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hes-writer · 3 years

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Patreon Masterlist

These are exclusive fics that you can read on my Patreon!

* = complete, ^ = in-progress, + = will be posted on tumblr, (s) = smut (implied or mentioned) writing count: 78 pieces

**billing cycle currently paused** | new patrons will still be charged

This is a reupload of my masterlist with sneak peeks of each piece so you know what's up :D

Multi-Part Series | One Shots | Drabbles | Extras

* Unwavering (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) - 6.5k, the one where harry cheats (again)

"Right. Maybe we can go out tonight to grab some dinner," She suggested, a hopeful glint in her eyes and he almost felt guilty for putting her on the back burner of his mind. "I really have to go, baby," Peeking his head around her frame, he spotted the untouched toast and apple juice resting on where he should be. "I'm sorry."

^ + Roommate Series (3) (4) (5) (6) - 9.8k, the one where harry and y/n are roommates

He sighed, “I finished my coffee ages ago. I was just waiting for you to finish studying so we could leave together and go home,” Y/N dropped her fingers from his wrist, slouching the slightest bit as butterflies attacked her stomach. “Don’t look at me like that. I just wanted you to get home safe,” He nudged her forehead with the ball of his palm, his face contorting to annoyance.

^ + Notes on Camp (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) - 16.5k, the one where harry and y/n are camp counsellors

Y/N looked around to be met with puckered lips and clenched hands as the campers practically requested for her to kiss their favourite counsellor. Wide, hopeful stares were willing her to commit.

“Alright, alright,” She bent her upper body to reach his cheek, licking over her lips once before pressing it on his skin. It was only a quick peck and then she pulled back. He stayed unmoving.

Jacky and Emy poked their finger at him on opposite sides. His cheek dimpling with their small indents. “Maybe you should do it again?”

* Friends Don't (1) (2) (3)- 3k, the one where lines are crossed

“It’s Harry Styles fanfiction on Tumblr,” She suggested a conversation, shyly smiling in embarrassment. “I can see that,” He murmured, using his thumb to scroll through the rest of the story, “It’s . . . interesting. People write these about me?” His retort made the situation seem like an utter surprise.

* Digress, Progress, Regress Series - 5k, the one where harry falls out of love

Y/N wondered if there was a chance to fixing what has been lost--what has disappeared as the canvas soaked through in a permeated osmosis. Coating the brush of blue with white paint took several layers to completely cover the mistakes. There had to be an effort in wanting to make the faults and errors completely opaque from the eye; the bleary, watery irises soaked with tears, dampening her lashes in a thick haze as she cried.

Tickle Fights (1) - 1.2k, the one where bff!y/n teases harry about his boner

“What’s going on here, Harry?” The light tone of her voice indicated that she was teasing him, paired with the subtle movements of her lower half. Harry whined in response, feeling the blood rush downwards to make him even stiffer. “Does this feel good? Got hard over me straddling you, huh?” It was almost degrading, the way Y/N formed her question yet Harry couldn’t help a whimper from lingering in the air. He nodded, hands sliding down to grip at her moving hips.

Real Mature (1) (2) - part two is patron exclusive! - 603 words, the one where bff!harry and y/!n fight

“You shouldn’t have. I’m sorry for being bitter about you and Ruby,” She rested her forearms on his shoulders in a slant when he stood to his full height. “I know you’re happy with her,” Harry gave her a shy smile that confirmed his words. Ruby is someone special to Harry now and Y/N had to learn how to share his time, attention, and affection. “I reckon I’m just missing you a lot more now,” Y/N’s tone was sad and despondent, trailing her gaze to the floor where she almost chuckled at Harry’s fuzzy bunny slippers which she had gotten him.

^ Fine Line Series: Adore You - 1.1k the one where harry and y/n are friends with benefits

Still, with her back against the wall and Harry’s fingers still gripping her hips—she waited for his response. I told you I loved you. Say it back, Y/N thought. “I love her, Y/N,” He mumbled against her neck in a drunken stupor. So close.

Kinkmas Blurbs (1 - 7) - 4.6k, the one where it’s all smutty

Maybe it was the way that his jaw ticked harshly every time he threw his head back at a particularly good stroke. You wondered what he was imagining that had him bucking his hips to his fist before realizing that the movements would probably cause you to wake up. Still, his hooded lids didn’t peel open—not until a core shaking fondle of his heavy balls forced a choked whine out of his throat.

Harry’s neck snapped to your figure, catching the way you looked at him as if you were in distress that he wasn’t cumming anytime soon—not when you were there, willing and able to help.

“Fuck, love. ‘M sorry,” He mumbled, not stopping the flicks of his wrist. In fact, you swore that you could hear the squelching of his clear pre-cum squishing between his fingers.

The Secretary (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) 11k, the one where harry is the CEO and y/n is the assistant (cheating fic)

Two months ago, Y/N unburied a not-so-hidden secret that Harry tried to bury. Two months ago, Y/N walked in on her boyfriend and his secretary fucking on his office table. Two months ago, Y/N experienced everything from pain and discomfort, to disappointment and being scornful. She threaded the line of confronting him or waiting for the day he came forward and admitted it himself. There was a desire for Y/N to see Harry sweat beneath her beady eyes, watching him scratch the back of his pants in a nervous manner. She wanted to hear him stutter as he spat an excuse, she yearned to see him pleading with his gorgeous green eyes for her to stay. Y/N craved for his throat to close up, whimpers choked from his trachea because he was losing his stability as she walked away from him.

(s) Tension (1) (2) - 5.3k, the one where harry and y/n hate each other

“S’that why you hate me so much?”

His fingertips tapped his thigh methodically, crumpling a faint thud against his jeans. With how close they were sitting, Y/N’s bare knee brushed against his clothing. A burn of desire and anticipation lit inside of her like a dose of gasoline another in a flaming hot fire.

Harry shook his head, “Don’t hate you."

Champagne Problems- 4.4k, the one where marriage is a sensitive topic, the 1 - coming soon!

The freshly popped bottle of champagne poured into the flute on the table beside her bubbled and simmered, the sizzling reaction of the golden liquid ignited a moment of realization within her. The reason why her body felt more weighted, why tears filled her glazed eyes, pricking her corneas and threatening to spill down her face. Y/N’s heart had cracked–she was certain that everybody around her could hear it.

One Shot

(s) Achy Back - 813 words, the one where harry draws y/n a bath

A pout sat on her face as Harry stopped himself from ducking his head and catching her plush lips with his, craving the sweet taste of her and her strawberry lip balm. Her arms wrapped around his snatched waist, halting his breath at the tightness of her embrace and settling for a kiss on her forehead, the scent of her shampoo wafting in his nostrils, knowing that she had taken shower hours prior.

A Letter to the Man I’ve Loved - 1.5k, the one where harry receives a letter from his ex

Is it really worth it to look back in retrospect about ‘what had been’ when she can think about ‘what could have been’ if both of them realized their faults? Granted, he was more resilient in that sense than her, but he was no better at the time. She made mistakes and it had haunted her to this day, practically killing her with each moment she spent without him by her side.

Renegade - 981 words, the one where harry and y/n do a tiktok dance

“What are y’doing?” Harry asked, his eyes wide as his large palms ruffled the fluffy towel on his damp curls. The steam from the bathroom escaped to your bedroom where you were panting with effort, your chest heaving so hard that the peaks of your breasts rose with each breath.

“Uh, what are you doing?” You retorted slowly, hiding your hands behind your back were your fingers gripped your phone. Your thumb dug hard on the volume bottom, frantically trying to decrease the music from the phone speaker.

(s) Drop the Towel - 644 words, the one where harry does the ‘drop the towel’ challenge

You gasped at the sight, the knife clanging on the marble counter, “Ooh, hi there,”

He smirked cockily, watching your eyes observe his body, tongue subconsciously peeking out between your lips until you snapped your head to the window, “Oh my god! There are people out there, Harry!” You wailed in alarm, bending over to hand him his towel.

All I Ask - 2.2k, the one where feelings aren’t mutual

“I don’t want to be scared of what will happen tomorrow or if all we have is right now because we’ll have nothing left but I am,” A sob ripped through his throat, emotions were heightened tenfold because she was so close yet so far and they were still Harry and Y/N but at the same time they weren’t. They’ve changed over the span of one night. “All we have is tonight,”

Little Prince - 583 words, the one where 7-year-old harry takes care of his best friend

“Y/N? Y/N! Are you okay? I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen. I swear I wasn’t mad at you, I was just jok- Why are you smiling?” Harry yelped, panic evident in his shrill voice. His hands wandered towards her face, tilting it left to right, up and down, searching for any visible and invisible injuries besides the bump on her forehead.

Stressed Out - 1.8k, the one where y/n has a huge term paper due

“What d’ya mean I don’t get it?” He closed the paperback, making sure to clip in his bookmark to save his spot.

A pregnant pause slithered the room. Her fingers typing against the keys of her laptop ceased as she shot him a glare, “You’re not studying, are you? All you do is write songs, fiddle with a few instruments and sing it in front of people who adore you,”

Valentine’s Day - 1.5k, the one where harry runs into trouble and y/n is there to save him

“Shit! Are you crazy?” Y/N gasped in surprise when the passengers seat was occupied, the door opening and slamming shut all while the car moved at a speed of 15 km/h —cursing her forgetfulness for not clicking the locks shut.

“Keep driving!” The passenger shouted, looking back through the windshield.

Dream With Me - 1.3k, the one where y/n has trouble sleeping

Harry’s admiration gets interrupted when a sudden jolt took over Y/N’s body. He dropped his mouth open a little in shock, rubbing her back soothingly when she whimpered quietly, “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe with me,” She must have had experienced one of those moments when she was falling until her vision drooped to a shaded black.

Pet Name - 1.2k, the one where bff!harry just wants y/n to call him by his pet name again

His voice emulated a soft, syrupy tone that lingered in the air whenever he spoke. He was the colour honey itself–golden and yellow like the colour of the sun. Harry was bright in its sense of intelligence and the way he illuminated the whichever room he entered. His kindness catered to everyone’s needs and left pieces of his heart wherever he went.

Harry was honey.

Shave - 768 words, the one where harry helps y/n shave her coochie

She sniffles some more, “I’m trying to shave, H. It’s so itchy but I-I can’t reach down there,”

Y/N began to sob. The rattle of the razor clanking on the bathtub floor where she sat her bum on the edge. Her baby bump was causing her to teeter over the porcelain which urged Harry to swiftly plant his hands on her to keep her steady.

“I’m so huge! I’m the size of a house,” Y/N palmed the crest of her bump, rubbing it loosely as she admired the stretched skin yet slightly wishing that it would disappear and she was holding their baby in her arms instead.

(s) Don’t Worry, Darling - 1.5k, the one where y/n rides harry

He slipped down the headboard, resting his back flat on the mattress with Y/N sliding with him. She positioned her feet to rest near his knees, wrapping their limbs together so she could have some sort of sanity whilst Harry incepted on his shattering thrusts. Feet were planted on the mattress to give his lower half elevation to propel his hips against Y/N’s core. Harry’s fingers left white marks on her skin, gripping the plush flesh and essentially spreading Y/N open as he rapidly shoved his dick over and over inside of her with no signs of slowing down. He staggered for a few moments when her pulsing core emitted dazing throbs over his leaking cock but Y/N was quick to duplicate and resume the pace he had set with the movement of her hips.

