

“Please, please, please explain to me,” Zahra says, finally, sounding more than a little bit long-suffering. “Why I had to have the head of the Secret Service sit me down and tell me to give you a talk about avoiding bomb scares with unidentifiable packaging.”

the world watched (and the world smiled) by fangirl6202

"Oh,” Alex says finally, faintly, touching one hand to his lips. Then: “Shit.” His mind catches up then, realizing that Henry is walking away and he doesn't even think twice. He begins to quite literally chase after him, trying to get to him before he can get away or, God forbid, try to fly back to England and ghost him. Henry is very pointedly not looking at him, stuttering apology over apology until Alex has to quite literally throw himself in front of him to get him to stop. Alex doesn’t know what to do. But the answer is simple, isn’t it? So fucking simple. He takes Prince Fucking Charming’s lapels into his hand and kisses him back. Or; it's New Years, and Henry stays.

Rabbit Hole by TuppingLiberty

Some sort of non-famous au, don't worry, there's not really a plot. Alex has been going down a research rabbit hole for hours and Henry comes to rescue him.

Let Loose Your Glow by athousandrooms

“Seems like my liege was caught in a situation where he’d rather the ground swallow him whole.” Pez nods towards a spot to the side, and Alex follows his gaze. He spots Henry easily – a tall lighthouse of tousled blond hair – talking to a girl who is clearly into him. His expression looks perfectly polite, but he’s subtly leaning away, and he looks tense. So, Alex makes an impulsive decision. Whatever happens, this is going to be fun. *** Or: Alex is so very definitely straight, so pretending to be Henry’s boyfriend to get him out of an awkward situation should just be a fun little pastime - except that he doesn't really want to stop, and he has no idea why. But maybe it's okay to not think too hard and let himself go with the flow, for once.

Things I Cannot Accept by SprigsofViolets

In 2016, Ellen Claremont lost the presidential election. In 2019, Alex Claremont-Diaz is not the first son of the United States, so he’s shocked when his path crosses with Prince Henry for the first time in almost four years.

How well you play...that's up to you by happinessofthepursuit

Treacherous (adjective) guilty of or involving betrayal or deception; (of ground, water, conditions, etc.) hazardous because of presenting hidden or unpredictable dangers. Or, how to describe surgical residency in a single word. A Grey's Anatomy inspired AU.

In Accord by absoluteaudacity

Pursuant to the establishment of an ongoing relationship between The Crown and the Office of the President of the United States, the representatives of the The Queen and Her interests are authorised to establish a contract of marriage between His Royal Highness Prince Henry of Wales and Alexander Claremont-Diaz.

A Heart Even More Your Own by chaa_kiao

“Guess you’ll be writing those poems after all.” He swallows. "I should go." Henry’s mind— every part of him, really— his heart, his body, his fucking soul— is screaming at him to take it all back. To hell with the monarchy, the American presidency, damn it all. This is the man he’s spent his entire life loving and he’s throwing it away for a legacy he doesn’t give a single fuck about. He forces out a rough “I think so,” but he can’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. “I love you.” “Alex—” “I know,” Alex says. “I just had to say it.” _______ Or: Alex and Henry getting back together takes a little bit longer this time.

you are my mountain (you are my sea) by alasse

Five times Alex and Henry have important conversations in houses, and one time they have a very important conversation in a castle.

Down For the Count by LolaLand (Lola_di_Penates)

Alex came to Las Vegas to count cards, not feelings. Henry came to win it all. Is it possible to find something real in Sin City, where nearly everything isn’t as it seems? OR Goodbye reality, hello Vegas (the blackjack/poker AU).

Let Them Eat Cake by rohruh

“I wanna eat you out,” Alex’s voice comes out raspy and intrepid through the phone pressed against Henry’s ear. Henry lets out a soft whine at the admission, his breath up-ticking in synchrony with his hips as he thrusts up into his hand. “I’d like that,” he tells Alex eagerly, cradling the phone in his palm as though he could materialize Alex right there in front of him if he presses it against his ear firmly enough. “I’ve never done it to a guy before,” Alex confesses. “Is it… different from eating out a girl? I bet you’d taste so good, baby. Fuck.”

A Thousand Words by Thunder_Cakes

After that Han/Leia mural both their accounts go silent for a while. For months, actually. They’re both in therapy after Alex tried to post a selfie with June after election night and had a panic attack before he could hit “Share.” Suddenly the thought of sharing the details of his life and loved ones with the world is paralyzing. Wonder why. or: Alex, Henry and what they choose to share of their life

All for a Taste of the Honey by chamel

“So you’re telling me you’re not in favor of this plan,” Henry says eventually. “No, I’m fucking not,” Alex huffs, glaring at him. “It’s stupid and dangerous and unnecessary.” Henry cocks one perfect eyebrow at him. “You have another idea for how to get access to the room where he does his deals? The one that only ever admits Vega, his associates, and the strippers who entertain them?” (Or, an FBI agent!Stripper!Henry fic. Henry goes undercover at a strip club, and Alex has a lot of feelings about that.)

in the mood for... by carzla

Henry knows that he’s the one who said “casual”, and it had been a reminder to himself that that was all it could ever be between him and Alex. So, telling Alex that they should “make love” is probably a mistake in syntax bigger than he could safely afford. But they’re in Paris and Henry is feeling terribly, terribly maudlin.

something good and right and real by HypnosTheory

“This is pretty expensive for a high school trinket.” “Everything is bigger in Texas,” Alex jokes. Henry looks up at Alex, who’s standing with his shoulders relaxed for the first time since October. The relief of his mother’s victory has made him loose-limbed and calm, his smile easy and lovely. Henry looks down at the crown in his hands and back at Alex. He imagines the gold half-buried in Alex’s hair, heavy on the man’s brow, decadent and royal. Henry swallows, face heating, and holds the crown out to Alex. “Put it on.” -- After the election, Henry explores Alex’s childhood room. He finds trinkets of a young Alex that intrigue him, including a crown that gives him some ideas.

In His Wildest Dreams by myheartalive

Once Alex has pulled out, Henry turns over to face him. He strokes the hair softly away from his face and Alex smiles at him. “So… that happened again.” Henry leans forward and kisses him on the forehead. “Indeed.” There’s a sort of thoughtful pause, where Henry can see Alex working to pull together the right words. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you that… thirsty?” “Oh, bugger off,” Henry says, but he’s laughing. It’s a fair description. “No, but I mean it. You were like… urgent. It was hot.” “It felt hot. I liked waking up like that. With you up against me, trying to have your way with me.” — Set in and around the Henry bonus chapter, this is a story about Henry and Alex’s hectic schedules, family appearances etc. pulling them apart, and about what starts to happen between them, in the quiet of night: their sleeping bodies turning to each other, finding their sweet spots and opening up. And Alex and Henry learning a lot about each other in the process — Mind the tags, y'all. That particular tag features prominently and it’s a major plot point, so if that’s not your jam, just hit the back button.

until next time!

#rwrb rec list #rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #alex and henry #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #alex x henry #fic rec #rwrb fic rec #rwrb fanfiction

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foundry-fabrications · 5 months

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Hey folks! I'm back with a short brew today that came together surprisingly quickly. This is the second part to my Dauntless series I've been calling the Slayer's Arsenal. This one includes a rework of the Aether Lanterns, as well as the various consumable equipment such as the Pylons, Tonics, and Grenades.

These were a relatively straightforward conversion, and like I said, they came together pretty quickly. A fun aspect I got to include with these is how some of the equipment interact with the weapons from my previous Slayer's Arsenal (which can be found HERE). Having already begun to look at future Dauntless content, this will be an ongoing theme, and that excites me.

But yeah, that's pretty much it. Have fun with these fine additions to any adventurer's tool belt, Slayer or otherwise.

Enjoy my work? Consider leaving me a Tip or supporting me on Patreon! Patrons gain access to high quality PDFs for all of my content, weekly updates, early access, and more!

Want to hang out with other followers and myself, talk about games, and share ideas? Come join my Discord!

#dungeons and dragons #5th edition #dnd #conversion #homebrew #5e #dnd 5e homebrew #5e dnd #dnd homebrew #dauntless #slayer #weapons #magical items #magic items #phoenix labs

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autistpride · 14 days

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Autism Acceptance

Prompt day 6: April 6

Amnesia AU

Word count: 1500

@wolfstarmicrofic

Remus was worried that his parents would say no. That they wouldn’t even listen to what he had to say and shut the conversation down. Remus knew he needed less support than he used to, but he was doing so well.

