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river--glass · 4 years

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Reylo Fic Recs Long Ass Fics pt 1: Canon Verse & Alternate Canon Verse

Someone asked for fic recs 100K or over. Here they are. See Pt. 2 for Alternate Universe fics. (I haven’t read all of these- my personal comments are in bold)

Force Destiny by EdenWoodsParker. (CV, post-TLJ, E, 749K)

Immediately following the events of The Last Jedi, the battle for the galaxy continues between the First Order and the last of the Resistance. Meanwhile, on opposite sides of the war, Rey and Kylo Ren are forced to face the realities of their bond, their complicated relationship, their loyalty to their causes, and their understanding of the Force. Could their star-crossed connection be tied to the fate of the galaxy?

Landscape With a Blur of Conquerors by diasterisms. (CV, post-TFA, E, 362K)

Tags include: A Sexually Tense Soap Opera of Galactic Proportions; The Trashy Romance Novel I've Always Wanted to Write but with Lightsabers; A Game of Tropes; Arranged Marriage Compliant with Canonverse and EU Lore; Minor Character Death; Angst with a Happy Ending; Babies Ever After ❤️

Bonded by Chridder. (CV, post-TLJ, T, 345K)

This started as a series of one-shots that accidentally turned into a story, focusing on moments when the Force Bond brings Rey and Kylo together and the evolution of their relationship.

Free to Fall by uselessenglishmajor. (CV, post-TLJ, E, 288K)

Obligatory post-TLJ Reylo fic. Started out as a force bond will-they/won't-they, but then the Knights of Ren showed up and things got epic.

Sword of the Jedi (series) by diasterisms. (ACV, T/M, 229K)

"I carry your heart, here with me. I carry it in battle. I carry you.”—- This series is everything canon should have been. The author knows Star Wars. It’s rich in lore and steeped in emotion and it gives us a truly inspired alternative to canon.

All Our Days by voicedimplosives. (ACV, E, 221K)

A Persuasion AU featuring Smuggler Ben and a Rey whose family returned.

Songs of Innocence, Songs of Wisdom by cosmogonika. (CV, post-TLJ, E, 217)

From Innocence to Wisdom there is a long path. Between political plots and old allies and enemies emerging from the past, the new teachings of the Force will unveil ancient hidden secrets. From their interpretation rests the fate of the whole galaxy. Featuring a Ben pain train, bendemption, soulmates, and a shit ton of canon lore. This story had me SHOOK. It’s incredible.

Safe Harbor by ItsALilah. (CV, post-TLJ, E, 193K)

After the ultimate betrayal, Rey flees to the only person she knows she can still (kind of) trust. But as she spends more time with Kylo Ren, she begins to understand just what kind of future he was offering in the Supremacy's Throne Room. She really doesn't hate it. At all.

They Don’t Have a Word for What We Are by andabatae. (CV, post-TLJ, E, 183K)

After Crait, Rey retreats to Jakku to grapple with her past... and her unwelcome attraction to Kylo Ren.

A Handful of Stars by neon heartbeat. (CV, post-TLJ, E, 162K)

Rey thought her choice to leave behind Kylo Ren was final. Kylo Ren thought his decision to seize power was absolute. The Force, however, has other ideas. From Naboo to Coruscant, from chance encounter to Force-vision, from political plotting in the New Republic to a battle in the Graveyard of Alderaan, they meet each other on every field and learn the meaning of bringing balance to the galaxy.

Commemoration by wineandpotatochips. (CV, post-TFA, E, 160K)

Deep Beneath the Light by crysania. (CV, TFA alt-end, E, 155K)

A Ben says yes fic! He takes Han’s hand and joins the resistance. A great fic loaded with Solo family interactions.

Tactical Surrender by destinies. (CV, post-TLJ, E, 155K) A Rey joins Kylo fic.

Sealed to Me by glittergothh. (CV, post-TLJ, E, 152K).

Kylo stares into the pool, at his reflection, the scarred, damaged face that doesn’t even come close to portraying the conflict within. The face of the First Order. He hates it more than he ever has.

Forbidden by koderenn. (ACV, E, 137K). She’s a Jedi, he’s a senator- title says it all.

When the West Wind Moves by lachesisgrimm. (CV, TFA alt-ending, E, 135K)

Within Monsters by AnonymousMink. (ACV, M, 132K).

Sick of her life on Jakku and finally at terms with the fact her parents aren’t coming back for her, Rey decides to take charge of her life and leave Jakku by applying and attaining a job as a technician. Her first assignment finds her aboard The Finalizer where she catches the attention of the Master of the Knights of Ren.

Across the Stars by nite0wl29. (ACV, E, 132K). A Beauty and the Beast AU.

What Happens in Canto Bight by SpaceWaffleHouseTM. (CV, post-TLJ, M, 130K)

Rey wakes up in her Canto Bight hotel room while on a mission for the Resistance unable to remember a thing from the night before, which wouldn't be a problem, if Kylo Ren hadn't woken up beside her and they weren't both wearing rings on their fingers. Waffle really is on a whole different tier of fanfic writing. They’re one of my favorite Reylo writers out there.

Ashes of the Empire by Skyelo_Ren. (CV, TLJ alt-ending, M, 128K) A “she says yes” fic.

Footnotes by Camucia. (CV, post-TLJ, E, 121K)

Prison Break by SpaceWaffleHouseTM. (CV, post-TLJ, M,119K)

You’ll Be The One to Turn by postedbygaslight. (CV, post-TLJ, M, 119K)

Beautiful writing and wonderful storytelling. Very realistic characterization too. Everything IX could have been, but wasn’t.

Same Eyes, Different People by SageMcMae. (ACV, E, 117K)

Snare by CaraRose. (CV, TFA flip-script, E, 116K)

The village is a trap and Kylo escapes to the dessert, where he stumbles upon rey and forces her to help. Trust and their relationship builds. morally grey people and feral Rey

Steady As We Burn by pacificwanderer. (CV, post-TLJ, E, 115K)

This is basically a character study with smut. And it’s perfect.

No Rest For The Wicked by Avdal. (CV, post-TFA, E, 111K)

Everything in Between by Polkadotdotdot. (CV, post-TLJ, 110K)

After Crait, what's left of the Resistance go on the run. With Poe trying to win Rey's already stolen heart and Rey and Ben acting like stubborn fools over joining the other, Leia just wants to know why Rey is talking to herself...and how she ended up in the family way.

The Victory March (series) by ClockworkCrow. (CV, post-TFA, E, 114K (currently) WIP)

This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think by TehanuFromEarthSea. (CV, post-TLJ, E, 107K)

Kylo finds himself alone in space with only a vague plan to find Rey and change her mind. Rey has plenty of time to wonder what she wants as the resistance searches for allies.

Hand of Fate by Sweetestcondition. (CV, TLJ alt-ending, M, 101K)

Rey is offered a choice at the end of Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi. This time, she takes the hand of Kylo Ren, grasping at the chance to transform the First Order from the inside. She hopes to create a Resistance from within, starting with the heart of Ben Solo.

for @scarletvizhlovers

#reylo fanfiction #reylo fic recs #reylo fic rec #rey/ben solo

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

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THE HOUSE, (part 1 of 3), a tale of Flocking Bay

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THE HOUSE

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

7357 words

Written 1990

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of Fan activity, Fiction, Art, Cosplay, Music, or any other thing is actively encouraged!

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I am John Peaslee, and I am writing this in the hope that it shall somehow be found and a cycle of greed and evil can be broken. Beware of Flocking Bay Realty Company and the old Wickes place!! But I am ahead of myself. Let me tell what has happened to me and you can judge for yourself.

It began innocently enough. My father died and I inherited a modest fortune. Taking a permanent leave of absence from my dull job, I left New York forever. I went north, up the Atlantic coast. Stopping for a day or a week as the whim took me, I came at last to the small town of Flocking Bay, Maine.

The bay, with its iron gray water and breakers like lead, flanked by headlands topped by hardwoods that became brooding pine forests on the inland ridges, captivated me. I determined to settle in that small New England town. Leaving my rented lodging near the water-front, I went to the Flocking Bay Bank of Maine. There, my funds were transferred and I inquired after a good Realtor.

I was directed to the Flocking Bay Realty Company and spent an unprofitable morning looking at small houses in the middle of town.

“I’ve showed you three good houses for a bachelor or a small family,” the Realtor said. “You don’t like any of ‘em. Tell you what I think. You want somethin’ a bit older, more atmosphere to it. Right, son?”

“Yes, Sir, Mr. Jason,” I replied, “that’s just what’s wrong with those houses. Good for somebody that just wants a place to live. Not for me. I want a place where I can feel the age of this town in my bones.”

“Hum, none in the current listings, I’m afraid … I can only think of two that might suit …” he muttered softly. More briskly, he stated, “Son, there’s the oldest house in Flocking Bay, the Hilstrom house. It was built in 1658. Actually it was the first house ever built in Flocking Bay. Been continuously occupied by the Hilstroms since it was built. Only hitch is you can’t buy it… yet.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Old Hilstrom was at least 95 when he wandered off six years ago. Hasn’t been seen since. It’s still a year before he gets declared dead so̓’s the place can be sold to settle the estate.

“The other prospect is also an oldie. Built in eighteen an’ fifty two, it’s got gas lights, indoor plumbing, and all the conveniences of when it was built.”

“Gas lights?” I interrupted.

“No kidding, they really let you feel the age of the house. It’s the old Wickes place. It’s not in the regular listings. It’s up to settle an estate. You can get it for a song, if your voice is in the $50,000.00 range.”

“Sounds great if it’s in good shape,” I ventured.

Mr. Jason escorted me to his car. “I’ll let you see for yourself,” was his reply. Only a short drive out of the town proper, an easy walk, waited the Wickes place.

It was all that Mr. Jason had declared it to be. The stone and wrought iron fence was in excellent repair. The yard was immaculate, with roses, pansies, and violets in orderly beds. There was not a crack or weed to be seen in the brick drive that looped through the porte cochere at the front of the house. This last was two sprawling stories of the finest Carpenter Gothic architecture that it had ever been my pleasure to see. The roof was perfect, with not a loose shingle to be seen. Not so much as a cracked window disturbed its perfection.

“How did an estate property come to be so well kept?” I inquired.

“It gets seen to,” was the cryptic reply.

“And the windows?” I pressed.

“What about ‘em?” he parried.

“They’re all there. Aren’t there any rock-throwing children hereabouts?” I wanted to know.

“There’s kids. They mostly stay away, it’s a landmark,” he replied, abruptly changing the topic. “Notice them scale shingles? You don’t find ‘em that good any more. Shall we go in?” The elaborately carved front door opened onto an entry hall with wainscoted walls. The entry gave onto a transverse hall that ran the length of the first floor. To the left of the entry was a formal parlor. Its walls were of flocked paper, disturbed by well-executed but vaguely unsettling paintings that closer inspection revealed to be signed “Wickes.” All the furniture was early Victorian: end tables, settees, and chairs were elaborately carved, the upholstery perfect. The carpet on the floor was a genuine Persian antique.

The room across the entry hall was a sitting room. It, too, was impeccably appointed. The study was done with inlaid desk, escritoire, Mogul carpeting and oak paneling.

And the library! Books rose from knee level to ceiling on all four walls. There were sliding ladders to give access to those above reach.

I will not dwell on the mahogany paneled dining room or the bright copper-filled kitchen, except to say that they looked freshly cleaned. I assumed but did not ask, that some one from the town came in regularly to clean and care for the place. Even the upstairs bedrooms, bath and large ‘workroom’ showed not a spider web or speck of dust.

I had to have the Wickes place. The low price indicated that the estate was eager to sell. Back at Jason’s office, some sharp bargaining began. In the end we settled on a price of only $45,000.00, to be paid in a lump sum at closing. Since my money was already in a local call bank, there was no obstacle. I could scarcely believe this excellent piece of fortune.

In only a few days, my small car was parked in the porte cochere. Each trip in and out of the vestibule to unload my things told me that I was truly home… My clothing, cameras, a bit of camping gear, and a few other odds and ends of personal possessions were all that I had. I passed one of the most restful nights of my life in the massive four-poster in the master bedroom.

It occurred to me that I wanted to find out more about my unusual abode. As the next day was bright and sunny, I set out for a brisk walk into town.

I started at the Flocking Bay Courthouse. There, a clerk was very helpful in searching out tax and transfer records on my property. At first, she seemed a bit startled at which property I was looking up. A few dollars saw to the copying fees for the records that I wanted. She suggested that I might also try the town library.

Fortified with a pleasant lunch from a small café, I walked into the gloom of the library to continue my research. As soon as I identified the object of my quest, Mrs. Alderman, the librarian, pegged me as ‘one of them spook writers.’ Nothing short of force would have changed her mind. It did save me from a lot of rooting about on sagging dusty shelves. She had gathered most, if not all, of the information on that ‘creepy ol’ Wickes place’ into a single bulging file. I saw at once that there were several days worth of studying to do. The library had no copier and Mrs. Alderman refused to allow file materials to leave the library. I did not wholly blame her. The file was the result of much work and most of the things in it could not be replaced. There were letters, newspaper clippings, land records (including my own recent purchase!), an assay, a strange gold coin, court documents, a botanical report, and more. Some of the materials went back to 1851.

Begging some file folders from Mrs. Alderman, I began the task of sorting the file by subject and date. Long before I was done, I had to stop. The library was closing.

I walked home in the deepening twilight. A gentle breeze helped me on my way. The sky became pocked with stars. My mind was in a whirl from briefly seen headlines.

WICKES’ GOLD GOOD AS GOLD … FAMILY VANISHES … BOY GOES MAD …

And more, None seeming to fit any rational pattern. Once home, I spread the papers from the courthouse out on the beautifully inlaid desk in the study. In the soft glow of the gaslight I began to study. Just as a pattern was beginning to emerge, I heard something.

It sounded like a rat or perhaps several of them on the floor above. Seizing the flashlight that I kept in the kitchen, I went to look. As I went up the stairs, I became convinced that the rats were in the attic. It took a few moments to remember where the attic door was.

A comforting circle of light from the flash preceded me up the attic stair. No rats. Also no spider webs or dust.

It ceases to be good housekeeping when an attic has no cobwebs or dust. It is unnatural.

The rats seemed to be beneath me on the second floor. I followed the sound. By the time that I got there, the sounds had gone down to the first floor. Returning to the first floor, I could hear the rats sporting about in a basement that I did not know of.

A quick look around the first floor showed no doors that might lead to a basement. Giving up on the search for the spectral brigade of rats, I went to the kitchen and fixed myself a light dinner. Looking at the dates of sale, I saw the pattern that had eluded me before. Hiram Wickes had built the house in 1852. It was first sold in 1873, next in 1880, then at exact seven-year intervals until 1985. The last date marked my purchase.

I was the seventeenth owner of Wickes’ house. There was only one thing that I could think of that could account for such a regular cycle of sales. The file at the town library would show whether my notion was foolish. But that was for morning. I retired in the master bedroom’s four-poster. I slept fitfully.

In the morning, I walked into town once more. Light puffy clouds were gamboling in the sky like puppies. At a gnarled old oak in the park, I turned left. Dubbing the ancient oak the “Hanging Tree” in my mind, I strode under its branches, straight across the grass to the library.

Mrs. Alderman was pleased with the sorting that I was doing. She set the file before me once more. “You’re the best of them spook writers so far,” she told me. “You’re not just after a haunted house or mysterious disappearances. You’re settin’ the whole story into order. Make a great book, the way you’re goin’ at it.”

“I do hope so, Mrs. Alderman,” I replied.

“I hope that you’ll remember us with a copy of your book,” she fished hopefully.

“If I get published, you certainly will,” I hedged, feeling a bit guilty at the deception, as there was no book in the works. How could I explain what I was doing when I was not sure myself? That morning I finished sorting and started to take notes to try to keep the mass of information straight.

Since Hiram Wickes had built the house, I started with him. Little enough was known for sure. He had been apparently fluent in at least eight languages, and carried on an active correspondence around the globe. He was independently wealthy, although the source of his funds remained a mystery.

He was once jailed briefly, for counterfeiting. He was cleared when it was pointed out that it was perfectly legal to use foreign coin, provided that it was used by weight and not passed as a U.S. coin. An assay proved his coin to be 24 carat gold, exactly 2/5 of an ounce, troy. Hiram always paid for everything with his strange coins, at three to the ounce. He would never accept change. (One of the coins and the assay were in the file.)

In the year 1852, Hiram finished the most modern and up-to-date house in Flocking Bay. Even maids and other servants hired from town could not keep up with the sheer clutter and disorganization he caused. Hiram was not popular with servants. They came and went until 1866. There was no further mention of servants after that date.

Hiram’s disappearance in that year was a nine day’s wonder. His mail had been impounded for possible clues but nothing turned up. No heirs claimed the estate. In 1873 he was declared dead and the house was sold for back taxes.

A quick check of the court records part of the file turned up, not one, but fifty nine(!) court ordered death certificates, and seventeen land sales since 1851. The records revealed a seven year income merry-go-round for whoever would take advantage of it. Flocking Bay Realty Company had handled every sale since 1908. They had always sold the house to folks from out of town …

It was closing time before I had finished putting this picture together. As I crossed the park the wind was buffeting me from the left and clouds roiled overhead. Just at my ‘hanging tree,’ my foot caught on something in the grass. When I had recovered my balance, I saw that I had tripped on a bronze plaque on a low stone.

It said:

“This tree is dedicated to the memory of Hiram Wickes. If ever he returns, may he be hanged therefrom!

Dedicated by Harold Oates.

- 1880 -”

I turned right, up the street, and made for home. I was pursued by clouds like hounds baying wind at my back and slathering rain drops at my heels. I barely beat the storm home. Watching the lightning from the bay window of the dining room, I ate a cold supper in silence. I saw the lights fail in the town and was glad of the gaslights in the house.

Shortly after sunset, I heard the rats again. They were in the basement that did not exist. I resolved to find the basement, if there was one. I figured that it had to have a hidden door or trapdoor. I moved the furniture and carpets of the first floor. Nothing.

Next==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

#THE HOUSE #Part 1 of 3 #Flocking Bay #Written by De Writer

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ice-cream-nekogirl · 4 years

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What am I now? What am I now? What if I'm someone I don't want around? I'm fallin' again I'm fallin' again I'm fallin'

-’Falling’ by Harry Styles

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dRDKoMcgavw

I’ve seen and read a lot of fanfictions where it’s told from the POV of one character and that inspired me to write this but... it’s not happy... much... and Harry Styles’ song just also inspired me to write out this fairly sad piece because that song is such a tearjerker man..

I like to this of this as an inside look of the witch's mind and thoughts as well as her opening up about her issues.

WARNING: This small piece contains mentions and/or references to suicide and intrusive thoughts. Reader discretion is advised.

Interestingly... I've come to realize that Amy's behavior makes sense if you know what Borderline Personality Disorder is and what the symptoms are. Many of which she actually checks out for. I study a lot of psychology in my spare time and to my surprise, Amy ended up showing some symptoms even though I swear to God it wasn’t my intention, it just kinda... ended up like that.

For more info or insight on BPD:

https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/comic-perfectly-shows-jealousy-looks-232343129.html

https://psychcentral.com/lib/loving-someone-with-borderline-personality-disorder/

Amy’s POV:

Apparently most children get their quirks at the age as early as 3 or 4, but when I was 4 years old I didn’t get mine. 5, 6,7,8,9, still nothing. That was it, I guess that just meant I was going to be quirkless forever, on the bright side at least I would be part of a minority that I could one day fight for I thought. If I’m gonna be quirkless I would own it. That’s what I told myself.

But then one day when I was 9 years old I woke up over my bed, floating around my room until my mom came in to make sure I came down safely. She told me everything, how her side of the family has a bloodline of witches that dates all the way back in the 1800’s and one of my great great great grandmothers or something had the same genetic affliction. Just like that everything became different, when I thought it was awesome at first, started to learn just what I am and who I am, and the history of all the great witches of the past. Slowly but surely I discovered more powers about myself, more powers I would one day learn.

Everything was brilliant… until the following year my parents were killed by witch hunters. Dad wasn’t even a witch, he was just an ally, he loved my mom and I more than anything, and they killed him for that. Worst part? When the heroes got to me before I could get barbecued, they didn’t even kill them.

I suppose that’s where it all begins though, after that they decided I wasn’t going to be safe enough here and that my new powers that were manifesting would be too much for them to handle. And because they didn’t want to deal with me, they called on the other witches on the other side of the world. From then on out, I had to leave my old life behind, my best friend and his family who treated me like family. I went from orphaned, to abandoned, to a bloodbath.

As soon as I got to New Orleans everything else was just as unsafe. Asshole frat boys, an actual Minotaur man, fucking zombies, voodoo witches and of course MORE witch hunters trying to kill us. And also an immortal racist, a Frankenstein Frat boy, a tongueless butler who has tea parties and sex with dead teenage girls, a wicked voodoo deity and an old, axe-wielding serial killer that was once a ghost in Robichaux. Yup. But that’s just a perfectly average day at Robichaux, and a perfectly average day in my fucked up life.

At least I had my sisters like Zoe, Madison and Misty, and Ms. Cordelia and how can I forget Ms. Myrtle? That woman needs to be a fashion icon and I will do justice by her and make sure the world knows who she was. And even Ms. Fiona. The bitch who used to be in charge was pretty badass, I mean if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be the strong, independent witch bitch I am today. Yeah I have a ton of issues because of the borderline emotional abuse she dished out on me and the other witches but still...

