#but then these two boys crept out the woodwork and wanted to fill my mind with their contrasting character roles

[theyilinglaozus]

'No one bad is ever truly bad, and no one good is ever truly good'.

Insp. [x]

#mdzsnet #jin guangyao #meng yao #wei wuxian #the untamed #the untamed graphics #my graphics #sometimes you just watch loki episodes and a quote sticks with you. #honestly i wasn't sure if to make this for untamed or word of honor #but then these two boys crept out the woodwork and wanted to fill my mind with their contrasting character roles #and upbringing #that i couldn't resist in the end.

[fivenightslaughter]

Wicked Serpentine (Part 3)

pairing: draco malfoy x femravenclaw!oc

summary: slowburn enemies to lovers fic, multiple parts. <3

warnings: use of m*dblood, bad parents, swearing

word count: 2,882

taglist: let me know if you’re interested in being added!

We had taken boats to the towering school. It was admittedly even more grand from the inside, which was almost shocking. I was led forward by just “Hagrid” as I noticed others had called him, along with a straggle of first years. I felt out of place amongst them, rightfully so.

We arrived upon large doors into an even bigger hall, abustle with candor and joy, as well as the welcoming scent of food. A woman in a rather large hat stood, gently moving us apart into a more organized group. I could feel a few eyes on me but tried my hardest to ignore them. Not much was spoken, except for a few welcoming words from her and a large, white-bearded man.

I’d heard about this next part from brief conversations between first years on the boat, and I feared it. I feared how little I knew and what my “sorting” would tell of my personality. My body felt frozen in time as it had before I willed myself to leave the train. Would this feeling ever go away?

I breathed slowly, painfully, awaiting my turn as I watched small children walk up to a chair near the front middle of the room. Did this really have to be such a spectacle? I heard my name and nearly choked on my own spit.

“Eris Woodwork!” It was the woman who had spoken when we entered the hall, beckoning me to the front. I heard faint snickering that sounded unpleasantly familiar. It was for the better, though. I now felt my resolve steel a bit, sure that regardless of wherever I ended up, I wanted to be nowhere near that impudent blond boy and his lackeys.

I sat in the chair, my back finally no longer to what now seemed to be a still and curious audience. I’m sure there were a myriad of questions, one of them I recall I heard murmured as I stood with the first years a moment before. It was simply “where did she come from?”

Blond caught my eye now that I faced the full hall, and I noticed him sitting among a table of green. I silently pleaded to the brown burlap hat in the woman’s hands to put me anywhere but there. I didn’t even like the color green.

For a moment, I heard nothing but blood and my heartbeat in my ears as I replayed that request over in my mind, willing the hat to hear my thoughts.

I was shocked out of my deep concentration as the hat now waited restlessly atop my head, sounds of decision coming from it, when finally it perked up, shouting a resounding,

“RAVENCLAW!”

I felt my heart swell with pride, telling myself it was my skills of mental pleading that had won me a good house.

A long table of students cheered, dressed with some sort of blue, minus the first years in inconspicuously black robes. I breathed a sigh of relief and hopped down from the chair. I scurried over to the table, quicker than I’d meant to. Snapping back to reality, I had noticed Luna at the table as well. What I hadn’t noticed before was her dark blue and white striped tie on the train.

I sat immediately next to her, glad I wasn’t a completely aimless fool. Thankfully, I was the last to be sorted and now came food. My stomach gave a growl and I remembered I hadn’t eaten since the day previous due to sheer nerves.

The food was hot and extravagant and there was much more than I’d guess there would be for a hall of teens. The tensity in my muscles had eased as I ate, hearing forks clink and amicable conversations around me. For the first time since I had learned of magic, I finally felt joy. Pure, unbridled joy. I was sorted like a real wizard and I was eating and laughing among them. I was meant to be here, “mud blood” or not.

It was quite late into the night, although hard to tell with the hundreds of lit candles that floated in the dining hall. It was lit brightly, but the night’s darkness still crept up the glass windows. Eating and talking had slowed as people had their fill of fun and socialization. Tiredness creeped the same as the darkness did, but I’m sure it was due to a homely feeling rather than exhaustion.

I glanced at Luna, a weird set of glasses perched on her head and her face trained on the same upside-down magazine I’d seen her with earlier. Without even looking up at me, she traced her fingers on the cover and spoke.

“You’d like to see the rooms.” She spoke dreamily, her voice always seemed thick with distraction, despite being more focused than anyone I’d seen so far. I nodded and she stood, floating off in the direction of the door we had entered through. I felt a few glances in our direction, but not more than few. Besides, something told me that they weren’t exactly looking at me, as Luna seemed to be even more peculiar than my presence was.

We walked through the lonely halls, lit by torches and candles and I prayed I could remember this path for later. We arrived at a door and she swiftly turned to me. Her eyes seemed less ghostly in this darkness as she spoke.

“The other houses have passwords… But here, you’ve got to answer a question,” she was ready to continue but I immediately halted her.

“What if you get it wrong?”

She waited a beat before turning to the raven knocker.

“Well, you have to wait for somebody who gets it right,” She said. “That way you learn, you see?”

She rapped on the door, startling me as the noise bounced and echoed off the walls.

A soft, musical voice escaped the knocker in a question, a riddle.

“Which came first, the phoenix or the flame?”

Luna paused thoughtfully, turning to me.

“Would you like to answer?”

I shook my head quickly, panning through possible solutions in my mind. I wasn’t sure, but I waited for Luna, as I’m sure she had something bubbling in that eccentric mind of hers.

She hummed to herself for a few seconds before she parted her lips, glancing up at the large beams leading to the high, vaulted ceiling.

"I think the answer is that a circle has no beginning."

The door creaked open and a smile lightly painted my face. She was truly an enigma, in the best ways.