Remus had scripted his pitch in his head daily, sometimes multiple times a day, for the last week. As the number of days increased, so did Remus’ anxiousness. He began to pace and wring his hands. He started to withdraw and stopped speaking.

The change did not go unnoticed and finally Hope called a family meeting to have it out.

“Okay Remus, you’ve been wearing holes in the carpet again and I am pretty sure you should be wearing your compression gloves from how much swelling you’ve caused in your hands over the last week. What’s going on?”

Remus’ knees bounced and his hands clenched on the trousers of his pants. He took a breath and shook out his hands before he rose to his feet and started to move around the room in laps.

“I was talking with Sirius when we had our last date. We went to the skating rink and then had ice cream, you remember?” Remus asked pausing to look at his parents who sat together on the settee.

Lyall motioned with his hand to continue. Remus started to speak and then paused. He tried again and then again. His carefully planned out proposal instead fell from his lips in a single sentence that sounded more like a demand.

“Sirius asked me to move in with him and I want to do it!”

Sirius had asked him to move in with him and Remus wanted to. He wanted to so badly. They had been dating for three years now and while Sirius had his own struggles at times due to his traumatic childhood, he understood Remus in a way no one else ever had.

Sirius and him had met at an autism family event. He was there with his brother Regulus who Remus was sorta friends with already. Of course Remus hadn’t known that Regulus had a brother or that he was as handsome as he was until the day they met.

According to Regulus, it took Sirius two months to coax up the courage to ask Remus out. Remus didn’t believe him with how smooth Sirius was when he finally did ask. But apparently Sirius kept asking Regulus questions about Remus until Regulus got annoyed and dragged Sirius to their weekly autistic adult meet up at the library so Sirius could pester Remus instead of him.

“Okay,” Hope said softly from her place. Lyall smiled a half smile when Remus spun from his pacing and stared at her.

“Really?” he asked, surprised and trying hard not to let his excitement sound in his voice.

“Ya, really. You both have been together for over two years now. He knows your triggers and glimmers and I’ve watched him calm you down from a meltdown as well as support you through your shutdowns. Ya. I think if that’s what you both want, then you should do it. I just worry about your epilepsy dear.” Hope said honestly.

“Sirius knows what my tonic clonic seizures look like mam. He even went with me to my last EMU.” Remus pointed out.

“I know, but what if they get worse again?”

“Hope darling, you can’t keep Remus here forever just because you worry that someone else will ignore all the signs like what happened in the past. Sirius is a very kind and attentive partner. He won't hesitate to call Remus’ provider if he notices anything.”

Hope let out a sigh and stood, pulling Remus down to hug her. Remus mouthed a silent thank you to his da over her shoulder and Lyall returned the gesture with a thumbs up.

Now Remus just had to tell Sirius yes, pack up his stuff, and he would be all ready.

Two years later saw Sirius and Remus happily living together. Oh they had had their fair share of disagreements in the beginning. Remus has resorted to masking around Sirius because he was afraid Sirius wouldn’t love him if he saw the real him all day everyday and not just for their small dates and random sleepovers in the lounge of the Lupin home. This led to a slow shutdown. Sirius tried to communicate to Remus during that time, but Remus was nonspeaking and wouldn’t respond to Sirius’ texts outside of simple replies to questions like, ‘do we need milk?’ After five months, it resulted in a fight that blew up so spectacularly, Remus was surprised that the police hadn’t been called on them.

“Hey Sirius do you know if we ha-” Remus began to ask when his words stopped. His eyes blinked and his plate fell from his hands and clattered onto the floor before Remus shook his head slightly.

“What were you looking for?” Sirius asked as he knelt down to pick up the plate.

“Huh? I'm not looking for anything. Why do you have my plate?” Remus asked, annoyed and took his plate from Sirius’ hands and stalked back to the kitchen.

Sirius sat stunned for a moment before following Remus. “You were. You came in to talk to me about something. Started to ask if I knew if we had something but then you stopped.”

Remus blew the situation off, but the scene replayed in Sirius’ head over and over the rest of the day.

The next time it happened, Remus had been cooking. He was peeling potatoes for supper and that time Sirius ignored the forgetfulness and panicked over the fact that Remus had dragged the potato peeler over his finger and peeled some of his skin away.

The third time, Remus had just finished brushing his teeth and was putting his tooth brush away. Afterwards he argued with Sirius that he had not in fact brushed his teeth and proceeded to brush them a second time.

Multiple times a week Sirius noticed these little things. Forgetting to turn off the hob, looking for his shoes after just putting them on, feeding their cat Fidget two hours after feeding him the first time, and more incidents than Sirius could count of starting to say something and then just staring at Sirius for a moment and having no recollection on what he was saying or even wanting to say.

Sirius finally broke down and demanded that Remus speak to his provider. And despite telling Sirius he was worrying for no reason, Remus agreed and scheduled with them.

Three months more of waiting, where Sirius noted mentally everytime something would occur and then typing them into a long list in the notes app on his cellphone. Three months of Remus telling Sirius that he was wrong, that he didn't or wasn't doing something, and telling Sirius he felt fine.

Four months and another EEG confirmed that Remus’ epilepsy had gotten worse. He now had not one, but three types of seizures, and one of them was causing Remus to have a type of amnesia and the medication he was on was making the third type worse.

Five months and the medications Remus was on were completely different. It had taken a month to safely wean down on one medication and rise to a therapeutic dose with another. But the side effects of switching meds caused Remus to be irritable and lack any appetite. Sirius stuck by Remus’ side through it all and had taken to buying pizza once a week because it was the only food Remus would eat more than a few bites of.

Hope suggested and offered many times to have Lyall pack and move everything back into Remus’ old room so that Sirius wouldn’t have to deal with it. Each time though was met with a narrowed glare and a polite, “no thanks” from Sirius.

Six months and Remus was finally feeling more like himself, despite still not eating much. Remus had read over the list Sirius had made for his neurologist and apologised fiercely to Sirius for the way he had acted. He felt terrible and suggested couples counselling due to the fact that over those few months Sirius had withdrawn and seemed to walk on eggshells around him. Remus hated that he had caused Sirius to feel scared, gaslighted, and condescended to.

Nine months Remus and Sirius were communicating better. They had completed their couples sessions but both still continued on individually.

One year and the two were doing better than ever.

Two years on the new medication was also their seventh year together and one year with Remus’ seizures under control, Sirius insisted on a celebration with all their family.

Remus spent nearly a week pacing holes into the carpet anytime Sirius wasn’t home. He scripted his words until he knew them by heart. None of that practice mattered as Sirius and Remus proposed to each other at the same time. They said yes.

#mauraders #my writing #wolfstar #actually audhd #autistic adult #autistic remus #autistic reggie #autistic pride #epileptic remus #epilepsy

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purestxblood · 9 months

Text

𝗥𝗨𝗡 𝗧𝗢 𝗬𝗢𝗨, 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥.

It almost felt like a hallucination, seeing Peter waiting for you after a night out and for a split second, you wondered if the two additional vodka tonics had actually done their job.

𝗡𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲!𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿. 𝗘𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀. 𝗖𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀. 𝗦𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗮𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁. 𝗕𝗮𝗯𝘆 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳.

Taking on morning shifts as your new weekly routine often felt disparate. It had been years since you didn’t cover night shifts at the hospital, often forgetting how the moon and stars radiated upon the lake streets down from your loft. In the beginning, nights were lonesome and besides curling up on the sofa lounge with a good book or classic romance film and a cup of hot coffee, you had started to become antsy from being anti-social.

Granted, besides your patients and coworkers, where some days you’d catch breakfast at the end of your shift or mingle at the bar when you were surprisingly off, you hadn’t had much of a social nightlife anymore. Nor did you have a dating life.

In your defense, these late months had been the first where you were officially a single woman.

After many shifts of pestering from your work best friend, you had allowed her to set you up on a date with the anesthesiologist. You gave her credit, she had actually chosen a good one. He was confident but not too overly arrogant, intellectual to maintain a conversation that didn’t just occur around their job title, humorous, and very very easy on the eyes. You had just finished your second date with him– dinner by the lake with a couple drinks and live music. With his devilish eye, you allowed him to whisk you to the dance floor.

It was a great time and it felt blissful to actually put yourself out there again. However, just as it did on your first date, after he bid you farewell with his lips against your cheek, you found yourself succumbing to the memory of the last pair of lips to caress your face.

There was no reason to dwell and hinder on what was and what wasn’t with him, however, as you came to your door, he was there to smack you right back to the reality of it all.

"𝐒𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝."