To Be Loved - 2.3k, the one where y/n’s feelings are more than friendly

“I love you. Don’t you love me back?”

Harry’s eyes visibly widened, clearly taken aback by the question spewing from Y/N’s mouth. Her heat cheeks and a shy stance; knees knocking against his knobby ones while her dainty hands interlaced her fingers.

Revelation - 2.1k, the one where famous!y/n and harry are spotted together (pre-relationship)

Before there were Harry and Y/N--the power couple--there was Harry and Y/N.

Y/N, who was one of the most sought after female artists in the industry because of her angelic voice. The woman who had managed to catch the lingering stares of every household and the ears of many listeners with her truthful songs; narrative from the experiences she had gone through and shared through the art of songwriting.

Harry, who was quite the artist for the night. Harry’s limbs were being pulled metaphorically every which to ensure that the cameras captured him clapping respectfully in the audience. Others were asking him to stay for a bit more time backstage for content for an upcoming video. Right now, he was sat in his uncomfortable chair beside a handful of producers and well-known singers. A brief hug and whisper with Ariana Grande were enough for their fans to implode about a possible collaboration, granted that Harry had written a song for her album before. But Harry was certain that that feature wasn’t coming for a long while.

Apple Cheeks - 1.1k, the one where harry says something and y/n isn’t listening

Clearing his throat, he began, “I love you, Y/N. And I know that it might be too soon considering how short our relationship has been so far but I-I really do have strong feelings for you,”

Harry dropped his gaze as soon as he managed to peel off the first three words from his hoarse throat. “You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted to let you know that I really care for you and me. I definitely something for us in the future and I hope you feel the same,”

Dreadful seconds shivered up Harry’s spine. His stare was still fixed on her shuffling feet and the floor. It was painful to hear nothing but silence so Harry decided to courageously lift his head up.

Affliction - 1.5k, the one where Harry breaks down (TW: depressive thoughts)

It wasn’t even that Harry did not know how to say ‘no’ because he truly did. However, anyone would be worn-out by the amount of exhaustion carried on his back. That cold shudder of loneliness--even when he wasn’t alone-- because nobody shared the experience of defeat with him. The twitch of his ears straining to listen when nobody would do the same for him. A subtle jerk of the corners of his lips because he could not keep the smile plastered on his face like paint chipping off the drywalls. The flutter of tired lids waiting to be shut tightly as tears were wrung from his green eyes, lashes tickling his skin underneath the violent colour of his eye bags.

From the Dining Table - 748 words, the one where y/n’s new boyfriend looks a lot like harry

Y/N wondered if her former lover shared the same thoughts as she did. The girl that he woke next to—was she still there? Did they share the bed together—not just in the morning—but the nights as well? If so, did Harry love her like he did with Y/N? Or was he just pretending to be okay like she was?

Blanket for Two - 990 words, the one where y/n kicks harry out of bed

And now, Harry was in bed with the woman he loves. Her light snores echoing in the dim room and he was staring up at the ceiling, shivering in his bones. If she were awake, Y/N probably would have made a snide, joking comment about how he shouldn’t sleep naked, especially in the winter. Not like she didn’t do that either--she was practically naked with the thin camisole over her body. The difference was that Y/N had an extra layer of blanket keeping her warm, shielding her skin from the night air and Harry only had the friction of his palms rubbing against his arms. He was sure that he was a hint away from his teeth chattering. Harry had half the mind to dip his freezing feet beneath the blanket and jolt her awake with the change in temperature.

That’ll show her, he thought.

Around 1:32 - 3.2k, the one where y/n has a wet dream

“What?” Harry spat, tugging his shirt over his head, waiting for you to form a coherent excuse. “‘Think that jus’ because you woke up horny from a dream that y’can touch yourself? What a slut. Are you that desperate?”

Your cheeks flamed at his words of degradation, doubling your arousal and one that had you smushing your thighs together to relieve the ache. You rolled your eyes as he continued his rant instead of using the time to keep you satisfied. That was his job, wasn’t it? To make you cum and make you feel nothing but pleasure, yet here he was shaming you for touching yourself. Granted, you did it without his permission and done so while he was asleep beside you, but still.

“Wouldn’t have touched myself if you treated me well.”

+ Stories in My Eyes - 1.2k, the one where dad!Harry gets woken up in the middle of the night

And while he liked to think that he had gotten the hang of—quite literally— his kid dangling on his leg like some sort of koala, pulling on his hair every time he gave Beau a piggy back ride, and the random visits late at night where the small child would stand at the doorway with his teddy bear so quietly only to say, “Can I sleep with you and mumma?” He was not at all prepared for tonight’s’ events.

+ Feather Boa - 1.5k, the one where harry comes home after the Grammys

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Oh, stop that!”

“Stop what?” Harry nudged the strap of his custom tote bag higher on his shoulder.

“You just won a Grammy, you goose!”

Harry’s gaze softened, endeared at how happy Y/N was for him. She was jumping on the tips of her toes, hands clasped in front of her as she stared at him with admiration and awe.

(s) Roughed Up - 2.8k, the one where harry’s domestic and y/n’s mind wanders

You whimper in return, almost collapsing straight on his body when Harry uses your body to move you up and down his cock. His curls flop on the soft pillow beneath his head, sweat matting the tiny hairs to his face. The way he looks at you with such intensity and a certain kind of awe as if he couldn’t believe that this was really happening is rewarding. Hooded eyes observing how your body twitches in his grip, gasping at how strong he felt underneath you like you were merely a ragdoll to be played wit

Pudding Cups - 1k, the one after harry steals food from the kitchen (Notes on Camp Extras)

“So is it common practice for counsellors to steal food from the kitchen?”

Harry lifts his head up at inquiry, shifting his attention from gently taking out the contents of the reusable bag towards Y/N. She was laying on his mattress, flat on her back as she stared at the wooden ceiling. If she looked closely, Y/N was sure that his light bulb was flickering the tiniest bit and usually, she would’ve been freaking out over the fact that she was in the middle of the woods, hovering over a potential power cut. But the fear subsided once she reminded herself that Harry was around.

“Hopefully not,” He muses with a suggestive eyebrow.

Drabbles:

(s) Drabble #1: Fratboy!Harry - 469 words, the one where y/n meets fratboy!harry at a party

Y/N snapped her head towards the member. When she applied for the rush, she didn’t expect that she would have to sleep with someone in order to officially join the sorority. “What? Why him?

Sadie chuckled, sensing the panic in her voice. “Don’t worry, Harry’s nice. Besides, everybody does it,” She swirled her drink around, mixing the liquids together. Her lashes draped over her cheeks, almost touching the apples. “Are you in?”

Drabble #2: Asshole!Harry - 848 words, the one where harry cheats

You were calm, silent, and patient to see where he would take the conversation. Guilt was not present when you stood face to face in a battle of tranquility that pierced through your heart. His eyes gleamed in concealed smugness while his tongue curled in endless apologies. You knew him too well that he didn’t even stand a chance to hide his true intentions. But to Harry, you were a naive little girl that failed to acknowledge the difference between his acting and the truth.

(s) Drabble #3: Tease - 1.4k, the one where harry teases y/n

Harry plunged two fingers in her hole carefully, biting his lip to suppress the sound he was bound to release from the feeling of her wet walls suffocating his digits. He delivered punctual thrust, making sure to graze her sensitive spot to heighten her arousal. “Harry,”

He stepped back abruptly, pulling his fingers out and creating distance between them. “We have dinner to get to,”

(s) Drabble #4: Dessert - 1.7k, the one where y/n makes dinner but harry wants dessert

His thoughts were always about her no matter how hard he tried not to. And the fact that she took the time out of her day to prepare him something that he will enjoy; well, Harry’s heart just about swelled up to three times the size in his thumping chest.

She pulled away, shaking her head adamantly, “No way! I spent all day cooking and you’re not gonna skip it just to eat my pussy,”

He the corners of his eyes squinted in offence at her description, “Your pussy’s top tier, baby.” Harry ‘tsked’ his tongue, “If yeh didn’t know that already, then I’m doing a horrid job,”

(s) Drabble #5: Mine - 579 words, the one where harry is obsessed with y/ns tits

But he couldn’t exactly do that when all Harry wanted to do was do her. The smooth skin was supported by a navy blue push-up bra; he could tell by the lace mesh that he could see peeking out. It gave Y/N every favour because Harry was trying so hard not to let saliva pool in his mouth and drip out in a line of drool, his eyes widening with each movement she made with her arms, jostling her boobs a little bit here and there.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” Y/N waved her arms to catch his attention. A frown creased her brows as he blinked sluggishly before finding enough coherence to recognize that she was trying to talk to him.

(s) Drabble #6: Early Mornings - 1k, the one where harry thinks y/n is prettiest in the morning

“Get to see ya’ when you’re most beautiful,” Harry tickled his nose on hers, smiling at the way the feature scrunched up as she giggled. He groaned at the contractions her walls gave while her tummy flipped in gentle laughter. “Oi! What’s so funny?” He smushed her face with kisses, pausing his thrust halfway through which had her whining.

Drabble #7: Getaway - 952 words, the one where harry is always cold in the mornings

"Y/N, have you taken my purple bathrobe?"

“No,” Y/N tugged the lavender coloured fabric by the sleeves first. Then, by the lapels draping over her chest, drawing them tighter to block the gust of wind currently caressing Harry’s floppy curls.

Twisting his body, a knowing look overtook Harry’s face as Y/N exited the cabin door. The sheepish smile on his lover’s face granting all the information he needed for this morning’s chilly inception.

There she was, clad in the said purple bathrobe.

Drabble #8: A Little Chilly - 451 words, the one where harry sleeps on the couch

“‘S my bed. Dunno why Lydia can’t jus’ stay on the couch,”

“It’s Y/N!” She wailed, walking closer to the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Dear, we didn’t know that you were coming home,” Anne tried reasoning with him, not seeing the gravity of the situation as Harry was making it out to be.

Text Messages:

Text Messages #1 - ‘would you love me if I was snail?’

Text Messages #2 - ‘did you know we had a quiz today?’

Text messages #3 - ‘did you steal my hoodie?’

Notes/Behind the Scenes

Notes: Tarnish

Notes: Stressed Out

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #masterlist #hes-writer

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the-girl-in-the-box · 3 years

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Not Today XVIII

A/N: A LOT is happening in this chapter. We're really gearing up for some plot shifting events, and things are being set up for the future. TW again for infant mortality, though this chapter will be more explicit than the last with that theme. So, last chapter before things REALLY hit the fan, and I hope you enjoy! Skål!

Summary: When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

Everything seemed to go downhill after that night. It hadn’t immediately, there had been a few days, but it began with a ship.