I took in the beautiful common room, blue and white splayed everywhere. The ceilings were just as high but instead of bareness, they were lined with volumes of books. There were stairs leading up to a floor that wrapped around the room, overlooking down inside. There were more shelves of books and beautifully grand windows, the stars twinkling softly against the glass panes. There were dark blue velveteen chairs and soft looking blue carpet of the same material, large oak tables with lit lanterns illuminating the space. A lit fireplace could be seen on the far side of the room, crackling quietly.

My own eyes couldn’t do the beauty of the space justice, really.

A marble statue of a beautiful woman appeared to tenderly gaze through the window at the stars, as if she could see them at this very moment the same way I could. A plaque at the bottom read, “Rowena Ravenclaw”. She must have been as important as she was beautiful and regal.

Luna waited patiently as I absorbed the huge space, her face resting in a dazed smile. I was sure it was impossible for her to frown. When it was clear I soaked up as much as I could for now, she began to walk towards a set of large, dark blue drapes on the left of the room. Opening them to allow me through, there was a set of stairs that led upwards in a spiral. I slowly began to ascend, trailing my fingers on the rough stone of the walls.

I faintly heard Luna’s retreating footsteps, as it seemed she wasn’t ready to sleep just yet. Or rather she was giving me space to relax and get to know the castle on my own.

I finally came to a door and pushed it open quietly, wondering if anyone else had come to bed already. I stepped through the doorway and quietly gasped to myself, again marveling at the intricacy of my new living space. This room did well to mimic the grandiosity of the common room below, with watery blues and soft whites. The room was circular with three four-poster beds with sky blue silk eiderdowns and blue curtains. The deep blue of the room was cool and elegant looking. It struck me with the same regality as the statue of Rowena.

The four poster beds had two shelves at the back of the bed, an owl perch on one side, a small carpet next to the bed and a wooden nightstand at the end. There was a wooden table in the centre of the room with a stack of books with an hourglass on top of them, an open book with a Self-Writing Quill, parchments and a plant in a flower pot on it.

In the dim light of the room, I recognized my trunk that one of the Weasley twins had loaded onto the train. I felt my mouth go dry as I realized I had lost track of it without even realizing until now. I squeezed my eyes shut, grateful my stupidity hadn’t had any real consequence this time. Opening them, I started towards it. It lay at the end of one of the beds, neatly and unopened.

I continued to eye over each of the beds. A blue upholstered armchair much like the ones in the common room sat on one side of each, near the nightstand and the windows that wrapped symmetrically around the room.

I lifted my case unto my bed, pausing as my body nearly melted into the soft blue downs. My hands rested on the cold metal of the latches on each side for a few seconds before I flipped them up, their simultaneous clicks nearly making me flinch as I finally realized how quiet this room really was, aside from the light wind rubbing the windows.

I pushed the top open, sitting cross legged in front of the only belongings I now owned.

My parents hadn’t been supportive or helpful except for vague locations. Places they sent me off to alone, too afraid to assist their daughter into the world they tried so painstakingly to escape from. Much like King’s Cross, they had given me a general location; A pub called the “Leaky Cauldron”. I had found myself at another dead end before the barkeep had assisted me, noticing me the same way the two Weasley boys had. I had wondered if it was magical ability that allowed them to do that, or if ‘hopelessly lost’ was just written on me at all times. He led me through a very sketchy backroom that led somewhere that shouldn’t have been possible. And he called it, “Diagon Alley”.

I tried to snap back to the present, looking into my folded clothes. I fished through them for a slender stick that scared me to hold more than I’d like to admit.

I found the memory I’d pushed away taking over my brain, now that I finally had time to sit down and mull.

Just days ago, my parents were frantic. They were afraid, more than I’d ever seen them. They were apprehensive and suddenly, they were cruel. I tried to convince myself that they tried to push me out of their minds so it’d hurt less if I met the same unfortunate fate as whoever they had known years ago.

Attempting to discuss the letter I’d received from an owl set them on edge. They were jumpy and antsy and snipped at every question I had. I’d gotten so fed up at going without answers that during one of their arguments in their room about me, one of the many that permeated the thin walls of our house, I snapped. I had knocked on their door and before my knuckles could rap the door a third time, it swung open.

Much to the surprise of all three of us as they sat on either side of their bed, nowhere near where I stood. There sat a box between them but it didn’t catch my attention nearly as much as the now self-autonomous door. They shared a look and my father pursed his lips. My mother had begun to wring her hands in her lap. Their argument had ceased with my arrival.

My heart was fluttering in my chest as I spoke softly, my anger dissipating into confusion. “Did I do that?”

My mom looked up at me, her face akin to petrified stone. My father’s face hinted at an angry redness as he began.

“Magic doesn’t exist, Eris. We ought to cart you off to a fucking loony bin, you know that? You’ve become a crazy little girl. Owls and magic school? Wands? “Robes”? Have you completely fucking lost it? Do you need to be medicated?”

I saw tears well in my mother’s eyes as she looked back down at her hands in her lap. I hadn’t expected the harshness of his voice. He’d never swore at me until this very moment.

Looking to him, a pit of fire erupted in my stomach, spreading in winding tendrils up through my ribcage and finally wrapping around my heart. My face felt red and hot as if I were fighting off tears. How could he speak to me like that? Where did my loving father go? I felt like everything was spinning and yet completely still. I had closed my eyes without even realizing it, the sound of my blood rushing to my head was the only sound in my mind.

My eyes snapped open when I felt an unsteady shake beneath my feet and I’d realized the whole house was wrecked and shivering. Lights, shattered and broken, things had tossed themselves from the shelves. The curtains windblown to the floor, despite the closed windows. The very foundation of the house was shaking and my parents could only gape at me in fear. I knew this time, from the waning pit inside me that I really had done this. I knew from their faces they could no longer deny that they knew it too.