My new sisters were by far the least terrible part of the entire thing. Which is why it still breaks my heart to think about how some of them died, because not all of them came back...

Through all of that I kept myself up though. I learned how to fight back and fight alongside my sisters. I learned how to be strong, how to rely on myself and my sisters because we knew that no hero was going to come to our rescue. I had to be strong, I had to have thick skin and an elastic heart. Yeah that’s right I referenced Sia, she’s an awesome singer, just like Stevie Nicks. Amazing women, inspiring...

Sorry, getting off-topic. Anyhoo, I’ve realized though that it’s better that way. Being with the witches showed me the truth of the world, how the world looks at us and how it wants us to look. We have to be perfect, we have to be charming, we have to smile and look pretty. Why? Because the heroes have to be there to save the cute and pretty damsel in distress so they can feel powerful.

This idea of heroes and villains is really all just bullshit... all of these villains I’ve seen thus far... they’re kittens compared to the evils and horrors I’ve seen here. It’s not just New Orleans, but I mean Bloody Face was a monster back in the 50′s, then the man who made the Hotel Cortez, he was pure evil and still haunts that hotel to this day. James Patrick March. Evil. Pure Evil and he murdered just to feel something, innocent people who didn’t deserve it. Dr. Arthur Arden, a.k.a Hans Gruper, the Nazi doctor who hid under a disguise and performed horrifying experiments on humans in the insane asylum of Briarcliff. Instead of helping those poor people, he just murdered, butchered and tortured them for his sick experiments. So many lives ruined, mutilated. The victim’s last moments were nothing but pain and a desperate wish for death until he put a bullet through their heads.

Murders, monsters, all of them. They all murdered for fun, and then even normal people were evil, the ones who valued their pride and selfish desires over anything and destroyed innocence itself just to achieve that.

Those are the real evil people. All For One? Overhaul? Shigaraki? They couldn’t slice a loaf of bread with the amount of sharpness they had all put together.

Those ‘villains’ that All-Might and my friend Midoriya have fought thus far are nothing compared to the monsters I’ve seen. They’re all a bunch of kitty cats, but I’ve seen and known killers. Real killers. Real monsters.

A woman from an old asylum once said that ‘all monsters are human’ and she was right, because the monsters I’ve seen were humans. The worst of humanity and I've seen it all. What heroes choose to ignore though is that it's in all of us, and that those who choose not to do shitty things is what makes a hero apoarently. What a crock of shit...

But I guess monsters are just another thing that the heroes like to glamorize so they can fight and save the world from what they deem as the real monsters of the world. When I showed that I wasn’t a sweet and gentle girl as he believed, Midoriya looked at me like I was a monster, which just proved to me that he’s a part of what I’m fighting, and that that’s what this society wants, a good little girl who does good things all for the sake of this society. And I’m a monster because I’m not a good little girl, my sisters aren’t good little girls, no, we’re not a bunch of sad girls who are just waiting to be rescued, we’re witches. We’re not giving those motherfuckers the satisfaction of saving the poor damsels in distress because we’re not, we’re powerful and we don’t owe them anything, not a thanks, not a hug, not a flash of our tits and especially not a goddamn smile that men just love to see on women.

Men like that are afraid of women like us, they’re afraid of women who aren’t afraid to get ugly and dirty our hands with blood. Afraid of women like me. And I learned how to fight, I was able to keep myself flying, because that was my first power, flight. I can fly based on how I feel, or on how much willpower I put into it. My power comes from my emotions and no fucking misogynist can tell me my emotions make me weak because I can do anything I want based on how I feel and how much willpower I have.

Lately though, it’s been nothing but willpower, as the older I get the more I realized that I’m not loved in this place. I wouldn’t be missed if I disappeared and I know it. I know it. But in life young people like me have to keep going even though we’re also gifted with the power of being painfully aware of all the bullshit that adults try to tell us is the truth, but we know better than that, they just don’t get that we’re not as stupid as we look. Although the sad part is, some of us ARE and they buy into the bullshit and try so hard to be the perfect little shitheads these assholes want us to be.

I can’t do that though, that’s not me. I wish it was sometimes though, who knows, maybe if I was that kind of person then maybe I would be liked by everyone, but that’s not me. Maybe that’s why I won’t be missed, maybe that’s why I’m forcing myself to fly every damn day just to make it through. Forcing myself to pretend that everything’s fine and smiling like a fucking idiot just to make everyone happy and not let them be miserable as me, but this shit’s hard, it’s hard to act like you’re okay when you’re not.

And I’m too aware of this shit, too aware to be truly ignorant and I call people out if I think they sound ignorant. So I’m not surprised when they end up leaving me or trying to tell me to be nicer and that I shouldn’t be blaming anybody or anything just because I’m a cynical and miserable bitch. Yeah, I’m a bitch but I can’t help it. At least I know my shit, I’d rather be a miserable bitch than an ignorant one.

Yet here I am, constantly miserable, constantly thinking and constantly aware that I’m nobody’s favorite person.

That’s just it. I’m not surprised by anything, because everything I do, everything I say, there’s always something bad behind it, that’s the idea I give everyone. I know it, it shouldn’t bother me but apparently, I can’t bring myself to fly because I’m happy, because I’m not. And then there’s always something that shows up in my life, something to make me feel some type of way, not a good way though. I can’t help the way I react to some things, I wish I could though, a normal person would be able to just go out and live life the way everyone else does. But I’m not normal. I never was. And every single day I’m reminded of it, every single day I remind myself it.

Every time I fly it’s through willpower alone, not because I’m so excited that my feelings can make me fly. No, lately I haven’t been able to feel a goddamn thing, and ironically that’s what hurts the most.

For someone who’s first gift was flight and for someone who’s powers allow them to fly, I’m just… falling.

Constantly, every time I fly, I just feel like I’m falling as the weight of this world just keeps beating me down until one day I eventually hit rock bottom. I don’t expect anyone to catch me, not even my loved ones. I feel like I’ve hurt them enough. Everyone I love, I end up hurting in some way because I’m just a jealous, overzealous, toxic and cynical bitch. I don’t deserve them and they don't deserve this. All this poison, all this anger and problems, I don't want that for them.

So I don’t tell them that I’m falling when I’m flying. If I’m gonna fall, I’m not going to drag them down with me.

Rock bottom almost doesn’t sound like a bad idea at this point. There are times where I get so frustrated with everything, so angry and so pissed off that I need to get away from everything and everybody and I let myself fly upwards. I just fly as high as possible, so high that I’m in the clouds and I can no longer see the rest of the world beneath me.

God... sometimes I get so high that I just want to stay up there. I want to stay feeling so high and so powerful like nothing can stop me. I’m invincible when I’m up so high. And yet that honestly terrifies me too, because when I’m up so high I forget everything, even the things and the people I don’t want to forget. How could I ever want to forgive some of the people I love the most?

When I remember them, that’s when I regain my vision and I start to see how high I’ve gotten, and how far it is to go back down. Everyone can see me and they can see how far I’ve gone, even up that high I can still see their disappointed faces and that just no longer makes me feel so invincible anymore. Because then I start to think ‘here I am’ up on top and yet I’m all alone up here.

Sometimes when I’m up that high is when I start to think about just letting go of the willpower and letting myself fall from such a distance, close my eyes and just let everything go. Let the gravity just bring me back down until I hit the ground.

And then I wonder, would that matter at all? Would it be better that way?

But as usual, I can never think of a fucking answer… other than that I should probably just go back home because I have people waiting for me. Ashlen, Hitoshi, Katsuki, Madison... I hope they're not too worried about me... I know they want to see me come home even though I’m the last person I want around, and I honestly don’t know how they want me around.

Yet I guess it’s enough to make myself fly a little more, just to go back to them, because in the end I feel a little bit of something when I’m with them. They’ve moved my wicked heart, even when I think I’m better off dead, they make me fly.

I don’t know if I saved myself, or if it’s them who saved me, because frankly it’s too late to save me, but I’m still here. I’m still here so I can go home and see them.

God... I haven’t been home for a while, but I’m on my way back home, I know they’re waiting for me, probably worried about me too.

Ash, Toshi, Katsu, Mads... You guys don’t have to worry, I’m coming home now. After all, I wouldn’t miss seeing your smiles for the world.

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lillegalloli94 · 4 years

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Moonlit Café

Back when I was in my last semester of college, I took a creative writing course and wrote a short ten-minute play called “Moth to the Flame” about a moth that fell in love with a spider and went to spend her last night with her. Since that play ended tragically, I’ve since imagined those characters in different scenarios and, of course, one of those scenarios is a coffee shop au.

Click… Click… Click… Click…

The mindless noise pinging by her ear was all Allura could do to keep herself awake in this late, dead hour.

Click… Click… Click…

The Moonlit Café prided itself in serving the nocturnal crowd into the darkest hours of night. Be it 3pm or 3am, they had a coffee fix for all types, from the earliest bird to the latest night owls. Of course, that did mean someone had to man the front line, and that someone, five days a week, was none other than Allura herself.

Click… Click…

She didn’t mind it too terribly. She was a moth herself so such a schedule was natural for someone like her. She didn’t have an issue with the hours itself but in the lack of action she typically saw on an average day. There were the regular patrons that liked to take advantage of the cool, quiet atmosphere; they’re the ones that kept the graveyard shift alive and kicking. But between those revitalizing few, was nothing but the smell of coffee, the lingering sweet air from the pastries and mindless, almost automatic, clicking.

Ding!

The front door’s bell chimed, a sudden shift but not alarming enough to encourage professionalism in Allura’s stature. The most her body would manage was get herself ready to ring up the customer at the till.

“Welcome to the Moonlit Café. Will you be dining in house this evening or to-go?”

“To-go,” a deep, husky voice spoke back to her, drawing her eyes up from the screen to find her patron staring down at her with dark, expectant eyes.

Now, Allura has dealt with spiders before and was self-assured that they never gave her pause for alarm. Sure, there were still people that would insist that they’d gulp her down in a second if given the chance, but she never took such warnings to heart. She’s seen small and cute little jumpers. She’s talked with gentle giants much too aware of their overwhelming size to want to hurt anyone. But this…this was possibly the first time she ever felt her chest seize up, her heart stilling and her breath catching in her lungs, under a spider’s striking gaze.

“Hello?” she waved a hand towards Allura, “Still there?”

Her normal body functions rebooted and her brain remember that she still had a job to do. “Y-Yes, sorry about that.” she straightened up her posture, her eyes looking much more awake and her antennae perked from their droopy dog positioning. A quick clearing of her throat and a kind smile and she was ready to serve. “What can I get for you?”

She followed her hand, long, slender fingers wrapping around her chin as she pondered the menu, “Hm… let’s go with a small mochaccino. Extra milk and whip cream.” she said, pointing towards the item’s picture display.

Allura tapped away on the till, ignoring the stabbing sensation ramming through her body while using up every fiber of her willpower to keep her hand from shaking. “Will that be regular or decaf coffee for your mocha?” she asked.

“Oh, decaf then.” she answered, the soft upturn in her tone sending a soft fluttering sensation through Allura’s stomach.

“Alright…” she successfully managed to restrain herself from squeaking out, “Will that be all for you?”

“Yep, think that’ll do it for me.”

“Gotcha. And…” she reached for a cup and braced her pen against the side, “could a get a name for you?”

Her spider guest stared at her for a moment. She supposed it was a strange request with it just being the two of them, but Allura considered it the perfect excuse to learn this new customer’s name. She was just doing her job, after all.

“Just Eva is fine. You don’t want to try writing my full name on that tiny thing.” she told her with a soft chuckle, waving off the idea of even trying to attempt the impossible.

“Just Eva, then.” Allura muttered, taking a second to make her penmanship as pretty as she could against the curved surface. She even went as far to as add a curling heart at the end of her name. “I’ll have it ready for you in a sec.”

Allura turned from the front counter and walked closer to the machine. She set the cup down with a soft tap and lifted her arms to let a second set of limbs sprout free from her sides. A couple extra hands always got the job done faster but she more liked the flare four arms could accomplish as opposed to two. It kept her mind entertained and sane to perform a little show, to add a bit of pizzazz to her coffee making process.

Extra milk, she reminded herself as she poured more into the cup. Extra whip, she shook the can and squeezed on a hearty amount while keeping the spiral neatly coiled. Some cocoa powder to dust it like chocolate snow and some chocolate shavings sprinkled on because why not.

The whole time, she could feel her heart thudding in her chest, her eyes desperately wanting to turn back and gauge her audience’s reception but held tightly to the strain. But she was watching, wasn’t she? This electrifying tingle she felt coursing through veins and tickling the ends of her nerves, she was definitely watching, waiting…staring.

“One decaf mochaccino, extra milk and whip cream.” Allura swallowed down the hum of her racing blood, topping the drink with a domed lid before passing it over.

“Looks good. So, what do I owe you?” she asked her, voice smoother that butter and richer than fresh cream. Her gaze lowered towards her wallet, a perfect display of her lovely lashes that added an extra sultry shade to her already dangerously seductive irises.

Immediately, a thousand answered raced across her brain, most of which pretraining to abandoning her post and taking the rest of the evening off with this late-night patron. But she couldn’t, not over coffee anyway.

Allura eased down those impulsive thoughts and gave her brightest smile that could rival the full moon waiting outside. “Actually, it’s on the house.” Okay, maybe one impulsive thought might have slipped past her.

Her guest gave a concerned raise of her brow, the corners of her lips turning upward in a nervous smile. “You sure about that?” she asked.

She couldn’t just take it back now, that would be even more off-putting. Double-down, she commanded, barking the order to the rest of her body, Double-fucking-down. “Certainly. It’s only a couple of bucks, anyway. Think of it as a free sample.”

She laughed softly, “And you’re positive you can be giving out free samples this good?” she asked, a bit of a smirk on her lips as she eyed the barista.

“You want to pay that badly?” Allura tilted her head, putting on an innocently curious façade.

She laughed a little louder this time, “I’d feel a bit better knowing my drink won’t be putting you in some future trouble.”

“Oh, if that’s what you’re worried about, it’ll be fine. The owner is one of my best friends. The worst she’ll do is take it out of my pay and I can live with that.” she said, unable to keep the bubbling giggle from escaping her lips. “However… if you really want to offer compensation, then perhaps… could you tell me what your full name is?”

She could see the intrigue starting to come over her eyes again, flickers of bewilderment and a hint of suspicion rising in her gaze.

Allura waved a hand, “No need to worry, I don’t plan on doing anything wicked with it. You’ve just got me curious about how long your full name would have been.”

The spider considered it, studying Allura’s eyes and possibly deciding how much she could trust her. She must have figured she could trust her word decently enough judging by the returning smile on her lips. She reached for her drink, wrapping her fingers around the warm cup and lifting it off the counter. “It’s Evangeline.” she said, tipping her cup slightly towards her server before turning, “Thanks for the drink.”

“Have a nice night.”

The door’s bell chimed again, a soft thud from the closing door leaving a gentle ringing in the air before everything died down into silence once more. It was then, when everything was still and her spider visitor’s figure disappeared into the dimly lit, midnight air, did Allura find it the perfect time to officially freak-the-fuck out.

Each of her four hands grabbed at her thick, rosy locks, pulling the hair over her face and squealing into its voluminous mass. What was that, her heart raced in her chest. What even was that?? The organ pumped harder and faster, feeling like it was about ready to explode in her ribcage. Is this death? Is this what death feels like? But it felt so warm and freeing and, honestly, kind of good too. No, actually, really good. The scared tingle of adrenaline tickling at the back of her head was amazing, like her body was truly living for the first time.

Her upper hands lowered her hair from her eyes, her glistening, pleading gaze searching the glass door and begging for her spider to come back sooner. To give her another dosage of her piercing eyes. Another taste of her dark chocolate voice. Another feel of her incredibly intimidating, towering stature. Allura already felt herself addicted to the spider’s surplus of flavor. And the icing on top, the juicy cherry sitting right on the peak, was that enchanting song of a name.

Evangeline.

Had she ever known a name as enticing as Evangeline? Had she ever known one as charming, as stunningly gorgeous, as Evangeline? Surely not. She would have remembered. She would have been prepared for the striking beauty of the letters that made up Evangeline. This was new. A deep fascination. A worthwhile obsession. All for the spider known only as Evangeline.

(Disclaimer: I don’t drink coffee but I love the idea of cafes)

#Moths to the Flame #Coffee shop au #original writing #original characters #just a little thing for fun #this has been nagging at me for a couple days now

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theonceoverthinker · 5 years

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OUAT 3X13 - Witch Hunt

Hey! What’s Zelena’s favorite food?

A sand-WITCH, of course!

...Got it. Shutting up. Review’s below. Read it, bitches.

Press Release

Emma arrives in Storybrooke with Henry and reunites with her friends and family, only to discover that no one remembers how they were transported back - or the past year they had spent back in Fairy Tale Land. But Emma is sure that someone in town is responsible for this new curse and teams up with Regina in an attempt to uncover their identity. Meanwhile, in the Fairy Tale Land that was during the past year, Regina, with the aid of Robin Hood, attempts to break into her castle, which has been overtaken by the Wicked Witch.

Main Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness

Past

Regina and Zelena’s first meeting is just straight-up iconic! The buildup to it is incredible, with little hints scattered all around the episode that the two are related and that Zelena’s power is a completely different horse than Regina’s, even down to the color. But there’s this sense of relation because of how sassy the two of them are.

“Despite my shortcomings, I’ve made something of myself.” This whole scene perfectly characterizes Zelena. Regina has been a force of antagonism for a lot of people, but no one has had the strength to truly do something about it. The most that could be done is a level of subduing her or having Henry tame her. But now, an interesting balance was struck. Zelena is more powerful than Regina and puts her on the prowl with that sense of antagonism BUT there’s also another layer to it. She allows for the integrity of Regina’s character development to stay intact. Because her beef is with something Cora did and pointed at Regina for superficial reasons -- that of being born (And holy crap, I just noticed a parallel between this and the Daniel incident and that’s a topic for another day), Regina is still able to be a hero without coming across as torturing someone she already hurt. Mix this in with that gorgeous green all over Rebecca Mader’s body and various pieces of iconography and you have something truly cool!

Present

I really like the handling of the confusion and paranoia throughout the town.

Leroy (The embodiment of the town’s voice at large) as well as the rest of the “rabble” blaming Regina make a lot of sense to me. As I pointed out last time, while our mains have bonded with Regina and understand the depth of her love for Henry, the rest of the town hasn’t had those experiences. They’ve just seen her as the woman who cursed the kingdom and threatened them at nearly every public appearance she’s ever made. And seeing Emma and Regina aware of that and using it to their advantage was utterly fantastic! It’s a really methodical approach that speaks to how self aware they’ve become.

It’s such a clever plan too! The only thing that holds it back from being a straight-up success is their lack of knowledge about Regina and Zelena’s relation. And seeing everything play out is satisfying!

Insights - Stream of Consciousness

-Wicked always WIIIIIIIINNNNNNSSSSSSS!

-”A family could live on what this is worth. And she just left it all behind.” That begs the question: DID she leave that stuff behind? I mean, Regina dressed very differently in Storybrooke than she did in the Enchanted Forest, but why leave the jewels?!

-I like how Zelena uses magic for all the things that a normal person would use it for. Getting dressed is a pain? Use fucking magic for it!

-ROLAND! The precious baby!!!

-”I’m ALWAYS thinking about Henry.” Awwwwww!!!

-Go Mama Mills! Monkey’s flying at an adorable kid and Regina swoops in and saves him! Noice!

-Damn, Regina! That is a high quality toy you made!

-I love how whether they read the story or not, everyone just KNOWS that Snow can talk to birds.

-”Smart money’s on yes.” Why yell at him Snow? He’s not wrong! Pessimistic, maybe, but that’s literally in his fucking name!

-”He’ll show up Swan. He always does.” I really wish this line was said in good faith, but Killian’s eye roll makes me think it’s ship war nonsense. Dude! Neverland’s over! Let’s be done with the machismo!

-”The bookworm’s right.” Look at that little side eye.

-”Oz? That place is real?” Aww! Cute Snow/Emma parallel for later when she discovers the Wicked Witch is real.

-”We we cell mates.” Ginny’s freakin’ tone during that exchange! Yes, you, Mary Margaret, in your most preppy-prep school voice and manner, were definitely in a cell! XD

-Dude! That Regal Believer exchange was just the saddest thing in the world! Regian can hardly move, so much so that Emma basically has to usher her out to not cause even more of a scene.

-As a side note, I love Regina’s Storybrooke outfit in this episode!

-Emma and Regina’s exchange in Granny’s alcove is just so amazing! Emma’s not without her reasons to distrust Regina and makes that clear and Regina’s aware enough of that but not without reservations of her own to Emma’s accusatory nature.

-How much you want to bet Granny recommended the crossbow to Little John?!

-Okay, so I am a total carnivore and I laughed my ass off when that arrow missed! XD

-I love how Rebecca Mader is dressed so down that a shot and a music swell is needed to show off who she is.

-”Who knew an Evil Queen had a soft spot for children?” You pressed the Henry button, Robin. You shouldn’t have done that.

-”I may have done bad things in my life, but at least I own it.” Regina, NONE of that works the way you think it does. For one thing, a good portion of your time prior to the curse (As well as after it), you denied you were the Evil Queen. For another, admitting you’re bad doesn’t do anything to lessen the effects of the bad things you do. Regina, Reggie-kins! You were doing so well!