An English ship had come into port, and Aethelind recognized that it would likely be one from her brother. She grinned at first. News of home was much needed, especially good news, which she hoped it would be.

Aethelind met the messenger who stepped off the ship, smiling and thanking him for the letter. He didn’t smile back, however, and bowed to her. “You have my sincerest condolences, Your Majesty,” he said. Her smile fell then, her heart dropping.

"Your-?” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Thank you. I’ll have my reply by this evening. Make yourself comfortable here until then.”

She waited until she returned to her room to open the letter, and her heart was pounding, fearful of what she would read. The moment she recognized her brother’s writing, she was relieved that he must be alright, but that didn’t set her mind at ease.

Dearest Sister,

I regret that this letter is written under the worst circumstances. Though I have good news, it will be quickly outweighed by the bad. We have found Lagertha, and she is safe with us in Wessex once more. I have also enclosed here a letter that has come to you from York, written by her son. We figured it would be easiest to send in this letter. I hope it holds better news than what I must tell you. While you have been away, our mother fell ill. I cannot be sure when this letter will reach you, but I am sure that by the time it does, she will have been with God for a few days at least. At the time of my writing this, she has only been with Him for a few hours. I pray for His peace and comfort for you, Aethelind, and I ask you pray it for myself as well. I miss you more and more each day, but I know the work you do is important, so I cannot find it in myself to ask you to return. Know, however, that I have faith we will meet again. Until then, may God be with you.

With sincerest love,

Alfred

The words settled heavy in her heart, and Freydis and Ivar paused mid conversation as they heard the pained scream that came from Aethelind’s room. Freydis was the first one to reach the room, opening the door without so much as a knock. Seeing the Princess, sitting on the edge of her bed, sobbing, holding a letter close to her chest…

Freydis was at her side in an instant, wrapping her arms around her and holding her close. Another death, she figured, as this was very similar to how she had found her when the news had come of Aethelred’s death. There were only two she could think of who were in Wessex, and would have this sort of effect on Aethelind- Alfred, or their mother. Freydis brushed her fingers through Aethelind’s hair, and Aethelind turned more toward her and clung to her.

“Shh, my love,” Freydis whispered to her. “I know your pain. Nothing can compare to this. I am so sorry. I am so sorry, dearest.”

Ivar came into the room shortly after Freydis, as he couldn’t match her speed, and the sight before him stunned him into freezing. The two women still on Midgard that he cared for the most, crying and holding each other, a letter now abandoned on the floor. He walked to the bed and sat down on the other side of Aethelind, before bending down to pick up the letter and read it.

Sure enough, there was a letter from York, but it hadn’t been opened just yet. So he sat it aside, assuming Aethelind would read it later and tell him if there was anything important, and scanned the opened letter in his hand. As soon as he saw what had passed, a flash of a memory, hearing of his own mother’s death, passed through his mind. He abandoned the letter once more, as well as the news of Lagertha’s reappearance, to prop his crutch against the bed and turn to wrap his arms around Aethelind as well.

Aethelind wrapped an arm around Ivar’s, holding him closer to herself as well. He knew what she believed about hardship, from their conversation just days before. This was the worst he’d seen her take something, though. When Heahmund was killed in battle, he learned from Freydis who had found and comforted the Princess. When it was Aethelred, he had found them sitting together the way he had today, but she hadn’t been so devastated as she was now. With Thora, the news had come to them together. He’d forgotten to give the order not to execute her with the birth and near death of Baldur. The Princess had simply thanked his warrior for informing them, and gone quiet the rest of the day. This was different.

This was the same sort of blinding, raw pain he had felt when his father and mother were both killed, that he had disappeared into the cliffs to deal with. This was the sort of agony that would likely keep her up at night. He hoped he and Freydis would be able to help her through this, as no one had truly helped him through his own grief. And with everything Aethelind was doing for himself and his wife… she certainly deserved it.

Freydis, unlike Ivar, didn’t know exactly who had passed, but that didn’t matter to her so much as helping her friend. Never had she felt so close to another woman her age as she did to Aethelind, so perhaps that was why she cared about this as much as she did. She just couldn’t imagine letting her go through this alone.

Eventually, after a few moments, Aethelind managed to whisper, “I miss her so much.” So it was her mother, then, Freydis realized. “I never imagined when I left Wessex, I would never see her again.”

But, as much pain as she was in, she couldn’t imagine what Alfred was going through. Aside now from Elsewith, Alfred was entirely alone- so far as family went, at least. Ubbe, Torvi, and Lagertha were still there. But their birth father had been dead for years, their adopted father as well now, their brother, and now their mother… Aethelind was the only relative he still had in Wessex, and now, she was in Kattegat. He may as well have been the last of their family.

“Should I go back?” she asked, her voice quiet and scratchy. “I don’t want to leave Alfred alone through this…”

“But you also want to stay, don’t you?” Freydis surmised, and Aethelind nodded. “What does your heart say, hm?”

“It is torn,” she confesses. “Alfred is my brother, but I feel something here that I could have never felt in Wessex, and I’m afraid if I return, he won’t agree to let me come back here.”

“What is it you feel?” Freydis questioned.

“Like I’m… where I’m meant to be?” Aethelind said. “It’s strange, and it doesn’t make any sense to me how that can be so. I was born in Wessex. I was raised as a Princess there. But I have learned to fight like a Shieldmaiden, I have become councillor to both King and Queen of Kattegat, and I feel like I am home when I am here. If Alfred were to leave Wessex, I could almost assuredly say I would have no care to return there. My heart is no longer in those halls. I wonder if it ever was.”

Something in Ivar felt thrilled that she wanted to stay, and he had no doubt Freydis felt the same. He understood wanting to be there for her brother, but a selfish part of him whispered that if he could survive losing both of his parents within a week of each other, alone, her brother could survive this alone. And if that just happened to mean she stayed in Kattegat… well, he couldn’t really complain, could he?

“What would you do if you did return?” Ivar eventually questioned, making her turn to look at him. He tried not to put too much thought into the way seeing her leaning again Freydis, who was holding her still, as she looked up at him made him feel. “Your mother has gone already, to be with your God, hasn’t she? You cannot see her if you returned, and by the time you did, would all your rites for the dead not have already been finished?”

These were the same things that had made her realize there was no sense in returning to Wessex when Aethelred had died. But Alfred had still had their mother then. He hadn’t been alone, just as she wasn’t now.

“They would be,” she confirmed. “If I returned, it would be to be with Alfred. So he wouldn’t feel so alone.”

“Is he married?” Ivar asked, and Aethelind nodded. “Then he is not as alone as he could be. Just as you are not alone here. You should not have to leave where your heart is at peace.”

Freydis nodded, clearly agreeing with Ivar. Of course, she also wanted Aethelind to stay, so just as Ivar was she was biased, but it was good advice either way, she thought. It’s how she would have made her decision.

And, that did make Aethelind’s decision. The letter from York remained unopened for a few days, as she wrote her reply to Alfred, and mourned her mother in Kattegat. Ivar and Freydis were with her every step of the way, of course, and she was grateful for this.

The letter from York remained unopened for yet another few days, however, as tragedy struck Kattegat once more. For the past week, Baldur had cried day after day, his stomach surely empty, as he couldn’t feed. He would stop if he fell asleep, but otherwise, he continued his crying.

Aethelind had taken to sitting with Freydis and Baldur during the day, while Ivar was busy handling business around Kattegat, but as night was settling in, Ivar had returned to his wife’s side. Freydis was already in bed, and Aethelind was sat beside her, smiling sadly at the small infant who was crying in his mother’s arms.

“He’s so thin,” Aethelind found herself commenting, and Freydis nodded slightly. She had finally realized the truth, though Ivar and Aethelind both questioned if she had truly come to terms with it. Freydis handled much with the grace of a woman raised for the throne, so they couldn’t quite tell if that were true, or if it wouldn’t set in until Baldur was gone.

Which, it seemed wasn’t going to be long now, it seemed to Aethelind. Ivar even came to sit on Freydis’s other side, and he brushed his fingers over the baby’s head. His cries had become quieter, weaker, in the past few hours, and they seemed to be weakening still. That hadn’t happened yet, not in the way it was happening now.

This far more resembled a loss of strength than a baby who was falling asleep, and when Ivar noticed how Baldur was moving more slowly, he looked up at Aethelind. They both recognized this, and so when she felt his gaze, she met his eyes and gave a small nod. It wasn’t going to be long, now.

And it wasn’t. A few hours passed, and none of them had moved. But when the room fell silent, it was thick. It was the suffocating kind of silence where no one knew quite what to do, or say. Baldur’s body was perfectly still, no breath even coming from the boy.

The silence stretched on for a minute or two, and then it was broken. Tears rolled down Aethelind’s cheeks at the sound of Freydis’s screams, and Aethelind took the woman in her arms as quickly as she could. Freydis was trying to pull the baby close to her chest, and Ivar himself felt his eyes water.

He had asked Aethelind why these things were allowed to happen to them, why the gods would take the child into their halls so soon, and she had replied that there were lessons to be learned in hardships. If only he could see what lesson he was meant to learn through losing his firstborn son.

That was when the fighting began. Aethelind had heard the first of them the day she’d finally read the letter from York. It sounded bad, and she could even hear Ivar demanding to know if Baldur had been his son. When she heard Freydis cry out, she glanced back at the letter, swallowed hard, and then stood, carrying it with her toward their chambers. Something needed to interrupt this, at least until Ivar had calm down, it seemed. If he wanted to question Baldur’s lineage, Aethelind thought it needed to be done later, not when emotions were still running so high.

“Ivar,” she said, stepping into the room. She held up the letter, and said, “I’ve just read this. You need to hear what’s in it.”

She noticed Freydis on the ground then, an almost unreadable expression on her face. It was clear she was crying, though. Something bad had happened here, and her brows creased a little as she looked at her. “Freydis, what happened?” she asked softly.

Ivar spoke before Freydis could answer, questioning, “What is in the letter?”

Aethelind swallowed and handed the letter to him, before crouching down to check on Freydis. His eyes widened at first, and then narrowed, as he realized what was happening here. Björn was coming to take Kattegat. If this letter had come from York to Wessex, and then across the sea to Kattegat… Chances were, he was already nearby. Defenses would need to be mounted immediately. He would need to call a Þing, bring the people together and explain the situation to them.

And that was exactly what Ivar did. Aethelind was stood toward the front of the crowd, facing them, her back turned to Ivar and Freydis. This was where she’d been asked to stand, as the one who had provided the information about the attack coming to Kattegat. Ivar had made clear to her that she, again, held a new role in his Kingdom. And as such, she belonged with himself and Freydis.

She took a deep breath when she heard him begin to speak, and folded her hands in front of her body. This wouldn’t likely be a long Þing, but there was much to cover.

“My people,” Ivar began. Aethelind’s back straightened a little. “Spring is coming. The Earth renews itself. That which was dead comes alive again. Everything changes. My wife gave birth to a child.”

Aethelind was careful to not let her confusion show on her face. The three of them needed to be seen as a united front to the people of Kattegat, if they were to be trusted. Still, she did turn to look at Ivar and Freydis. Where could he have been going with this? From the look on Freydis’s face, she didn’t know, either.