My mom gingerly reached for the box on the bed. Slowly, as if she might alarm a wild animal. I felt her fearful and scrutinizing gaze as she picked it up and rose just just as slowly. My father’s hand shot out and gripped her wrist, his eyebrows drawn in concentration. She pulled herself away from him, easier than I’d expected.

“Eris, please just… Take this. And go. Your father and I have much to discuss, okay?” She crossed the room towards me and tentatively placed the box in my hands. I backed up, outside of the threshold of their door unintentionally, my legs nearly buckling backwards. My mother had slowly closed the door and I heard the lock click gently.

The only thing that had snapped me out of my daze was feeling the wall against my back and the box in my hands. I rushed to my room with a sudden determination. I palmed through it on my bed, finding a few curious things. Little gold coins and some weird letters from someone named “Lily”. They were insanely old and written on such yellowed paper it was a wonder it didn’t crumble at her touch.

They read like a schoolgirl conversing with her best friend, written in a rather mature cursive.

“Dear Amelia,

It’s wonderful! It’s all so beautiful here! Things float and soar and it’s such a vast world of color! I bought a wand from this little shop called ‘Ollivander’s’ and it’s breathtaking- can you believe it? A wand of my very own. It only cost seven galleons. That’s what they buy things with-they’ve got a completely different currency here, Mel. I’ll include twenty with this letter, so you can see them for yourself. Maybe even treat yourself to a visit to Diagon Alley sometime. I have my very own owl now, too, and no doubt he’ll be how you receive your letters from me from here on out. I can’t wait to see you again. Lily”.

I let my fingers travel over the edges and designs of the gold coins. Galleons.

The other letters had detailed Lily’s travel to King’s Cross and to the platform, as well as to the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley. These letters from Lily to my mother would serve to be my only guidance for what I should do next. I’d follow in her very footsteps as best as I could.

One thing I chose to ignore in the box was the bone-white parchment in the bottom of the box, one addressed solemnly to my mother containing the details of one "Lily" Potter and her untimely death.

#draco malfoy x oc #hagrid #diagon alley #george weasley x oc #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter imagine #george weasley imagine #george weasley #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #slowburn #enemies to lovers #draco malfoy smut #harry potter #draco malfoy x ravenclaw!reader #draco malfoy x ravenclaw!oc #slytherin #ravenclaw #lily evans potter #lily potter #oc #hogwarts

[nelllraiser]

palentine’s day | nate, nell, nadia, alain, bea, lynn, winston, remmy, carrington, and hope

DATE: february thirteenth. LOCATION: the vural house. PARTIES: @deadicated-nate, @nelllraiser, @humanmoodring, @carbrakes-and-stakes, @beatrice-blaze, @phobiasarefood, @danetobelieve, @whatsin-yourhead, @carringtonblackwood, @thiswanderinghope

— - a much needed summary because this beast is twenty-one pages long:

very strong drinks poured.

winston is a bartender now.

empaths are confused by one another = spiderman pointing at each other meme.

bea is BAKED. 

alain is invited onto the back porch by baked™ bea .

carrington smells people. 

lynn came for the party, stays for the fear ‘food’.

remmy says stabby man is here do not want. 

nell says read the balloons, alain. ‘no boys allowed’. (except for nate)

nate represented by this gif.

blanche is drunk in the bathroom for the entirety.

It was just about time for the festivities to begin, and Nell was vibrating with excitement, though there was a tinge of nerves to her as well. After all, she wasn’t actually certain anyone would come, and she didn’t need a repeat of her tenth birthday party. The entire class had been invited and- well- there had just been a lot of extra cake leftover in the end. Hopefully today there wouldn’t be as much extra brownies leftover, even if they were pot brownies and she wouldn’t completely mind. There were two plates of them, one distinctly labeled in big, bold, letters as “WEED” while the other simply read “REGULAR.” Still- the somewhat anxious energy was making her rush around, trying to make sure things were in order. “Bea! Blanche!” I think I heard the front door ring! Can you get it?”

Nate was already nervous walking up to the Vural house, even more so than usual. He and Nell were currently in a weird place after he had not so quietly accused her of drugging him at karaoke, but she was one of his only friends and he wanted to get back to normal as quickly as possible. He wasn’t sure if a party was the best place to do it, but Hope had invited him and he honestly felt so bad about their last encounter he couldn’t justify not going. He shuffled up to the front door with a bottle of wine in one hand and a container of hummus in the other. Nate stood there for a good five minutes before ringing the bell, trying to smile in the least awkward way possible and failing miserably. 

Apparently, no one was going to get the door for Nell. Where were Bea and Blanche anyway? With a bit of an annoyed grumble, she went to open it herself, perhaps a bit too quickly in her need to make sure everything was going well and get back to figuring out where the hell the other two party hosts had gotten to. But her disgruntled expression quickly turned to confusion as she took in who was standing there. “...Nate?” she began somewhat stupidly. Did he need something? How did he even...know where she lived? But the bottle of wine and...was that hummus? They were telling enough of why he was here. Thankfully, she was quick enough to stop herself from saying something stupid like ‘but the invitation said no boys allowed’. She liked Nate, even if she wasn’t quite sure he liked her anymore. “I- um- come in! Happy Palentines!” she said, perhaps a little too brightly. 

Nate’s smile faltered as he took in the decorations behind Nell. Everything read “Happy Palentine’s!”, was bright pink and white, and covered in hearts and other Valentine type decorations. His face fell as he realized this was a Valentine’s party and understood why Nell hadn’t told him about the gathering herself. “Oh- uh...Hope mentioned a party- am I early?” His heart hammered against his ribcage and he wondered if it would be rude to shove the wine and hummus at the girl and run away but a presence behind him told him his exit was blocked. He was trapped.