-”I inadvertently put her in harm’s way during a job.” I love how freakin’ vague this line is. Like, I feel like there was a “Murder Most Foul”-esque red herring twist -- even more so than the one we got -- that would gel with a Robin flashback (Which was desperately needed).

-I love how this is framed as Henry not being himself because he’s not reacting to baby stuff, but he’s a freakin’ kid! I’d be telling her to buzz off as well!

-”Baby’s are stronger than you think.” Did you enjoy that double entendre, Jane? XD Because I did!

-I like how magic has a scientific element to it occasionally. For just as much as it’s a matter of talent or an ability by birth, magic can be learned and some of the strongest practitioners got to where they are by studying their asses off. There’s a diversity to it that reflects the diversity of skills.

-”I know just who to tell.” Yes, Regina!!! You told the embodiment of the town at large!!! Awesome decision!

-Nurse! Stick the fucking syringe in Little John! Yeah, he’s acting weird, but he’s not attacking just yet, so get a move on!

-”I’m a doctor, not a vet.” We REALLY need to get a magical vet on staff. I feel like Storybrooke has way too many animal problems to not have one.

-I love Regina and Emma’s conversation about stakeouts! It’s so subdued and domestic and FUNNY! XD

-Aww! Henry has friends! I wonder if said friends are wondering what the hell happened to Henry. Like, are there fics akin to “Stand By Me” where his friend group goes looking for him? Does Henry still text them? There’s a fucking story here!

-“Enough with the martyr complex, Regina. Try growing up without a mother.” ...She has a twinge of a point there, Regina.

-”They’re both dead.” I love how Rebecca Mader plays off learning that information. Like, her facial expressions there are divine!

-Has anyone ever written a fic where Zelena DID make the time traveling spell and used it on her terms?

-”Someone to destroy.” OMFG! Lana’s face! I fucking love it!

-”Why’d she tell you all of this?” Dude, she said two pieces of info that are the most general topics in the world when dealing with kids.

-”Maybe we can stop for ice cream.” BAD IDEA!

-”He took on simian form with the added bonus of wings.” A touch redundant, Killian.

-”Seriously? She’s real too?” I love that adorably innocent way that line is given! It’s so cute!

-OMG! I love the Rumple reveal! First, we see some straw. Then we see a male’s hand. Finally, we see his rugged and haggard face! That was so small, but so good!

-Rumple’s poor floof! It’s all gross!

-Rumple’s cage outfit looks more Weaver than Rumple! XD

-Okay, seeing Rumple not in makeup and acting crazy may quite possibly be the scariest thing in this series!

Arcs - How Are These Storylines Progressing?

The Wicked Witch - Damn! Rebecca Mader plays Zelena playing a midwife flawlessly! It’s up there with Pan as just amazing! Also, Zelena is freakin’ clever as hell! She takes full advantage of her knowledge of the people of Storybrooke to get exactly what she needs. And as I mentioned before, the flashback scenes perfectly characterize her. She’s sinister, has greater depth to her, and is just so cool! And speaking of cool, while the player (Zelena) is revealed to the audience, there’s a great element of mystery still going on, keeping the season from just feeling like a waiting game. Why is everyone being turned into monkeys vampire-style? What happened during that year? Who knows!

Regina’s Redemption - Like with the past few episodes, I really enjoy Regina’s character development. We’re starting to enter the payoff stage of her redemption as she further grows on better terms with everyone and protecting not just herself and Henry, but others too.

Killian’s Redemption - “Is he alive?” I love the way that Killian’s eyes just show that it’s something he’s genuinely concerned about. Absent is the snarkier, less mature version of himself and here, we have a Killian who recognizes that a good person’s life is in jeopardy and genuinely just doesn’t want him to be dead.

Favorite Dynamic

Regina and Emma. Who fucking else? The friendliness between these two set up by Regina’s fake memories and her means of stopping the curse perfectly allows for the niceness between the two of them to fit like a glove! It’s not full on best friend niceness, but it’s a niceness that reflects what they did for each other in “Coming Home” and reflects well on their history.

Writer

Here we have Jane Espenson flying solo as the writer of this episode! She did a fantastic job. The stories throughout the segments are very simple, but the complexity is allowed to shine through the intricacies of the characters. The dialogue and thought processes of everyone are exceptionally well handled and there’s a lot of comedy that just works so well!

Rating

Golden Apple. While I normally reserve a Golden Apple for something with a bit more of a thematic resonance, the execution of the stories here is so good that it doesn’t need a theme in that way. The story and writing are exceptionally good here, playing it simple, but smart and allowing the nuances to speak for themselves. There’s a lot of great elements and great and iconic moments here. It’s a fun step on the journey of this new arc.

Flip My Ship - The Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness”

Swan Fire - For all of the worrying that Neal does for Emma, it’s really heartwarming to see how much she worries about him!

Outlaw Queen - I feel like for purposes of full disclosure, I should preface this by saying that I’m not a super strong Outlaw Queen shipper. That said, I want to like them (As I want to like all things), and I’m really liking them in 3B (I liked them the first time around in my initial watch of 3B too)! Lana and Sean have good chemistry and the writing gives them a nice bit of banter. You get the feeling that while they don’t despise each other, they’re not on good terms and that trust has to build between them. And because this is early on in Robin’s existence, he’s allowed to be a simpler character. The love story between them starts out simple and to the point, allowing for it to be a great romance story.

Swan Queen - You really see the developed faith and trust between Emma and Regina and it’s so nice to see them being much more open with each other. Look at their dialogue in the office and how honest and kind they are to each other and it’s night-and-day compared to Season 1, but so well built! And look at those gentle smiles! It’s so sweet!! The payoff here is just so good!

-----

I’m so glad I was able to get more in-depth about this episode! Thank you all for reading and to those fabulous folks at @watchingfairytales!

Next time, we’ll see another looming presence that towers over our heroes. ;)

Season 3 Total (126/220)

Writer’s Scores: Adam and Eddy (39/60) Kalinda Vazquez (17/40) Andrew Chambliss (27/50) Jane Espenson (20/30) David Goodman (20/40) Robert Hull (20/40) Christine Boylan (20/20)* Daniel Thomsen (20/30) * Indicates that their work for the season is complete

Operation Rewatch Archives

#ouat #once upon a time #watching fairytales #ouat 3x13 #ouat rewatch #jenna watches ouat

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weasleyimaginewheezes · 6 years

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Fred x Reader / Sweet as Candy

A/n So no this wasn’t requested but the idea came to me at about midnight last night and I just continued writing and it was too cute not to publish. I’m hoping to write the requests in between studying today because I’m really busy tomorrow and Thursday so I won’t be active. I’m going to try and write some George fic and some other characters which have been requested to the best of my ability 😊. I tried to think of muggle things that wouldn’t necessarily exist in the wizarding world but it’s harder than you think so I just included some of my faves and I truly don’t have a clue about artithmancy. Decided to start using gifs just so I can post more of the phelps twins honestly. Anyway, enjoy some cute fluffiness and I’m sure I got the inspo from a post somewhere but I can’t remember. A/n

Word count: 2k+

Warnings: Just a whole lot of fluff, maybe some swearing.

After 5 years of being at Hogwarts you had reached the conclusion that being a witch was the greatest thing to be.

Being from a muggle family, you hadn’t been aware of the marvels of actual spellbinding magic until that day 5 years ago on which you got the letter that changed your life. Your parents had wanted you to pursue the career of medicine like your older sister but once you got that letter (and once they checked it wasn’t a hoax of some kind) your plans changed.

You were going to become an auror. This had been your dream since you had begun research into wizarding jobs in the uk and stumbled across a history of aurors including some of the most famous ones that had ever been. The stories of famous captures were legend and you hoped that one day that would be you. But you still had a while to go, for example passing your O.W.Ls which had currently took over your life at the present.

Another great thing about Hogwarts was the people that you had met. Some students were muggleborn just like you others were known as ‘purebloods’ and had come from a rich heritage of wizards. Some purebloods like to boost about this whilst to others it was just their life, no big deal. One such example of the latter were the Weasley family.

You had become rather close to the whole family through being friends with the twins whom you had met in first year. You had quite quickly became enthralled with them, the way they used magic to pull pranks around the school, the way they used their smarts for something else other than academics, not to mention they weren’t bad looking. You had only realised this in third year but couldn’t help the rather quickly developing crush on one twin in particular; Fred.

Whilst George was a bit more quieter and laidback, Fred was louder and outgoing, always looking for the next adventure or joke. The only problem was that your weren’t the only girl to notice. Several girls vied for his attention after quidditch matches, after a successful prank or even just at dinner. He’d dated a girl for a few months but it hadn’t worked out and so when the news came to you once again that he was single, you gathered up every ounce of courage in you and asked him out.

He admired your boldness and accepted, “I’d been wondering when you were going to ask me.” His smirk made you blush deeply.

That was 2 years ago. Fred and you had come a long way since then. Although he could still make you blush, it wasn’t as frequent as it used to be and Fred had learnt a few things about being in a serious relationship since then.

You were currently studying transfiguration in the Gryffindor common room. The crackling of the fire was the only real sound that filled the room. Fred sat across from you making a list of some kind, most likely to do with pranks. George was in detention so he needed something to do. You were amazed at how quiet he was being.

You smiled at him and he caught your gaze. He smiled sweetly back before resuming his concentration. Just as you were answering a practise question on the spell to reverse a transfiguration gone wrong, Hermione stormed in with a classmate from arithmancy arguing about an assignment.

“I told you it’s 8 8!” Hermione argued defiantly. The girl she was talking to look heavily confused.

“So 88.” The girl said slowly, Hermione shook her head as if there was no point and then said goodbye. The girl still looked as if she was trying to work with whatever it was out as she walked up to the girls dormitory.

“Not talking about miles per hour are you?” The text book you were reading from got put to one side as you took a well needed break. Fred perked up at the conversation and at you finally pausing in your studying. But his look became confused at your question.

Sometimes your forgot that he didn’t have the movies you did growing up. Hermione chuckled a little but sighed in annoyance at the problem. “That’s from Back to the future right?” Hermione inquired and you nodded proudly, glad to have someone who understood your references. “I never really got that film.” Well we cant all be perfect, you guessed as you shrugged at Hermione with an ‘oh-well’ expression.

Hermione began to list out the problem she had been battling with when your eyes darted to Fred who had quickly got out a small notebook from his robe pocket and began to quickly write in it. Your curiosity peaked but you didn’t ask, if he wanted to tell you he would plus Hermione was still talking, it’d be rude to interrupt. Not that you could help her much anyway, you didn’t know a thing about arthimancy.

When you looked back at Fred, the notebook was gone and he was back to his list.

The next time it happened, you were discussing with Ginny the joys of a muggle theme park. Fred and George were talking animatedly about something but you could tell Fred was almost trying to listen to your conversation instead.

“So wait, what’s the point of eating a ball of sugar?” Ginny asked with a disgusted expression as you told her about cotton candy.

“Well,” You faltered, sometimes muggle culture really was strange. “It tastes good and it comes in loads of different colours, blue is definitely the best! It’s my favourite thing to eat when I go there. My mum always used to buy me and my sister one.” You reminisced at the memory before moving on to discuss famous rollercoasters. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Fred reach again into the same pocket and pull out the notebook. He scribbled two words down quickly and then as he caught your eye he stuffed the book back into his pocket with a nervous smile.

You narrowed your eyes before Ginny caught your attention again. You talked some more before the younger girl retired to bed. You immediately walked over to Fred and practically fell in his lap. He was caught by surprise but it faded quickly as you kissed him. George cleared his throat to let you know of his presence and you smiled over to him out of apology before nuzzling into Fred’s neck.

“I’m gonna go. Leave you both to it.” And with a wink George left as well, leaving you and Fred in a practically empty common room (a first year had fell asleep at one of the tables at the back of the room).

You kissed Fred on the neck before looking at him curiously. His eyebrows rose in question at you.

“What’s in that little notebook of yours?” You voice was sweet as you played with the material of Fred’s tie. He hummed innocently in question and you gave him a smile, knowing full well that he knew what you were talking about.

“C’mon, is it really embarrassing? Oh is it love poems?” You mocked swooning with a hand over your heart and Fred laughed.

“No.” He drawled out the one-worded answer. You furrowed your brow and sighed.

“Okay don’t tell me. I’ll find out sooner or later.” You shrugged sweetly and Fred nodded, relived that you had gave up but partially sceptical because he knew what those words meant and they meant you weren’t giving up for long.

You had a plan. It was a wicked plan but a good one nonetheless. You kissed Fred as he looked at you suspiciously. He sighed into the feel of your lips and kissed back immediately. You moved your hand up to loosen his tie, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. This seemed to stir Fred in just the right way because he immediately parted from the kiss to begin his favourite teasing activity; placing kisses and bites all over your neck and shoulders.

You sighed into each one, your hand moving slowly down Fred’s side until it reached the height of the mysterious pocket. As Fred was distracted with soothing a rather large bite he had just made on your collarbone, you slipped your hand into the pocket and pulled out the notebook successfully. You hid it behind your back as you pulled away much to Fred’s disappointment.

That was until he saw you reading from a small notebook as you got up and crossed to the other side of the room. It was strange, the notebook looked exactly like the one he kept.

An anger flared in him as the realisation hit him. “Oi!! (Y/n) give it back!”

“Cotton candy is a tasty ball of sugar, loves the blue colour.” Your head filled with confusion as you continued to flip the pages. “Loves muggle films especially back to the future and breakfast club.” You knew it was about you but what you didn’t understand was why Fred had a journal log about you.

He looked away as you read from the pages, he was blushing. A thing you had only witnessed him do when he had introduced you as his girlfriend to his mother. You continued reading about your favourite books and why you liked reading them, about muggle TV shows you raved about and what they entailed.

You looked at Fred who’s averted gaze finally met yours. He looked guilty like he had been caught out. You closed the notebook and asked him silently what it all meant.

“I- I like to try and understand what you’re talking about so I can know you better.” Your expression softened as you listened to your boyfriends sweet confession. “Every time you talk about your favourite muggle things I write them down and usually ask Hermione or Harry if I don’t understand them.” Fred’s eyes found a spot on the floor and he absently picked at some fluff on the red sofa cushion.

“Fred.” He looked impossibly further away. “That’s so sweet.” A hopeful smirk crossed his face and he looked up to meet your large grin. You looked through the notebook again and found a rather scribbled drawing of a love heart with some messy writing in it. Your eyes squinted to try and make it out and Fred, feeling much better about it all, got up to look.

“What’s this?” You pointed to the love heart and Fred immediately tried to snatch the book from your hands.

“No! That’s nothing! Just something I did when I was in first year!” He pulled the book out from your hands just as you recognised your initials and then a plus sign pairing you with F.W. “It’s just scribbles.” Fred’s voice was more deflated as he knew you’d understood. He looked deeply embarrassed.

“Awww!” You couldn’t help it. You had never known Fred to be so- sappy. He shoved the notebook quickly back into his pocket and looked at you with an annoyed expression, his arms folded. You apologised with a smile before getting closer to him and kissing him. His arms fell to his side before moving to your waist. He never could resist your lips and you never could his.

“You are incredibly sweet.” You whispered against his lips as they brushed together with your words after parting for air.

“As sweet as cotton candy?” Fred’s playful, cocky demeanour returned and you smiled gratefully along with a giggle at his joke.

“Sweeter.” You pecked his lips again with a large smile that lifted with your eyes. Fred kissed you again and it was a long, drawn out kiss that lasted until you both had to part to yawn from tiredness.

You slept with a large smile that night at the thought of someone especially Fred wanting to know all there was about you with no detail spared and the fact of course, he’d pictured you together since he was 11. Merlin, your boyfriend was cute.

#fred weasley #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred imagine #hp imagine #fred and george #fluff #fanfiction #my fic

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glorycraft · 5 years

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DRAGON AGE VERSE: WICKED EYES AND WICKED HEARTS.

warnings: child abuse and brief mention of sexual assault.

Wrathion Prestor, to be entirely blunt, was not meant to be born.

His father was an esteemed Magister in the Tevinter Imperium known as Daval Prestor. Charismatic, charming, handsome---the talk of many lords and ladies, capable of bringing a smile out of everyone. Of course, there were plenty suspicious of him and his capabilities, because in the Imperium you need to be suspicious of everyone to even dream of surviving.

His mother, Nyxondra, was a former elven slave who continued to work as a servant. Daval passed it off as a simple fling, despite his marriage to Lady Sinestra, but there were whispers that Nyxondra was coerced into it---forced into it. Regardless, when the child was born she was only allowed to give him his name ( Wrathia, later changed to Wrathion by himself upon his “coming out” ) before he was taken from her and she was cast from their home.

From the start, Wrathion was an outcast in his own home; he only ever really mildly got along with his older sister, Katrana, but even then their interactions were few and far between. He rarely ever saw his brother Sabellian, who looked upon him with disdain the few times he ever did see him. He was a bastard child, a half-breed, a taint on the family’s good name, they said---and yet their father wanted him to inherit his seat in the Magisterium, despite him being the youngest! It incited the anger of the Prestor’s eldest son, Victor, also known as Nefarian.

Yet that did not save him from Lady Sinestra’s fury, who saw him as a symbol of her husband’s disloyalty. And it did not save him from his own father’s fury either. And it still did not stop him from quietly causing trouble, rebelling, disobeying, even when the bruises on his arms and neck would grow too numerous to hide.

His family, however, did not seem to mind it when he decided to go through his transition. Or, at least, they did not vocalize any disapproval, and the public at large still did not know him very well to take notice. The family’s doctor even supplied him with special potions, but entirely in secret.

From a young age, he excelled in magic, to the point where some even believed his own father felt threatened by him. Even his own tutors were impressed, but also warned that his poor grasp on his emotions could lead to an inability to properly harness his powers. They were right, as more than once he had set things on fire when he got his anger get the better of him, and that only led to him feeling his father or stepmother’s wrath yet again.

When he was still small, he often would snoop through his father’s study, digging out old books and tomes he was not meant to touch, and through them he learned of an old magic that let one take the form of different beasts. Through these texts, through watching the fauna of the Imperium, all in secret, he learned the ways of shapeshifting himself. He even suspected his father secretly practiced it. As he grew older, stronger, he was capable of taking a more powerful form: a large, black dragon.

At thirteen, he really began to appear more in public, and it did not take him long to charm everyone he met. Truly his father’s son, they would say. Handsome, charismatic, and witty, with an extremely persuasive tongue, and talented to boot. Clearly the right choice to take over his father’s seat in the Magisterium once Daval grew weary of his position or--- died.

Needless to say, Wrathion’s position as an Altus was secured.

In the shadows, the Prestor family began to meddle in things beyond their ken. Blood magic, demons, claims of whisperings from old gods. One by one, they succumbed to an odd insanity that Wrathion refused to touch. He would not let them pull him into something as sickening, as twisted as that. So many innocents dying for their bloodlust, their sick magic. And he witnessed this, and he thought of the pain he suffered at his family’s hands, and he made a decision.

At eighteen, he was responsible for the calculated murder of House Prestor.

A handsomely paid assassin was hired to take down every single member. Wrathion, with a change of clothes, his family’s vault drained of coin, and a few tomes, set his father’s study ablaze and then fled from the country into the south. He stood out in Orlais, yet no one questioned him; Prestor was not a name that held any weight there. He learned the Orlesian’s Game quickly, played it with ease, all while the Magisterium were confounded over the Prestor family’s deaths. They had thought it something political, but upon noticing the heir missing, they quickly came to the conclusion he was responsible.

But he was only a teenager, and he was far gone by now, why would they waste precious time and resources on capturing him and bringing him home to be tried?

After all, he practically did them a favor.

For a year he drifted from place to place throughout Orlais and Ferelden, narrowly avoiding Templars and the possibility of accidentally running into one of his countrymen.

And then the sky tore open.

Extra notes:

By the events of Inquisition, he is nineteen.

He becomes a companion in the Inquisition and stays in Skyhold.

He doesn’t hide that he’s a shapeshifter, but also doesn’t talk about it much. He doesn’t use his dragon form too often since it can cause... too much attention. But if he likes you enough he might give you a ride on his back. :^)

Besides shapeshifting, he specializes in fire/destruction magic. When angry or annoyed, it’s not unusual for him to huff out little flames through his mouth or nose.

He also, surprisingly, seems like a very capable rogue if the situation ever calls for it.

If your character is from Tevinter it’s A-OK for them to at least know of Wrathion / House Prestor!

He’s got cute pointy ears and little fangs.

Unless he wants you to know, he wouldn’t tell you that he is trans. The potions he took, and still take, are basically HRT. He passes very well. No one but his family ( now dead ) and personal doctor know. It isn’t exactly accepted in the Imperium, so he’s learned and is used to keeping it a secret.

He’s still gay fuck you

#♚・ﾟ* wicked eyes and wicked hearts ┋ dragon age v. ⊱#here...it is

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primepanels · 2 years

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What's Missing from The Remaining

Minor spoilers for The Remaining (both the film and the graphic adaptation). But, really, all these characters look the same, so good luck identifying who the ones on this page are.

The Remaining is an ambitious horror film about the End Times, but my biggest problem with it is that the Gospel it presents is super vague. It basically boils down to, "Believe and have faith in God to be saved, or live selfishly and die." No one explains what faith is or what people need to be saved from. I don't think it's even made clear why the End Times events that happen in the film (the giant hail, the earthquake, the "locusts") are being unleashed on the earth. In fact, the name of Jesus isn't even mentioned.