“A beautiful, beautiful boy,” Ivar continued. “I held him in my arms and he was as beautiful and as shining, as Odin’s son, Baldur.” He even mimicked holding a baby, and the slightest bit of Aethelind’s confusion slipped through. “My heart overflowed with love for that child.”

The look Freydis gave him could only be described as cold. This wasn’t good, Aethelind realized. They may have been fighting privately, but a divide could be caused in the people if that got out. Some would support Freydis, some would support Ivar, and they might just turn against each other. It was one of the first things Aethelind had learned about ruling. Always present a united front, regardless of what is being done in secret.

“But the gods cut his life short.” The people began to murmur amongst themselves, sounds of dismay and upset coursing through the room. Aethelind herself had to swallow, her eyes dropping at the mention of the late infant. Freydis, however, grew ever colder. “I have no idea why,” Ivar said. “They have their reasons.” She looked to the ground, and her behavior might have made sense to those who weren’t aware of the fighting when Ivar spoke again. “But it is had for a mother to accept such things.”

From what Aethelind had understood of the argument Freydis and Ivar had had, from what Freydis herself had told her, this was actually not exactly the case. Or, rather, it was, but Ivar was having just as hard a time. Whereas Freydis tended to become quiet, retreat into herself to mourn the child, Ivar’s hurt was explosive, and angry. This was the frequent cause of the fighting. But to everyone else, it appeared that Freydis was mourning, and likely angry about the loss of her child.

“To lose the child they have carried inside their body…” Ivar was now continuing. “But the will of the gods cannot be denied. They have other plans. And, in all humility, we have to accept their verdict.” There was more indistinct murmuring from the people, before Ivar once again interrupted them. “King Harald and my brother, Björn, have abandoned York, and the Saxons will retake the city. The Princess of Wessex herself has given me this information, through means we have not had since the passing of the Ancient One.”

The Seer? Aethelind realized, and she had to keep her expression from revealing her shock at what he had just said. He was passing her off as another Seer… For whatever reason, she couldn’t guess, but if she knew Ivar he would have one.

The truth was, he wanted to paint her as a Völva, a Seeress, for two reasons. One, was that he simply did not want the knowledge of how she had learned of Björn’s departure from York to get out. If it was known that she had contact with Björn Ironside, it could invite disagreement among his people. The other reason, was to add further support to his claim that he was a god. He had had a rather rude awakening with the death of Baldur, and his conversation with Aethelind, to the fact that he was just as human as everyone else, but his people didn’t need to know this. If he had a Völva supporting him, working alongside him, how much more convincing could he be that he was a god?

He continued with his speech before anyone had too much time to question anything- just as he always did. “Our plan for this season was to raise an army, sail to York, and reclaim it as part of our Empire of Kattegat.” Aethelind knew that York had long been claimed by the Vikings. Because of this, she didn’t see reclaiming it as a breech of their agreement with Alfred. Perhaps he’d have disagreed, but he wasn’t the one in charge of this agreement. Not on the Norse end.

“I was expecting my brother, Hvitserk, to return with King Olaf, and his army. We were going to attack York together.” This came as a surprise to Aethelind. So, it wasn’t about Björn leaving. He had meant to take it from King Harald. Well, still a move against another Viking, I suppose, she thought. Still wouldn’t have broken our agreement. “Unfortunately, they are not here.”

A feeling of unease settled in Aethelind. Hvitserk should have been back by now, if he was only going to get an army Ivar had already made arrangements with. And, from the sound of it, that was exactly what he’d been meant to do. So if he hadn’t returned, it either meant he was in trouble, he was dead, or…

Hvitserk had betrayed Ivar.

The crowd murmured in shock, and anger settled in Ivar as he nodded with them. “I know, I know,” he said, raising a placating hand. “Things have changed. My people, we will not venture out. We will not attack York.” He had stood now, and was beginning to raise his voice in that way which would win the people over to him, whatever he was asking. “Instead,” he continued. “Recognizing our own vulnerability to attack, we will renew and strengthen the defenses of our great town.” The crowd cheered him on, and he began to smirk. “I am with you!” he announced. “I am speaking for you!” Once again, he was doing as Aethelind knew he would. The crowd appeared to love him.

“Let those who want to destroy us, know this. You will never overcome Kattegat. We will always defeat you! The gods are with us! The gods love us! We are the people!”

The crowd began to chant his name once more, again with the name of Odin, as he turned and offered his hand to Freydis to stand and join him. She seemed conflicted for a moment, before taking his hand, and slowly getting to her feet. As soon as she had stood, she pulled her hand away, and folded it neatly with her other hand in front of her body.

He played it off brilliantly, though, and truly only Aethelind noticed. She noticed because he then used that hand to offer to her, silently inviting her to stand beside him. But, she did take his hand and let him pull her to his side, and the people of Kattegat accepted this as an official declaration from their King, that the Princess of Wessex had become his right hand.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius, @wilhelmyna, @katfett, @fangirl-nonsense, @zuzus-sun, @heavenly1927, @pomegranates-and-blood

#ivar the boneless #ivar x oc #vikings #vikings history #history channel vikings #not today #chapter eighteen #ivar's heathen army #ivar ragnarsson #ivar #alex hogh andersen #ivar x ofc #ivar x original female character #ivar x christian!oc #tw: infant mortality

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thequeenb · 4 years

Text

Lost love (part 3)

Pairings: KamilahxMC

A request from anon

She feels her body light and her knees feel weak. Did i just jump? She thought to herself but she was brought back to reality at the sound of her phone ringing, of course

She took a step back, her heart was racing what was i thinking? Her hands were shaking with horror when she realized what she was about to do. How could she ever be this way? Life was precious for her, she always wanted to live a full long life but all the pain made her wish she wasn't born at all

She reached to her pocket thanking whoever called her, but watching the screen she frowned at the number she didn't recognize. Maybe it was Lily or her mother, anyone who worried enough for her well being

So she picked it up, trying to calm herself and make her voice steady, she didn't want anyone to come after her after all.

"Hello?" She casually said, hoping the person on the other line doesn't hear how fast she was breathing

But there was silence and she could have sworn she heard a breath catch on the other line. Maybe it was the wrong number. She was about to hang up when a voice stopped her

"Amy.." Kamilah whispered, her voice full of emotions

She froze at the sound of the sweet melody she could recognise everywhere. Maybe she is imagining things. Maybe her depression finally got the best of her

She would always hear Kamilah's voice in her dreams, feel her fingertips dance on her skin but this time it felt real, and so she let it sink in her heart

"W-who is this?" she asked hesitantly

Again silence.

"Ugh this is ridiculous" she said angrily hanging up. She couldn't believe that she actually started to see illusions and hear things. Sighing she got up only to fall to her knees.

She was weak, all the events came crushing to her at once. How could she handle this loss? This pain? They are safe and sound and thats what should matter but she couldn't bear it.

She wanted to cry but her eyes were dry after all the times she stayed up crying. So she screamed so loud until her lungs gave up and all she could do is try to breathe holding her chest tight.

___

Kamilah lowered her phone looking at the ground lost in her thoughts, trying to wrap her head around on what just happened

"What happened?" Adrian put his strong arm on her shoulder trying to give her courage.

"She..i..i am foolish" her voice was shaky yet sure "she hang up, she said murmured some things about seeing and hearing ghost i--"

He frowned trying to understand what was happening but it was impossible to understand the whole story when something is missing

"Ugh something is missing Adrian i feel it in my guts" she said skeptical, trying to find a lead to start solving this painful mystery

"Go rest, we can talk about it tomorrow with a clear mind"

She nodded and head to her apartment tired and torn apart. She hate the fact she can't remember, there are bits and pieces of memories, of feelings but nothing more.

Soon enough she entered her apartment looking around and walking towards the bar to grab the bottle of whiskey. She didn't even bother to pour herself a glass, she just took a long sip letting the bitter alcohol calm her thoughts.

Her eyes stopped at the living room, something trying to creep inside her mind. She closed her eyes letting that feeling guide her.

"Its just funny you know" Kamilah said taking Amy's hands on her own

"I know that look on your eyes" Amy smiled enjoying the affection she was not used to get from her

"I just..i am glad you are with us, with me" she now held her hand more tight letting her eyes linger on Amy's lips then her eyes

Amy took a moment to speak again, letting those words warm her heart "There is nowhere i would rather be"

"Really?" A surprised tone entered her tone, a vulnerability she wasn't used to

"No" Amy said with a serious tone

Kamilah arched her brow looking intensly at Amy's eyes

"Of course silly" she kissed her tenderly, letting herself get lost in eachother's warmth

When she opened her eyes they were wet, fresh tears running down her face she didn't even realize she had. She walked towards the couch letting her hand touch everything she passed through.

Her hands stopped at a pillow that she firmly held tight against her chest letting all the frustration and sadness finally get out. She sobbed and punched the couch so hard it almost broke.

"Give me a sign.. a god damn sign!!" she said looking at the big window Infront of her, hoping the next day will bring more hope.

___

She walked by the river, letting the cool air hit her face. She felt so detached from everyone that she almost jumped when she felt a lingering touch on her shoulder. She turned around only to see no one.

Great another mind trick ugh

She let out a heavy sigh cursing the universe for letting her get though so much pain. But then she felt the same touch, this time on her waist

Please stop she thought taking a deep breath

Meanwhile

She couldn't sleep that night, her memories still fresh, still trying to understand the meaning of all this. Her train of thoughts stopped when she felt fingertips dance on the back of her neck

Alarmed she turned around, her fangs bared only to see the empty bed she was sleeping in. What is happening?

Maybe she started going crazy. Tired she curled up in her bed again looking at the celling, her eyes lost and empty. Before she closed her eyes she whispered "I will find you" hoping Amy somewhere out there could hear her.

___

Amy wrapped her hands around herself and walked towards her small apartment lost in her own world as always but something felt different inside of her.

A force of air got passed her hair and she could have sworn she heard Kamilah's voice whispering gently to her.

She ignored it, trying not to pay attention to the weird events that just happened. But little did she know, if something is meant to be, there is nothing that could prevent it from happening.

Tag list: @scarlet-letter-a0114 @nydeiri @onyxgaytrash @thepotatobleh @mrskamilxh @littlemissgreen97 @ilovetaylor13m @sayeedbound @wildsayeed @trouble-with-the-curve @blackphenix9527 @la-guera-69 @lightning-fury @gavryllo

#kamilah x mc #kamilah sayeed #bloodbound #choices fanfiction #bb fanfic #bb #bb kamilah #choices kamilah #kamilah is my queen

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thestudyfeels · 5 years

Text

🎨 Graphic made by @indiaisstudying: India is brilliant my pals, and I recommend checking her out for studyblr/artblr inspiration. My girl tHIRIVES.

The singular takeaway from this post: Do a creative binge. Much productive than a Netflix binge. Period.

Two months ago, I reached my peak when I coined the term ‘bood day’ (a bad to good day, in my article How To Flip A Bad Day By 180°). Today, puppies and kittens, I present to you— a creative binge.