Hope had arrived before Nate and her heart had sunk into her stomach when she saw all the decorations. She’d been hovering nervously, not knowing anyone so well as to ask if the no boys thing was for a laugh or for real. Also far too awkward to shoot Nate a text about it either. But when she heard his voice she shot off towards the door. Her hand shot out as if reaching both to comfort him in the face of all the decor, and also herself with a familiar face. She mumbles a quick “This is okay, right?” to Nell quietly, with a hopeful smile.

Winston had been dragged into this when they had decided that they were going to have a party. Not that they entirely minded being kept busy, but valentines day had never been a big event for them. Sipping from a beer, they strode down the stairs. They’d dropped their bags off in Nell’s room, after all they’d been sleeping over with their friend since they were kids and this was no different really. Striding in they spotted Nell, Hope and Nate. “Someone want a drink?” they asked heading straight for the table groaning under the weight of alcohol that had been purchased for this event, “I’m making myself a drink so y’know, no trouble.” They grabbed a solo cup and filled it with something that they had picked up off of their roommate, Jack and Coke. They didn’t have class tomorrow after all. 

Nell saw the way uncertainty crept into him, and she quickly was trying to save the situation, not wanting to somehow make herself even more disliked by Nate. And then there was Hope asking with a smile and her tone that made Nell automatically say, “Of course!” Again, perhaps a bit too eagerly. “Nate’s my friend.” Or at least, she hoped he still was. “Everyone get in here already!” She refused to let this broil into a overtly awkward moment. The party would be over before it started. And then she saw Winston, and instant relief washed over her. Oh, thank god. “I think we all need a drink. Might as well get this started, right? I’ll help you, Winston.”

Nadia was a little unsure when Nell invited her to a party because those usually weren’t her scene (too many people), but she wanted to go. She wanted to hang out with people and have friends and just enjoy herself. If only for a moment. She’d seen that it was a sleepover party, but, seeing as how her last “sleepover” had been in a morgue, she wasn’t really sure she’d stick around that long. Still, she packed a bag, even though she left it in her truck. As she walked up to the door, there were already several people standing around. All at once, Nadia felt anxious and relieved, and she could see those emotions playing out on the people in front of her. She looked at Nell and kind of smiled awkwardly. “Glad to see I found the right place.”

Nate’s grin was too strained for the expression to look convincing and he could feel the heat entering his cheeks, but he stepped into the house nevertheless. He nodded an awkward greeting to Hope, stifling the memories of home that accompanied her. He glanced around the room, realizing how long it had been since he’d even celebrated a Valentine’s Day. Shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, Nate stood in the doorway, his flight response on high alert. “Where uh...should I put these?”

Remmy waffled. They’d tried leaving their apartment three times before they finally made it to the building exit. It was another two more tries to convince themself that it was safe out because it was the middle of the evening and there were people around, and leaving wasn’t going to give them away. Moose had waited very patiently for them to make up their mind. And while normally walking would have been nice, Remmy piled onto the bus that took them as close to the Outskirts as possible, before literally running all the way up the driveway to the front door. Safe. Moose was panting, licked his lips, looked up at them. “Just for a bit,” they said to no one in particular, “I’ll just stay for a bit.” Remmy raised their hand and knocked.

Everyone was arriving, and all Nell could continue to wonder was where the hell were he co-hosts still. “Hi, Nadia!” she greeted brightly, trying to ignore how they’d nearly gotten into a knife fight last time they’d seen each other. “Remmy! You came, too!” She began to was a bit more into the party spirit, feeling more at ease as more familiar faces came out of the woodwork. “And Moose!” Her exclamation was fairly delighted with the realization that everyone was here, and she’d already locked Dia and Taki away in case Remmy did decide to come. Dia tended to be wary of dogs, and Taki generally disliked them as well. “Um- I can show you where to put them if you want, Nate.” She waved a hand to beckon him in the direction of the food and drinks. “Also if anyone brought sleepover stuff- you can just put them in the first room on the right down the hall.”

Spotting Remmy, Winston waved at them before heading towards them and Moose. “Hey,” they said careful to make sure that they treated Moose like a working dog and not a pet, “I didn’t know you were coming.” They smiled before looking at the drinks table. “You want a drink or something?” they asked as they watched several more people arrive. How did Blanche, Bea and Nell suddenly become the most popular people in town? Winston wasn’t sure that they had this many friends on facebook, let alone actual people that they were willing to invite to something like this. 

Hope smiled brightly at every new face, she was trying to memorise names and faces as quickly as she could. Sticking to Nate’s side despite his faint feelings on the action. When he looked at her he got a jolt of emotion strong enough for her to feel, but he was kindly ignoring it and she was just selfish enough to ignore it as well. What she couldn’t ignore however was the two that arrived that felt like...nothing? She parted from the man to stand a little closer to the newest arrival and their dog curiously. A smile plastered on even as her eyebrows furrowed unable to pick anything up from a ‘Nadia’ across the group. Odd. Very odd. 

After her house was partially destroyed, Bea wasn’t sure she wanted a party at her home. However, Blanche and Nell were nothing but persistent and so she caved and said yes. Of course, she made pot brownies for the party, though she claimed no credit for them. She ate a piece of brownie before any of the guests arrived which led her to take way too long to get ready. She passed through the living room waving at the guests that had showed up before going outside to make sure that the decorations were nice out there as well. Seeing a man’s form running past, she squinted her eyes, (she really needed glasses, but refused to get them) and she just called out to the person, assuming they were a guest,“Come in! The party’s here!” 