Peter’s last name felt almost foreign to the tongue– nearly as much upon seeing him leaning against your door with another woman sitting at his feet. Your eyes were curious, glancing up and down between the two. It almost felt like a hallucination, seeing him waiting for you after a night out and for a split second, you wondered if the two additional vodka tonics had actually done their job.

The sound of your heels echoing among the hall had been a distraction, the light taps under the assumption of belonging to another pair, not the ones upon your own feet. You noticed Peter’s own twisted expression of surprise, his brows raising slightly as he glanced down at your exposed painted toes and ankle bracelet.

It was extremely rare for your sneakers to be discarded for a pair of high heels, especially at this hour. Unbeknownst to his knowledge, you would’ve been either returning home for a quick lunch break or getting off early. A short dress, jacket, and heels weren’t on the card of expectations.

His lips parted in absolute silence and you forced a soft closed smile upon your face, "𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐨𝐰𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞?"

Neither Peter or the woman had said a word but it was obvious they both were at a loss. Peter’s hair was disarrayed, his posture taut with tension while he rocked aimlessly upon the balls of his feet. You could tell he was eager, The girl at your feet huddled to herself and your eyes surveyed her frame. Her knees were pressed tightly to her chest with a few cuts among her face, the tips of her nails chipped with embedded dirt, and startled tiresome eyes.

“I tried calling,” he stated, his eyes zoning in upon the clutch in your hand as if he could see through the velvet material to your phone radiating his seven missed calls, “you always answered.”

You winced. Each word served as a knife, lightly slicing through you. It was an obvious notion but his words were laced with dark eyes of disappointment.

"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘚𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥," 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥, "𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭."

“I was busy,” you rubbed your lips together and squared your shoulders while fishing your keys from your clutch. Busy enough to ignore the missed calls and not allow them to ruin your date.

The woman leaning against your door stood, both her and Peter sidestepping the way for you to open your flat. “I’m Rose,” she introduced herself with a polite smile.

There was desperation swirling within her brown eyes and part of you felt empathetic. You already knew why the pair were waiting for you to get home. Whatever Peter had tangled up with this Rose had definitely taken a toll on her exterior. She looked absolutely exhausted and as if she were barely hanging on to her sanity by a thread. You knew she probably could use a warm shower and comfortable bed to lay her head.

Regardless of how you felt towards Peter in this stance, even he knew you were too compassionate to say no. After all, that was the exact reason why Peter showed up on your doorstep without a thought of doubt.

Sighing, you looked over your shoulder at Peter before returning to Rose. “Hi,” you returned her gaze with a small expression before opening your door.

“Look,” Peter rushed, “it’s just for the night,” he stated with pleading eyes, confirming your assumption, “we’ll be out of your hair by daybreak.”

You didn’t say a word, leaving your door open behind you, silently inviting them both in. Peter shut the door, locking your triple locks tight.

"𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘺?" 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘱𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬. 𝘗𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘵𝘴.

"𝘐𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩," 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥. 𝘏𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺, 𝘗𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘦.

𝘉𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘨𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥, "𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥."

"𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘩, 𝘣𝘶𝘵..." 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘹 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳, "𝘗𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦, 𝘐 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦."

Peter and Rose stood aimlessly in the center of the flat. Rose’s eyes taking in the proximity of your abode while Peter followed you moving about the kitchen. Taking your teapot off the stove, you filled it with fresh water and placed it back atop, lighting the flame.

“The guest bedroom is the door on the right,” you motioned, directing Rose. “I only have one bathroom but you’re welcome to it first, there’s extra towels and cloths in the cabinet as you close the door.”

Rose nodded her head, a smile of gratitude ensuing, “thank you.”

You watched Rose shut the door behind her as she entered the bathroom, leaving you and Peter to fall into silence. You could feel his eyes burning into you but you didn’t want to meet his eye. The stoic confidence you radiated minutes at the door had evaporated the second it was just the two of you.

Silence fell, both of you staring at nothing as you stood aimlessly about. His hands tapped on the pants of his suit while yours thumbed against the counter top, waiting for your kettle to whistle. Lingering pauses of silence with Peter had always been a comfort to you but since your parting hadn’t been mutual and hurtful, there wasn’t anything to say.

You had been beyond stabbed through the core to the point of there was no return to even acknowledge what transpired. There was no purpose in digging up what was done. It was better for your own sanity to act as if nothing had even occurred.

He was just the boy you met as kids riding bikes on the block, the boy who dated your best friend in middle school, the teenager who happened to quietly steal your heart in high school, and break it later in your twenties. You could easily regress back to your younger self who only viewed him as Peter in public and secretly filled you with butterflies in your stomach.

It was easy.

Your kettle whistled and you took the pot, pouring the steaming water into your mug before adding a packet of tea and stirring. “Well,” your spoon grazed the edge of the cup with a clang, “you know where the couch is and extra blankets are…” Bringing the mug to your mouth, you blew for a few seconds before taking a sip, ignoring how your chest burned from the heat, “...unless you plan to share with her, then by all means.”

“It’s not—” he began to protest but you halted him. “Was just stating Sutherland, it’s not my business.” With your mug in your hands, you made your way to your room ignoring Peter’s call.

Your back was to him as you placed your mug on the coaster upon your bedside table while sliding out of your heels, wiggling your toes and rolling your feet as you adjusted to the comfort of the flat wooden tile. Reaching into your dresser drawer, you pulled out a fresh pair of panties and pajamas.

It didn’t take any amount of wit to know he had trailed your move, you could feel his aura in an instant, wandering eyes roaming as you readied to end the night.

“You were off tonight.”

It was moreso a statement— an observation, rather than a question itself. You glanced over your shoulder as if you were startled by his appearance in your doorway. There was a slight hint of curiosity lingering in his voice. Again, being off on a night was rare to Peter’s knowledge.

“I don’t work nights anymore.”

Peter leaned against the frame, his arms crossing over his chest, “I gathered that from what you’re wearing.”

His comment was audacious, twisting from the assumption you had a night off versus actually not taking on the nights, and you frowned. You both knew damn well his response was a mere retaliation of meaning behind the reality of no longer being on night shifts.

You stopped in your tracks, your eyes scorching his, “there’s no reason to work nights anymore.” Peter blinked, tearing his eyes from you in defeat and guilt.

“Plus,” you faked a sigh and turned your back towards him, opening your closet and scanning the top shelf. Peter was silent, waiting for your retort but you only aided in the silence to make him wait and grow impatient upon your lingering pause.

Grabbing a sweatshirt and pants, you closed the door and met Peter in the doorway.

“Gives me more time to go on dates, you know?”

The statement bit him right back in the ass just as it felt when he first chewed the words and spit them out at you months ago.

"𝘏𝘦𝘺, 𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦," 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬-𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘢 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 ��𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘭𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵.𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥. "𝘙𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵," 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺.

𝘗𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, "𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘴��𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵."

You extended your arm, the clothing in your hands serving as an olive branch. Peter's eyes rested at your grasp, his mouth twitching when he noticed you held the sweat set he left behind.

It had only been two dates. The rest of your nights were either girls or solo nights but Peter didn’t need to know the latter.

“It’s better than your suit,” you assured, “whatever you have going on, you should probably at least try and get some rest.”

You watched his fingers thumb the material of his sweatshirt, his eyes trailing behind each brush. He looked up at you with regretful eyes. You could tell his thoughts were traveling a mile a minute in his head by the expression upon his brow. However, like always, rather than vocalizing his emotions, Peter was mute.

“Just get some sleep Sutherland,” you muttered, “it’ll be daybreak soon.”

You didn’t wait for his response, giving him your back, breaking him away from his hypnotic stance on the clothes in hand. His fingers latched to your wrist, bringing you to a pause midstep. “Peter,” you said softly, looking at his hand clasping around your wrist.

The action was so simple but as his fingers delicately soothed the side of your wrist did you know his signification. Your eyes met his eyes, dark and narrow with burning captivity, “just for a few hours,” he said, “please.”

｡°✩ 𝗠𝗔𝗜𝗡 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ✩°｡ | ☼☾⋆｡ 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ｡⋆☾☼

𝘐'𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 <3

#peter sutherland #peter sutherland x reader #the night agent

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transmurderbug · 3 months

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🍂Weekly Tag Wednesday! 🍂

Look at me going at it after being AWOL for like a month. 👀 Thank you Nosho @creepkinginc, Becki @francesrose3, Jess @jrooc, Kaka @stocious and Willow @ian-galagher for the tags! 🥰

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

(stealing Willow's format, because it's pretty and neat)

Name: Sky

Location: In a cave, underneath a pretty rock somewhere. 🪨

And now for the randomness! tell me your most and least favorites of: (brave to assume I'll be able to choose just one...)