*crickets chirping, that one dude in the audience scratches his nose and turns away*

…This one actually works but okay, we get it, y'all are bitches. But gonna do my job anyway– if you're a creator reading this, please do a creative binge at least once every two weeks.

I started doing these binges two months ago, and I've seen a VAST improvement in my creative energy. I feel my commercial voice coughing and saying hello to the mic, so before I start listing side-effects for a sponsored pill, let's dive into the basics.

🍵 Quick PSA —

↪ JOIN MY TAGLIST? If you aren't on this yet, please get on it, it'll mean a lot to me! By joining, you get a new article on lifestyle design & productivity every week.

100 Days of Sweat: This challenge starts TOMORROW (10th of April), so if you wanna hustle on your bod this year, join us! Accountability does crazy things.

Ever questioned your life, experienced writer's block, painter’s pain or blogger’s… block? (Narrator: aaaand she's back to advertising.) A creative binge helps deal with fixing exactly that.

“A creative binge is based off the equation of quality in = quality out.”

A lot of creators feel that they're supposed to magically create out of their head, and that's just ridiculous. It's ludicrous considering you don't know shit, read shit, do shit and watch shit.

Even to write fiction, my pal, you'll have to expose yourself to the world to know its ways, read great books and take tips (not to mention stock up on coffee, and prepare to cry a lot) before you start cranking out the pages. Everything you create is ultimately inspired by the Ways Of The World. (And that's a fantastic novel title)

So in short, you’ve got to consume content, to make content. And in a creative binge, you conscious choose content that'll help you create. Genius, I know!

Okay, but what if I'm not a creator?

Brilliant question! Wanna become more valuable and leave the people you interact with better? Take a creative binge.

Allow me an elaboration: Take a janitor and a neurosurgeon. The said janitor is paid much less than the neurosurgeon. Why is that? Is the neurosurgeon a better person? That's debatable. Is the janitor less efficient at his work? Again, debatable. The primal reason lies in the neurosurgeon acquiring more valuable skills than the janitor. Society rewards them by paying more since there are less folks who can do what the neurosurgeon does.

To recap: In order to be indispensable in the role you play (whatever it is, a student, calligrapher, CEO of the Janitor Club), you HAVE to become valuable. Grow your curiosity & know more than yo’ buddies (also bring more value than anybody else). And to become valuable, you consume value. Tada!

(And if you still ain't convinced, I'll pull out the Netflix card. You'd really rather watch shows? Or binge YouTube? Than learn a new skill, or develop existing ones? Question your priorities, my friend. Victims love entertainment, victors love learning.)

Cool, you're joining in then! Not that creative binge is NOT an entertainment binge. It's a value providing binge. What you ‘consume’ has to bring you something in return— whether that's creative inspiration, motivation or skills. *Swing arms* yup! We’re one gay, productive household. Someone remind Hallie to buy the groceries though, the Cheerios are going mouldy.

By my dictionary, a creative binge is a slot of time, 1½ to 3 hours I'd say, when you watch/read/listen to some good stuff. Basically, binge content.

THE 101 OF A CREATIVE BINGE

🌿 Basics:

I conduct one every week (usually Wednesday mornings), lasting around 1½ to 2 hours.

I'll also keep a notepad and a pen nearby, to take notes and jot ideas as they come. Again, this is NOT an entertainment binge, even though it's a chill job.

Sometimes I'll get passive things done (like wiping my desk, eating breakfast and taking out textbooks) while watching. We maximize our time.

🌿 What Do I Watch:

The stuff I watch falls into 3 categories: creative/humor (for inspiration), business/skills (for skills) & motivation (for, um, motivation). Fair warning though, a lot of the stuff these folks make overlap, but that's alright. This is just a rough demarcation.

Creative/Humor: some YesTheory, maybe some MacDoesIt, sprinkle in some Ryan Higa, perhaps an episode of a show with an amazing script, some stand-up comedy from my favorites. Or maybe trash that and just watch Sherlock. (Geez, Netflix, I hate you, I love you.)

Skills: Gary Vee, some artist channels, that random video on how to thrift shop even though I don't shop.

Motivation: Be Inspired, Tom Bilyeu, Mel Robbins and random videos which look nice.

🌿 What Do I Listen To:

Oof, I love music tremendously! If you're a pal, you know it's time to RUN when I come around being like, “soo, I was wondering what's your favourite–”.

Yet, during a creative binge, I'll only listen to stuff that 1) inspires me, or 2) is creative in a way I can't explain. Some recommendations!

Hype music:

The Score

Imagine Dragons

Creative music:

Billie Eilish

Lana Del Rey

Sleeping At Last

Lorde

Conan Gray

Harry Styles

🌿 What Do I Read:

Usually the book that I'm reading at that point if I'm being lazy.

POETRY: It's my belief, but poetry is a writer's most powerful device. There's a novel to be said in a simple sonnet.

FICTION: I dig great fiction. PS, please read (and sob over) Away Childish Things, by @letteredlettered. It changed me as a person, changed my entire perspective about kids. I'm much kinder and softer now, and my pimples are gone. I'll literally never get over drarry too, so thanks lettered, love you.

ARTICLES: Bookmarked psychology, productivity & fitness articles on Medium. Maybe check out James Clear's & Gary Vee’s blog for new posts.

Because I wanna drive this home, here's what I did in my last creative binge as a concrete example —

Care to Note that:

All of the stuff I consume is pre-planned.

I add videos throughout the week to my Creative Binge playlist on YouTube, download albums from Amazon Music and articles for offline reading.

DON'T leave this to the last moment, you'll more likely pick entertainment vs learning then.

Watched–

Why I'm done trying to be "man enough"

Redecorating my room 2017 (I wanna decorate my room this year so)

How to Squat Properly (I’m trying lmao)

Giving a 9-Year-Old Her Dream Job for 24hrs!! (I stan YesTheory so much)

How To NOT Be A Starving Artist (A mood. I love Sorelle)

Couple more, I could go on & on, but you get me.

Listened–

Every song on YouTube by Bruno Major

Born to die: paradise version (album) by Lana Del Rey

Read–

Articles from James Clear's blog — (x) (x)

Articles from Gary Vee’s blog — (x) (x)

HIIT workouts for beginners

All of this birthed–

Ideas for future articles, titled: How To Be Great & Solomon Letters #2: Question Your Faith, Not Your Dreams, among others.

A small poem about faith– posted on my IG, check it out!

New content ideas, like value chains (upcoming!)

Bunch of other small rants for everyday posting

Some business and life advice that might be useful later.

Gotta say goodbye now! (literally too... but post about it coming on 12th so wait for it) Try this one out, and let me know how your binge goes (tag it with #team conquer). Mine usually end with a bucketful of philo notes, a recharged left (right? psychology? idk) brain, and a fresh perspective towards the rest of my week.

This is the #1 strategy I've adopted to sustain creative energy when it's sapped all around by negativity and school & I promise it helps. No side effects, no sponsored pills needed. Thanks for reading!

Related: How To Get Back Into The Creative Process (if you're in a blogger's block or experiencing painter's pain)

Have something to say? I treasure all feedback! If this post inspired you to do something, or you wanna throw some love/constructive criticism at me— hop into my ask box, or reply to this post itself!

Thanks for dropping by! Major articles, like this one, come out every Thursday! Join my taglist by to read them when they do. I also post daily wins, journal entries, rants & photos of my plant babies throughout the week, so follow me if you’re into conquering life. I vow to be the loudest cheerleader. ✧

Sending you love and good energy, talk soon.

Nandini 💌 (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

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hbostolemysoul · 5 years

Text

Band of Brothers fluff alphabet: Bill Guarnere

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Bill has always thought you were pretty. Face of an angel, and mind of a devil. You two used to get into all sorts of trouble when you were younger. Course he would always be blamed for coming up with such schemes, because how could a sweet thing like you ever be the mastermind behind such disasters. (Ps. You were almost always the mastermind behind said disasters😉).

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

Bill comes from a large Italian family, being the youngest of 10 children has taught Bill a lot…mostly that he does not want to have 10 children. But don’t take that as him never wanting to have kids, popping out little Guarnere’s is practically a right of passage in the family (Or so Bills older sisters and Ma’ told you, much to Bills dismay).

That being said he will in no way ‘push’ you to have children with him if you are not ready. Things after he lost his legs were rocky, I mean he came back in as good a mood a man could have after losing his leg. He worked some odd jobs while he fought with the Army to get full disability. It was a painstaking process, and you were with him every step of the way (listening to his daily rants and all).

You had been in the kitchen on the phone with his Ma’ when he got the news. The door to your home burst open and the smile on Bill’s face had you promising to call back and hanging up the phone. Before you could get any words out he had his arms around you, and the kiss you shared almost had your knees buckling.

“Army bastards finally gave in. I can take this fuckin’ thing off” he said while motioning down to the poorly crafted stump the government was calling a prosthetic.

Bill had been much happier, and in significantly less pain not having to be on his feet all hours of the day to try and make ends meet. He had taken to using the crutches again,

“I ain’t ashamed to be hobbling around. Think I earned the right to hobble around if I want to” his thick accent and casual tone caused you to laugh.

It was about 6 months after Bill had quit his various jobs that the idea of having a little rug rat came around. Bill looked up at you sheepishly after asking, a hand coming to rub the back of his neck nervously. You just crossed your arms and leaned against the doorway. As much as you liked to tease Bill seeing him this nervous made something in you melt (not that you were going to tell him that yet though) you smiled at him mischievously making him grin in return,

“Fine, but you are on diaper duty”

Being a man of his word Bill changed almost every single diaper he could. He would call it ‘bonding time’ your little one would be wiggling and giving poor old Guarnere a hard time, but he would just chatter away to the kid, sometimes talking about how he couldn’t wait until Mom (you) got to start potty training them.

Bill ultimately got his wish of not having 10 kids, after an accidental number 5 you both decided that was more than enough little Guarnere’s for the world to handle.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

Bill likes pulling you close to his chest at night. He still remembers the cold nights where he and the guys would have to huddle close in those damned foxholes in order to stay warm. The closeness of you pressed against him make his sleep a bit more restful. He still has nightmares, but as time moves on they become less and less. He likes to think you have something to do with that.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

There is this old ice cream place close to his Ma’s that you two used to frequent as kids. When he gets back to the states it is one of the first places you two go once he is settled. It was there that he first started to talk to you about the war, about losing his brother Henry. He had done a pretty good job at coming across as the same old wisecracking pain in the ass he had been before he left. You two came here as often as you could after that first time. It was a safe place for both of you to talk…for him to talk.

E = Everything (You are my __ (e.g. my life, my world…))

“You are the only person I could ever imagine being with, and I love you and shit. Now please ask our kids to bring me my crutches I KNOW THEY ARE IN THE ATTIC… little shits”

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

You

You and Bill had been friends since childhood, as you got older you dated other people. Neither of you liked seeing the other with someone else, but you both just kept those feelings to yourself. No point in ruining a lifelong, if not at times dysfunctional friendship.