Et merde. Alain was well known in the neighborhood as that guy that never showed to parties but was always there to help out if you needed something. And on the rare occasions he showed up, he would always bring good food with him. This, on the other hand, was not a party he had been invited to, and so, he did not immediately react to being called out. "What?" Well, they would probably tell from the way he was dressed, that he had nothing to do in there. Dirty running shoes, complete with black running clothes and a sweaty eyebrow. Just your casual party goer look. "Are you sure you got the right person?" Running his hand through his hair, the man had approached the front door with caution.

Barely through the doorway and Nadia was already feeling overwhelmed. Every time she looked at someone, she felt so much. Except for two people. The person with the large dog that walked in around the same time she did was just. There was nothing there for her to “pick up” on. And then there was the girl that kind of disentangled herself from the incredibly anxious man to walk over to the dog. It was like white noise. That was the only way Nadia could explain it. Like, there was something there, but she just didn’t know what. She literally couldn’t tell. However, she could tell that there was definitely something paranormal going on with the girl. Nadia could see the shadows around her and felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Skirting as far as she could away from the girl, she followed after Nell and Nate, she thought, to the kitchen. She kept her eyes down and away from the spirits as she said, “I could totally use a drink.” 

Remmy was extremely grateful to see Winston there, even though they’d canceled plans on them like...more than once. And dropped the Skylar stuff on them. And not messaged them about what they were. They smiled nervously, waving at them. Moose whined a little as another girl skirted closer to them, and Remmy patted his head to help calm him down. He was usually good in crowds. “Oh, um...sure! I don’t uh-- I don’t drink alcohol, though. I’ll just have...whatever else there is.” They glanced around, catching a glimpse of Nate heading off to the kitchen with Nell, feeling a small pang of guilt, before focusing back on the party. “Hey, have you seen Blanche anywhere? I-is she here?”

Bea typically overdressed for everything and this party was no exception with her heels and meticulously picked out outfit. She continued to squint at the man approaching her. As he drew closer she realized he was not here for the party. “Sure do. Come join the party,” She told him with a confident smile. She could have easily told him it was a mistake, however, if there was one thing Bea was good at it, it was never admitting that she made mistakes. “It’s like a Valentine's Day party, but for friends. I don’t know, my little sister and her friend decided to throw it and now here we are. We have food and drinks.” She contemplated not telling him about the brownies for a moment, before remembering that they were just out on the table so he would see them if he came in, “And pot brownies.”

Oh come on, she obviously could see that he had no business being here, right? And Alain being too polite to decline the offer was now stuck here with someone who looked like she was going to the Artesian later, while he looked like he had ran across the woods, which was exactly what he had been doing before he approached this house. His expression got worse as he heard of little sisters, valentine's Day parties and little sister's friends. What the hell was this party ? He looked away, scratching at the back of his neck. The mention of pot brownies made him scoff. Since he had not been in his twenties for a while now, those did not really interest him. "Whatever happened to normal joints?" He asked, walking up to the friendly woman with his kindest smile.

Nate shuffled off after Nell toward the snack table, feeling a little more calm but no less awkward. Not only was he clearly not supposed to be here, but they still hadn’t really addressed anything since he alluded to the fact that she may have drugged him which only made him more awkward. He set down his additions to the party and bit the inside of his cheek. He turned to Hope, wondering if maybe she would be the easier one to speak to. “T-thanks for inviting me! I uh...don’t really go to parties. Oh! And- hosting! Thanks!” He added quickly, addressing the actual tenant of the home. “What’s uh-” he nodded at the array of beverages. “What’s good to drink?” What didn’t have drugs in it is what he wanted to ask, but felt it might be a little too rude to just blurt it out.

Bea was well aware of how ridiculous it all sounded, but she kept her best smile on anyway. She had never done one of these parties before and hadn’t heard of them before Nellie and Blanche’s decision to throw the party. Her smile grew at his scoff and the way he was standing. It was kind of fun to see people like this. “I didn’t think anyone would come out and have one with me,” She replied, declining to mention that she could, in fact, not roll to save her god damn life and that was the reason there were no joints at this party. “I mean, there’s always the option to roll a joint now.” 

Carrington stood on the edge of the property, eyeing the little house with no small amount of curiosity. He’d heard the noise from nearly a mile away - he hiked out in this part of the forest from time to time - and ventured closer to see what the source was. Only to find it was a party of some kind. 

Christ, there was so much… pink. 

What he was more curious about than the choice of eye-torturing color palette was the handful of familiar scents that drifted towards him. Along with a dozen more that he didn’t recognize. It was the recognizable ones that kept him where he was, leaned against a pine tree, not lurking like a creeper. But merely… observing. For now. 

"Kids these days, I swear," untying a running jacket from his waist, Alain dressed up some more. The nights were cold these days, and if he could probably handle it for a while, he wasn't exactly fond of feeling that way. Glancing around him, he noticed that the garden was very well kept and he wondered for an instant if the backyard was equally well kept. "I'm sure I can help with that, I must admit to not being thrilled by spending my evening with young girls," he obviously was way too old for that. This stranger, at least, was pleasant. He remembered then that they had not been introduced. "I'm Alain, by the way," he pointed in the general direction of his house. "I live in the house over there."

Nell did her best to try not and seem upset that Nate had apparently elected to basically ignore her after she’d shown him where to put his items. If she was being honest, she wasn’t entirely surprised. After all, he probably thought she was leading him to the drinks to try and drug him or something. A wave of sadness washed over her as she turned to Nadia, though her smile was still carefully in place on her lips. “Drinks are a definite yes.” Hopefully that’d help distract her from the feeling of not being wanted. She could only hope Nate didn’t try and ‘save’ Nadia or something as she pulled over some of the bottles to her, making them a couple of drinks. Her’s she made...relatively strong, hoping the alcohol would quickly rectify these pesky feelings she was having. “Do you have anything you like in particular, Nadia?”