What's really needed in this movie is for the one pastor character to stand up and give a speech to all the scared people sheltering in his church…

"The reason all these horrifying things are happening all around us is because God is pouring out his wrath. He hates sin, and that's all any of us have been doing with our lives. If you don't think you're a sinner, then ask yourself if you've ever lied or stolen anything, if you've ever lusted after a man or woman, or if you've ever hated someone in your heart. Are you envious of others? Have you ever disrespected your parents? Do you even believe that God is real? And if you do, do you love anyone or anything more than you love him? What do you spend most of your time thinking, fantasizing, or worrying about? These are all crimes against our Creator, the only Holy Being in all of existence. And he's been patient with this world that hates him for so long, but the time has finally come for him to bring the hammer down.

"I pastored this church for years, and I thought I was doing all the right things, checking all the boxes. But my heart was more focused on furthering my own fame. I read and studied the Bible all my life, but I wasn't living by it. I never truly repented, never truly trusted. I was trying to do it all myself.

"Look…there are only two kinds of people who aren't guilty and condemned before God: perfect people and forgiven people. All those people who 'died' right as this craziness started? Their bodies are still here, but their souls are with God now. Each of you probably knew at least one of them. Do you think they were perfect? No. But they were forgiven! Why? How?

"Two thousand years ago, God sent his only Son into the world as a man, and he lived a perfect life. He never did any of the wicked things we all are guilty of. He was absolutely innocent in all things, but he willingly died by excruciating capital punishment as if he were the worst criminal in history. He did that for you! For all of us! He took the punishment we deserved so that we could be pardoned! And then he came back to life so that anyone who knows that they're inadequate to get to heaven on their own and accepts his death in their place can be with him forever in eternal glory.

"That's what they had that we didn't. They trusted that Christ's sacrifice had covered their sins, while we were out there either trying to make up for our sins by ourselves or pretending that we didn't have any sins in the first place!

"I hate to say this, but…the people out there who've died from the earthquakes, the hail, the plane crashes…unless they had a last-minute revelation, it's too late for them. But it's not too late for us! If you hear my voice, you still have a chance. Trust in Jesus! Repent of you sins and give up trying to earn your own salvation! He'll forgive you. If you let him."

Yeah, that would've hit the nail on the head way better than what we got.

From The Remaining

#The Remaining #Kingstone Comics #Casey LaScala #Kyle Hotz #Rapture #End Times

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randomnessunicorn-imagine · 6 years

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⭐ Cuphead Fanfiction~ ⭐

{ Hey-! A new chapter, finally. Actually, I am having a lot of fun in writing this long fiction. I cannot believe I was able to write all these chapters, wow! I hope you can appreciate even this new one! This chapter is very harsh (even if also the old ones were cruel) but it is the spirit of the story so the rating is always quite high. I have several ideas for the continuous after this chapter and I think I will add new characters so maybe it will become more interesting and variegated. Every kind of advice and feedback is accepted!

IF YOU WANT TO READ THIS STORY ON AO3

>>> 1st CHAPTER <<<

>>> 2nd CHAPTER <<<

>>> 3rd CHAPTER <<<

>>> 4th CHAPTER <<<

>>> 5th CHAPTER <<<

Pairing: King Dice x Neutral! Reader Rating: Orange/Red (some thematic in this story can be considered blasphemous and harsh)

~ Wicked Game #6 Chapter ;

Dice held your hand and you felt protected. You feared no danger. Nothing could break you, anymore.

As if you made peace with yourself and discovered your true nature. You were ready to cross the door of transgression and learn all the most infamous secrets that he was about to reveal. You wanted to know. Your mind burned like the flames that surrounded this Hell. Your veins pulsed stronger under your skin, and your heart was beating so hard that was going out of your chest.

His hand was soft and warm, you could not get lost until he was by your side. He guided your insecure steps making the environment around not so terrible.

Languages of fire surpassed the dark and infinite sky of this infernal hole. This was a damned place and forgotten by God.

A chilling scream blew through the folds of the wind, scratching your flesh. You clasped his hand stronger as if you feared that the wind could take you away. Dice looked at you with a paternal expression. A tenderness that did not fit with this diabolical landscape. You could not imagine that he was a servant of the devil. It was hard to believe. You found your lucidity again and you continued walking.

You had no idea where he was taking you. He wanted to show you something. These were his last words before you two started walking down this mysterious path.

All the souls in this place had a story to tell, they got their memories and you were their listener. You could not escape even if you wanted to. It was too late to come back, but you held his hand harder so you forgot your primal fear. Their stories were obscure and horrific and maybe your little mind would have been traumatized because it was something too painful to bear.

Stranger voices whispered through your ears and they said words of nonsense you could not understand as if they spoke a language that you did not know. It was true because they spoke the language of the dead. One day, not too far from now, you would be able to understand them and the things you would hear would make your bones frozen. Dice would be your personal interpreter so you would be able to understand the magical wonders of this world. He did not even know where to start this tale.

After sometimes, you have not even counted the minutes or the hours, and maybe here the time did not pass normally so time was useless, you and him stopped walking. In front of you, there was a group of people who crawled, screamed and asked for mercy. They were sinners, you guessed, they seemed left to their own devices.

Something was crawling on the ground and you did not realize that creature was so close to you. It touched you, screaming. It was imploring you but you did not understand what it said because its appearance was too horrible, so your mind blacked out. From its deformed mouth slipped out a trail of drool. You screamed at the top of your lungs while that creature was climbing up on your leg. Your sight was foggy; you jumped back trying to escape from its grip until another monster came out of nowhere. This demon stabbed the sinner with a fork and the crawling sinner yelled for the last time before falling unconscious. The demon took its body ignoring you and then it disappeared into the oblivion. This scene was so scary and abnormal that you lost your equilibrium and you fell. Your breath was stuck in your throat and you were unable to breathe properly.

These kinds of scenes were normal here and you had to get used to them. Seeing you so shocked, Dice got worried, he instantly kneeled next to you, caressing your face, and you found your safety again in his emerald eyes as he smiled at you whispering sweet words. The demoniac landscape disappeared, and your fear evaporated with the dense smoke created by the flames.

“I’m so sorry, dear. I know it hurts but it’s necessary… I didn’t want to traumatize you, I’m with you!” he said caressing your cheek. This was not a dream, you were walking through hell and horrible monsters wanted to devour you. He was right, it must be done and these scenes would become routines of your life. It was a sort of training, he wanted you to be brave, and you had to learn how to act cold and insensitive in front of the most horrible things.

“N-No…it’s ok… It was sudden…” you said with a whisper of a voice as you learned how to breathe again.

“Are you sure?” his voice was serious but low, getting closer and his eyes shined.

“Yes…” and you actually did not care of the consequences because you had anything to lose.

“Fine, but don’t be afraid. They can’t hurt you, you’re safe.” Dice showed up a reassuring smile.

You were not a mortal anymore even if you were still confused and you did not know how to define yourself now. If you were a human or a spirit, and this was not the right time to question yourself with these existential questions.

With a firm and delicate gesture, Dice helped you getting up and your mind started working again and those questions did not stop tormenting you and you needed knowing more about this madness despite you were still scared. Ignorance made people more cheerful but unsatisfied.

“I’m so sorry…” you said realizing that you were behaving like a little child. You felt a little stupid.

“Oh, don’t be silly, dear. There’s no reason to be, others must say sorry here and not you.” and you forgot about everything. That fear abandoned your body, like if anything terrible had ever happened. His sweet voice cradled you and it sounded like melody to your ears.

“Uhm… Okay…” you said, nodding softly.

Subsequently, his smile became more malicious and he got even closer still caressing your soft cheek with his delicate and warm touch. His lips laid on the corner of your mouth, leaving a sweet and fleeting kiss. It was something tender and gentle, and you had not even realized it at first. Even this time, you were taken unprepared but you felt no fear now because you felt warmed. Your heart lighted up and your eyes went wide open.

“I thought you needed some tenderness and I need too.” he chuckled softly, studying your embarrassed expression and you tried to keep your cool but reading your thoughts was too easy.

This little moment lasted an eternity or, at least, you thought so, and it was pleasant and precious. A part of you desired it would not have ended and you had appreciated every one of his touches and words. Not that you were falling in love or something but it was a new feeling you have never felt before because anyone in this world has never given you affection, not even your mother. Some love, this was what you craved. To be accepted for what you were without hearing any insults or feeling the malefic whip of your mother on your skin, crying or screaming during the night because of a nightmare. Everything had disappeared and your heart kept beating again. Dice was right, and you truly needed it, you were too shy to express your thoughts and you were unaware of your desire. He truly read your mind and you were glad for it. You smiled tenderly, blushing and then he invited you to follow him.

He has not held your hand this time because you had to learn how to walk alone and be independent because this was a merciless place. Next time, he would not have been here to reassure you with his kisses and caresses, you had to survive alone.

“What was that… Uhm… Thing?” you did not know how to define that creature who attacked you but you were curious and this silent made you uncomfortable.

“A sinner who likes misbehaving.” His tone was calm as if he said something normal.

Your eyes wide opened and you sighed because it was very strange.

You imagined all those horrible people like your mother becoming a monster like that and a weird feeling crossed your mind at the thought that you could become like that. It was awful. You asked yourself what those people had done to deserve this fate. How did they become so monstrous? Was it their punishment? A part of you wanted to know more about their past life and this world but another part wanted to run away as fast as it could but it was impossible. You could not escape or hide anywhere.

“It was running free… So they can run away where they want…?” you asked looking at him with a pair of worried eyes even if you were more confused than worried and the danger was already gone.

“I said it likes misbehaving but you have anything to worry. Or maybe you want to know something else.” and his smile became bigger and even the light in his eyes shined. His was not a question but an affirmation because he was able to understand you more than you could understand yourself.

“Well… I was wondering if I would have become like that, I mean… It was scary but also very sad…” maybe you had not already realized where you were and those sinners were not innocent.

“Ah, sweetheart. I truly doubt that you’d become like that. They had committed sins you would never imagine. It makes no sense pitying them, spare your sorrow for someone else.” He smirked, and maybe you did not want to know about their stories but the little and curious voice in your head spoke before your rationality could argue.

“What happened to it?” you asked to him and his smile became darker.

“He was a serial rapist and he had raped five women when he was alive. He had no mercy or scruples. Do you still think it’s sad?” his expression was serious and his voice glacial and low. Those words, the way he told them, their significance, were cruel and you did not know how to reply.

That man –even if you would have never defined “man” someone who did such an action- had committed one of the most terrible crimes. You did not know his name or his victim’s names but you felt guilty and sad for them. Maybe it was right; he was paying for his mistakes, so you had not to feel bad for him. Only the thought of it made you shiver but you tried to stay calm.

“There’s something more awful than that…” Dice broke the silence, since you did not answer, he kept talking, “Every crime is atrocious but as time passes by, you will learn how to act indifferent towards them and even your heart will stop beating.” He did not look you in the eyes, and he stared at the void in front of him. His voice was still cold and, despite you were in the Hell, you were freezing.

“I suppose there’s no limit at the worst.” You sighed and he nodded slightly.

The two of you reached another place, it was a desolated land full of demons and monsters. There were demoniac creatures who were torturing the sinners. You were able to read their expression of pain while they suffered the most horrible tortures that the Holy inquisition would only dream. This was quite sarcastic because Dice was about to reveal an awful truth you would never expect, or maybe you could but you did not want to realize it yet. It was a truth of hypocrisy and shame.

His expression was disgusted and King looked those sinners as if they were excrements or horrid beetles. Certainly, he did not estimate the men he was watching –and men was a euphemism since those creatures were not men anymore but something inhuman and indefinable.

“Look at them. How they crawl as the dirty worms they are!” you have never heard this tone from him, it was filled with repulsion and hatred. You looked at him confused and then he smiled at you and his expression mutated once again. Now his smile was warm and friendly.

“Do they deserve this?” you asked still staring at him and he kept smiling at you.

Dice thought you were still very naïve but not for too long. Because this world made people cruel and cold. So many terrible things you would have seen and learn. It was never enough.

“Oh darling. You can bet it. They don’t deserve your mercy or any of your thoughts of benevolence.” He sighed looking at those sinners with repulsion.

“So… Who are they?” you asked trying to supress your anxiety but you wanted to know. It was time for you to get rid of all your insecurities.

“People you knew very well, I mean, you didn’t know them in person but I guess, you’ve confessed to them the sins you’ve not committed.” and your eyes blanked for an instant.

Maybe you did not understand his words and it was strange, you were not sure.

“What?” you asked again with a low voice.

“There are more Saints here than in Heaven” and he giggled, but his laugh was forced, then he said, “They were all holy men in life. Not so holy if they are here now…” he shook his shoulders. “Do you want to know what they did for ending up in such a place of damnation?” Dice’s smile became darker as he looked at you and his irises were green.

“Oh, I don’t know if I want to know…” you confessed and it was a cruel truth, for real.

“It’s a luck you’re not in their mercy anymore. I mean, those people are rotten!” then he started walking getting closer to the torture’s area and you followed him without saying a word.

There was a naked man seated on a big triangle, he was stuck there without the possibility to escape or move since his arms and legs were tied up. He screamed and his eyes were wide open. The spike of the big triangle was inserted inside his anus. The gravity did all the rest as he still yelled and wriggled.

“It’s called “Judas cradle”, it’s a classic inquisition’s torture. It’s ironic we have to learn from them, don’t you think, dear?” and he chuckled and his laugh was sincere this time. Dice found this situation so amusing. His laughs mixed with the inhuman screams of the tortured man created a macabre sound effect.

“I’ve heard about it… It’s very terrible…” you looked away because it was an horrific vision.

“They’re experimenting their own machines. Anyway, that man is new here, so he will have a lot of fun for a long time until he will got used to it.” Dice smirked enjoying the torture’s show.

“It’s so strange… I can’t believe that they…” your old world was falling apart, and everything you had lived until now was a mere lie. An illusion. You did not know what to say.

“That man’s soul was very greedy and lustful and these are not features that suit to a holy man. But he’s not the worst, you’ll see…” Dice spoke and he moved on and you followed him.

A new scene of horror showed up in front of your shocked eyes. It was another sinner and he was being tortured like his companions. He was not alone because other sinners like him were keeping him company and their screams filled the hot air with desperation.

This was one of the most atrocious tortures ever existed and you did not want to watch it and their yells were enough to make you afraid. This torture was called “The rat torture” and, simply, the victims were devoured by rats, but there was more than that. There were two ways to use this torture, and it made the torture itself less boring and more brutal for the victim.

The first method was the easiest but it did not mean it was less painful. It needed a cage and a rat.

The unlucky man laid down on a plank of wood and his arts were tied up. The cage rested on his belly, and the underlying part of it was removed. The mouse inside the cage came into direct contact with the skin of the victim. Then a burning brazier was placed on the top of the cage. At this point, the trapped mouse, to escape from the heat, began to bite the victim's flesh, eating him alive.

The second method was even cruellest than the first because now the mouse was inserted in one of the orifices of the victim (it could be the vagina or the anus). Then the orifice was sewed so the rat could bite and dug the internal organs until the victim would die in agony or from blood loss.

This torture has been reserved for this new sinner but for now he was being tortured with the first method but it was still painful and degradant.

“I’m so sorry, darling” Dice’s voice brought you into reality. Yes, it was a horrible reality but maybe his words would distract you from this scene.

“What?” you said confused.

“I’m sorry you’ve to watch this atrocity…” he confessed and why was he saying this after all this time?

“You said it was necessary…” you answered, and you were more confused.

“I know, that’s why I apology, don’t be mad at me…” his smile seemed so sincere that you felt touched. You truly did not understand his true intentions or thoughts. He was a mystery for you. This made you curious despite the anxiety.

“I saw worse… I guess…” you sighed and it was true because your mother was not different from the men you were seeing. From those sinners. She was a sinner and she would have suffering the same pain. She would have been tortured like them. This thought was pleasant because she only deserved the worst. Strange how you were unable to feel sorrow for her. You did not pity her and you did not care about her destiny. How she would have burnt under here. Somehow, you were glad she would pay for her crimes.

“You’ll become stronger after that…” he said, as if he was making you a promise. His voice was paternal and warm. This horrid scene did not fit with the relaxing feeling his smile gave you. Yes, you were distracted but not for too long because that macabre show was still in front of your eyes.

“Uhm… Who’s this man?” this was a question you did not want to do. However, this tour regarded this. His expression mutated again and maybe even King did not want to give you an answer because this time the answer was about to make your blood frozen. Your heart would have stopped after that. Nobody was ready for hearing something like that. Dice himself was ashamed for confessing this dreadful reality.

With a cold voice, because he could not show his weak side, he told, “He was a predator. A children predator…” and your sight blacked out for a second as if someone turned the light off. It was your mind, which did not want to realize this information.

He continued saying, “ He was the principal of a Catholic institute for orphan children. When he was alive, he abused more than hundred kids and his crimes have always been ignored. Nobody has ever denounced these facts so the victims have never had their justice. These kinds of stories are more frequent that you think. Priests just like every churchmen are considered holy and untouchable. They represent purity and goodness, the good in the world. The word "priest" reassures people's minds. Nobody would never doubt the person who represents God, the messenger of God. They are the bridge between the earth and the Heaven, and common people forget they’re still humans. They can sin like everybody else. Even I still shudder in front of this perfidy. I have seen atrocious things, but there are sins that overcome every level of depravity. The human being is a vile and despicable creature. Saints are the worst species because they are justified by their sanctity. They believe they aren’t guilty and that everything is granted to them…” he could say more than that but he took a break from his long speeches because you needed time to metabolize this information because your mind did not want to apprehend these awful words. Everything appeared so surreal and distorted and you lost your balance for a moment. You were about to fall when Dice picked you up before you could touch the ground.

“Oh, s-sorry…” you apologised without a reason.

“No reason to say sorry… It’s not your fault…” he did not expect you would react like this and his expression was perplexed. His soft hand caressed your cheek and he looked you in the eyes with tenderness.

“Uhm… I felt a little dizzy…” you sighed.

“Did they hurt you?” his voice was still paternal but it hid a sort of hatred, but this hate was not directed to you and you understood he hated religious people with all his heart.

“W-what? You asked, confused.

“I should’t have asked…” he said with a low voice.

For a moment, he imagined you had experienced the same fate of those poor children. Since your mother was violent and merciless it could be possible you lived this horrible experience. For the first time, you recognized real concern in his eyes and you just stared at him trying to explain your confused thoughts.

“No, it’s never happened. My mother was violent but she’s never gone this far…” and you sobbed because everything was too sad and you were unable to tolerate all of this for one more minute. You started crying, but your cry has been covered by the inhuman screams of the tortured sinners.

“Don’t’ cry, darling. Everything’s okay and here nobody’s going to hurt you.” and it was true because with him you would have never suffered. His features appeared confused as your sight was unfocused by your tears.

You nodded slightly, “It’s fine… I guess… I just lost control of myself…” after you saw all those terrible things, your mind exploded. You needed a rest, a break from all this madness.

“I think it’s enough for today. You’ve been brave….” He smiled gently and all the tortures you have seen until now and all the screams that echoed in the air meant anything compared to his smile. You felt comforted and relaxed with him and protected in his arms that all the atrocity that surrounded you made no more sense. You were not able to explain the feeling you felt for him. It was something tender and unique you have never felt for anybody else. A pure affection. Dice was a trickster and maybe his were mere lies and he was deceiving you but you did not care. Nobody had never been gentle with you so you would have not surprised if even his sweet words were bluffs.

After this moment of confusion, he accompanied you far away from this place so you could rest and find your rationality.

“Thanks…” you said, drying your own tears with the sleeves of your jacket.

“You’re welcome, dear but it’s not necessary. I’m glad you followed me in this path but I wanted to show you what the true Hell was. I’m sure you already knew, but you’re strong enough to bear it.” he kept smiling at you and all those atrocious voices were disappeared through the heat. Now you two were in a desolated land.

“It’s ok… It wasn’t a beautiful show but I don’t want you to feel guilty or something, I’ll be able to handle that… Reality’s never been easy to live anyway…” you sighed, looking down and then he picked up your chin smiling and he kissed your cheek tenderly. Your face coloured of pink, you were embarrassed and you did not still understand why he was acting so nice. Excessively nice, with you. if it was a flirt or a devious game of his to trick your mind, you did not find it out yet.

“Yes, I bet it! But I think it’s time to talk about business!” his sweet smile became more wicked and a mysterious portal appeared on the ground. He extended his hand and you grabbed it so the two of you jumped inside the hole and everything turned to black.

The scenery changed and you were not in the desolated and macabre land of Hell where sinners burnt anymore. You were in a huge and comfortable room. It was Dice’s office, you have never seen it before.

He invited you to take a place and you could not believe some minutes before you were observing tortured people and now you were in a rich and glamour place like this. You truly needed a rest!

“This day’s been hard and full of wonders, don’t you think?” of course, his tone was sarcastic because you would not define the things you had seen wonderful. “The tour took a lot of our time and I almost forgot about it, so we’ve to be fast now but there’s not so much to say.” He took a pause, sitting in front of you and he said, “I want you to work for me, are you in?” he asked, smiling wickedly.

“Work?” you asked.

You have never worked before and you had no experience. You did not know any kind of profession and you were not outgoing and charming enough to work in a Casino. You did not know anything about games or tricks. No, it made no sense. Maybe he was joking!

“Yes, what I said, dear. Work for me!” he articulated every syllable but your reaction was the same.

“Uhm… I can’t do anything. I’ve no experience!” you answered.