When he left for basic training the two of you kept in touch through letters. There were a few times you had wanted to get sappy and spill your heart out, but then thought better of it. As the war went on letters from him sometimes became infrequent, it scared you more than you let on. The letter that almost sent you over the edge was the one his parents received about his leg. You lived a few doors down from the Guarnere’s, hearing his Ma’ wail like that had you outside and on their doorstep in moments. The last time she had cried like that had been when the letter about Henry had arrived.

Mr. Guarnere opened the door and smiled grimly at you, Mrs. Guarnere was crumpled on the floor holding the letter to her chest. She just opened her arms and you were immediately in them. Tears ran down both your faces “He’s gone, he’s gone” kept running through your mind, or so you thought.

Mrs. Guarnere shushed you and held your face in her hands, gently brushing your tears away.

“He is coming home” she said between sobs. You just stared confused,

“He lost his leg, oh god his leg is gone” she wailed again.

You just held her tight. The tears were still running down your face, a mixture of relief and grief. It was in this exact moment that you finally accepted that you were in love with William (Bill) Guarnere…fuck…

Bill

Coming home had been bittersweet for Bill. Seeing his family again was nice, but the absence of his brother was felt throughout the entire household. It wasn’t until he saw you walk through that front door that things felt lighter for the first time. You had changed in the few years he had been gone. Sure you had always been a pretty gal, but you had turned into the most beautiful being he had ever seen in his life. His family quickly cleared out of the room shortly after your arrival and quick greetings. For the first time in your entire lives, neither of you knew what to say, until Bill (never being one for awkward silences) suggested you both take a walk down to the old ice cream shop. You walked together, your arm looped with his. Not so much out of balance, but to reassure each other that you were still there.

It was at the old ice cream shop that you two seemed to pick up like no time had passed. This became a ritual between you two. As the weeks went on those feelings Bill had been suppressing for years began to surface again. A younger Bill might have just continued to shove those feelings away, this Bill had been through actual hell and back. Life was too short.

You had been talking about something and Bill just blurted,

“So do ya’ have a boyfriend or somthin’?” the owlish look you gave him almost made him laugh, and it probably would have if he didn’t feel like he had just thrown his heart onto the table.

You stared at him a moment, features gradually softening as you laughed,

“Nah, what about you Bill? Have a girlfriend or somethin’?” you grinned up at him as he bowed his head a bit,

“Ah, nah” he said trying to look less nervous than he was. You just rolled your eyes and rested your chin in your hand,

“Hey Bill, want to go on a date with me? Y’know considering we both aren’t seeing people, or somethin’?”

Your matching grins probably could have lit up the entirety of Philadelphia. It was in that exact moment that Bill knew he was fucked…and that he loved you.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

Bill is a passionate guy, slow, fast, hard, teasing, you name it and he is more than happy to deliver.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

He holds your hand whenever it is A) appropriate and B) whenever the hell he wants to.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

He had been 6 and you had just moved in down the road, he was at the park with his older siblings when he looked over and saw you. This new girl that had just moved in a few houses down from his. He walked over (seeing as his siblings had taken off to cause trouble somewhere). He sat down next to you, a partially made sand castle in front of you.

“I’m Bill, can I play with you?” you looked up at him skeptically for a minute before shrugging,

“Sure, just don’t knock it over or I will hit you” you said smiling mischievously.

You two have been friends ever since.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

Bill has a temper. We all know Bill has a temper. Heaven forbid some dumb guy comes along and looks you up for too long. One legged or not Bill has no issue holding his own in a fight, especially when his girl is involved.

Although there have been times you have literally beaten him to the ‘punch’ and dealt with the guy yourself. He has never been prouder.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

Kisses with Bill are always intense. Each and every one leaving you feeling loved and warm.

You two actually kissed shortly after you asked Bill out in the ice cream shop. Walking out together he just stopped, leaned down and kissed you while gently holding the side of your face,

“Figured I should make up for lost time eh’” he said with a cheeky grin.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

You had been looking at apartment’s together, this one was on the main floor which was great for Bill, and so convenient for getting furniture and groceries in. You had been walking around with the Landlord, sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the curtains lighting you up like an angel. You wandered back over to him, a smile on your face as you asked him what he thought. He just smiled and leaned down to kiss you,

“Y’know I love you right?” he said, a soft smile making it onto both of your faces.

“I’ve always known Bill” you said smiling back as you both took in your new home.

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

The day you agreed to marry him. You were radiant, and so much more than a guy like him would ever deserve. But for whatever reason you chose him. Hearing you say “I do”, dancing with you for the first time as his wife. Quite literally one of the happiest moments of his life.

His other favourite memory comes from watching you try to teach ‘Uncle Babe’ how to change a diaper. The kid was so hopeless, but you were so patient with him. Even if you did shoot Bill many amused glances.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Bill loves to cook. Coming from a big Italian family, dinner was always a huge affair, home made pasta, sauce, you name it the Guanere’s did it. He loves doing that with his own little family now.

Also, he was a saint when it came to making food for you throughout your pregnancies (and when you were not pregnant…Bill just loves making you happy, be that food or flowers).

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

You can come across as gold and bright as an angel at times, and others you are flaming red and full of mischief. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

Baby, Princess, Doll, he likes the way you either blush or roll your eyes at his pet names for you.

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

As mentioned above Bill loves to cook. He has this old-fashioned pasta maker that he uses regularly because ‘Nothin’ is like the real thing, ain’t that right Doll?”

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Bill's leg sometimes aches. He has no qualms about bitchin about it at times. You just smile and kiss him gently, quietly murmuring “grumpy old man” under your breath. He just grins in response.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

Bill tries to be a pretty upbeat guy. Sometimes when he is feeling down he will call around and check on the guys from Easy. Babe and Toye are usually the first ones on his list.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

He just likes to talk. Loud animated conversations that are always entertaining to watch, particularly when Babe is around. The two bicker like an old married couple.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

Baths. But don’t repeat that to anyone else. He isn’t a bubble bath and candles kind of guy. But there is this essential oil you found that helps when his leg is acting up…he has found it works best in water, hence the baths.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

You best believe Bill is going to show pictures of his kids every chance he gets. Toye has completely mastered the ‘nod and hum’ approach when Bill is off on one of his tangents. Poor Babe on the other hand has yet to learn, Bill has no qualms about calling the younger man out if he gets distracted while Bill is sharing stories about his “wonderful brood of little shits”.

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

It's New Years of all places. His Ma’ has been hounding the two of you since the day she found out you were dating. If Bill was being honest she just wanted to be able to officially call you her daughter.

The ball had just dropped, you and Bill had just ended our new year's kiss and he was just holding a velvet box out towards you.

“I would kneel if I could, but I feel like proposing while flopping like a fish on the ground wouldn’t b..”

He never got to finish his ‘proposal’ as your mouth had already found his and you were muttering something about marrying him regardless if he was flopping on the ground like a fish.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

Don’t ask me why – Great Caesar

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Oh yeah, Old Gonorrhea don’t miss nothing. Including the chance to make you his wife.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

Your house is already a zoo. You and Bill had talked about maybe getting a dog once the kids moved out, plus Bill liked terrorizing Joe with his own cat ( Much to Toye’s dismay).

This took me to long to write >_< I am so sorry!! School is pretty much over now, so I am hoping to get my posting schedule back to normal asap.

Thank you for your patience!!

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fluff alphabet #bill guarnere #wild bill #easy company #gonorrhea guarnere #hbo war #bill guarnere x reader

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izzy-b-hands · 5 years

Text

A Different Kind of Fear

The K Company server is a gem and goldmine for random sometimes silly/interesting writing ideas I never would have had otherwise

Which is how this It AU is happening so please enjoy. This and the Ghost inspired fic are gonna make up the start of my Horror Movie AU and I’ll be sure to tag these fics as such!

Also this isn’t going to be canon compliant with either It movie tbh like

I’m just taking Pennywise and putting him where I want and he’s gonna deal with it.

Half of me can’t even believe I wrote this or that it ended up the way it did.

As always, my love to those who read/like/reblog (though I understand if you don’t wanna reblog this one lol.)

“How the fuck is he out here?” Snafu hissed.

“Same way he managed to be in New Orleans, but somehow in Mobile at the same time,” Eugene huffed, staring down the clown waving at them from across the airfield, using the arm of a dead soldier laying on the ground to wave. “Tormenting kids no matter they are.”

“We aren’t kids anymore, so what the fuck does he want?” Snafu glared at the clown, a hand on his rifle.

“Don’t think it has to be kids. Kids are just easier to scare. But y’know what’s out here right now?”

“Whole buncha scared men, some of ‘em not even eighteen yet,” Snafu replied. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Eugene sighed. “The hell do we do if he comes closer? We can’t start spoutin’ off about seeing a fucking clown in the middle of-”

“You guys see him too?” Ack Ack popped up behind them, seemingly from out of nowhere, and they both jumped.

“Uh...yessir. We see the...clown,” Snafu replied. “How can you see him?”

“How can I not? He used to follow me and my friends all over town. Calling to us from storm drains, showing up in our backyards just...watching us. Always turning into the worst thing you could imagine whenever he got close enough or got anyone cornered. Still think he took one of my friends. They said he ran away but...he wasn’t that sort. But he had that damn clown trying to chase him down almost every day towards the end. He wasn’t sleeping, wouldn’t sit still long enough to eat. Always felt like he had to keep moving to avoid it.”

“Jesus,” Eugene breathed. “So...what did you and the rest of your friends do to get rid of him?”

“We didn’t. I still get letters from some of the boys who couldn’t enlist for medical reasons, saying he’ll try and catch them after work if they’re alone, or show up in the basement of their home as their worst fear. Hell, thought I was losing it when I saw him a few days ago looking like...” Ack Ack looked to the ground and coughed. “I’d rather not say, honestly. It was gruesome.”

“We got guns, enough men to take on an airfield full of Japanese. Why not just go after him before anyone higher up notices?” Snafu asked. “If we split up, and send 1/5 just over-”

Ack Ack held up a hand to stop Snafu. “Not all the men can see him. At least, I’m fairly certain not all of them can. We’d be sending them after a ghost, as far as they’d be concerned. And that won’t do. Besides, I’ve shot at him in the past, and it didn’t do a damn thing. Didn’t even slow him down.”

“He can’t be immortal,” Eugene said, ignoring the clown as it shape-shifted to a vision of Snafu, then Ack Ack, both with bloody bullet wounds in their foreheads. “Somethin’ can kill him. I just know it.”

“Most we can do is keep an eye on him,” Ack Ack said. “You both should rest; we push forward in the morning.”

Snafu glanced over to the clown and shook his head. “Not sleepin’ so long as that asshole is starin’ at us. I don’t trust that he isn’t plannin’ to run over here as soon as we let our guard down.”

Eugene nodded. They’d both been on guard, after discovering they were both being followed by the same monster, during an off-hand discussion in the foxhole that had led to a deeper talk about fear and the scariest thing they’d ever seen. And now that thing was watching them, his head cocked to one side, while he grinned maniacally.