Candy?

Most - I've always like sour Haribo of all kinds. Also any candy or chocolate bars. Least - The very soft, cotton like gummies (gumdrop?)

Seasons?

Most - Autumn where it's not cold yet, but everything's pretty. Also snowy winter. Least - That very ugly time when autumn is turning into winter and everything is sad.

Hot beverage?

Most - Cocoa or hot chocolate. Least - Green tea.

Cold beverage?

Most - Most sodas and coffee (I drink cold coffee even if it's freezing) Least - Tonic. Blah.

Colours?

Most - Black, blue, green and orange. Least - Pink.

Vegetables?

Most - I will devour any vegetable and I love them with all my heart as long as they are raw. (I'd also say tomatoes, because they are one of the best things ever, but they're technically a fruit. Also potatoes - raw - but they aren't vegetables either. They deserve the honorable mention though) Least - Most if they are cooked/baked/went through any kind of heat treatment. But mostly spinach.

Traditional foods from your country?

Most - Oh wow. We have so many and I love most. But maybe... lángos, chitterling-sausage, kürtőskalács, pig feet stew - okay I have to stop, but I have so many more. I need to put together a list... Least - We have a chitterling that's made with liver. I never liked those. Or stuffed cabbage.

Insects?

Most - Okay, now hear me out. Any insect is instantly my best friend, so I can't just choose one... All the bugs, that's for sure and other than that... I find dragonflies to be quite pretty. Least - These are all context specific, but... I'm seconding Nosho with the midges. Also the small, bitey flies and most gadflies (painful as heck if they bite/sting) that will absolutely devour everything and everyone during the summer.

Cake flavours?

Most - Any fruit, chocolate, coffee and lemon. Least - Anything made with cottage cheese.

Non-gallagher or milkovich shameless characters?

Most - V, maybe Kev. I also liked Sue. Least - Sammi. Caleb. The usual ones. (Also stealing Willow's thought, because as entertaining as Paula was, damn her)

These questions proved how incapable I am of choosing just one "most". But oh well. Keeping it interesting.

Tagging a few awesome people, because I'm miraculously on time. Hop in or have this cookie: 🍪

@transmickey @spacerockwriting @dynamic-power @deathclassic @juliakayyy @look-i-love-u @energievie @palepinkgoat @heymrspatel @suzy-queued @gardenerian @darlingian @ifallonblackdays @swiftfootedachilles @krysmiss @meagaboooo and anybody else who wants to play

#tag game #weekly tag wednesday #weekly tag games #I'm so bad at choosing stuff #but so many good things #also don't expect me to choose a favorite insect I am incapable of doing that

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sims4t2bb · 3 months

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weekly update

Happy Sunday! We hope you all had a wonderful week, and that the upcoming one is even better. Onwards and upwards!

— Base Game

Unswitchable Switch conversion by @simsinlowspace has been added.

— Expansion Packs

Get to Work

Cat Loves Food Inc. Professional Grade Warming Rack, Corporate Fridge Raider Revenue Generating Cooler, and Lice Cold Retail Freezer conversions by @platinumaspiration have been added.

High School Years

Stylish Solo High School Locker conversion by @lordcrumps has been added.

Growing Together

BlandCo Contemporary Changing Station, Changemaster 3000, Cheerful Changing Table by Kindermade, and Mini Mission Changing Station conversions by @platinumaspiration have been added.

— Game Packs

Spa Day

Doc Sweet's Luke-Warm Tonic Dispenser conversion by @platinumaspiration has been added.

#weekly update

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dualumina · 7 months

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Strikes are back on the menu, bois!

Okay but seriously we are not against setting up a weekly Cerus strike group all for the purpose of Peitha simps trying to get the tonic asdfghjk

#gw2 #peitha #gw2 peitha #went to go look up peitha for drawing refs and saw this listed on her wiki page asdfgh

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hannahssimblr · 5 months

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Chapter Three

A wall of heat hits our faces as Marnie and I shuffle into a cocktail bar that evening. It’s a hopping, trendy place right in the centre of town, and even though it’s Tuesday night it’s full. It’s one of those places that will set you back nearly fifteen euro for some obscure, designer cocktail called Foxy Kitten Vodka Tonic, and other such names that are so humiliating to say out loud that you end up getting flustered and ordering rum and coke instead.

We leave our jackets in the cloak room, and I strip down to my skimpy dress, worn with no tights in icy cold weather like true red blooded Irish girls do. Marnie didn’t dress up though, she’s too cool. She’s wearing the same mesh top and black runners she was in earlier, but I could never go to a bar casually. It’s just not what small town girls do, and Claire would have never allowed me to leave our apartment in any other state. My feet already hurt in my five inch heels after walking the ten minutes from the bus stop, but I don’t dare complain. I just slide into a booth and start looking at the drinks menu, slipping out of them and uncurling my cramped feet on the cool tile floor underneath the table while trying not to outwardly shudder with relief.

“Wine as usual, is it, Evie, or will we try to seize the spirit of the night and be adventurous?” Marnie’s got her nose in the menu, and I can barely hear what she’s saying over the thumping remix of some Katy Perry song.

“I think it will have to be the wine.” I reply, my head spinning at the prices. You know you’re in the wrong bar when a cocktail costs half of your weekly food budget.

“Oh boring. Have a Sloe Comfortable Screw Up Against a Wall or something. Come on, you and I are out on the pull, let’s get ourselves loosened up a bit.”

“I’m not ordering a cocktail called that.”

“I’ll order it for you if you don’t want to say it.” She points out the ingredients to me. “It looks so yum.” She flips through the menu with a concentrated face. “What do you reckon has the most possible alcohol in it? I feel like I need to get absolutely plastered so I can get through an evening in this bar. The vibes are absolutely rancid.”

“We can go if you want.” I say hopefully, picturing an evening curled up in my bed with a hot water bottle.

“Stop. We’re not leaving. Now which cocktail will it be?”

I’m still insisting on the Pinot Grigio when a group of NCAD students join us and start sliding into our booth with us. Marnie wanted us to have a group night, because apparently just having two of us alone would have been sad, and because she’s an extrovert she’s not very good at coping unless she’s surrounded by as many different people as possible.

“Oh, sorry.” One girl says as she clambers over me, her elbow colliding with my forehead, and I smile and pretend that it’s fine. They’re all talking now, the cacophonous sound of at least twelve art students with interesting haircuts filling up my stratosphere. I reach underneath the table to put my shoes back on again, and when I glance down at my little satin dress and strappy heels, I’m struck by how completely out of place I look among everyone else. Apparently I should have worn jeans, flat shoes, edgier makeup, but this is just another case of me missing out on the memo. No matter what I do, no matter where I am I can never seem to get things right. At school I was never dressed up enough, my attempts were always misguided and awkward, and now that I’ve figured that out, I’ve found dresses that hug my body in the right places, shoes that make my legs look impossibly long, the rules have changed again. I excuse myself and wriggle out of the booth. I don’t need to use the bathroom but I want to go and stare at myself agitatedly in the mirror. Maybe I can run a little more kohl around my eyes, smudge it out, muss up my hair a bit so that I look a little more Alexa Chung.

I shove through the doors and plant myself in front of the sinks, then pull my blunt eyeliner pencil from my little handbag and start raking it along my waterline. With my little finger I rub it in, making sure to get it onto the bottom lids so that it looks like I literally woke up like this. I was partying so hard, I just passed out somewhere and now I’m here again, in another bar. I’m just beginning to back comb the sleek, straightness out of my hair with my fingers when someone comes out of one of the cubicles. I don’t pay her any attention until she’s washing her hands next to me, and that’s when I recognise her. Kind of. From somewhere, only I can’t place her small, delicate features. She sniffs gently and rubs her hand under her nose, and then briefly meets my eyes in the mirror. She doesn’t recognise me either, her gaze just slides away.

I’m just about to let it go when someone speaks from behind me.

“Evie?”

I whirl around, and it’s Jen. I look at her, then look at the other girl, flooded with recognition. I do know her from somewhere. Michelle. The famous Michelle who I agonised over for weeks, zooming in on photographs of her pretty face, letting her tear down and completely destroy all semblances of my self-esteem without needing to ever say a word to each other. How could I forget?

“Oh my God. Hi Jen.” I say with surprise. She looks different now. Gone is the bright red cropped hair that she had before, now it’s chin length and straight, jet black with her roots and ends dyed bright, lurid magenta. She comes up to me for a hug, and I notice that she looks a little ashen faced, hands trembling slightly, but her hug is warm and familiar and somehow manages to transport me to a different time and place for a fleeting moment.