“You can learn. Nobody is born with experience…” then he pulled out of his desk a paper. It was a contract but not a normal contract.

“I don’t understand…” you confessed.

“Actually, the job I want you to do is very special! You’re suit for it! I want you to collect souls for us but, before that, you must donate your soul to the Devil.” He gave you the contract so you could read it.

You still possessed a soul and you could still deny his offer if you did not feel ready or agreed with his request. This situation was too strange and absurd and you were unable to think rationally.

“Collect souls?”, it sounded like a folly.

“Yes, you’re very tired, darling. I understand… Anyway you can read it before you sign, I don’t want to pressure you. Oh, look at the clock! It’s very late!”

Yes, he was still a businessman so he wasted a lot of his precious time with you but he spent a good time. Dice did not regret it and he was glad you had this chance and he was the one who gave you it. He knew you would take the right decision.

“Oh… What I have to do…?” you asked, taking the contract.

“Uhm? You can stay here for the night. We can discuss about the contract tomorrow. You need a rest and I have job to do. You can read the contract and sign it and everything will be fine!” this last phrase made you shiver because his eyes’ gleam was threatening and maybe you had no other choice to sign. It was true that you were exhausted and you wanted to sleep so your mind would be able to think properly.

“I understand, thanks for the hospitality.” You nodded and your voice was filled with warm.

“You’re welcome, do you have other questions?” he asked and his smile was gentle now.

“Uhm… Where can I find my room. Where should I go?” you had too many questions but there was no time to answer to all of them.

“Oh, it’s room number 33. It’s at the third floor so you’ve to take the Elevator or you can use the stairs if you prefer. Here’s your key!” the gave you the key of your room and it did not seem hard finding it.

“Oh, thanks… I hope I won’t lose myself…” you put the key in your pocket.

“You can always ask to the staff, someone’s always around. You’ll recognize them! They know you’re new so don’t despair!” you nodded.

“Okay…” you hoped you could do it alone because the people you met in this place were too weird.

“By the way, we can discuss tomorrow. Don’t forget to bring your contract with you, ok?” he smiled, “Unluckily, our time is over but have a nice evening, I’m sure you’ll find very interesting people here. Our boss can’t wait to meet you, too.” his voice was curious and he laughed softly.

Your eyes went wide open at the thought that you could meet the Devil in person. You have not already seen him but he was just a busy boss. He had so many employee who did the job for him. The idea of meeting him made you scare but you decided not to express your thoughts and you took a step back.

This was the first day of your new life. It would be unforgettable and unique.

You crossed the door of his office, finding yourself in the corridor and now you had to search for your room because your only desire was sleeping. You just hoped you would not have dreamt those monstrous sinners who burnt in the vast land of Hell. Their terrible voices still echoed in your mind.

#cuphead dont deal with the devil #cuphead #cuphead fanfiction #cuphead ships #cuphead king dice #cuphead king dice x reader #king dice #fanfiction #x reader #neutral reader #king dice x reader

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ubiyytsa-a-blog · 7 years

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GENERAL TAG DUMP

❅ --- you’re a weapon and weapons don’t weep ⌊ visage.

❅ --- hey demons‚ it’s ya girl ⌊ ooc.

❅ --- all things truly wicked start from an innocence ⌊ character study.

❅ --- lost in translation ⌊ meme.

❅ --- listen close and listen well ⌊ psa.

❅ --- patience is a virtue ⌊ queue.

❅ --- baby‚ i’m howlin’ for you ⌊ audio.

❅ --- who’s gonna fuck you like me? ⌊ nsfw.

❅ --- when all else fails‚ we remain ⌊ promo.

❅ --- beautiful‚ violent‚ vulgar ⌊ self promo.

❅ --- if we can’t have it all‚ nobody will ⌊ wishlist.

❅ --- everything she wants is everything she sees ⌊ desires.

❅ --- and when history did not cooperate‚ history was changed ⌊ headcanon.

❅ --- you don’t get a win unless you play in the game ⌊ starter call.

❅ --- and so the story starts ⌊ opens.

#❅ --- you’re a weapon and weapons don’t weep ⌊ visage.#❅ --- hey demons‚ it’s ya girl ⌊ ooc.#❅ --- all things truly wicked start from an innocence ⌊ character study.#❅ --- lost in translation ⌊ meme.#❅ --- listen close and listen well ⌊ psa.#❅ --- patience is a virtue ⌊ queue.#❅ --- baby‚ i’m howlin’ for you ⌊ audio.#❅ --- who’s gonna fuck you like me? ⌊ nsfw.#❅ --- when all else fails‚ we remain ⌊ promo.#❅ --- beautiful‚ violent‚ vulgar ⌊ self promo.#❅ --- if we can’t have it all‚ nobody will ⌊ wishlist.#❅ --- everything she wants is everything she sees ⌊ desires.#❅ --- and when history did not cooperate‚ history was changed ⌊ headcanon.#❅ --- you don’t get a win unless you play in the game ⌊ starter call.#❅ --- and so the story starts ⌊ opens.

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goodfortune-au · 3 years

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Good Fortune (Soulmate AU) Chapter 10: New Year

It’s 1989, and Angel is reeling. All she can hear is the sound of her thundering heart. It eclipses the chirruping song of sparrows on a crisp winter’s morning, the blood pulsating restlessly in her torrid veins as she sits motionlessly in bed. She stares down at the blanket splayed out over her lap and presses cold hands to her burning cheeks. She remembers, she processes, she relives the dream she just had and she cannot stop herself from squeaking kittenishly into her palms at the thought of it all. Her face is growing hotter with each vivid detail that she recalls and her stomach starts to flutter so deliciously with want and desire. She’d dreamt about him again… She truly couldn’t believe it. All she can think of is his hands, his eyes… His lips, pressed against hers… She buries her face in her blanket and starts to giggle.

New Years of 1989 had started out a very good day. Once Angel had woken up and slipped out of bed, the world truly seemed a better place, at least for the time being. She greets Mayor Jello with uncharacteristic cheer and good spirit, and sets to making breakfast on a lazy Sunday morning. It’s French toast with bacon, and she scarfs it down happily, still entertaining thoughts from her dream the night before as she hums along to a record playing on her turntable (It was a Sgt. Peppers kind of day). She cleans her plate right away and sets it to dry, and then she gets dressed. She slips on the silk sweater with a pair of baggy black cargo pants, then laces up her boots and slides a long, thick trenchcoat over her shoulders. When she dons her favorite pearl heart she smiles at herself in the mirror. She studies her reflection for a moment, letting her eyes flicker over all the details and imperfections of her face; the bumps and acne on her olive skin, the perpetual bags under her eyes, her cute little button nose, the fullness in her lips… And then her eyes trail downward, all the way to her stomach, and her smile sours. She squeezes the fat underneath and grimaces, staring in dismay at the way her figure protrudes outward, her belly surely more pronounced than it was before as a result of all her recent indulgence. And before she knows it she’s fixated on it, it’s been so long that she’s just been standing there staring at her own reflection, and she forces herself to leave when she can almost feel bitter tears building.

She steps outside and takes a deep breath. Think about different things, forget about all that. She needed to. She opens her eyes and steps down from her stoop. Fresh snow crunches underneath her heels and she shivers as the chill from outside seeps into her bones, rubbing her gloved hands together as she walks down her driveway onto the sidewalk. She takes her stride at a slow and even pace, savoring the journey from Witcham Street onto Up-Mile-Hill. She passes all the houses in her neighborhood in silent contemplation, noting how each one was distinct in their own way when she walks past. Derry certainly was a town that, by all accounts, didn’t appear much different from any other. It seemed so innocent and unassuming, and anyone just passing through wouldn’t be able to tell that there was a monster in the closet from first glance unless they did some digging around. They’d simply just assume that it was another sleepy little Maine town closed off from the outside world, a one-horse burg with a rustic charm and modest flair. Growing up in such a place was strange, and Angel certainly had to wonder why she chose to stay behind while the rest of her family moved on. She couldn’t really explain it, but when the time had come, she simply felt like she needed to stay. Felt like she belonged there somehow. Call it destiny, perhaps.

And it would seem that destiny was in fact calling to her in a sense, as she truly had no other inkling as to why she’d been chosen as the supposed fixation of a higher power. Ever since it had begun, Angel had resolved not to question the whole thing so much, as stranger things had certainly happened and, she had to grant, it was certainly better to be on the side of good fortune rather than bad in this town. Still, some part of her had to wonder just what the nature was of this thing, and why it had chosen her specifically to dote on. She had to wonder of its intentions, and what role it played in regards to whatever had been causing the disappearances, if it played any role at all. Could they be perhaps one and the same? No, that couldn’t be. She refuses to believe that something so kind and thoughtful to her could be responsible for something so heinous. She allows herself a little smile at the thought of them, perhaps looking on her from above as she continues along. She’d brought a gift along with her on the offchance that she might find something from them, an old friendship bracelet she’d made that said “Neo-Maxi-Zoom-Dweebie.” It was an old memento from years past, and given that she didn’t particularly have a use for it anymore she didn’t necessarily mind parting with it. She hoped that they liked the things she was leaving for them. It wasn’t as though she was an old hand with this, she was simply going with the flow as it were. Simply just trying to return the favor, and repay back all the kindness that they saw fit to bestow on her for whatever godforsaken reason. It was the least she could do.

Pennywise was simply delighted with all her gifts. He hadn’t expected her to respond so favorably to his offerings at all, let alone so much so that she felt the desire and compulsion to leave things for him in return. He smiles. She truly was meant for him; it was all playing out just as he’d hoped, and all because of their inevitable compatibility, the stars aligning simply to bring the two of them together. They belonged together. She belonged with him. Only a girl such as her, so peculiar and odd and fascinated with the offbeat and the bizarre could match him so well. Only a girl so sweet and loving and longing for friendship and affection could be such putty in his wicked hands, a perfect compliment to his sinister nature giving herself in to his manipulations so easily and willingly, though she didn’t yet know it. Only a girl who would not only accept his advances, but respond to them in kind, would become his so effortlessly. Oh, how he couldn’t wait. He counted the days in restless anticipation, longing for that fateful moment where he could take her in his arms and give her all the love he had been saving just for her. It wasn’t long now.

She was rather enjoying her walk so far, getting lost in the way all the white blends seamlessly together, in the way icicles reached down from the gutters of the houses and the roads were slick with grimy mush from the neverending commute of passing cars. The Christmas decorations were still displayed outside in people’s yards, as people hadn’t yet an opportunity to take anything down, and she admires all of it in its collective splendor, enjoying it in the moment as much as she possibly can. Golden lights on the outside of one particular house strike a familiar chord inside of her as she walks past and she finds herself thinking of Pennywise now, her mind wandering back to the dream she’d had the night before. Her cheeks are rosy, numb from the cold, but they start to warm when she thinks of the way he’d looked at her, the way those eyes had turned from a swimming ocean of blue into fulgid, blinding gold when she’d come closer to him. It reminds her of something else, memories of the stars in the sky when she’d almost gotten trampled at that concert, the deja vu of having experienced near the same thing some months later when she’d passed out on Halloween, of the shadowy figure that had loomed above her on both occasions. The phenomenon of it was a tad peculiar, and as she’s lost in thought she finds herself coming to a sudden realization, that being that there was a possibility it could have been her guardian angel protecting her on those strange and peculiar occasions. Yes, that… That could be it, it seemed one of the only plausible explanations, even if it sounded mad. Hell, this whole thing sounded mad. If anyone had told Angel even half a year before that she would become the object of some mysterious benefactor’s inexplicable attentions, that she would continually cheat death and fatal injury as a result, she would have laughed right in their face. But now, it all didn’t seem so crazy.

She kept seeing those lights, so close yet so far, like beacons calling to her from lightyears away, and she thinks… They weren’t much different from Pennywise’s eyes in her dreams. It was almost like she was starting to conflate the two, starting to merge the two things in her life that were bringing her the most consistent comfort from her woes. It wasn’t so odd, it seemed to make an inkling of sense. In a way, it could be argued that her guardian angel was trying to court her in some fashion, as they seemed to be paying close attention to gifts she liked more than others and offering her solace in times of hardship, and Angel very much liked the idea of that attention coming from the same thing she herself had begun developing feelings for. She knew it wasn’t really possible. Pennywise was just a character in a children’s show after all; there was almost zero chance he was little more than a man in a costume. Still, she couldn’t deny the allure of it all, the thought of him looking over her, out for her, leaving her little trinkets and trifles for her delight, simply trying to win her favor. It was an idea too delicious not to entertain.

She comes upon the awning outside Secondhand Rose and, on a whim, decides to step inside. Angel had always adored thrift stores and antique shops; of course, this one didn’t rotate stock very often, but when it did things were often interesting to look at at the very least. She hadn’t stopped in for a while- couldn’t hurt to check, right? Lord knows she had nothing better to do on New Years, everyone being busy with their families and whatnot. Though, if she were honest, she’s surprised to find it open in the first place. The door jingles when she steps through the threshold, and she’s greeted by the shopkeeper and the musty, old smell of the wares waiting inside. There’s immediately a lot to take in. Items of all different shapes and sizes are visible from the ceiling to the floor, and things are not arranged very neatly. There are several rows of items simply stacked on top of each other, and various signs and license plates decorate the walls of the space. She scans her eyes over the various shelves of knick knacks and curios, and finds herself getting lost in all the colors and patterns within. There are lamps and wicker chairs, there’s empty tea kettles and old dartboards. There’s chipped sculptures and ghoulish taxidermied animals, several rows of dusty old books; there’s clocks and regal mirrors of different shapes and sizes and old, dented lunchboxes. There’s what looks to be a persian rug on the floor, a Royal typewriter in relatively decent condition, several guitars hung all over the front wall and a great big painting of a turtle propped up against the counter, striking somehow amid everything else. Angel finds her eyes lingering upon it in wonder as she steps past it to peruse the shelves.

“You lookin’ fer anything in particular?” The shopkeeper asks from behind her. She glances over her shoulder.

“N-no, I’m just… Just looking.” She says with a nervous laugh.

“Okay then, take yer time. Ring the bell if you need anything.” He says, heading into the back.

She nods. There’s an even more prominent stillness in the room now and she can hear the clocks all ticking in tandem as she moves through the store. Everything was so old, and clearly had a past behind it; she finds it so fascinating, looking upon each little thing and wondering what it’s story might have been, how it might have ended up here in the first place. She finds herself so comforted by the smell and atmosphere of it all that she thinks she could just stay in here forever, surrounded by a quirkier side of Derry’s eclectic history. She smiles as she examines a basket of donated childrens’ toys sitting in a Radio Flyer wagon. Among them is a couple vintage Barbie dolls, original 1959 and 1962 models, a timeworn teddy bear with one missing eye, a Mr. Potatohead, a pile of building blocks and… A little clown doll. When her eyes fall on it she stops dead in her tracks, and she feels that familiar tingling warmth when she stoops down to pick it up from the basket. She turns it over in her hands and finds something of a grin creeping across her face. It’s a charming little knit doll, red and white in color, with red yarn hair, googly eyes, and a felt nose and lips. It wears a baggy striped suit with red poms down the front of its midsection, and there’s a cute little ribbon tied about its neck. She can tell that it’s homemade just from the look and feel. The more she looks at it the more she falls in love, and she notices the tag sticking out of its foot. Only five dollars! Well, she could certainly manage that. She takes it over to the front counter and rings the bell, but not before leaving the friendship bracelet behind in its place.

The shopkeeper comes shuffling out of the back again and takes a seat where he was before. She gently pushes the doll across the counter along with a five dollar bill.

“Just this, please.”

“Ahh…” The shopkeeper says, opening the till and depositing the money inside. “This strike your fancy? Was donated just last month, toys from one of the local girls that went missing, uhh…Jenny Baxter, I think her name was. Was all over the papers.”

“Is that so?” Angel says awkwardly, trying her best to keep the conversation. It was… Unsettling to say the least, knowing that’s where the toy came from, but she tried not to think about it too hard. There were probably a number of things in here that had ties to the disappearances.

“Yeah, folks seemed glad to be rid of the stuff.” The shopkeeper says, printing up a receipt. He’s just about to hand it to her, but when he looks up he jerks it away before she can grab it.

“Your necklace.”

“My- huh?”

His eyes are beady, squinting at it. “That thing around your neck. Where’d you get that?”

“O-Oh. Well, I-”

“I had a nice vintage blouse worth a great deal sitting on a hanger in this shop not a few months before, had buttons on it just like that. Where’d you get it?”

“I found it.”

He leans back in his chair with a condescending chuckle. “Oh, you found it, huh?”

“Yes, I did!” she insists. “I found it by a sewer grate on Jackson Street and Witcham. Scout’s honor!”

“Oh, so the buttons just happened to go missing on my shirt, making it virtually worthless, and then you just happened to find the buttons outside some sewer grate?”

“That’s what I’m telling you, I swear.” She asserts. “What reason would I have to steal buttons off a shirt of all things?”

“I’m not entirely sure, you’d have to tell me.” He says curtly. “Either way, no sale.”

“I- w-what?”

“Get out of my store.”

“Hey, man, I already paid-”

“And I had to scrap a shirt that was worth almost $100.” He snapped. “Get out of my store before I call the cops. And leave the goddamn doll behind.”

Angel ruminates on it in anger as she sits in a greasy diner not far down the street, trying her best not to cry in public as she sips on her coffee. She’d wanted that doll. She almost felt like she needed it, like something in her blood and in her mind was telling her that it belonged to her. She was almost certain that it was meant for her to find, like it was a long-lost piece of her she hadn’t even known was missing until she saw it. She’d felt that feeling, that energy… It was as though her guardian angel was speaking through her, telling her to take it, and she’d failed. In that moment she feels like she’s somehow spurned the gift of her protector even if it wasn't her fault, and she feels terrible knowing that someone else will likely come along and take it instead. It now leads her to wonder about her little collection of gifts, and just how many of them might have been pilfered from dubious sources like that, like her pearl heart pendant. Was she just walking around in a bunch of stolen jewelry? Her heart sinks at the realization. She’d truly thought that what she was taking was lost, unwanted things that no one would miss, that she was hurting no one by taking these things. The waitress comes by with her food and she hardly touches it.

She ends up toting her food home in a takeaway box, having found herself too upset to eat after stewing in her thoughts now. It's all she can think about that night in bed too, driving herself crazy trying to rationalize and justify everything she'd been finding now that her collection's origins have been called into question. Finally, she arrives at a conclusion she can cope with, that someone else must have ripped the buttons from the shirt and her guardian angel simply found them to offer as a gift. They almost seemed like a bird in that sense, attracted to shiny, pretty things, scooping them up for a collection and graciously offering them to her, a kindred spirit. She sighs, staring at her alarm clock in silent thought. Yes… That seemed to ease her conscience quite a bit. There was no way her guardian angel could be so careless, right? They were a good thing, a moral thing, and they surely wouldn't steal things from people just for her, would they?