An eyebrow raised as Bea took in his words. Looking down at herself, she laughed a bit playfully, “Are you counting me as a young girl?” She certainly didn’t feel like a young girl. She was nearing thirty now and she felt ancient next to Blanche half the time. She glanced in the direction he pointed. And then she suddenly remembered that she knew that name. “You’re Alain? My little sister, Nellie, is obsessed with you. I’m Beatrice or Bea, whatever works.” She let out a little laugh, “Funny, I don’t think she realized you lived so close by.”

Nadia needed something to focus on. Anything, really. And, Nell was right there, and, yes, there was some weird awkwardness between her and the Nate guy, but at least it was something. Something that wasn’t ghosts or white noise or Carrington-like levels of weird nothingness. So, yes, she’d definitely be drinking tonight. “I will literally drink anything. I’m not picky.” As her friend… roommate… friend, Brooke used to say, Mama didn’t raise no bitch. “But, uh, preferable something strong. It’s been a long day.” And it’d be a long night, if the trend was going to continue.

Winston moved back to the drinks table before collecting another cup, filling it with soda and handing it over to their friend. “Here you go, no alcohol in there,” they replied with a gentle smile as they raised their own cup to their lips and swallowing a mouthful of Jack and coke. Grimacing, they realised that they definitely made this too strong, but now wasn’t exactly the time that they were going to stop. Swallowing several more mouthfuls, they winced at the taste before looking around. “It’s something that she is throwing with Nell, so I would guess that they’re around here somewhere or will be soon, I haven’t seen them though.”

This time, Nell’s smile was a bit more genuine as Nadia gave her reply. “That’s my kind of gal,” she teased, reaching over to grab another cup for Nadia as well, and pouring a generous amount of hard liquor into it before topping it off with the mixer. “You’re preaching to the choir, though.” This time, her words her a bit more under her breath, not exactly wanting to advertise how she was not entirely her usual self. “There you go.” She remembered Nate again, turning to him in what might have been a last ditch effort to diffuse at least the smallest portion of tension between them. “Um- would you like some- celery?” she asked, picking the veggie at random from a tray. A celery would probably be hard to drug, wouldn’t it?

Remmy took the drink gratefully from Winston, holding it with one hand while keeping a vice grip on Moose’s lead with the other. They’d put his little vest on, but mainly because the didn’t feel like telling ten different people tonight that he was a service dog and they shouldn’t distract him. But now they were feeling the self-consciousness that came with calling that attention to themself. “Oh, um...right! Yeah, of course they are. She’ll probably...show up.” They looked back at Winston. “How um-- how are you? These your only plans?”

Winston shrugged though they had to admit the gentle crinkle of the cup flexing under Remmy’s grip was a little odd. They ignored it, chalking it up to nerves. Winston sometimes found themselves in positions like this and that is when they decided to drink, it helped with the social awkwardness. “Apparently there are some weed brownies, I don’t know if that’s your thing.” Winston shrugged and craned their neck to see if they could spot Blanche. No dice. “I’m sure she’s around,” they said before nodding, “yeah, I’m not popular enough to get invited to multiple social events on a thursday night.”

Nate reached out tentatively and took a piece of celery, eyeing it carefully before dipping it into the hummus he brought. “T-thanks,” he muttered, watching the party grow larger and larger. A long moment of silence surrounded him and he felt like he was literally raining on the entire party. “H-hey uh, Winston? Is it? Would uh...you mind...mak-making me something?” He nodded to the bottles of liquor, not caring what exactly it was that he drank, so long as it made any of this less awkward. 

Lynn walked up to the front door, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. She hadn’t originally planned to show up, but the idea of this party was fascinating. And she figured there’d be quite a few others in attendance so maybe she could network and find some new patients. From what she’d seen on the online social network, half the town was in desperate need of her services. She briefly thought about knocking before shaking her head and just walking inside. It sounded like there were already quite a few people inside so it wouldn’t have made sense to knock. Looking around for a drink table, she found it quickly and headed straight over. “Okay, what have we got here?”

Remmy nearly jumped when Nate came out to the drink table. “Nate! Hi!” They said quickly. They looked around the room again, searching for Blanche-- but still no sign. Was she avoiding them? It would make sense….But Remmy really wanted to talk to her. To apologize. It seemed like it needed to be an in person thing. They were about to say something more when Moose gave a low growl as the new woman strolling over to the drink table. “Moose,” they said, giving a little tug. He looked at them with a strange glance before quieting, sitting at their feet. “Hello! Uh-- I think whatever you can imagine. Um…” looked between everyone before backing away slightly, “I’m not a big alcohol person. Maybe Nell um...knows.”

Nadia downed her drink as quickly as she could, enjoying the lightheadedness that accompanied it. She liked how warm alcohol was, how it made the cold feeling she got from being near the girl standing beside Nate. And it made her less anxious, more willing to enjoy the feelings coming in. Not that there was much to enjoy. Almost everyone around her was feeling some sort of negative emotion: awkwardness, anxiety, white noise, nothing. Focusing on Nell was making her head spin a bit. She closed her eyes and leaned against the table.

“Is there a good answer to that question?” He bit his lip and thought about it for a second, “Old enough to not be called a girl, I’d say,” Alain gave her a smile although that one faltered away as she mentioned the name of her sister, who was apparently obsessed. Timing. Oh well. “Oh, she’s your sister, we met, she’s very nice. A bit clingy, but…” He gave Beatrice a shrug. It probably was best if he stayed out there with her, then. And from the look of it, the place was crowded, and he had never liked crowds too much, or at all. “I suppose I’m glad she’s not that obsessed with me, that would be a bit creepy,” he laughed under his breath. Oh Nell knew exactly where he lived, but apparently she had not shared this information with her sister. “So, are we still smoking or not?” Best try to change the conversation. 