“You got extremely hot.” She comments and she stands back. “Wow, look at you.”

“Oh, stop.” I say shyly. “I feel so overdone.”

“That’s just what first years do.” She reassures me. “Spend enough nights out on the streets at two in the morning trying to flag down a taxi, and you’ll change your tune pretty quickly.” She peers down at my shoes. “I personally wouldn’t have fun trying to hike home in those.”

“They’re painful.” I admit, and I lean back against the sink unit to take the weight off them.

“So what’s your story now? It’s been absolute ages since I’ve seen you. Where are you living?”

“Fitzwilliam Square.” I say, and then cringe in anticipation of her reaction. She boggles her eyes and makes an astonished face, just like everybody else who hears.

“That’s so fancy, oh my god. What’s the rent on that?”

“Three hundred.” I say, hoping the conversation will move on quickly so I don’t have to get into the whole thing about it. It’s Claire’s dad’s property, and it’s not the whole building, it’s just the top two floors. There was a couple living there before we moved in, and when he evicted them for vague reasons both he and Claire acted like that was a totally normal thing to do, so I went along with it. I usually like to leave all that out now that I’ve learned that unlawful eviction is not okay, actually, and that for most people in this city, the term “Landlord” is synonymous with the words “Filthy, Diseased Bin Rat.” Happily though, Jen just muses about how cheap that sounds, and then moves on.

“And did you get into art college in the end?”

“I did! I’m in NCAD.”

“Oh, sick. Same as Michelle.”

I turn to the other girl, who’s waiting patiently for Jen to wrap up, smiling blandly at me while she dries her hands with toilet roll, since none of the hand dryers are ever working in these places.

“Shell.” Jen prompts. “Do you remember Evie?”

“I don’t.” She says in her soft, feminine voice. “Sorry, have we met before?”

“Kind of.” I shrug, wishing to avoid getting into the where and whens of our last encounter. “It was ages ago though, don’t worry.”

“She was at Jude’s going away party.” Jen informs her, and I have to turn away from her, his name like a blade in my gut. I have to resist the urge to wince. I start messing with my hair in the mirror again.

“That was literal years ago.” I say tightly. “No worries if you can’t remember me. I can’t really remember you either.”

“I’m sorry, I actually don’t.” Michelle says. “That’s probably really bad, but thinking back, like, there were loads of people there, and like you said it was ages ago.”

“No worries.” I repeat.

“So you’re a friend of his?”

“Not really.”

“You were.” Jen says defensively, then to Michelle: “She was. They were close that summer.”

“I knew him for a few months, and now I don’t know him anymore.” I say brusquely. For some reason my hands are shaking as I try to stuff my makeup back into my bag, and my spine feels like it’s made from steel cable.

“I didn’t know you fell out.” Jen says with a frown. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened, he just obviously wasn’t bothered about me, so…”

“He never mentioned that to me.”

I sigh loudly. Of course he didn’t. I’m sure he never talked about me at all, not even once. ‘Well,” I say shakily. “It’s better that we don’t talk anymore, I’ve been too busy, and like I said, we hardly knew each other, so actually, it’d be weird if we stayed in touch. We both have other priorities.”

“You know he used to be my boyfriend.” Michelle tells me, I don’t look at her, but I can see her leaning into the sink in my periphery, watching me as I drop my eyeliner pencil and let it roll into the basin. “I know how he is. Or was. He was so immature, and I don’t think he really cared about anybody but himself, so like, if he was a dickhead to you or hurt your feelings-”

“Nah we weren’t that close.” I insist. “We just hung out sometimes and then he moved away, it was nothing.”

“Oh.” She watches me attempt to zip up my bag with increasing frenzy, and I know that she doesn’t believe me.

“Anyway.” I say, flinging it over my shoulder. “So nice to see you both again, but I’m going to go back to my friends.” I flounce out of the bathroom, but instead of turning right and going back to the bar, I swing left and head out to the smoking area, pushing through the doors into the freezing air, which flings shards of ice at my face and my bare arms and legs. I want some air, but actually, the air out there is the furthest thing from fresh. I stand there shivering, looking into the faces of all of the people out there with me, trying to deduct which one has the least threatening aura, and would be most likely to let me bum a cigarette just so I can do something with my trembling hands.

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#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #writing #fiction #romance #sims 4 storytelling #sims4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 2

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ladylokilaufeyson5 · 2 years

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Beyond Rumours

Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Chapter Ten

Summary: Y/n is a Malfoy. A Pureblood. A pretentious, blood-status-loving Slytherin. At least, those are the rumours, but since when has Remus Lupin ever really cared about rumours?

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.1K

A/N: birthday post!

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

REMUS LUPIN

Friday, 21st of October 1977

My joints ached as I lay in the hospital wing. Last night had been a rough full moon. The wolf had left a lot of cuts and scratches, but they were nothing new. Madam Pomfrey had given me a healing tonic, and had said that I'd be able to leave at break. So I waited for the first two periods to pass (double Transfiguration) before I headed to the Gryffindor common room, hoping to find my friends waiting there for me.

"You alright, Moony?" James asked as soon as I entered the common room. It was pretty empty, with only the Marauders, Lily, and a few fifth-years occupying it.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied, sitting down beside Peter, who was reading over his Transfiguration homework.

"I have your notes," Lily added, handing them to me.

She sat next to James, their thighs touching, and both of their faces slightly pink. I hoped that they'd get together soon – seven years of listening to James pine over Lily was driving me up the walls.

Break was over too quickly, and we walked to the dungeons for Potions. Slughorn paired us up again – I was lucky enough to get paired with Y/n, while James got Lily. We sat at the same table, and we were told to start a brew on an antidote to Veritaserum. Y/n helped me a lot, and I felt bad that I was so exhausted from the full moon that I couldn't be of more use. But she didn't seem to mind – in fact, she seemed to be in her element, chopping up ingredients and ordering me around. I found that I didn't mind it.

Class was over too quickly, and then we were all walking to the Great Hall for lunch.

"Oh, Remus, would you be able to look over my Transfiguration homework?" Y/n asked hopefully.

"Yeah, of course," I replied, maybe a bit too quickly. "I could, um... I could do it now, at lunch, if you want."

Y/n smiled widely and nodded.

"Thank you so much, Remus," she said. "I'll just go grab it."

She turned to the staircase and started to go up, causing me to pause.

"Hey... Y/n," I said slowly, "isn't the Slytherin common room back that way?"

I pointed in the direction we'd come, towards the dungeons. Y/n looked back and sighed before slowly walking down the stairs and back to me.

"Well, the password to the common room is something horrific and Reg and I refuse to say it," she explained, looking at the floor. "So... we're sleeping in a broom closet."

I waited for her to laugh, to say, just kidding! It's a joke, but her face was slightly crestfallen. A broom closet? I blinked and shook my head slightly in shock.

"A – a broom closet?" I repeated, and she nodded. "I – have you spoken to Slughorn?"

"He can't do anything about it," she shrugged, seemingly defeated. "He said that we have to wait a month 'til it can be changed."

I stared at her in horror of the situation, and she shifted nervously.

"I'll... uh... grab my homework, then," she suggested. "Meet you in the Great Hall?"

"I – oh... yeah..."

Y/n gave me a small smile before heading up the stairs again, and left me standing in my spot.

It wasn't hard to guess what the password had been changed to. Lily had been called it at least once on a weekly basis, and I'd even gotten it a few times. Mudblood. The fact that Y/n refused to say it made me much more sure about my decision to be her friend.

I walked to the Great Hall, my stomach rumbling louder than I'd like to admit. Around the full moon I was always really hungry. Sirius waved me over to the table and I sat down beside him before serving food onto my plate.

No matter how much I ate, though, the thought of Y/n and Regulus living in a broom closet wouldn't leave my mind.

"Hey, Remus, are you okay?" Lily asked softly.

I looked at her to see she was regarding me with worry and concern. I realised that I'd been so lost in thought about Y/n's living situation that I'd not been paying attention to anything that was being said.

"Did you know that Y/n and Regulus are living in a broom closet?" I blurted. "The password to the Slytherin dorms changed to the m-word, and Y/n and Regulus refuse to say it, so they're living in a broom closet."

As soon as the words left my mouth I wished I could take them back. Y/n and Regulus probably didn't want me telling everyone about it...

"That's horrific!" Lily exclaimed. "They should stay with us, in the tower. We have enough room in our dorm to conjure a bed for Y/n."

"We could conjure a bed for Regulus, too," James added. "They shouldn't have to live in a broom closet."