“You can’t not sleep. Or try to sleep, at least. I’ll keep watch for you, and both of you sleep,” Ack Ack admonished.

“Sir, that isn’t fair to the other men, I mean-” Eugene started.

“I gave you an order,” Ack Ack interrupted, but smiled softly. “You both remind me of my friend right now, and I’m not letting that thing get anyone else on my watch.”

They leaned against a wall of the abandoned and nearly destroyed airfield building the company was sheltered in for the night, Ack Ack in between them and

It still wasn’t easy to sleep, with the sound of war ongoing and the threat of the Japanese possibly coming to try and take the airfield back somehow, but he managed. Snafu seemed to have done the same, his head on Ack Ack’s shoulder as he snored. Ack Ack was asleep too, and it hit Eugene like a brick to the face.

Ack Ack was asleep. Snafu was asleep. He had been asleep. No one had kept watch for Japanese or that goddamned clown.

In the corner of the room, the sound of shuffling loafers caught his ear. He turned to look, and there stood his father.

“I don’t even recognize who you are anymore. Killing like that. How many more lives can you take before you’ll be an empty shell, as empty as the veterans from the Great War? And don’t think I’ll call you son after all that.”

He knew it was the clown, knew it was fake, but fear and sadness and hurt seized his heart all the same, and he slapped at Ack Ack and Snafu until they woke up.

“Jesus shit,” Snafu scrambled towards the blasted open section of the wall, pointing his rifle at the clown. “Sledgehammer, move to the side. I’m endin’ this.”

Ack Ack’s hand was on the end of the rifle in a flash. “No, you won’t. It won’t work, and you’ll give away our position-”

“I think the Japanese know we’re fuckin’ here,” Snafu snapped. “And this asshole-”

To Eugene, it was just the clown now, but to Snafu it was clearly something else. His face was contorted with fear, a tear running down his cheek.

“It isn’t real; don’t look at him,” Ack Ack said, turning Snafu’s face towards him even as the clown continued to approach them. “You’re sitting in the dirt in a godforsaken airfield in the Pacific, so whatever or whoever it looks like right now can’t be here.”

Snafu snapped out of it, shaking his head and wiping away the tears. “Please let me shoot him. We have to do somethin’.”

The clown opened its mouth to speak, but the shriek of a mortar interrupted it.

They huddled against the wall, waiting for the ringing in their ears to abate before moving away from it.

The clown was huddled with them, holding onto Snafu’s waist like it was the only thing tethering it to earth.

“Um. Don’t,” Snafu grimaced and wiggled away from the clown’s hand.

“What hell is this?” the clown asked, and they stared at it.

“Sorry?” Ack Ack laughed. “Are you...you are, aren’t you? Scared shitless. What, the cursed pit you rolled out of doesn��t have war?”

“Those things kill your kind,” the clown continued. “I can see it...blood and bone and gristle.” It stared at its hands and Eugene noticed they shook.

“Yeah. That’s what bullets and mortars and flame-throwers tend to do to people,” he said. “Are you...gonna get around to tryin’ to kill us or...”

The clown shook its head. “I should not have followed. This is...this is unholy.”

“So are you, you nasty motherfucker,” Snafu said. “We gotta join up and head out with everyone else so-”

“Do not leave me!” the clown was on its knees, scrabbling to tug at Snafu’s jacket.

“For fuck’s sake,” Snafu groaned. “Stop touchin’ me!”

“Can you not just...go?” Ack Ack asked. “I mean, back home you could go anywhere.”

“Do you see any goddamned sewers here?!” the clown shrieked. “I followed that one on a boat.”

Eugene glared as the clown pointed at him. “Well, I didn’t ask you to follow me! That’s your problem, and your fault!”

The clown sobbed, and they exchanged looks.

“Um. I guess you can stick around with us until someone gets their million dollar wound and gets to go home. I wouldn’t wish you on anyone, but you can follow them back to the States, but you can’t hurt a hair on anyone’s head, do you got me?” Ack Ack said, in the same tone he used for misbehaving soldiers.

“I am not even hungry,” the clown whimpered. “Who could hunger during so much bloodshed?”

The sound of Snafu working on a tin of K rations made the clown shriek again, and they laughed.

“Snafu can,” Ack Ack snickered. “You want to be kept safe from anything that can kill you here? Then he’s gotta eat his rations, so he can be big and strong and scary against the Japanese waiting for us.”

Snafu grinned, in a way that gave Eugene a shiver down his spine, but he smiled too as Snafu directed it towards the clown. “I think I want you to stay. I like you like this. Scared outta your wits, not even able to try and kill anyone. You oughta stay here. Maybe buried under a shit ton of coral, if we could ever dig any of it up.”

“No, no, no,” the clown sat back and rocked back and forth, and they laughed again.

“C’mon. We gotta move,” Ack Ack directed, and led them and the clown back towards the rest of the company.

It was strange, at first, the clown walking behind him, clinging so close he swore that in another moment he’d end up carrying him piggyback through the trees.

Ack Ack was up front, but Eugene could feel his eyes occasionally watching them, and the thing behind them. It was reassuring, even if the clown was basically harmless now, gagging every time they passed a corpse.

“You eat people, you seriously gonna keep gagging like that?” Snafu asked as they dug in for the night, miles away. “I mean...really.”

“This is different!” the clown spat, and Eugene rolled his eyes.

“What? Cause it isn’t fresh meat?”

“No. Different...fear. Different death. It would taste like poison,” the clown said coldly. “Wasted meat.”

“Oh, just wasted meat,” Snafu said. “Hear that, Sledgehammer? He’s just mad this ain’t the perfect buffet for him. Ass.”

“That is not all that I meant,” the clown stuttered, but they both ignored it as it tried to keep talking. There was digging in to complete, cold K rations to heat up and eat, and then a little bit of sleep to try and get before the next battle operation.

Snafu roused him from his sleep far sooner than he wanted, and pointed to the space that had become No Man’s Land. “Lookit this dumbass.”

The clown was wandering No Man’s Land, weeping over the corpses there from previous battles. Before he could run, a Japanese mortar shot out and right through him.

“Holy shit,” Eugene whispered. “Is that...I mean...”

But the clown lived, not bleeding but instead running back to them with bits of its broken form turning into wisps and floating off into the night sky.

“Look!” It shrieked, and Eugene was grateful no one else other than them and Ack Ack seemed to be able to hear it. “Look at what they’ve done to me!”

“You went wanderin’ around like you were takin’ a walk around town. The hell did you think was gonna happen?” Snafu chuckled. “Shame it seems you can’t be killed. Japanese nearly solved our problem for us.”

The clown scowled, and dropped into the foxhole, the hole in its torso slowly disappearing as parts of it reformed. “I hate it here.”

They shared a joyful glance, and bit back laughter.

“Welcome to the club. Everybody hates it here. Hell, even the asshole crabs and the Japanese probably hate it here now. This here is a wasteland of fear and death and disease, and nobody wants to be stuck in it, but we are,” Snafu said. “You better get mean and deal, or we’re just gonna leave you here.”

“You can’t,” the clown begged.

“We can. In fact, so far as I can tell and you’ve mentioned, this is the only place we could truly get away from you once we go back to the States,” Eugene said sharply. “So sit the fuck down, and stay down. Or you’ll starve here on this island.”

What the clown didn’t know, was about the small slips of paper Ack Ack had passed them the last few times he’d been near them, once while marching and then again during dinner, detailing a plan. The plan was just that, to find a spot to trap the clown and leave it. They couldn’t let it make it back to the States, or anywhere else. The island was so ruined that even if folks did inhabit it later, they’d have already seen enough hell to likely not be afraid of it. It would be toothless, unable to survive, and would starve until it died-or did whatever it did when it couldn’t find people to scare and eat.

A firefight broke out, and kept them busy for the next few hours, while the clown huddled and shook beside them, muttering about how badly it wanted to leave.

When they were finally able to move out again, with the corpsmen treating their wounded, they had their chance.

Before the clown could move, Snafu bashed it over the head with a particularly large bit of coral. They waited for it to move, to do something, as the bit of its skull that had been indented turned to wisps. But it stayed down, apparently dead or at the very least wounded heavily enough to be knocked out.

“Holy shit I think we got this. Move!” Eugene shouted, and they scrambled out of the foxhole, filling it back in as quickly as they could, tossing hunks of coral on top of it. It wasn’t a foolproof way to keep it down, but it was better than letting it continue to follow them.

“The fuck is wrong with you two?” a Marine shouted from a few yards away.

“Crab in the damn foxhole!” Snafu shouted back. “He’s dead now.”

“He better be,” Eugene sighed as they fell in with the rest of the company, walking on towards their next assignment. He caught Ack Ack’s eye as they walked, and they shared a nod. It was over. It had to be. And it was over before it had even started for maybe hundreds of kids back at home, who might have been tormented by it.

“Can’t believe it was such a fuckin’ coward,” Snafu said, later that day as they were told to settle in yet again.

“I can. Thing like that can only be a coward,” Eugene scoffed. “Doesn’t matter now, anyway. The thing is dead, and now all we gotta worry about is...”

“Stayin’ alive?” Snafu finished, a grim look on his face.

“...yeah,” Eugene sighed. If only the rest of it was so easy.

“Y’know...might need to check things out once we get home. If we get home,” Snafu said. “Just in case that fucker somehow gets out. Really shouldn’t do that alone.”

“You’d come to Mobile and make sure I’d be safe from it there?”

Snafu nodded. “But only if you come to New Orleans and help me check out my place.”

“I could do that,” Eugene said. It sounded nice, to possibly spend time with Snafu outside of a foxhole, after they’d both had an actual shower. “It’s a date.”

He froze as soon as he said it, feeling a blush heat up his face. But Snafu looked just the same, red as could be, staring at the ground like he was being paid to look at it.

Eugene tried to distract himself from considering what a date with Snafu might entail, but failed miserably even as he tried to focus on keeping watch, for Japanese or a flash of clown hair and clothing.

He was distracted enough from his watch to miss it-standing over near the hiding Japanese troops.

A vision of Snafu, warped due to the thing’s wounds, with a bullet hole in its forehead.

#text post #Horror Movie AU #LeeH writes #this isn't exactly Sledgefu but #edging near it #just boyfriend things when you try and commit the murder of a monster together #I finished this fairly fast so forgive me any typos #I'll do a reread later and clean up anything I missed #I promise lol

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eledritch · 7 years

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10 Tips for Writing (Good) Smut

so. let’s do this.

About a year ago, I had to read a book for my school’s summer reading assignment called How to Read Literature Like a Professor by Thomas Foster. It’s not a bad book, pretty decent actually, but there was this one chapter about sex scenes in literature. And one of the first sentences was along the lines of “writing sex is boring.”

and I did a double-take. Bc in my experience, that is absolutely not the case, and if you do find yourself bored while writing smut, then you’re not doing it right. See, Thomas’s main argument was that there’s only so many ways you can write sex scenes, because there’s only so many sex acts you can choose from. (My boy Thomas is clearly a vanilla dude, but let’s not hold that against him.)