“For sure Nate,” Winston replied with a beaming smile as they quickly replicated their own drink although they elected to put less alcohol in this time round. Handing it over, they picked up a brownie and chewed on it. It had a somewhat earthy taste to it and as they swallowed they wondered if eating pot brownies was really the best move. Should someone stay responsible in case something went wrong? Winston wasn’t sure that they cared about it right now. They just wanted a good time and a care free experience. 

“Probably not,” Bea laughed. “Not calling me a girl is good though.” She hadn’t really see her sister being clingy since they were young kids, but she supposed the other woman would cling to someone she thought was cool and she had told Bea that Alain was super cool all the time. “Yeah, well, you can blame her clinginess on your apparent coolness. She’s talked about you to me a few times. Blanche is here too with her, it’s their party.” She told him, very unaware of the issues that her sister and Blanche had with the man. “She hasn’t hit creepy yet, but maybe one day she will,” She teased a bit. She was glad to be outside of the party for the moment. She didn’t know a good amount of the people in there, most being invited by Blanche and Bea. She nodded, her smile brightening. “Yeah, ‘course we are.”

“So I did find a suitable reply to this dangerous question,” Alain scoffed, shaking his head. He was not usually so smooth about those tricky things. Crossing his arms over his chest, he listened to her speak of Nell being bewitched by his so called coolness. Well, it was not like he ever tried being cool, but he appreciated the compliment, even if he did not believe that Nell would be calling him cool these days. “Oh, right. Blanche is such a nice person too. The two are very close, it’s endearing,” or concerning, depending. It felt like Nell was an extension of Blanche lately, and Alain would have wished to have met her sooner. “Right. I’ll start buying a gate to keep her out, then,” he laughed and rubbed at the back of his neck. Yeah, like a gate was gonna keep that witch away. “Well, I don’t have an habit of doing my jog with weed in my pocket,” he raised his eyebrows. Then, because he had been wanting to ask for a while already, he questioned her about the garden: “That’s a great garden you have here. Did you plant all of these?”

Nell downed her drink in tandem with Nadia, spurred on by Nate’s very tentative acceptance of her celery, and his then his then his requesting what seemed to be anyone else but Nell to make him a drink. She didn’t want to be sad! This was a party! That was the thought process that had her making another fairly strong drink for her and Nadia, and then beckoning the other girl with her towards the designated dance floor simply exclaiming, “It’s time to dance” She spotted someone she didn’t know, Lynn having just arrived and power pointed at the woman immediately. “You too!” She was gonna make this fun if it was the last thing she did.

Bea blinked at his words, realizing that she had never taken pulled the little bag of weed from her back pocket and a thing of rolling papers from her front pocket. She was planning on asking Nellie to roll later, but this worked out. Maybe the brownie was still affecting her a bit. She let out an awkward giggle,“I forgot that I hadn’t taken these out. Sorry.” She hated not feeling smooth and that was not her smoothest moment, but she would push forward. She glanced at the garden,“All Nellie’s handywork. When our parents were trying to get her to come back home they got her a greenhouse in the backyard and the garden has just grown since. I cook a lot with the stuff she grows in the green house.”

“Nell, please, I don’t dance!” Nadia groaned as she followed the other girl, but she didn’t resist. Between the alcohol and the desire to remove herself from the ever present white noise that came from the girl next to Nate. So she drank deeply from her cup and followed Nell immediately onto the makeshift dance floor, only pausing when Nell pointed at a blonde woman who’d just walked in. Jesus, there were so many people at this party. So many people with their loud thoughts that she didn’t know.

That was all rather endearing, although as Alain could tell that she was feeling embarrassed, he turned his back on her and resting his weight on the wooden railing, silently took his time spreading weed across the paper, and handed over a old fashioned rolled joint to Beatrice, which he had decided he would call by her full name. "I'm afraid I don't run with a lighter either," he shrugged and smiled as if to say my bad. His attention was brought toward what was going on inside the house for a moment, although considering how bad things would get if he got in there, his attention went quickly back to his kind and generous host. "I have a garden as well. I too believe that cooking gets a thousand times better with fresh products," it was nice, having a conversation that did not revolve around dead people or his moral compass. 

Bea blinked. She had forgotten other people needed to carry lighters around. That seemed ridiculously inconvenient. As he glanced inside she took the opportunity to simply snap her fingers to make a tiny fire and lit the joint. She hoped he was distracted by the party enough to miss the lack of lighter. “I got it,” She said simply with a smile. She even pretended to slip something back into her pocket. “I don’t have much of a green thumb, so I didn’t even know how important it was until Nellie came around with everything. If you want we can go see the garden?”

Alain saw the fire from the corner of his eyes and if she thought she was being discreet it was probably because she did not know that he could see every detail of what she was doing even in the middle of the night. He did not comment on it, only because knowing already about Nell, he was not surprised that it ran in the family. “Thanks,” he gestured that she should keep it for now, “ladies first,” he turned to have another look at the garden. “Sure, we don’t want them to come steal this from us, once they find out that those pot brownies are not worth it,” and he did not want to ruin anyone’s night. Beatrice seemed to be more chill than her sister and he appreciated that too.

Lynn glanced cautiously at the dog that she hadn't noticed before. Shit maybe this was a bad idea. Even just one animal around was enough to make things harder for her. They never left her alone and acted strangely when she was around. And now the person holding him was backing away. Were they scared of her? She wasn't even trying. "Thanks, I'll uh, just take a look at what's here and then go mingle or something." But before she could actually get something, she heard someone say that it was time to dance and then point at her, including her in their proclamation. "Oh well okay then." She came to meet people and have fun right? And dancing was fun. So she would go with them. Following the woman, and the other one with her, she made her way out onto the dance floor. "Oh I'm Lynn by the way. Lynn Edwards."