Even if they had, just how bad was that, really? Most of what she was finding were inconsequential things, things no one in their right mind would possibly miss, like marbles and paperclips and bits of crumpled up tinfoil. It was… Unfortunate that some people were losing things they might possibly miss, but people lose things all the time. She's lost her fair share of things over the years, things she's sure people have found and made off with. And she can deal with that, she certainly wouldn't begrudge someone for keeping something they rightly found. Where would someone even go to return it if they'd felt so inclined anyway? She finds herself feeling slightly better with this rationalization, and settles back into her pillows with much greater ease. So what if her guardian angel was taking a couple things for her here and there? What was a little selfishness on her part in such a heinous little town, accepting pilfered trifles? She could certainly be guilty of much worse crimes. The more she thinks about it now, the less guilty she feels, and with her mind assuaged she's finally able to fall asleep.

~~~~

Back to work today. Angel groans as she rolls out of bed and quickly sets to getting dressed for the morning. Following a few minutes of indecisively rifling through her drawers, she finally decides on a baggy gray sweater with black jeans and Mary Jane heels. After a moment of deliberation (and silent defiance to the shopkeeper of Secondhand Rose), she reaches into her chocolate box and puts on her pearl heart with the matching pair of earrings. She regards her reflection for a moment in the mirror, studying herself from the front and the side, analyzing her figure as she had obsessively grown to do in her adolescence and then she glances at her bedside clock. Only had so much time to get ready. With that she strides out into the living room to feed Mayor Jello and make her departure.

"How are you doing this morning, Mr. Mayor? Sleep well?" She says tiredly, pulling out his bag of food. She dumps a hefty pile in his bowl and puts it back in the cupboard. He doesn't answer her.

She sets a few heaping scoops of grounds into a filter and sets the coffee maker to work. As she enjoys the rich and sumptuous scent of the beans wafting through the cold air of the house she walks around the kitchen over to the living room, where she sits down with a groan and picks up the TV remote. Turning it on, she flips from the static of Channel 27 (no Derry Children’s Hour this morning, she notes disappointingly) through the catalog of available channels. Nothing much on this morning either save for the news, it seems. She leaves it on the Derry Local News and goes to check on her coffee. The machine has started to deposit the brew into the pot slowly but steadily, and when it’s done she pours herself a cup in her favorite mug before stirring in milk and a copious amount of sugar cubes. She takes a nice, long sip and sighs as the warmth slowly travels from her throat into the rest of her body. The TV speaks loudly into the emptiness, making the room echo with its matter-of-fact delivery.

“Grim news for Derry today as it seems another citizen has turned up missing, this time a Caucasian man of 62 by the name of Charles O’Brien.”

She stops in the midst of dropping another sugar cube into her cup. She tries to take a sip but has to stop herself gagging on her coffee, staring wordlessly at the television screen as it displays a picture of the lost man.

“Charles O’Brien was the primary owner and proprietor of a local antique shop, Secondhand Rose, Secondhand Clothes. It’s reported that he went missing at approximately 1 PM yesterday during the celebration of New Years, and his whereabouts are as of now unknown. Just terrible- John?”

“Yes, it certainly is Nancy. Anyone who may have a clue as to where he might be is encouraged to contact the local Derry police as soon as possible, until then we have all authorities on hand investigating the matter thoroughly. And that’s--”

She turns off the TV before it can cut to commercial, and stands dumbfounded at the kitchen counter in disbelief. She has to force herself to sit down, and when she does she starts to shake, contemplating all of which she’s just heard. The coincidence of his disappearance coupled with her encounter with him yesterday is simply… Too much to process, and she finds herself staring down at her heart pendant. She doesn’t know how she feels; she feels numb, almost paralyzed. She doesn’t know what to do or think, she simply sits in silence. Mayor Jello is gone from the room after having eaten. She spares a glance out of the corner of her eyes at the clock overhead, and realizes it's almost time to leave for work. Can’t afford to dwell on this much longer. She gets up and straightens her back, grabs her purse and her lunchbox, and steps out the door. She tries to forget it.

Turns out forgetting it was not as easy as she’d hoped. Angel had had a bit of an off day at work, stumbling around clumsily in her heels, staring vacantly at the shelves as she took the front desk, putting books back in the wrong places. She’d taken her lunch later than normal for lack of appetite but that proved to be a fool’s errand, as when she did she still sat on the monument outside and did little else but keep her gaze rooted to the pine tree across the way. She’d brought her sketchbook with her but couldn’t for the life of her manage to draw anything. Well, it wasn't as though she'd been able to draw much in the last several months anyway. The librarian hadn’t truly stopped being cross with her ever since that book went missing, and today she hadn't been more merciful for the sake of Angel's weak constitution. She still expected she fulfill all her daily responsibilities and Angel could do little else but just that, as she couldn’t afford to invoke any more of the librarian’s laser-guided ire than she already had. She’d been on thin ice the last couple months ever since she couldn’t track down that book and decided she couldn’t afford to call out on this particular occasion, traumatized though she felt. No, couldn’t risk losing her job. It’s not like there was a lot else in Derry that she could do to earn a living. She wasn’t exactly qualified for much, and the things she was qualified for were well above her threshold of discomfort.

Angel spends her second fifteen entirely in the bathroom in the hopes of finding seclusion from everyone and everything else. She needed time alone, because as of now she clearly wasn’t coping very well with the day’s early discovery, and now more than anything she simply didn’t want to be seen. She can’t stop thinking about the shopkeeper from Secondhand Rose. She has to wonder if the circumstances of his disappearance were coincidental, some freak occurrence, some strange mishap or, rather, something else entirely. She wished she knew more about the context of his disappearance, but if his disappearance was anything like Patrick’s she was betting dollars to donuts that the man was almost certainly attacked by the same thing he was. The same esoteric monster that seemed to plague Derry like an eternal pestilence, and now she thinks… What if the monster was after her? What if that was the reason people around her kept dropping like flies? She thinks of her guardian angel, and the way their presence seemed to challenge or defy that of the monster. Was she being fought over? Was there some strange cosmic game of tug of war happening, with her somehow the prize? Oh god… What if… What if the monster eventually got to the kids…? Her head sinks into her hands and she starts to sob at the thought.

She hadn’t slept very well that night. Well, not at all if she was really honest. She just lay there in bed, staring up at the shadows on the ceiling, counting the minutes as they tick by and trying to distract herself from nasty wayward thoughts. The next day, however, was a little easier. And the day after that, and the day after that. By the time a couple weeks had passed, Angel had forced herself to forget about it as much as she was able, becoming consumed in the rhythm of her daily routine once more and the momentary security of little disappearances to fret over. The distraction of the gift-giving game between her and her guardian angel kept most of her attention, and the rest was allocated to her growing fixation on Pennywise, who now more than ever was becoming quite important to her. With everything that had been going on lately and her increasingly more prominent issues with self worth, Angel found herself steering more and more into her crush and the delusions of being in something of a relationship with him. She hadn’t been having those dreams anymore, so Angel had started to cope by imagining him in bed with her every night instead. Every time she nestled under the covers she would turn onto her side and hug tight a pile of pillows very strategically placed so as to mimic his form, starting to drift idly in thoughts of them together, thoughts of them holding each other under the covers, so close their noses are almost touching. Thoughts of him whispering sweet things to her with that deliciously gentle voice, lulling her into such a sense of genuine security that all she can do is melt under his words. Thoughts of him shushing her when he makes her snort laugh in the cold, quiet night, finally leaning in close to kiss her when she can’t stop giggling and quieting her with a soft, sensuous kiss. Thoughts of that kiss turning into one more, and one more, until he rolls her onto her back and stoops to lick and nip at her neck, the way he would gently reach down between her thighs to peel her panties from her legs and cast them to the side. Thoughts of them, being intimate with one another… She would think of it all until she fell asleep and left each day behind her. And then she would continue on into the next, only to repeat the whole cycle all over again.

It had continued that way for quite some time into the New Year. Angel was pleased to find that the Derry Children’s Hour was starting to feature Pennywise more and more, and as a result she was growing far more distracted as time wore on, just trying to keep herself from thinking too hard about everything that was wrong. She began to neglect herself more and more, was letting her house and her room more specifically grow cluttered and unkempt as her haze-like funk continued. She would stare starry-eyed at the screen, hardly breathing as she watched his every movement; she would swoon and sigh and giggle like a schoolgirl at his on-screen antics, and then when it was over she would waste away the hours either lounging about the house and fantasizing about him or cuddling with her pillow pile until she dozed off. Errands were getting forgotten and she would settle for whatever was collecting dust in her pantry when she needed to eat, usually blue-box mac and cheese or Hamburger Helper or something equally low-effort. She only ever left the house to go scavenger hunting for gifts; on a more productive day she would go grocery shopping, but only ever came home with more junk food or superfluous impulse buys. And though she had gotten used to not having the dreams anymore she still held out for them regardless, had never stopped trying to have them in a sense. As she laid with her pillows and thought of him she hoped she would see him there as she had before, but when it didn’t happen she tried not to let herself be disappointed.

Angel was not without moments of clarity, however. Though her depressive state rendered her unable to take care of herself much of the time, there were in fact days where she knew she needed to work on getting things back to the way they were before, lest the Losers come back into her life and see just how much she’d let herself go in their absence. It was on a day like this that she attempted to undertake the somewhat daunting task of cleaning her house, or at the very least, decluttering her room. Angel was the type to get stressed out by a copious amount of mess, and although she was too far gone to care on most days, it still ate away at her regardless of her notice. It had reached a breaking point when she couldn’t even see the floor in her room, covered in clothes and other errant objects, and she’d almost eaten shit when her foot got caught on a shirt. So she rolled up her sleeves one Saturday afternoon, put on an Oingo Boingo album (Good For Your Soul, her favorite) and got to work.

Have you ever felt that somehow

You were not yourself?

That your body was the same

But everything around you wasn’t right

And images so strange and foreign

Flooded in like raging water~

So far so good. She’d started with the garbage first, and so far had filled up two full bags, another byproduct of her recent distraction. Then, once she was done with that she got to work on the floors, first collecting all the clothes and laying them in a pile on her bed. Then she started to pick up everything else that was a potential hazard, setting them down in better places or binning them for storage in the closet. She figured she could kill two birds with one stone and do a big load of laundry today once she was done. It was certainly well overdue, and she could stand to catch up a little. The floor isn’t perfectly spotless but it’s certainly adequate, and she starts to clear off her bedside table and her dresser now. She tosses old candles and water bottles, rearranges the books on her shelf, throws out old papers and mementos that are taking up space inside her drawers. She needed to reorganize her clown collection too, and she knew they surely needed dusting. She pulls open her closet door.

Have you ever been in love

With someone you hardly knew?

Whereas every time you closed your eyes

You saw this person come alive

It kept you wide awake at night

You felt like you were burning up

It made you want to scream

Then you passed out in a dream

Just once or twice

Is good for your soul...

Her eyes fall on her shelf and all the little figurines waiting inside for her scrutiny. They gaze back, staring at her silently and she reciprocates their wordless gesture. There’s little more than two dozen of them, statues in colorful attire with painted faces, and there’s a row of bean-stuffed dolls among them, all with similar porcelain faces. Angel had collected all of these from thrift stores over the years, figuring they were from elderly peoples’ collections, unwanted now for whatever reason or donated as a result of their passing. Either way, she was delighted to give them a new home whenever she found them, and the best part of it was how inexpensive they tended to be. She takes the tallest figures and lines them up in the back, and then arranges two more rows of the medium-sized ones followed by the small. Finally, she places the porcelain dolls in front, two on either side of the rows. She steps back to admire her handiwork, finding the activity to have been almost therapeutic in a sense. All of a sudden, she gets that warm rush working its way through her flesh and she smiles. She knows the signs, she wonders what they might have left for her this time. It had been a couple days since the last one. Hopeful with anticipation she turns around to face her bed again, but she jumps ten feet in the air with a yelp.

Ever laid half asleep

All hours of the night

With some nagging demon

Tugging at that tiny bell inside your mind?

And suddenly that strange idea

Bursts into an inspiration

You grab for it and then

The whole things slips right through your fingers

Just once or twice

Is good for your soul…

That clown doll, the one from Secondhand Rose, is there to greet her, propped up against her pile of clothes. It smiles at her, almost knowingly, and the sight of it has her heart thundering in her chest so hard she feels as though it might burst out. She backs away, and bumps into the closet door behind her.

“What the f*ck? What the f*ck?”

#pennywise #daddywise #chapter ten #new year #it 2017 #it chapter one #pennywise x oc #pennywise x angel #good fortune

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kingdomofthelogos · 3 years

Text

What Comes Next? Jude Study 4

Read Jude 1:16-25

Download a printable version here.

Jude paints for us two very different images of personal character in his letter: many will look below in answer to the lustful call of the deep; but, there will be a rare few who look upward towards the liberty of Christ with great aspirations. There are the intruders who have stolen in among the church, and for them is reserved a deep darkness beneath all worlds. These wolves in sheep’s clothing have a downward disposition, and everything they pursue moves further along towards their fate in the deep. However, there are sincere brothers and sisters in Christ who will answer the call to move in a different direction altogether; for, they live with upward aspirations that move towards the glory, majesty, power, and authority that resides with Christ in His eternal throne. We wonder what comes next in our world, and we can find that answer by examining which of these two character pathways we travel.

There is a great contrast between upward aspirations and malcontent desperations, and we can see how these two forms of character exist in our society today. Rather than recognizing that God is holy and therefore we should be holy, our culture has chosen to spite God’s image by looking in every direction but above. Participation trophies have replaced the call to virtue, the call to refine oneself in the pursuit of excellence. Rather than having a basic level of gratitude, our neighbors are trained to emphasize their fears, frailties, ailments, sufferings, and all of the things by which once can claim to be a victim. We are trained to always exert the exception before the rule, to say that since some children are without both parents that the family is not actually good but instead a privilege to be resented.

We in the church must be energized at our core to look beyond our fugitive world in search of the subtle but potent flashes of lightning that exhale from the sovereign seat. We must tune our ears for the peals of thunder that boom from the throne of Heaven in order that we might be focused above and armed against the endless shouts and whispers that ceaselessly call us below. The deep wants our souls clothed in an attitude of rotten desperation, but the One whose appearance is like jasper and carnelian wants us to be refined like gold cleansed in fire.

For the intruders that have stolen in among us, there is anything but upward aspiration. They are grumblers and malcontents. They do not aspire to be renewed by the transforming of their minds, but instead seek to indulge their lusts, and lash out at the world like unreasoning animals. The only aspiration that can be found with them is that which aspires inwardly towards one self. They want to move inwardly, downwardly, and occasionally outwardly with their social programs. But be not confused, they never want to move in the upward direction..

People regularly talk about a lot of things in our society, but nobility is not one of them. Nobility is something which must be achieved through great perseverance towards things above. It cannot be achieved by looking inwardly, downwardly, or even side to side. Nobility looks above. We must direct our nation to seek the great virtues of Christ that bring revival and nobility to our neighbors, for Christ alone is the Redeemer.

There is a lot of talk in our society about equality, but be wary of any worldly force that declares this as its end. Equality can be fully instituted by the forces below, for all can be equally miserable in hell. People can be made equal without any consideration of their personal joy, meaning, or value in life. All can be equal as sinners without ever knowing of the hope that comes from Christ. Equality demands no upward aspiration or individual consideration, for all can be equal in a grave. However, the true liberty that comes with the Gospel of Christ Jesus cannot be achieved without consideration of the personal soul of every child of God. The Gospel produces joy and peace, nobility and liberty.

So what then comes next? Jude reminds the church that the presence of such intruders should not surprise them, for the apostles had already given their warning. The question of what comes next is a big question for us in our current day. Our society has had an excess of people who were willing to be crusaders for the cause of hell, but very few people who have been willing to take as much as a hit for the name of our Lord. For too long we have deceived ourselves by the idea that there are no threats within, that no one really just wants to watch the world burn, and the road to hell can’t really be paved with good intentions. We must have a bolder courage of conviction if we are to change our nation's course.

To truly understand the state of our culture, let us go to Ephesians 4:25-32, and look at Paul's standard for the new life of Christian living. We can examine each verse uniquely and weigh it against our culture. This will tell us where our culture is heading.

Ephesians 4:25 says “so then, putting away falsehood, let all of us speak the truth to our neighbors, for we are members of one another.” Is our world one that puts away falsehoods, or one that muzzles truth and incentives every form of bearing false witness? Sadly, we are in an age where the public sphere is fully designed to bear false witness. We are ruled by the spirit of Proverbs 4:16, which reads "for they cannot sleep unless they have done evil; they are robbed of sleep unless they have made someone stumble.” We are seeing an enormous amount of lying and hatred for the truth in our modern era. Just as theft is a sin regardless of who is the sinner, the same principle that makes censorship evil holds true regardless of whether a government, news media, or social media company is the perpetrator. Censorship is a form of bearing false witness by manipulating the flow of information, it is done to ensure that only one side of a story is known. The forces of hell know that Proverbs 17:18 is true, “the one who first states a case seems right, until the other comes and cross-examines,” and so the wicked bear false witness by never letting you hear a true witness.

Ephesians 4:26 says “be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger.” This, too, is an area of failure, for we neither know the proper role for anger and assertiveness, nor do we prune wickedness before it grows overnight. Being a peacemaker is not refusing to fight for what is good and true, but knowing that when you rise to battle, you are doing so for the sake of peace. Order cannot be had without removing the chaos, and chaos never wants to leave.

Ephesians 4:27 says “do not make room for the devil,” but we are in an era too inclusive to tell him “no.” God has been disinvited to our public sphere, but the devil is given full access. 3 John 1:11 reminds us “beloved, do not imitate what is evil but imitate what is good.” We tend to become whatever we talk and think about; therefore; we must stop talking about the issues the world wants to talk about, and start talking about the liberty found in the Gospel.

Ephesians 4:28 “thieves must give up stealing; rather let them labor and work honestly with their own hands, so as to have something to share with the needy.” While this verse does address thieves directly, the logic clearly extends to all in the church. Our modern age has this strange conviction that one can be charitable if, rather than working to give alms to the poor out of their own pocket, they simply vote for politicians and policies that will tax their wealthy neighbor in order to take care of the poor. This is closer to the thief who steals than it is true charity. The Parable of the Talents asks you how you managed the talent or talents entrusted to you, not how you might redistribute the many talents of your neighbor. Also, we must teach our youth the value of working with their hands, for it keeps their minds hinged to reality.

Ephesians 4:29 reminds us to “let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear.” We are in an era without grace and without meaningful words. Our age is filled with empty words and fake virtues, which are anything but innocent. Evil desires you, to be the false light which gives you false meaning. We do not live in an era of building up, but an era of tearing down.

Finally, Ephesians 4:30-32 read “30 And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with which you were marked with a seal for the day of redemption. 31 Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice, 32 and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you.” I dare not answer for how grieved the Holy Spirit is, but I know that we have many who make their living by keeping old sources of bitterness and resentments alive, like with the topic of race. They have perpetual conversations on the sins of the past, and do nothing but bear fruits of misery. Rather than forgiving as Christ commands us, we find us in age that hates forgiveness. There is a lot of talk about power struggles between the wealthy and the poor, the majorities and the minorities, and also the marginalized and the oppressed. Meanwhile, forgiveness is rarely brought into this conversation, and when it is, it often bent into a peculiar angle where it is destroyed.

In the Screwtape Letters, CS Lewis describes how forgiveness can be bent into a peculiar angle where it is ruined and hatred takes its place. It happens when someone “feels hatred not on his own behalf, but on that of the women and children, and that a Christian is told to forgive his own, not other people’s enemies.” Thus we find a terrible world where people, without any consideration of truth, feel free to make villains of people or groups because they are perceived to be a majority or oppressor of another. Forgiveness is mutilated with a clear conscience, and bitterness is maximized.

Right now our culture has chosen a pathway of downward movement. However, revival, God willing, begins with each one of us, for true revival always begins with righteous men and women answering the call of Christ to contend for the faith. Revival begins when we stand firm for the Gospel with Heaven's booms of almighty thunder at our back.

If we desire revival then we must find our upward aspirations. We must teach our neighbors to look above, and pull them from the ensnaring traps below. Inasmuch as hell wants to consume us, it also wants our neighbors and enemies alike. Christian duty is to love our Maker enough that we desire redemption for all, just as He showed us by example.

In Revelation 20 we find that Christ chooses people to serve with Him for a thousand years as priests. The criteria for this priesthood is simple, one had to be willing to stand with Christ to the point of death. Those who were brought to this blessed office were none other than those who had been beheaded for refusing to worship the beast which had deceived the entire world. These chosen few may have not been great speakers, they may have not understood the complex of Scripture, and they may not have even had the best temperament. However, they knew that Christ was Lord and the beast was not; moreover, they were willing to endure a brutal death for that fact.