But one of the most important things to keep in mind while writing smut is that it’s not necessarily just about the act itself. So while Thomas is right that there are limits as to how many ways ppl can have sex, he failed to realize that writing sex is about a LOT more than that. And I’m gonna prove it to you.

Just to get it out of the way, I’ve been writing smut for about 6 years now. I’m 18 now, so yeah, been doin’ this since I was 12. Which is a little weird, thinking back on it, but honestly I think it’s healthy for adolescents/young teens to explore their sexualities and learn about sex in a safe, controlled setting like writing fanfiction has been for me.

It was a better sex ed than anything else I got in Arizona, that’s for sure. And for the record, I’m a virgin and I don’t believe you need to have sex to be good at writing it. Conversely, you could have sex a hundred times and still not be good at writing it. The important thing is that you EDUCATE yourself and do your research so you know what the heck you’re writing about.

When I first started writing smutty fics in middle school, they were pretty bad. Not the worst, but not good either. Don’t let the seemingly simple nature of writing sex fool you - it can be really hard (ha, ha). Even if you’re a good writer, you might try to write a sex scene and find yourself slogging through it because you, like my boy Thomas, are focusing only on the act itself. that’s a mistake. don’t do that.

Which brings me to this list of 10 things you SHOULD do:

1. You gotta get in the right mood. By this I don’t mean you need to be horny to write smut, you absolutely don’t, in fact you probably shouldn’t bc you're likely to get distracted. What I mean is that if you wanna write vanilla, sweet, slow love makin’, then you should be in a good or at least halfway decent mood. Get comfy. Make yourself a warm drink.

Don’t try to write sweet sex if you’re angry or upset or sick or in pain - it’s either gonna turn into not sweet sex, or it’s gonna take you a long-ass time. Case in point, I tried to write a tender blowjob scene shortly after getting my wisdom teeth removed and just couldn’t do it, because ow, can you even imagine.

But you can use those negative moods/emotions to your advantage, too. If you're having a bad day, it’s actually a great catharsis to take those feelings out in your writing. You can apologize to your characters later - or maybe you’ll work out all your pent-up rage halfway through a brutal scene and turn it into something a little less intense, that works just as well!

2. Do your research. Research is important before you dive into any piece of writing, but it’s a necessary step for writing smut. If you’re a virgin or have no experience with the kind of sex you’re writing about, you’re gonna have to do some Googling. You don’t need to look up porn, porn honestly grosses me out and isn’t my favorite thing to draw from, but you do need to know the complete ins-and-outs (ha...) of whatever act you’re writing about.

A good way to do research is to read other fanfics, popular fanfics by seasoned authors who have gained a large following/a lot of attention by writing the right stuff. You can also check out posts by people who actually gave tips to fanfic writers, there are several by gay guys which are helpful if you’re not a gay guy and you’re writing a sex scene about gay guys. They’re the authority, listen to them over the fanfic authors.

If you’re delving into something like BDSM in your writing, do your research on that, too. Don’t misrepresent people and practices just because you didn’t bother to learn about them. If you’re not willing to learn about them, you’re not going to be able to write about them.

Oh, and lastly, but not leastly, LUBE. if your characters are having anal sex especially, they need to use lube, my dude. the human body made that rule, not me.

3. Write empathetically. It’s unavoidable - when you’re writing smut, you have to learn how to put yourself into the shoes of the POV character. This can be kinda challenging if, for instance, you don’t have a dick and having a dick is very important for the POV character to make that scene work. But that’s what your imagination is for - use it.

Think about how this character would experience this situation not just in terms of the obvious sensations they’re feeling, whether pain or pleasure, but also in terms of their thoughts, their emotions, their memories, etc. A lot of good characterization can happen during sex scenes, and it makes me sad that all too often writers don’t take advantage of that.

4. Don’t be afraid of using repetitive words. Sex is a repetitive act, get that through your head before you write it. One of the most irritating things I come across while reading smut is the author’s need to use endless synonyms for ‘cock.’ Stop. Please stop. Cock is fine. You can use ‘dick’ too if you really wanna add some variation. But anymore than that, and it’s just downright distracting. Don’t use member, penis (just...not a sexy word, at all), organ (NOT SEXY), etc - use length, prick, and erection sparingly if at all, and boner is more of a funny word than a sexy word, so keep that in mind. I’ve also seen ‘manhood’ used and i mean....i guess??? but why would you use that when you can accomplish the same thing in 4 much better letters? C O C K. just do it.

alternately, when referring to parts of a cock, just stick to the basics. shaft, head/tip/crown, balls. that’s it. maybe talk about veins if you’re gettin real detailed. you don’t need to wax poetic about it, or about the actions within the sex itself. you’ll find yourself reusing a lot of verbs and that’s ok! the usuals may include (but are not limited to) - thrust, buck, shove, press, slide, glide, ride, fuck, bounce, drive (into), arch, kiss, suck, bite, stroke, smack, slap, rock, embrace, squeeze, tremble, shudder, moan, groan, whine, whimper, hiss, shout, scream, gasp, curse, beg, sob, grunt, sigh.

5. Understand connotations vs denotations of words. This is an important tip not just for smut writing but for any writing. Words that may be ‘synonyms’ in terms of definition may not actually be synonymous. This can be an issue if English isn’t your first language - even if it is, it still trips people up. ‘Shudder’ and ‘tremble’ are both defined as someone’s body shaking, but they have different meanings! Shudder is more violent/intense, more of a full-body kinda deal and often more negative in connotation (i.e. ‘shudder of fear’). Tremble is more subtle, and more of a localized thing (i.e. his hands trembled) and connotates nervousness or apprehension more than outright fear - or it can be used to convey a more subdued/internalized fear. There are situations in which they can be interchangeable, and situations in which they really aren’t.

Understanding exactly what words mean will help you know when to use them and make your writing more fluid, comprehensible, and realistic for the reader.

6. Avoid using cliche/overused phrases. For the love of god, don’t use the phrase ‘their tongues battled for dominance.’ I’M BEGGING YOU. listen, i’m guilty as charged, i’m sure i wrote it at some point in my earlier days, but don’t make the same mistake! not only does the phrase have some troubling implications about the perception of m/m relationships (in which the phrase is almost exclusively found) as little more than a fight for dominance, it’s just...that’s not how kissing works?

Your tongues don’t battle, that’s not a good description for it. Why would you use a cliche phrase like that when you can talk about teeth clashing, tongues pressing, mouths sliding/slipping, biting at lips, hair pulling, nails scratching, hands grasping, pulses racing, and everything else that goes into kissing? Using phrases that many have used before you is a lazy way out and it dulls your imagery and the reader’s immersion into the story.

7. Think for yourself while writing and be original! It’s the only way you’re going to find your unique voice, or writing style, which often shines through in smut-writing and sets yours apart from the rest. Writing mediocre smut is easy, but if you’re reading this, you don’t want to go that route. While it’s helpful to draw from other smut writers when you’re getting started, you need to be able to draw from your own mind above all.

Yeah, it’s true that your fifth grade teacher probably didn’t mean ‘brainstorm new and exciting sex positions and scenarios’ when she said ‘be creative.’ But you’re not in fifth grade anymore (or at least, you better not be), and that’s what I mean when I’m telling you to be creative right now.

Developing your voice/originality happens through a variety of ways, including plain old practice, trial and error, and understanding the technicalities of writing. What I mean by that is remembering all the stuff your English teacher taught you about - imagery, figurative speech, idioms, irony, dialogue, diction, syntax, figurative devices, metaphors, simile, etc. Speaking of which...

8. Everybody loves a big, dramatic sex metaphor once in a while. This is tricky, because you really shouldn’t overdo this - if you do, you risk making your smut the most pretentious, unreadable piece ever. Metaphors tend to do that when you use them without discretion. But when you choose and use them carefully, you can turn a sex scene into something more meaningful, both for the character and the story as a whole.

If you’re just writing a quickie in a club bathroom, don’t bother with this (unless that quickie was life-changing and birthed the spark of TRUE LOVE between your characters, which is entirely possible, no judgment, I’m happy for them). But if you’re writing about your character losing their virginity, having sex with someone who means a lot to them, having sex with someone who just returned from a long absence/is leaving them for a long time, etc...you may wanna make things a little ~deep~ for a second.

I’m not gonna tell you exactly how to write your sex metaphors because you’ll know when and how to use them if the occasion presents itself and if you have your voice figured out. Talk about bodies being more than bodies, lips being like brands of fire, whispers being sacred vows, orgasms being fuckin’ nirvana, idk, orgasms are tricky because sometimes people will write ‘his orgasm RIPPED through him’ and you’re like ??? is he okay? that sounded painful...

You can see how metaphors can quickly make a story exhausting/confusing/unenjoyable if you use them too much. But once in a while? Man, go for it.

9. Humor is key. This is perhaps one of the most important tips I have for you, because personally it’s improved my smut writing the most, as well as made the whole activity a lot more fun. Smut is supposed to be an enjoyable thing to read. But no matter how arousing/hot/absolutely obscene you make it, some readers are going to get bored. I said earlier that sex is a repetitive act, it just is. Your goal is to make it sexy AND entertaining. You want to keep the reader engaged.

And humor is the best way, I’ve found, to do that. A lot of fanfiction sex is guilty of being too perfect. Try to steer clear of that. As tempting as it can be to make a sex scene where everything works without a hitch and everyone is serious, fully consumed with love/arousal, etc, there is something genuinely delightful about writing the awkward, funny parts of sex, too. They don’t have a place in every scene, but in many, especially first times/trying new things, they’re great. Not only does adding humor make your characters seem more human and likable, it makes the bond between them seem more real and makes the reader more attached to them.

And isn’t that the point? Your readers aren’t gonna to want to read about flat characters they can’t relate to or straight-up dislike, no matter how hot the sex is.

10. Don’t forget the little things. This final point goes back to what Thomas got wrong in his book. Sex should NOT be boring to write. Don’t write on the surface about what’s happening, adjust the lens through which you, the character/s, and the reader view it. Write about the sex itself but also write about the little things (not your character’s dick, don’t be mean) - the freckles on their lover’s shoulder, the fading bruises on their neck, the way their lover’s hair feels against their skin, all the not-obvious sensations that add realism and a spark to the scene that sets it apart.

This goes for non-tactile things as well - maybe your character has ADD or is just distracted easily, and goes off on tangents of thought (or speech) during sex. Maybe they’re really fascinated with a certain aspect of their partner/s, like their eyes or mouth or hands or the sounds they make. Maybe they notice small details about the setting - the smell of the sheets is comforting, the crack on the ceiling reminds them of their bedroom back home, the weird deer head on the wall looks like it’s staring at them, the possibilities are literally endless. It’s up to you how you want to use them, but please - use them.

So in summary, no, Thomas, writing sex - and reading it, for that matter - shouldn’t be boring. It’s an excellent way to further characterization, improve your writing, find your voice, and make your story overall a better one.

#writing #writing tips #fanfic tips #i've had this in my drafts for soooo long jeez louise #hopefully it helps #even if it's long af and rambly woops

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