The four of them nodded at each other, proud of their decision. Y/n decided to arrive at this time.

"Hey," she said breathlessly, handing me her parchment. "Thank you again so much."

"It's – it's not a problem," I assured.

She smiled and started to walk to the Slytherin table, so I stood up quickly, bumping the table and nearly tripping over the bench in my haste. I heard Sirius snort into his pumpkin juice but ignored it.

"Y/n, wait," I said, stepping over the bench and managing not to fall over. She paused and turned, and I stepped closer to her. "You could stay in our dorms."

She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow, and I realised how that must have sounded.

"Wait, I meant... Regulus can stay in our dorms, and you can stay in the girls'. Y'know... in the Gryffindor Tower. Erm, until the password changes."

Y/n looked at me for a moment longer before glancing at the Slytherin table. Her eyes narrowed slightly before she turned back to me.

"That – that would be great," she said in relief. "Thank you so much."

"It – it's no problem," I said again, rubbing the back of my neck.

Y/n smiled brightly at me, and I swear to Merlin I melted inside as I smiled back.

After the school day was over, Lily and I followed Y/n and Regulus to their broom closet. Their trunks were stacked inside, and there were two sleeping bags and camp beds. The two Slytherins grabbed their trunks and Vanished the sleeping bags and beds before following us up to the Gryffindor Tower.

"Cor Fortium," Lily said to the Fat Lady.

She swung aside, revealing the Gryffindor common room. Y/n and Regulus surveyed the room with slight awe on their faces. Their eyes raked over everything and gobbled down the details.

"The girls' dorms are on the right," Lily told Y/n. "Come on."

The girls disappeared into their dorm, and I led Regulus to ours. Someone had already conjured a bed, and Regulus looked around the room slowly before walking over to the bed and placing his trunk at the end of it. Sirius watched his brother closely as he unpacked in silence.

"Living together again, huh, Reggie?" Sirius said.

I heard his voice catch slightly and I looked away, pretending to be busy with reading a book.

"Yeah," I heard Regulus reply quietly.

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16woodsequ · 4 months

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Sunday Steve - Day Eight

Things that would be new or unfamiliar to Steve in the 21st century, either due to the time period he grew up in, or his social-economic status and other such factors.

Day Eight: Shampoo and Conditioner

Shampoo: The origins of the word shampoo comes from an Indian hair and body massage called champooi/champo.

In the late 1800s and early 1900s shampoo was a water soluble, dry shampoo powder that would be dissolved by the teaspoon in a cup of hot water (Link). Shampoo could also come as bars of soap, which could lather or be grated and dissolved into boiling water and left to cool and solidify.

A 1908 New York Times shampoo guide claims "hair is best shampooed at night, following thorough combing and brushing, and singeing split ends. Castile soap is applied with a stiff brush and rinsed four times every month to six weeks." (Link)

Bathing had become more and more common as part of the hygiene routine in the early 1900s, but shampooing was generally recommended every two weeks—or every four to six weeks (preferably using castile soap or tar soap) because shampoo was known for drying out and damaging hair. (Link)

While at-home shampooing was slowly becoming more common, it was more common—for those who could afford it—to get it commercially done. Most shampoo ads were targeted towards women, but men in barbershops "transitioned from using hair tonics to using shampoos to remove the build-up of heavy styling products" (Link).

The liquid shampoo first really started hitting the market in 1927. So by the 30s at-home shampooing became even more common. This is due to a combination of most Americans have in-house plumbing, their own bathrooms, and the shampoo formulas becoming less harsh and drying. The combination of all this meant one could wash their hair every week. (Link) (Every day shampooing began to be marketed in the 70s since oily hairstyles were out of fashion.)

Liquid shampoos were sold in glass bottles, while powdered shampoos came in tins.

Bottles of shampoo and lotions manufactured in the early 20th century by the C.L. Hamilton Co. of Washington, D.C., United States

It wasn't until 1934 that detergent-based (no-soap, modern) shampoos came onto the market (Link).

Sarah Rogers likely wouldn't have been able to afford to get her hair shampooed, but she could have made her own shampoo from castile soap bars (example youtube video) or bought shampoo powders which were then dissolved in water.

She would only wash her hair every few weeks, most likely brushing her hair and keeping it up in styles in-between washes. (Link) Using a clean brush to brush ones hair helped remove and evenly distribute oils.

In 1933 shampoo cost about 25-50 cents. (Link) (Link) I haven't dug deep to know exactly what kind of things Steve and Sarah would be able to afford. But it wouldn't surprise me if there were times they could and couldn't afford hair care products.

As for if Steve would shampoo his hair, he probably just used soap. Shampoo had soap in it until 1933 (which was why it was so drying) (Link). But men could afford to use soap on their hair since they usually had shorter hair and their natural head oils could help mitigate the damage.

I can find less information about men's hair routines if they couldn't afford to go to barbershops, so I'm less certain of what Steve would do. But 20s, 30s, and 40s men's hair styles had a lot of oil or greasy styling products. While these would need to be washed out for re-styling (probably weekly like women) the oil products would help against drying out the hair.

Men also always wore hats. Having stiff or slick-down hair was important so that hair styles wouldn't be ruined by putting on and removing hats. Hair oils would stain hats, chairs and other things heads came in contact with.

Circa 1920 Glostora hair oil and brush ad and Hair Slik ad

Don't be fooled by the ad. This vintage bottle of Glostora is 5 inches or 12.5 cm tall. It would be put on after shampooing, like conditioner.

In the Captain America: The First Avenger movie we can see that Steve's hair isn't slicked back. This could just be a modern day styling choice, but it could also show that Steve did not care about styling his hair.

Cleanliness was was important so he probably washed his hair every few weeks with soap and bathed regularly. But it doesn't look like he put heavy product in his hair. (Unlike Bucky, who probably had more reason to shampoo his hair. It wouldn't surprise me if Bucky went to the barbershop when he could afford it.)

Steve probably couldn't afford to do more to his hair than wash it with soap every few weeks. He likely made his own shampoo with castile or tar soap. This method makes more shampoo than the bottles of liquid shampoo being sold.

Conditioner: Conditioners originated from a product called brilliantine (developed in 1900) which was used to soften beards and moustaches. This product would be put on after styling in barbershops to make the hair shine and soften it. (Glostora and Hair Slik are similar products.) (Link)

"It was oil based, giving off a slimy residue to anything it touched. Homemakers knit lace doilies to cover the backs of high back chairs and couches to protect the furniture from men’s greasy heads" (Link)

Other items used similar to conditioners were hair tonics, or Wildwood Cream.

Conditioner became a necessity because of shampoo, as it is drying to the hair. So it wasn't used much until shampooing became more common (oil has a long history of being used to tame hair, but commercial conditioner products became more common along with shampoo use.) (Link)

Women caught on to these types of commercial products. I've had a hard time finding specific conditioner products from the 30s. Here is a hair care routine for women circa 1930 that mentions brillientine, so it looks like women began using brillientine as well before more specific conditioning products were developed.

There seemed to be more conditioner products developed by the 40s. Here's a conditioning cream from around the 40s, and a different one with a price (about 39¢).

1942 Drene Shampoo Hair Conditioner Vintage Print Ad

(Drene was the first modern synthetic (no soap) shampoo and you can see in the side panel of this ad they say "Don't rob your hair of its glamour by using soap or liquid soap shampoo—which always leave behind a dulling film that dims the natural lustre and color brilliance!")

Wrap up

Modern day hair routines would be recognisable but still somewhat unfamiliar to Steve. This is partially because men's hairstyles have changed drastically from the slick-back styles he is used to. Hats have also gone out of style.

Also, it is common now in America to wash one's hair around three times a week. This shift came about with the change in hair styles. Woman leaving hair down and covering it less necessitates the need to shampoo and condition it more. (Women shampooed their hair once a week in salons up to the 60s).

The products are also slightly different. Liquid shampoo is the dominate form now (I doubt Steve ever bought liquid shampoo) and they come in plastic bottles. The liquid shampoo is likely a much different formula than he's used to. Additionally, conditioning is a very specific step in the process and hair product ingredients have evolved.

There are also combination products like 2-1 shampoo and conditioner which came about in the late 1980s.

Along with the cultural changes, Steve's socioeconomic status would effect his perception of hair-care routines and buying hair products.

With modern (no soap) products, Steve's hair is probably softer and shinier. Steve would have been aware of no soap products, but I don't think he would have bought them. However, he could have had these products used on him during his USO tour. Interacting with the women there probably introduced him to many products he was less familiar with.

Men's hairstyling in the 1920s.