If we desire that our society find revival over calamity, where our children can achieve great things out of reflection of their maker, then we must exhume the buried aspirations of Heaven. There are many in our society who think they can have the effects of Christian virtue - such as the appreciation for truth, value for every unique individual, and liberty from birth circumstances - without having Christ as the cause for those effects, and without any recognition of sin. Our nation needs revival, and without Christ as the center, no truth may hold for long, for the very concept of absolute truth and absolute morality begins with belief in an absolute God. The Holy Spirit came to rest with you personally, that you might be stirred and quickened to do your best in bringing the Gospel to the heart of your society.

We must find our courage of conviction and be willing to suffer for the sake of Christ and His virtues, for doing so is necessary for us to move our society towards Christ. The idolatrous spirit is not here to coexist with you, but to dominate you. The more complacent we are, the more we tell ourselves it is not here to consume, the more we will find ourselves being duped and conquered by trojan horses. Jude paints two very different pictures for the church, and His letter places a question before us: are you willing to contend for the Gospel?

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luvkirby4ever · 4 years

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#15 on the Identity Ask thing! :3

Thank you anon!

#15: 5 most influential books over my lifetime.

Number 5: “The Ersatz Elevator” by Lemony Snicket

Among my various “milestone” books, such as the first chapter book I read (The Trumpet of the Swan), books that made a flip switch inside my brain to like reading (The Hatchet, Frindle), or “book I stayed up so late reading that I dropped it on my face like an idiot” (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire), I choose The Ersatz Elevator because it was a book I successfully read back when I was very reluctant about reading.

One thing that always stuck with me is that the style in which Lemony would write the teaser for the next book (/his narration style) actually made me question whether or not the series was fictional. I was probably about 10 or 11 at the time and was pretty firm on the stance of “there’s no way this happened, that’s impossible” but the fake notes to the editor at the end were so convincing that I kinda started to believe it.

It’s also worth noting that even though it’s #6 in the series it was the first one I read- I didn’t like reading back in elementary school. I ended up reading the whole series because of this book, though!

Number 4: “Wicked” by Gregory Maguire

This book is weird and I take quite a bit of issue with it. For starters, I usually dislike large time skips, and there’s like 4 of them. Another issue I have is that the author writes with a sort of emotional/thematic detachment in such a way that it feels like he’s trying to say something meaningful/important but it ends up boiling down to feeling like the “if there were two guys on the moon” copypasta. I reread it for the first time after many years and was disappointed in the direction the story went after the school arc tbh.

But all that aside, I read this during a time when I was starting to awaken to the idea that things that were “girly” weren’t necessarily bad by nature. And I should clarify that I would not consider this a “girly” book by any stretch of nature! It’s just that I used to be so staunchly against narratives about women (no less about women showing genuine tenderness) that reading Wicked was a big step towards trying to drink respect women juice.

Wicked’s MVP was definitely Glinda- she was a character who I immediately wrote off as “the shallow girly ditz” and was surprised at how invested I had become in her at the end of the school arc. I feel like there was a lot of wasted story potential in Wicked and Glinda was definitely a character who I’d want to write a fanfic about. So much wasted potential.

Number 3: “My Lesbian Experience With Lonlieness” by Kabi Nagata

WTNV may have been my gateway drug into LGBT+ culture, but just like the dumb f*** that I am it wasn’t until a few months after I first read this book that I realized that I’m gay. The book constantly rested in the back of my mind so one day as I was staring up at my ceiling in bed I thought about it again and thought “wait… I think I’m gay”.

(Shoutout to “My Brother’s Husband” for also helping, too. From a story perspective I prefer “My Brother’s Husband” but “My Lesbian Experience With Loneliness” is the one that keeps returning to my thoughts about stuff. Both are so good though I highly recommend them both!)

Number 2: Genki (Second Edition)

I know it’s not a “book” book, but I’ve had this textbook for years now and I have emotional attachment to this thing. I’m going to be taking my first JLPT this year so I literally study with it for an hour every day. It (along with my first signed WTNV novel) is my most treasured book. It represents a lot of my hope and dreams.

Number 1: “To Kill a Mockingbird” by Harper Lee

This book. If you’re American, there’s a good chance that you were forced to read it. And there’s a good chance you didn’t like it. As a kid, there was a lot to slog through. And it’s a book that truly shows its age.

I was 15 or 16 when I first had to read it. My teacher had given an assignment/test question on the some themes from the book, and one that I remember very vividly was the topic of innocence. Stuff about losing innocence, protecting it, characters like Jem vs characters like Boo. And as someone who endured a lot of really horrible things in my childhood, I was particularly drawn to examining the narrative’s opinion on innocence.

…And refuting it! Don’t get me wrong- I actually like the book, believe it or not. The prose at end about Scout walking Boo back home and seeing the neighborhood through his point of view evokes a powerful sort of emotion in my stomach (sadness? nostalgia? fondness?). But this book constantly makes me think about the theme of innocence and how it’s portrayed in media (and how my teacher put a spin on what he thinks innocence is). And I actually really hate the notion!

As someone who experienced a lot of childhood trauma, the notion that “once innocence is lost we are bitter jaded adults” is a bleak one. I don’t disagree that children are innocent and that they should be protected. I disagree with the sentiment that the spark of childlike wonder and awe disappears when you mature and that in order to properly grow into an adult you must eschew it. That innocence will die and you’ll never be innocent again.

It is true that we can never really unknow things. And as adults we hold responsibilities that children aren’t developed enough to bear. But we live in a universe so vast and in a world so wide that there is so much we don’t know. There are things we haven’t tried, people we haven’t met, cultures we aren’t familiar with. Right now, there could be your new favorite thing out there waiting for you to discover it.

Being an adult working at a science lab with other adults is odd because I’m surrounded by many people who believe that it’s completely normal to just go through the motions of marrying/having kids so that you can complain about how jaded your spouse/kids makes you. And to be fair, that *is* normal in this culture. But it doesn’t have to be that way! The innocence and joy of living and experiencing new things doesn’t have to die when you get a nine-to-five!!!

Tldr: I like the book and examining/deconstructing innocence as a construct is very important to me as someone who got depression at 14 and was led to believe that life was never going to better because once innocence is lost that spark never comes back

#anon #long post #books #ask meme #sorry about the long rant at the end i'm tired but have very strong opinions on this #do people realize how depressing that narrative of innocence is for people with childhood trauma

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larryfic-recs · 7 years

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Do u know any percy jackson au? Also could u recommend some wattpad fics other than jeddiejay and larry_lashton?❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Hi! I’ve only found one Percy Jackson au and its quite short. But I’ll also rec another fic where Harry is Cupid (the love god that shoots arrows at ppl’s asses and makes them fall in love lol) and it’s a very good read! And about wattpad, please follow my account pattycake18 and Jen’s account _SweetDisposition_ and add our fic to your library link here! We have lists of the fics that we have read so you can look through those. In the meantime I’ll rec a few of my favorites. As far as wattpad authors go, Britt1DForLife, TrulyMadlyLarry, LarryWriting, onedirection23rd, bestwriterever8, uniquelyxlarry, gaysicle, LemonSuccubus, EvouzAg, booandhazzababe, and smileyourepretty have some good ones.

- Ami xx

Like a Drum (Baby, Don’t stop Beating) by exitthequitters (1k words, percy jackson au!)

They walk through the camp together hand in hand, past the big house where Chiron waves happily at them, past the strawberry field where Louis first kissed Harry, past the lake where Louis first met Zayn and Liam, past the dinning hall where Niall sat down next to Louis before he knew he shouldn’t, and to Harry’s cabin.

Or, they’re all sons of Greek gods at a summer camp for demigods.

cupid’s defence by rhuubarb (100k words, WIP [two chapters left])

“Of course, the ONE time a ridiculously attractive man shows up at Louis’ home, butt naked, he turns out to be an arrogant love god. Not only that, but he’s an arrogant love god facing a multi-million pound lawsuit, possible banishment from Mount Olympus, and a shit ton of adjustment issues.”

Alternatively: Harry is Cupid, Louis and Liam own a law firm, and they’re all getting sued.

Wattpad Recs:

Victorian Boy by AudreyHornesHeart (WIP, currently reading and loving)

Harry the virgin Duke of Somerset knows little of love, while Louis the sly Duke of Warwick knows too much. When the two dukes come together for the annual fox hunt in Yorkshire, Harry finds himself drawn into Louis’ bed. But when secrets from the Louis’ dark past come to light, Harry fears that the fox isn’t the only one being hunted.

17 Black by larrys_fedora (WIP, slow burn, but amazingly written)

When sassy, stubborn high school football star Louis Tomlinson meets the new hard-ass team coach, Harry Styles, a heated rivalry sparks between the two and it is evident that the upcoming season is sure to be eventful.

no homo by louvinglouis (WIP, funnest fic I’ve ever read!)

louist91: I kinda really wanna suck your dick

louist91: no homo tho

my summary: Texting au where Louis and Harry fall in love over funny messages but Louis always ends them with #NoHomo. They eventually meet in person, along with Niall, Liam, and Zayn, and the madness only continues.

Thin Walls by beautifulnightmare2 (complete)

Louis moves into a flat while he’s at university, his next-door neighbour, Harry, who he’s never seen is rather loud at night. Louis confronts him about said noise and the two start to chat through the rather thin wall between their bedrooms. Will they ever meet, and if they do… what could ensue for the both of them?

Wanted Most by LarryWriting (complete)

Louis Tomlinson is a thief, and a damn good one at that. Most have heard of him. Most don’t understand him. And Harry Styles is the FBI agent who can never seem to catch him

these bountiful silences by tommoandbambi (complete)

They live in a world where they’re only allowed to say four words a day. Harry meets some people that don’t want to live that way.

i sleep naked by uniquelyxlarry (complete)

“you’re so small.” as if to prove his point, louis squeezed harry tightly in his arms, and harry just scrunched up a little bit, snuggling his head impossibly farther into louis’ chest. “my pretty paper doll.”

and when louis squeezed him again, placing a shaky, yet warm kiss on harry’s cold forehead, harry felt his heart feel that way again, he felt love. a soft flutter, that even the most self control in the world couldn’t stop. he loved louis. he loved him even though he didn’t want to, he really didn’t.

okay, maybe a little.

17BLACK by obeylarry (complete)

17Black: a gay strip club in London known for hot strip teases, a talented dj, and matchmaking? Harry is moving to London as a new addition to 17Black - new penthouse, hot job, amazing pay - sounds great. Sure it is a clear violation of Harry’s sexuality, but it’s not gay unless you make it gay, right? Plus it’s only for a month anyway. And of course, time flies when you meet a cute bloke named Louis. Who knows? A lot can happen in a month.

Elf Bites ❄ by simmerup (WIP, Christmas au)

“Deck the halls with balls of toenails, fa-la-la-la-la, I hate your beard.”“I don’t have a beard.”“I know. It’s pathetic.”

A jolly AU where Harry is an elf-in-training who quits his job and moves to London after the Elder Elves cancel Christmas in the North Pole. He plans to stay in London after that…but he decides to save his favorite holiday instead. And he may or may not enlist the help of his favorite human and full-time scrooge, Louis.

Wicked by gaysicle (complete, fairy tale au)

ursula lives under the sea with her surprisingly beautiful son. she gives him legs so he can get revenge on ariel by killing her daughter, but he gets his own ideas when he views peter pans son

Fading by tothemoonmydear (complete, one of the best)

Louis knows about beauty; the combination of qualities that pleases the aesthetic senses. He creates that combination every day in the garments he designs while studying fashion at uni. The cut of the design, the color of the fabric, the intricacy of the stitching; it all comes together to create something beautiful. When the science student with the long legs and dimpled smile agrees to model for him, Louis decides he’s found beauty personified. Harry just thinks Louis needs someone to show him how beautiful he is.

If I Could Fly by alessandra (complete)

If the sea can meet the sky agreeably at the horizon, how much harder can it truly be for feathers and fins? Is the water not drawn naturally to the shore? Does the sun not bend down to kiss the waves at the end of the day?

A Larry Stylinson-inspired fairy tale AU that’s mostly fluff with a dash of angst, and a lil adventure thrown in for good measure (feat: merman!harry & harpy!louis characters by pass-the-pencil)

Just Say You Love Me, Just For Today by _SweetDisposition_ (complete, my personal fav by Jen!)

A Larry Stylinson Parent Trap Au

Boys Divisional School of Manners by boybands77 (complete)

What the fuck is the purpose to a manners school? Not what I was expecting I’ll tell you that. Basically a BDSM school fic.

Fight For Me by Mie1412 (complete, no smut)

“So, we’re friends?” Louis asked timidly, his blue eyes looking up at Harry through his lashes, Harry’s chest suddenly feeling all weird.

Fuck everything. His life really was one big mess at the moment but maybe he should just go with the flow and see what happens. Couldn’t get any crazier than it already has been anyway.

"Yeah… we’re friends.“

[Or the one where Harry’s an underground boxer, Louis’ the prize and now Harry has to fight to protect him]

Four’s Company by vampire_angel_z (complete, and theres a sequel)

The Styles Triplets need a mate. Louis is too good to be true.

Purple Reign by LemonSuccubus (complete, please read the warnings)

“Love is for fools; and I, Louis Tomlinson, am not meant to have any lover other than myself.”

Purple Rain /ˈpɝː-//reɪn/: A of feeling or emotion brought on by the memory of a regretful action, resulting in the personal knowledge that what has transpired cannot be corrected or undone.

Hunting the Belgian forest as a falconer for the royal family is where Louis and his brother Niall find sanctuary. A regal living within the stone walls of the castle is the only haven the prince’s cousin, Harry, has ever known. Their lives shouldn’t cross paths, but when word gets around that Harry could be a new candidate for Louis’ notorious promiscuity, the two find themselves in uncharted waters.

Though Louis believes that love is for fools, he can’t help but find himself becoming a fool for Harry. Their serendipitous love is only beginning to flourish when royal secrets emerge and test their loyalty.

Baby Heaven’s in your Eyes by smileyourepretty (complete)

They couldn’t be more different if they tried.

Louis Tomlinson is 17 years old and in his last year of the most prestigious private school in Doncaster, before then he’s off to Uni. He has big plans for his future, and thanks to his parent’s money he will have no problem achieving them. Everyone who attends his school knows him thanks to his incredibly rich family, sassy attitude and gorgeous girlfriend, Eleanor Calder. If there’s one thing that completely annoys him, it’s that there is a community college right across the street from St. Mark’s Private School, and he has to look at the poor, totally inappropriate students that go there.

Harry Styles is 19 years old, and (once again) in his last year of college. He goes to Doncaster’s community college, just because the Holmes Chapel comprehensive expelled him twice in the span of two years, so he and his family had to move to another town. He has no future because he never shows up to classes and if he actually bothers to, he’s either high or drunk; sometimes both. His skin is littered with tattoos and if there’s one thing he absolutely hates, it’s the snobby students attending the private school right across from his, who think they’re better than anyone just because their parents have money.

When they meet, Louis is nothing but disgusted by the tattooed boy, and Harry can’t help but laugh at the innocent yet sassy boy with blue eyes and amazing arse.

Or a sixth form!AU where Harry is the fucked up bad boy with too many problems, Louis is the perfect rich boy with too much money and their schools are right across from each other. They meet at a party and that’s the last (and maybe the only) thing they need.

Whatever It Takes by bestwriterever8 (complete, mpreg)

Louis Tomlinson always wanted to have children.

At the age of 29 and after years of failed relationships he decided he wasn’t going to wait for the right person anymore, so he had a baby on his own.

But what will happen when that child gets sick? What will Louis be willing to do to save his child’s life?

Detention by TrulyMadlyLarry (complete)

Detention is supposed to be a punishment, but for Louis and Harry, it’s the start of something beautiful. Unfortunately, what starts off as a harmless love affair quickly takes a turn for the worse. Through all the stereotypes, judgments, family issues, and demons from the past, Louis and Harry struggle to stay strong. What happens in detention, stays in detention.

Strip Me Clean by onedirection23rd (complete)

After Harry had grown up in an orphanage since birth, he finally escaped.

He left.

He couldn’t take being in the place anymore.

At the age of 16, Harry was already on the streets.

He needed a job and now.

When he runs into a man, he gets offered a job that he never thought he’d be doing.

And now, at the age of 22, Harry was one of the best strippers in his clan.

Harry hated the job. He just hated people in general.

But, it did pay well.

When Louis goes into this strip club for his birthday, what happens when he produces feelings for the dark eyed, loud mouth stripper boy who hates relationships, hugging, kissing, hand holding, physical contact, and more?

Louis wants one thing.

To strip Harry clean.

The Housekeeper by onedirection23rd (incomplete)

Harry was just a poor housekeeper… a maid, a caretaker of homes. He had absolutely nothing going for him. He was back and forth on trying to settle in a proper place, but he never made enough money to do so. Harry was always stuck and always came across problems.

That was until he met Louis Tomlinson.

Who was Louis exactly?

Well, he was one of the richest people in London.

Louis had a perfect life.

He had a perfect girlfriend, Eleanor, he had a perfect house, he had a perfect job, he had perfect friends, he had a perfect everything.

Harry would have never expected a job of such worth, but it came about at complete random.

One of Louis’ managers had hired Harry off the bat after Louis had fired his old maid, in search for a new one.

Of course, it started off as any house Harry has taken care of, he would clean up, cook, and go home, unless he was allowed to stay at the home he took care of (which rarely happened).

It was nothing.

Louis only saw Harry as his housekeeper with a shy attitude.

And Harry only saw Louis as his ‘master’ with a big ass ego.

They were opposites, polar opposites.

But… opposites attract, don’t they?

#larry #larry fic rec #larry fic #louis #harry #wattpad #larry wattpad #larry wattpad fic rec

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 7 years

Text

Getting To I Do, pt. 3

In a few days we’ve all got a very important wedding to (virtually) attend! I thought it might be appropriate to “re-release” Getting To I Do, my collection of one-shots dealing with the trials and tribulations Emma and Killian go through while trying to plan their wedding amid a town full of friends and family who all have their own ideas about how the wedding of the century should go. This story was originally written during 3b, and it is the sequel, of sorts, to my first long MC, A Wish Your Heart Makes. As such, it diverges from canon as of 3x11. It’s not necessary to read AWYHM to understand what’s going on, but if you want to check it out as a bit of “background reading”, you can find it here.

Missed the beginning? Part 1 Part 2

Chapter 5: The Talk—pt. 2

“I’ll tell you a tale of the bottomless blue, and its hey to the starboard heave ho! Look out lad a mermaid be waitin’ for ye in mysterious fathoms below.”

Killian sang softly to himself as he lounged on the park bench attempting to kill time.

Killian looked up to the clock tower. 8:07. He sighed, running his remaining hand through his coal black hair. Emma was supposed to meet him for dinner at 6:00, but he'd yet to see the lass.

She'd been working long, grueling hours over the past week trying to take care of as much as she could before the wedding. She didn't wish to burden Charming any more than strictly necessary during the two weeks they would be on something she called a "honeymoon."

Apparently it was customary in this realm for newly married couples to take a vacation where they spend time relaxing alone together. Killian grinned to himself; this was one Land Without Magic custom with which he was heartily in support. His heart sped up at the very thought of quality alone time with his love…alone time where there was no longer anything standing between them and any display of affection they might like.

Killian shook his head. Best not to head down that avenue of thought. There were still five weeks before the wedding, after all.

What had he been pondering before his mind had taken such a tantalizing tangent? Ah yes, the honeymoon. Emma had informed him that he, as the adventurous worlds-traveler was to be entrusted with the task of planning the honeymoon. She had but two stipulations. Firstly, they must visit a location where there was absolutely no chance of being ambushed by an evil, wicked or malevolent villain. Secondly, she had insisted they not honeymoon at a place called Tallahassee. For some inexplicable reason, she had insisted visiting this "Tallahassee" on their honeymoon would simply be too weird.

Killian drummed his fingers on the arm of the park bench impatiently. He looked up at the clock again. 8:23. That was it. The lass wasn't going to work herself into an early grave; not on his watch. Getting to his feet, he strode purposely toward Granny's. He would procure a picnic. If Emma could not tear herself away from her desk to seek after dinner, dinner would simply have to come to her. Perhaps after they'd eaten, he could coax her to join him on the Jolly for a nightcap.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Emma wrote furiously, determined to get down every detail of the last…typically bizarre… call she'd responded to. David would not have to deal with the fallout of what happened out at Mrs. Farmer's ranch if she had anything to say about it.

You'd think she'd be used to the strange cases in this town by now, but this one just about took the cake. She'd gotten a call early this afternoon from a Mr. Souris Aveugles. Seriously, though, who has a name like that? Anyway, Mr. Aveugles insisted that Mrs. Farmer had chased him and his two brothers around her house with a carving knife. When she'd gone to investigate, Mrs. Farmer insisted that it was the Aveugles brothers who had been chasing her around the house. Her claim was that she'd wielded the knife purely in self-defense. Emma had been called in when Mrs. Farmer had caught up to Souris and relieved him of the rat-tail portion of his truly terrible mullet. She knew one thing; she'd never seen such a sight in her life!

Emma jumped slightly at the sound of the sheriff's station door opening. Looking up, she found herself face to face with Killian…Killian grinning devilishly and carrying a…was that a picnic basket?

"Be with you in a second," she said absently. "I just have to finish this report.

The basket plopped down squarely on top of her paperwork.

"Hook!" she growled in exasperation, getting to her feet and planting her hands firmly on her hips.

Grin still firmly in place, Killian leaned forward and kissed her soundly.

"Hook is it now, love?" he asked moving deftly out of the way of the hand she was trying to swat at him. "Aye, perhaps if I return to my pirate ways, I'll get to spend a little time with the loveliest sheriff in all the realms."

Emma grinned in spite of herself. She was physically incapable of remaining exasperated with him when he behaved as playfully roguish as this.

"Is there anything you wanted, other than to distract me from my job?" she asked in a voice she tried…and failed…to make stern.

Killian grinned at her suggestively. "Oh, darling," he purred, "there are many, many things I want from you, all of which I intend to collect on our wedding night."

Emma felt her face flame. How was it that this man could make her, hardly a naïve school girl, blush like a far-too-innocent teenager?

"As it happens, love," Killian went on gesturing with his prosthetic to the basket on her desk, "a certain beautiful fiancée of mine promised to meet me for dinner more than two and a half hours ago. As you are the only fiancée I have, beautiful or otherwise, I must conclude you are the one guilty of standing me up."

Emma hit her forehead. "Oh, I forgot all about dinner!" she said. "I'm sorry Killian; I must have gotten caught up in all this craziness." She gestured to the half-completed forms beneath the picnic basket.

"'Tis no problem, Emma," he said, taking her arm and trying to guide her toward the door, "We'll just take our dinner now."

Emma pulled against his hand. "I can't Killian!" she said. "There's way too much to do here! I took the whole morning off to work on wedding stuff, and now things are crazy! Besides, I'm not even hungry." Just then, her traitor of a stomach growled as loudly as she'd ever heard it. He grinned, but then became serious, looking at her intently. He cupped her cheek with his good hand, gently rubbing the tender skin beneath her eye with a calloused thumb.

"Love," he said gently, "you'll do the town no favors if you work yourself to death. Come away with me. Even the savior can afford the luxury of an evening spent with her true love."

Emma sighed. It was true, she was exhausted. She reached up and pecked him on the cheek. "Alright Killian. You talked me into. Lead on"

Two hours later Emma sat on the love seat in the captain's quarters, her head on Killian's shoulder, his arm wrapped protectively around her.

"So then," she said around a yawn, "if you can believe it, Mary Margaret proposed that we make the theme of the wedding 'Whimsical Disney'! She wants the reception hall to be decorated in drawings and cut outs of various Disney characters."

Killian groaned. Probably thinking about his one experience with Disney movies back in New York. "Please, love, tell me your mother does not intend to decorate with drawings of that simpering buffoon those in your world believe to be Captain Hook!"

"Afraid so," Emma said yawning again. "Don't worry. I absolutely put my foot down on the Disney idea."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Killian absently caressing her shoulder. It was so comfortable, so peaceful, so right here in his arms. Finally she sat up.

"It's getting late," she said on a sigh. "I really should get going."

"Must you, darling?"

She laid back against his shoulder once more. "I don't want to. Ironically enough, the only time I can manage to get away from all the wedding craziness is when I'm with you. I can't wait until the night I don't have to leave you."

"Neither can I, love," he said brushing a kiss against her hair. Emma fell silent, and moments later she was asleep.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Earlier that evening, Charming found Snow sitting at their kitchen table, intently studying a piece of paper filled to the brim with writing. Bending down, he gave her a quick kiss.

"What's that you're working on?" he asked.

"This?" Snow asked gesturing to the paper before her. "It's a list."

"Yeah," Charming said taking a seat across from his wife, "I can see that, but what is it a list of?"

"It started out as a list of things we need to do to get ready for the wedding, but it kind of morphed into a list of things we, the parents, need to do for or with our daughter before her big day."

"You come up with some interesting ideas?" He asked, leaning over to look at the paper.

"Absolutely!" Snow said enthusiastically. "And as it turns out there's one item…#23 there…that's for you. I've been thinking; you probably should get on that one as soon as possible."

Charming peered at the list, scrolling down with his eyes until he saw #23. Have Charming give Killian 'the talk'.

"Snow," he said, "you want me to give Killian 'the talk'? You've got to be kidding! I'm pretty sure he knows every detail there is to know about the birds and the bees. Given his penchant for innuendo, it'd probably be more appropriate for him to give me 'the talk'."

Snow sighed in what could only be called pure exasperation. "Not that talk! I meant the 'you better treat my daughter right or I will kill you…slowly' talk!"

"Oh, that one," Charming said. "I'm pretty sure I can wait awhile on that particular talk. The pirate's been on his best behavior ever since we got back from the Enchanted Forest."

By morning, Charming had changed his tune. He paced the living room fretfully while Snow sat on the couch, her hand held protectively over their second child who slept peacefully in her womb.

"You'll wear a hole in the floorboards pacing like that," she commented. He stopped pacing for a moment and stared at her. The anger bubbled up again.

"I'll kill him!" he nearly shouted, "I'll strangle that no good, womanizing pirate with my bare hands!"

That morning he and Snow had awoken to utter silence in the loft. It was Henry's week at Regina's, but Emma should be around. The last few weeks she'd been up at the crack of dawn working feverishly, but not this morning. When Charming had climbed the stairs to check on her, he'd found her bed neatly made, several items of clothing scattered across it…the same items of clothing that had been there ever since Emma left the loft yesterday morning.

Charming had investigated of course. He'd called the sheriff's station. No answer. He then tried Granny's. Ruby answered and gave him an earful of juicy information. It seems Killian had picked up a picnic dinner the evening before and then headed to the station. Ruby saw Killian and Emma head to the Jolly Roger from whence they'd yet to emerge.

"Now David," Snow said slowly, "don't jump to conclusions. Like you said last night, Killian's been on his best behavior; maybe there's another explanation."

He gave her an incredulous look. "Now you're defending him?! Snow, that's our daughter. Our little girl!"

"I know that!" she snapped. "All I'm saying is that you'd be much better off to think things through rather than acting rashly."

"Oh, I intend to think things through! I intend to think things through very thoroughly while I head to town. I think you were right last night; it's way past time I have that talk with Hook."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Weak sunlight filtered through the partially closed blinds of the Jolly. Killian shifted slightly on his tiny bed, trying not to disturb the woman who slept peacefully in his arms. He leaned forward, drinking in the lilac smell of her hair, tightened his arm around her waist, feeling the rough denim of her pants, the soft cotton shirt beneath his forearm.

This was bliss. This was how every morning should begin. Killian tilted his head, wincing at the stiffness in his neck. Well, there were some things he would change. For one, before their marriage, it was absolutely essential they get a much larger bed.

For another, in the ideal world, he would be waking with Emma in his arms after a night spent in far more satisfying activities than mere sleep.

After Emma had fallen asleep against his shoulder last night, Killian hadn't had the heart to wake her; the lass was sorely exhausted. So, careful to disturb her as little as possible, he'd carried her to his bed, removed her boots and socks, and tucked her in. Then, unable to deny himself the pleasure, he'd climbed in beside her and wrapped her in his arms. His heart had turned over as she nestled into his warmth, a contented sigh escaping her lips.

Now, this morning he merely lay there, marveling yet again that this happiness had been given him. He was blessed indeed.

Emma stirred, yawning and stretching slightly. Suddenly she froze, starting and sitting up quickly.

"What? Where am…" she began looking around, her gaze finally connecting with his. "Oh. Um…Killian? What am I doing in your bed?"

He leaned forward and kissed her gently. "Not nearly as much as I'd like you to be."

She swatted his arm and he grinned.

"Truthfully lass," he said after a moment, "you were exhausted last night. You fell asleep against my shoulder, and I hadn't the heart to wake you and force you to return to your home."

Emma smiled gently. "I love you," she said simply.

"And I you."

Emma leaned forward and joined her lips to his. This kiss was long, slow, deep. Somewhere in the midst of it, they tumbled back until they were lying across the bed. Killian brought his hand up to tangle in her hair, anchoring her to him. The kiss went on and on, wiping from his mind all thought but his love, his utter need for Emma Swan.

On the nightstand, her phone began to ring. With a groan, she dragged her mouth from his…with the greatest reluctance, if he read her correctly, and he always did.

"Hello?" she said breathlessly. "Oh, hi Mary Margaret….yeah, I guess I lost track of time…yeah, I spent the night with Killian. What of it? He is my fiancé…Oh come on! I'm a grown woman, not a teenager with a curfew!...I'm sorry I made you worry; next time I'll call…Yeah. We're still on for breakfast at Granny's right?...Okay, I'll meet you over there in fifteen minutes."

Emma stiffly rose from the bed, stretching. "Looks like it's time to start the day," she said, leaning over to give him one last, lingering kiss. "I'll come by later, okay?"

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

"Fathoms below! From whence wayward westerlies blow. Where Triton is king and the merpeople sing in mysterious fathoms below," Killian sang as he swabbed the deck. It was a bloody nuisance having no crew; he had to deal with all the maintenance on the Jolly on his own.

"Hook!" Killian spun around looking for the owner of the decidedly angry voice that had just bellowed his moniker. The prince…apparently angry enough to spit nails.

Killian warily laid his mop aside and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting while his future father-in-law stormed his ship.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Dave?" Charming's eyes flashed indignantly at Killian's cocky tone.

"You know perfectly well why I'm here, pirate!" Charming spat.

"Can't say I do."

"Well, then," Charming said getting right in his face, "let me enlighten you."

"By all means."

"My daughter never came home last night," Charming spat, "and when I asked around, do you know what I discovered? I discovered that my daughter accompanied you onto this very ship and didn't reemerge all night!"

Killian sighed; he should have known this was coming

"Aye," Killian said simply, "Emma stayed with me last night."

"And where, precisely did Emma sleep while she stayed with you last night?"

This was becoming ridiculous! Killian had given David his word that he would treat Emma with utmost respect. He had vowed to behave as a perfect gentleman. The fact that Emma's father believed him capable of going back on his word, of treating Emma like a common trollop, wounded him more than he wanted to admit. Wounded him and raised his ire.

"As it happens," Killian said with a lazy grin…a grin that never made it to his eyes, "the lass slept in my bed. Within the protective circle of my arms, to be exact."

Charming growled, resembling nothing quite as much as an enraged bear. Charging, the prince slammed Killian up against the mast a hand to his throat. It took every ounce of self-control Killian possessed not to strike the man's self-righteous face ! Only love of Emma made him hold his ire in check.

"I trusted you!" Charming roared. "How dare you seduce her into acting as your own personal plaything."

Killian shoved Charming from him, the rage bubbling up. "That's my future wife you're talking about!"

Charming apparently had nothing with which to reply.

"Look mate," Killian said, attempting to regain his temper, "I'll not suffer anyone to besmirch the reputation of the woman I love, not even her father. Nor will I take kindly to anyone who questions my honor!"

"What other explanation can there be fore Emma spending the night in your bed?"

Killian sighed again. "She was exhausted," he said quietly. "She's been running herself ragged. She fell asleep on my shoulder, and I hadn't the heart to send her home. I can assure you, your majesty, that when I say I slept with Emma last night, I mean just that. We merely slept."

Charming had the grace to look shamefaced. "I'm sorry if I jumped to conclusions," he said, "but it's time we got a few things straight."

"Aye?" Killian asked warily, "and what might those be."

Charming stepped forward again, getting in Killian's face. "I might have missed out on most of my daughter's life, but I'm in it now, and I'll be damned before I let anybody, anybody hurt her!"

The anger surged again. "If you think I would ever harm a single hair on Emma's head you're bloody daft!" Killian roared. "I'd give my life for her. For her, for Henry or for any lads or lasses that might come from our union!"

"You just see that you do treat her right, pirate!" Charming growled, "or you'll have me to answer to, and I promise you I'll be far less kind and generous than the worst pirates you've ever faced!"

Suddenly the rage evaporated and was left with nothing but pain. Would Charming ever see him as anything but a pirate?

"You've made your point, your majesty," Killian said in a defeated voice. "Perhaps it's best if you take your leave."

Charming nodded his head decisively. "Just as long as we understand each other."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Emma stormed into the sheriff's station, slamming the door behind her.

"David!" she yelled, stepping toward the desk where her father sat sipping coffee, "you want to tell me what the hell happened this morning?"

"Hi Emma," David said pointedly, "I'm doing great this morning. Thanks for asking."

"Cut the crap!" she said frowning fiercely. "I'll ask you one more time. What did you say to Killian this morning?"

After a long morning of wedding planning craziness, Emma had returned to the Jolly Roger, hoping to talk Killian into taking her to lunch. She'd found her pirate sequestered in the captain's quarters, taking purposeful swallows from his flask, a sour, defeated look on his face. He'd been uncharacteristically taciturn when she'd asked him what was on his mind. When pressed, he had mumbled something about her father, honor, being a pirate, and fatherly concern.

She'd heard enough to piece together what had happened, and she was furious!

"Emma," David said cautiously, "I was just trying to look out for your best interests."

"For my best interests?" she asked in a furious voice. "How on earth is making my true love miserable in my best interest?"

"Now Emma," David said with a placating hand, "There are some things a father just needs to do. I know it's hard to understand but I know..."

"Best?" she shrieked, "David I'm not fifteen! I don't need my dad to save me! I can take care of myself!"

"I just don't want you to be hurt."

"When has Killian ever hurt me?" she asked. "Ever since the day he returned to Storybrooke with the bean that took us to Neverland he's done nothing but help me, support me, love me more than I've ever been loved before."

Emma looked deep into her father's eyes. "I trust him. I trust him with my life; I trust him with Henry's life, and it's about time you and Mary Margaret started trusting him too. If it wasn't for him, you'd be a rotting corpse somewhere in Neverland! If it wasn't for him we never could have defeated Morgana Le Fay or the Wicked Witch of the West. Whatever he was before, he's certainly proven himself to be a hero now, and it's about time you start acknowledging that."

For long moments, David merely looked at her, showing nothing on his face, and then he dropped his head. "Yeah. I guess you're right," he said finally. "Listen, can you cover the station for the next hour or so?"

"Yeah," Emma answered, moving toward David's seat behind the desk, "why?"

He wrapped her in a hug. "I'm going to be out of the office for a while. It looks like I owe your pirate an apology, and there's no time like the present."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 6: Pink or Blue?

It was a beautiful evening. May had come to Storybrooke a few days ago, and it looked like spring was finally here to stay. About time too. After the winter they'd had, Emma didn't care if she ever saw the season again!

Emma took in the beauty all around her as she and Killian strolled the streets of Storybrooke. Everywhere she looked she saw evidence of the new life spring brought—Crab apple trees sporting delicate pink flowers, birds busily building their nests while they sung blithely to each other, the scent of flowers blooming, the smell of freshly cut grass. Life was good.

Killian took her hand, deftly lacing their fingers. "And just what has transpired to put such a look of bliss on your face, darling? Aside from the fact that you're whiling away the evening with me, of course."

Emma laughed and rested her head against his shoulder, bringing her free hand to rest against his arm. "Nothing much," she said softly. "I'm just happy; that's all."

He looked down at her, and her heart tripped over the utter adoration in his eyes. "I'm glad lass. I'm truly glad."

Emma sighed happily. "Killian, I'm sorry. I know I've been a little crazy with all the wedding planning and everything."

"Not crazy, love," he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Perhaps slightly unbalanced…"

She laughed again and swatted his arm. "Remind me again why I keep you around?"

He stopped and turned toward her. Taking her in his arms, he kissed her passionately. Emma heard a bad-tempered grunt behind them.

"Oh, for the love of…" Leroy growled. "Get a room and stop blocking the sidewalk!"

Face flaming, Emma pulled away from the embrace, and pulled Killian aside. Leroy side-eyed them, well, grumpily, and then stalked past muttering under his breath.

"Perhaps the dwarf is right," Killian said as he and Emma resumed their walk. "Perhaps we best continue that particular…um…conversation when we're alone."

"Oh yeah," Emma said with a grin. "You better believe I intend to continue that 'conversation'…preferably at some time and in some place where we won't be interrupted for, oh, about a week or so."

Killian chuckled appreciatively. "I like the way you think, love."

They walked in silence for some time, merely enjoying the warm, perfumed breeze, the brilliant sunset, and the love they basked in. How on earth had they managed to make it five months without a single villain showing up to attempt to destroy their lives? She could get used to normal, villain-free Storybrooke.

"So, Swan," Killian said finally, "has your mother told you why she's invited everyone to dine with them this evening?"

"Yeah," Emma said with a grin. "She had her big ultrasound yesterday."

"Ultrasound?" Killian asked in obvious confusion. "What the bloody hell is an 'ultrasound'?"

Emma grinned. "It's a kind of medical test doctors do in this realm," she explained. "The doctor uses it to, well, see inside of a woman's womb. The pictures show on a screen, kind of like a tv, and everyone in the room can see the baby moving around."

"Truly?" Killian said in wonder. "Love, you claim there's no magic in this realm, but this 'ultrasound' sounds rather magical to me."

"I suppose it kind of is," Emma said, remembering her own ultrasounds within the prison. She hadn't planned to look at the images on screen; she truly hadn't. It was hard enough knowing she would have to give up her baby. The thought of seeing him…it would be torture. But then the ultrasound tech had smiled and commented about how active her little one was, and Emma had broken down and looked. It was the most beautiful…and the most heartbreaking…sight she'd ever seen.

"And aside from being in awe after seeing their babe," Killian asked, "what about an ultrasound warrants a special dinner thrown for the family?"

Emma grinned. "The ultrasound at this particular time is a very important one," she said, "for the first time, the doctor will be able to tell the gender of the baby. David and Mary Margaret are throwing a little party where they'll reveal whether I'm getting a baby sister or a baby brother."

"Ah," Killian said, "and what is your guess, love?"

"I'm thinking…girl," Emma said decisively.

Killian shook his head. "No," he said confidently, "as much as I would love to see another lovely Charming lass grace the world, I am of the decided opinion that the princess will soon give birth to a tiny prince."

Emma squeezed his hand. "You want to put a little wager on that?"

He grinned. "What are the stakes, darling?"

"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "How about the winner decides on the stakes after the sex is revealed?"

He grinned wickedly. "You're on love. And I shall think long and hard about just what I shall demand of you as forfeit when I am crowned the winner."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

"Thanks for bringing the lasagna, Regina," Mary Margaret said wiping her mouth after finishing her last bite.

"It was indeed delectable, Your Majesty," Killian said.

Emma was endlessly amazed at his resourcefulness. He always displayed flawless decorum and impeccable manners when eating. How on earth did he, a man with only one hand make her feel like an absolute slob in comparison?

"It was no problem at all," Regina answered with a tender smile in Henry's direction. "As it happens, I had quite the useful helper. I don't know what you did with him during the past year, Miss Swan, but I was never able to get him to help in the kitchen before."

"I had no choice," Henry said with a mischievous smirk he must have picked up from Killian. "Aside from breakfast, Mom can't cook anything to save her life!"

"Hey!" Emma said, playfully punching him on the shoulder. "You just watch out, kid. I'll show you who can cook and who can't!"

Henry and Killian exchanged grins. "No you won't, Mom. Killian will keep you so occupied you won't even think about cooking."

"Too right, lad. Too right."

"Hook!"

"I'm sorry darling," he said with a wink. "It's nothing personal. It's simple self-preservation; I've tasted your cooking!"

"Ah," she said leaning in towards him, "so you finally admit you can't handle it?"

"Well, love," he said with a wicked grin. "That would depend on what 'it' is. If 'it' is your cooking, no indeed, I can't handle it."

She swatted him.

"But if 'it' is this…" he closed the distance between them, taking her lips with his own, earning them a disgusted groan from Henry. "That, darling, I can handle perfectly."

Emma chanced a quick look at her father. Though Charming was wearing a slight, disconcerted frown, he wasn't charging in guns blazing, so that was something. Actually, since Charming had apologized to Killian for his venture into way over-protective father mode the other day, her father and her fiancé seemed to be getting along better than ever. Good thing! If it had turned out she had to spend the rest of her life playing interference between the two men, she didn't know what she'd do. Probably just throw up her hands let them duke it out.

"You two really are nauseating," Regina taunted, the grin on her face belying her disgusted tone.

"What do you expect when you get a true love couple together?" Charming said lightly.

A shadow passed across Regina's face and Charming immediately looked chagrined.

"Regina," he said quickly. "I'm sorry. That was…"

"It's alright," Regina interrupted. "If I'm going to keep spending time with this family, I'll have to get used to public displays of true love. Just because I'm realms away from my true love doesn't mean you have to hide yours."

There was silence in the kitchen for several moments.

"You seem to be doing a little better, Regina," Mary Margaret said tentatively.

Regina ran a carefully manicured hand through her hair and blew out a sigh. "Yes," she said finally. "Things are…not as difficult."

"What's changed?" Emma asked.

"Robin would want me to go on with my life," she said with a little shrug. "That, and, well, if I'm going to figure out a way back to him and Roland, I can't be wallowing in self-pity."

Mary Margaret leaned forward and placed a comforting hand on the queen's arm. "And we will find a way to reunite you, Regina," she said with an earnestness that was pure Mary Margaret. "True love never ends, and those who experience it always find a way back to each other. I know we've been busy lately, but I promise you, when this wedding is over, we'll find a way to get you back to the Enchanted Forest or Robin and Roland to Storybrooke."

Tears filled Regina's eyes, and she turned away to swipe at them as though embarrassed by her show of emotion. "Thank you," she said thickly. "It…it means a lot that you would try to help me."

Charming clapped her on the shoulder. "We're family," he said simply. "Helping each other is what families do."

They sat in silence for some time, lost in thought. Family. The fact that she had one still filled Emma with wonder. Two years ago she was alone, scared to death to let anyone in. Now..she had parents, a son, a baby brother or sister on the way, and a fiancé she loved beyond all reason. It was almost too much to take in. Killian reached over and laced his fingers with hers, giving her hand a quick squeeze. He understood; he always understood.

"Well, I guess everyone's done eating," Henry said, jumping to his feet and grabbing empty plates from the table. "Better start cleaning up."

"What?" Emma asked with raised eyebrows. "Since when do you do the dishes without even being asked, kid?"

"Since I told him we weren't going to tell you our big news until we'd cleaned up," Charming said with a grin.

"Yeah," Henry said taking a second load of dishes to the sink, "I can't wait any longer to find out about my new uncle!"

"Good try, buddy," Charming said with a laugh, "I'm still not falling for it!"

Henry had been ambushing his grandparents since the previous day when they found out about the baby, making comments like "So, how's my aunt?" or "Is my uncle kicking a lot today, grandma?", obviously hoping to get one or the other of them to slip up and tell him what he wanted to know. Last night, Emma had heard him muttering something about "Operation Stork."

Emma got to her feet and maneuvered with some difficulty over to the sink. Six people in this tiny kitchen really was tight fit. Rolling up her sleeves, she set to working with Henry, and the two of them had the kitchen spotless in record time.

"Alright, everyone!" Mary Margaret said. "Take a seat in the living room. It's time for our news."

Emma wandered into the room as directed and found Killian sitting in an easy chair. He tugged on her arm until she was seated across his lap. "Not nearly enough chairs in this bloody room," he said with a flirtatious wink.

Emma grinned and looped an arm around his neck, turning toward the middle of the room where her mother waited anxiously. "Then I suppose it's only right that I play the good hostess and give up my seat to our guests," she said. Killian hugged her.

Charming joined his wife where she stood, his arm coming to rest protectively against her stomach.

"We wanted you to be the first to know," Mary Margaret said excitedly, "that in about four months our new son will come into the world!"

"I knew it!" Henry said pumping a fist into the air. "It's a boy!"

xoxoxoxoxoxox

Emma leaned her head against Killian's shoulder as they sat on the park bench on the docks two hours later.

"How did we manage this?" she asked with a smile.

"How did we manage what, Swan?" he asked, resting his head on top of hers.

"An entire day with no wedding craziness."

He chuckled. "We've found the secret, love."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"We must simply ensure that your parents have important information to share with us at all times, and thus render them far too busy to plan our nuptials."

Emma laughed and then sighed. "Are we going to survive this last month before we're finally married."

"Aye, love," he said, and she felt his smile against her hair. "It will be a close thing, but we shall survive. And in the meantime, I do believe you owe me a forfeit. I won our wager on your brother's gender, and I've never yet allowed myself to be cheated out of what I'm due."

She sat up and grinned at him. "Alright," she said, "far be it from me to renege on a deal. What's the forfeit?"

He looked at her, forefinger on his chin, apparently pondering deeply. Finally, he shook his head. "No," he said finally. "I shall wait to determine the forfeit."

She smirked. "Why is that?"

He gave her a lazy grin. "I have yet to determine what you shall owe me, but I can promise you Swan, you will find it well worth your wait."

#cs ff #cs canon divergence #cs wedding planning fic #my fanfiction #getting to i do

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