This post kind of got away from me! But I hope you enjoyed my deep dive into 20th century hair care.

#steve rogers #steve rogers meta #meta #sunday steve #1920s #1930s #1940s #american history #us history #history #shampoo #conditioner #hair care #vintage hair #hair styles #hygiene #20th century #long post

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so-scarlett-maroon · 4 months

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Hermione Granger and The Pub Quiz That Changed Her Life

Words: 5,602 Rated: Teen and Up No Archive Warnings Apply Ship: Dramione Tags: Draco Malfoy is a Little Shit, But Hermione Likes it Grand Gestures, Fluff, Humor, Plans Gone Awry, Pining Draco Malfoy, Pining Hermione Granger, Marriage Proposal, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love Tooth-Rotting, Fluff On AO3

Summary: When Harry invites Draco to their weekly Pub Quiz, Hermione is sure she's never going to be able to enjoy the event again. And her life is changed forever...but just not how she thought it would be.

Excerpt:

The Beginning:

The first time Hermione and Draco were at the same pub quiz night, it felt electric. She’d been purposely avoiding him. She was well aware he and Harry were Auror partners and had become friends. But, the first few times Harry mentioned he’d be joining, she’d found excuses not to go. She hated missing the weekly pub quiz, but the idea of seeing him in a social setting felt strange, wrong. She knew he wouldn’t call her a slur and he probably wouldn't insult her hair, but she just didn’t know what their new dynamic would be. Eventually, though, she gave in, she wouldn’t let him keep her from seeing her friends.

She walked into the Leaky Cauldron and found Harry, Ginny, and Neville at their team’s usual booth. She waved to them as she walked over and settled next to Harry at the wooden table.

“Thanks for the drinks mate,” Harry called out. Hermione followed his eyeline and spotted the poncy git himself walking over with the first round for the table. She wasn’t sure how she’d missed the shock of blond hair when she’d first walked in. Malfoy got to work handing out the drinks, Butterbeers for her and Ginny, Gin and Tonic for Harry, Fire whiskey for himself and Neville, and an ale for Ron, who seemed to be running late, as usual.

Draco shrugged, responding to Harry’s thanks. “It was my turn to buy, but you are up next,” he said looking at Hermione.

Draco’s eyes met hers now. She’d never noticed just how strikingly gray they were before. If he were any other man, she’d even say they were attractive. But he was him, so they weren't. “Why is it my turn to buy?” she asked incredulously.

He looked at her his eyes pitying, “She’s lost her brains since graduation then?” he asked the table.

Harry laughed openly, Ginny tried to hide her giggles and Neville just glanced away, trying to avoid conflict.

“I haven’t ‘lost my brains’ as you put it, I just don’t see why I should get moved up in the rotation when I haven't been here. I always buy after Ginny.”

“Yes and as you missed the last three weeks, you’ve not bought after anyone in far too long so you are up.” He sat down across from her. His long legs barely managed to fit under the table and his knees bumped up against hers. She waited for him to apologize or pull his legs back, but instead, he just smirked and bumped her knee again, on purpose. She was just about to pull out her wand and hex his knees off his stupid body when the quiz host walked to the front of the pub with an announcement.

“Hello, I am Chester Borgin, and welcome witches and wizards to the Thursday night Pub Quiz!” He’d cast a Sonorous on himself to amplify his voice over the crowd gathered for the quiz. “We have answer sheets and self-inking quills up at the front table. Send up the team captain to collect the materials and we will begin shortly!”

Draco stood at the same time as Hermione. Ginny looked at them, laughing as they both froze. She sighed, wiping her tears of laughter aside, and explained to Draco, “Normally Hermione is our team captain, and she gets the material and writes the answers,”. She turned to Hermione. “But in your absence, Draco had taken over,”

Hermione frowned.

Draco did not sit or retreat. “I’m closer to the host’s table,” he pointed out. “How about I just go and collect the materials then?” He had a fake smile plastered on his face.

Hermione sprung into action, scooting out from her side of the booth, her skirt annoyingly riding up her legs as she tried to squeeze past. “No, thank you,” she said in her most sickly sweet voice, walking towards the front. She could feel him racing right behind her, trying to beat her. But Hermione was small, she was able to slip through the crowd more easily. She reached the table just a moment before he did and felt his body crush against hers as the momentum carrying him forward propelled him into her. She ignored the slight pain from their collision and called to the host.

“Team We’re not Lion. There are six of us.”

“Actually, since I joined we go by team Dirty Lion Snakes,” Draco corrected from just behind her, his body still pressing against hers from chest to hips. “It’s the same pun, just more fun,” he explained, his breath fanning over her ear.

“Yes, I understood the wordplay, thank you,” she said, rolling her eyes, despite Draco being behind her and unable to see the gesture. She pushed forward trying to get him off of her back, but it just pushed her further into the table, her hips pressing into the wood, as she felt his strong chest warm and solid behind her.

Continued on AO3

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wellthebardsdead · 9 months

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Clockwork heart pt23

Part 22 here

———

???: Wyrm? Wake up Wyrm, open your eyes, you’re safe.

Wyrm: *blinks his eye open and shivers as the immense heat surrounding his body suddenly fades and is replaced by a pleasant warmth* wh-where- *looks up to see a dark void surrounding himself* wh-what?

???: shhh. I’m here.

Wyrm: *jumps and spins around, eyes wide to see Voryn standing behind him* wh-where? Where a-are we?

Voryn: *steps forward holding open his arms, offering but not forcing a hug to comfort him* Somewhere safe from whatever’s causing you this pain.

Wyrm: *sniffles and hugs onto him* it was hot, I was in the mountain again, I was holding nehts face, I- *shuts his eye tight as he remembers clawed grey hands grasping at his ankles*

Voryn: *grasps his head in his hands blocking it out again* shhh, come back to me little Pearl…

Wyrm: *shakes his head and chokes out a sob* no I don’t want to! I won’t! If I do I’ll be back in the mountain! The heart will take me! It’s screaming! They’re all screaming!

Voryn: *blinks in confusion, knowing the heart has means of controlling a person but never hearing screaming, only the constant thrumming of its pulsating beat* Screaming?

Wyrm: They’re all bound to it! They’re all so loud! They’re all-… *goes quiet as a spectral, mechanical hand appears, touching his head and brushing against voryns hand before disappearing* I?… *blinks and looks up at voryn confused* v-voryn? Where are we?… it’s so dark I… I was hot, and it was loud but…

Voryn: *realising seht has been blotting out whatever Wyrm is hearing from the heart of lorkhan* shhh, it’s okay now. Just rest here with me… *holds him tighter* We can rest, safely here…

*that afternoon*

Wyrm: *laying bed bound with Voryn, body finally feeling the effects of what happened in the village and quietly sulking as he’s forced to take medicine* …

Enthir: *sitting by the bed* I’m not leaving until you have it, Pearl.

Wyrm: *lays back down and covers his face with a pillow*

Voryn: is it a taste issue? I can maybe come up with another healing potion-

Enthir: no, no it’s a texture issue. He hates the film it leaves on his teeth and he says it feels slimy.

Voryn: oh. Maybe if you heat it up first?

Enthir: will? That work?

Voryn: oh yes. I trick neht into taking his tonic by mixing it into his tea.

Nerevar: You do what?!

Voryn: You have migraines almost weekly and refuse to take medicine for it!

Nerevar: it takes you 3 hours to make it I hate bothering you with them!

Voryn: then take your medicine when you start getting symptoms or I wouldn’t have to make such a big batch each week!!!

Wyrm: *whimpers a little, from both a mix of pain but mistaking their bickering for fighting*

Enthir: *gently places his hand on Wyrms in a moment of panic only for both voryn & neht to do it too at the same time* …You two really do care about him. *smiles standing up* I’m sorry Urag can’t see that. Given everything that’s happened, and sotha sils connection to Wyrm and well, who you two are… you can’t really blame him but, I can see neither of you mean him harm.

Voryn: *smiles* neht was ready to adopt him without consulting me first. As sad as I am that Wyrm got frightened away from us, I’m glad he found love and sanctuary here in skyrim.

Nerevar: Me too, loved but… *lets go of Wyrms hand and folds his arms* not-

Taliesin: *staring daggers at him from by the door* …

Nerevar: … *nods* Enthir may we speak outside? I think we’re causing our little Wyvern some discomfort.

Voryn: *sensing a pressing topic at hand that Wyrm isn’t in the position to hear* yes off with you, stop crowding the poor dear.

Enthir: *gathering somethings up pretty easily, nods and fixes the blanket a little more over wyrm* I’ll go heat up his medicine… *walks from the room and glances back at Nerevar & Taliesin as they follow* what’s going on?…

Nerevar: Its Ancano. He’s sent one of his subordinates off to a location called ‘the Labyrinthian’ in search of an artefact to…

Taliesin: control Wyrm. As he put it…

Enthir: *ears pinning back as he leans against urags desk* how did you find out about this?…

Nerevar: we witnessed it last night.

Taliesin: after the incident, we followed him and spied on him and estormo having a little rendezvous in the courtyard.

Enthir: *pushes off the desk grabbing his coat* the arch mage needs to be made aware of this then. Hurry.

*meanwhile*

Wyrm: *now resting against Voryn again, still sore and pouty* is something wrong again?…

Voryn: *running his fingers through his hair, his third eye opening and staring down at him as he realises wyrm picked up on Neht and Taliesins tone shift* not that I’m aware of, but even still, it’d be best not to dwell on it. I’m sure everything’s fine… *opens his other eyes and looks at Wyrms sad tired face* do you want to try and rest again?

Wyrm: *shakes his head* no, I don’t… I don’t know what I want anymore… but… I know I’m tired of everyone keeping secrets from me. *rubs his face in irritation from both his headache, lack of sleep and general annoyance at his situation* I’m not dumb… somethings wrong and they won’t tell me. A-and if they’re not telling me it means I’m involved somehow… i-is it because of what happened in the village? Am I in trouble?

Voryn: *immediately pulls him into a comforting hug as he feels the dread gripping Wyrms mind deep within his heart* No no, Shh you’re not in trouble for that, I told you the arch mage is sorting that out.

Wyrm: *nuzzles into his arms and grumbles in annoyance* savos couldn’t sort a flea out of a dogs asshole…

Voryn: *grins a little and tries to hold in his laughter* that’s one way of putting it. *clears his throat before gently cupping Wyrms chin and lifting his face to look at him* But I swear it, you’re not in trouble Wyrm. *slides his hand onto his cheek beneath his missing eye, stroking it with his thumb*

Wyrm: *leans into his touch* you promise?..

Voryn: *smiles feeling peace wash over the younger dunmer again at his words* I promise.

Wyrm: *smiles and closes his eye as he snuggles back against him*

Voryn: …You still have to take your medicine though.

Wyrm: *whines and kicks his legs*

*meanwhile*

Savos: The Labyrinthian?! Why in oblivion would you be asking about that?

Nerevar: Because ancano and his minions are after something within the ruin. Something to control Wyrm or the soul of lorkhan.

Savos: *visibly paling by the second* Th-there’s nothing of interest in there, just a maze filled with the undead. They can’t get in without the key anyway now if you’ll excuse m-

Taliesin: *picks him up by his robes and pins him to the wall* Then hand it over. Or I will take it. By. Force.

Savos: *eyes wide staring into the high elves piercing gaze* i-I’ll get it for you.

*meanwhile*

Kaidan: *down in the tavern having a drink and watching the cleanup effort following yesterdays events* ehh, I’m not too sure what happened myself. Just know those weird monks turned up and did something to my friend.

Haran: *looks up from pouring his drink* Wait- you’re our pearls friend? Is he okay?

Kaidan: aye, he’s a little sore and poorly but he’s holding up. I take it he’s one of the few involved with the collage the townspeople like?

Haran: oh yes, it’s hard not to like Wyrm. He’s a beam of light in this frozen town. Dagur and I always make sure to have sweetrolls ready in case he pops in. He’d been teaching our daughter to read before he left for his trip. Promised he’d be back in less than two weeks… and then the month came and went and. We knew something was wrong, then Urag went out looking and got brought back on a stretcher. I’m glad he’s home safe where he belongs again. I suppose we have you and your friends to thank for that.

Dagur: *walks by patting kaidan on the back* speaking of which your food and drink are on the house for looking after our Wyrm.

Kaidan: I? Thank you I appreciate it but Taliesins the one who looks after him the-

Taliesin: *pushes open the door holding a heavy iron key* Kaidan. Get your stuff and find inigo, we’re leaving.

Kaidan: … *stands slowly* What’s happened?…

Taliesin: I’ll explain as we tack up the horses. *walks out, not noticing the hooded stranger in the corner, eyeing him up as they wrap their very odd looking spear*

#Wyrm dragonborn #sotha sil #Enthir #savos Aren #voryn dagoth #nerevar #skyrim taliesin #meanwhile inigo is off learning how to throw fireballs with J’zargo

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3rdeyeblaque · 11 months

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Today we venerate Benjamin Rucker aka Black Herman on his 134th birthday 🎉

Heralded as the greatest magician in U.S. history, Black Herman was brilliant for his fusion of performance magic with occultism & superstition, and his strong Separatist & militant Pan-Afrikan ideologies (Marcus Garvey x Booker T. Washington). He proclaimed that it was his mission to promote Black Power.

Born in Amherst, VA, as a teen, Black Herman learned the art of illusions from his mentor, Prince Herman. They ran a medicine show, performing magic tricks to attract curious passersby to their "Secret African Remedy". When Prince Herman, 17yr old Rucker was determined to carry on the show; this time using only magic. He then took on the name of, "Black Herman"; in honor of Prince Herman & as an homage to Alonzo Moore, the famous Black American magician who was known as the "Black Herrmann".

In Harlem, Rucker established himself as a pillar of the community. He was often seen in Garvey’s massive Harlem parades & is believed to have offered Garvey spiritual counsel. He befriended preachers, intellectuals and politicians, many of whom met at his home for a weekly study group. He was an Elk, a Freemason, and a Knight of Pythias. He used his success to make loans to local Black businessmen/organisations, established scholarship funds, & performed for free to help churches pay their bills. He expanded his wealth by purchasing a printing plan to establish a monthly magazine, "Black Herman’s Mail Order Course of Graduated Lessons in the Art of Magic". He acquired real estate, bought shares in two cotton plantations, gave personal consultations, & started herb/root gardens in a dozen cities.

Black Herman famously claimed that he was immortal & directly descended from Moses of the Bible. He asserted that our people could elude Klansmen & their descendants by escaping the limitations of mortality & simply outliving them. He'd also sell protective talismans to combat racism. He inserted his Afrikan heritage into his performances. One of his specialties included the “Asrah levitation.” He'd produce rabbits & doubled the amount of cornmeal in a bowl. Many of his tricks were "secrets taught by Zulu witch doctors". Some of his tricks were parallel to miracles from the Christian bible. He'd cast out demons from his assistant or brother hidden amongst the audience, then offer a special tonic for sale & offer a psychic reading address their “problems”.

Yet none compared to his most famous act of all, "Buried Alive". He would be interred in an outdoor area called "Black Herman's Private Graveyard", in full view of his audience. He'd slow his pulse by applying pressure under his arm, & pronounced "dead" on the spot by a local "doctor". As the coffin was lowered into the ground, Herman would slip out unnoticed. For days, people would pay to look at the grave, buidling the suspense over the fate of Black Herman. When the time was up, the coffin was exhumed with great drama and fanfare, and out walked Herman to lead his audience into the nearest theater, where he performed the rest of his show.

Eerily enough, his must famous act foreshadowed his own death in 1934 in which he collapsed on stage due to a massive heart attack that many audience members took to be part of his act. After the crowd refused to believe that the show was indeed over, Black Herman's assistant had his body moved to a funeral home. The crowds followed. Finally, his assistant decided to charge admission as one final farewell & homage to Black Herman's legacy. People came and went by the thousands; some even brought pins to stick into his corpse as proof of his death. His burial made front page news in Black newspapers across the country. Today, Black Herman rests in the Woodlawn Cemetery in NYC.

In 1925, he published a book, ghostwritten by a man named Young entitled, "Secrets of Magic, Mystery, and Legerdemain"; a semi-fictionalized autobiography that offers directions for simple illusions, advice on astrology & lucky numbers, & bits of Hoodoo customs and practices.

"If the slave traders tried to take any of my people captive, we would release ourselves using our secret knowledge." - Black Herman during his rope escape routine.

We pour libations & give him💐 today as we celebrate him for his love & service to our community/people & for his legacied contributions to Hoodoo Culture & History.

Offering suggestions : read his literary works, libations of whiskey/rum, Pan African flag, coins & paper money

‼️Note: offering suggestions are just that & strictly for veneration purposes only. Never attempt to conjure up any spirit or entity without proper divination/Mediumship counsel.‼️

#hoodoo #hoodoos #atrs #atr #the hoodoo calendar #rootwork #conjure #juju #hudu #black herman #Benjamin Rucker #black magicians

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