 Most situations had Bea being as careful as she could, but this was a party and she was in the dark. She doubted that Alain would be able to tell anything was different with her. She smiled at him before taking a puff of the joint. She wasn’t a smoker usually, but she did enjoy a joint. Another hit and then she passed it over to him. She pulled off her heels, leaving her now shorter than Alain before starting towards the garden. “I’ll have you know that I make great edibles,” She said with a cheeky smile over her shoulder. She took a little bit of pride in her brownies, she had had a lot worse than the ones she made.

Three familiar smells (well, four, if one counted the herbal addition) prompted Carrington to stroll towards the home’s garden as if he’d merely wandered off the forest path and needed directions. He moved casually, taking in the surroundings with an idle curiosity, and wondering if Nadia (one of the three familiar smells) was having a good time. He remembered her telling him she didn’t like crowds, though there didn’t seem to be much of one. More than a handful of voices could be heard, but nothing too overwhelming. 

The other smell that was close-by was unfamiliar. A man, youngish, who smelled faintly of gasoline and oil. He was with another familiar smell, Beatrice, who Carrington had met. They were both surrounded by the acrid smell of marijuana. He wasn’t sure what prompted him to follow them, but he did, glancing aside at the house now and then when traces of familiar voices drifted out into the night. 

“Well you do, now!” Nell simply exclaimed to Nadia as she began to match the rhythm of the music that was playing, dancing along with the other girl and...Lynn? She took another long draw of the drink she’d brought with her as she realized this was the doctor she’d briefly talked to online. Doctors were generally...not people Nell instinctively trusted, too mysterious of creatures that had only flitted briefly in and out of her life. “The brain lady?” she confirmed. At least she hadn’t denied Nell’s demand for dancing. Honestly, now that she had a decent amount of alcohol in her, paired with the music- she was beginning to feel more at ease. “Brain-lady Lynn, this is Nadia who doesn’t usually stab people. And- vice versa.” She didn’t think she’d be able to repeat that sentence in reverse at this rate.

Nadia glared at Nell but matched Nell’s movements as she danced. She took a sip of her drink and looked at Lynn. “I really don’t stab people. At all. There was a slight misunderstanding.” Lynn reminded her of a few other people that she’d met in town with her watered down feelings despite the fact that Nadia was letting the alcohol go to her head. She seemed a little unsure, but that feeling was quickly overpowered by Nell’s newfound ease. It might have had something to do with the fact that they were away from Nate and his friend with the ghosts. Did Nell also sense ghosts? Was she a medium as well? She was certainly something. Speaking of mediums. “Is Blanche here?” Nadia asked Nell. She wanted to meet the girl in person, perhaps even discuss the ghosts in the house to see if that was allowed. 

Nate shrunk into himself, wondering what the easiest way to escape might be, but then Remmy was there with their support dog and Nate vaguely wondered if he could borrow Moose for the night. He smiled through his teeth, his stomach doing a continuous somersault until a drink was in his hand. “Thanks,” he mumbled. He watched Nell drag some people out onto the dance floor and felt like he was giving off visible “I’M AWKWARD” waves at the mention of dancing. Luckily, no one had asked him to join. He took a tentative sip of his drink, not tasting anything that explicitly said drugs. Plus there was no way Nell would have spiked something that everyone here was gonna try, right? He felt guilty just thinking it. “Are you- uh…” He glanced at Remmy and tried to smile. “I’m not really a uh...party person…”

“Far from me the idea of criticizing your cooking, but I’ve always considered those to be a waste,” Alain followed her behind. If he was surprised to see her remove her shoes, he did not make any comments. Bringing the joint to his lips, he had a look at their surroundings for his gut feeling had started to startle him. No longer the neighbor, but rather the hunter again, he turned on his heels and for a moment, stared into the darkness, searching for a silhouette. Seeing nothing, his shoulders relaxed and he caught up on Beatrice, handing her back their smoke. “So, what do you do for a living?” Clearly she did not work as a human lighter.

Winston had managed to get pretty intoxicated on a mixture of weed and booze. They were having a good time and they somehow found themselves stood alongside Remmy and Nate once more. “You’re not a party person?” they asked with a frown, they weren’t sure why, but between Nate, Remmy and themselves they got the impression that there was maybe no one in this party who was less of a party person then the three of them. But yet, here they were, at a party and Winston could only hope that their companions were having as good of a time as they were.

Bea shrugged,”It’s easier and doesn’t make my clothes smell. Plus Nellie doesn’t know right away if I’m high, so she can’t make fun of me for finally relaxing.” She knew that it was pretty easy to tell after a few minutes with her, but at least if Nell breezed through the house to her room she didn’t know. When Alain paused, she looked over her shoulder at him. He probably just heard something in the forest, which was a little creepier at night, she had to admit. She smiled as she took the joint,”I’m the owner of Illusions of Grandeur and a performer there. You’re a mechanic or something like that right? Nellie mentioned it once but I can’t remember off the top of my head.”

“I will admit that the smell is not too delicate,” Alain shook his head. It was true that pot smelled terrible, but he stubbornly would keep on consuming it the way he did his whole life. Besides, if teenagers and young folks did it, it couldn’t be that great, right? “Your sister makes fun of you for that?” He raised an eyebrow, glancing away from her to have a look at the garden. It was really well kept, and he did not imagine that someone as angry as Nell could have done this. “Sounds to me that your sister is the one who needs to chill,” he pulled a lawn chair away from the garden table and sat down, crossing his legs. He glanced up at the sky as he listened to her. It was a beautiful night, and even if the light coming from the house ruined the obscurity a bit, you could still appreciate the beauty of the sky above them. “A magician, then? Why am I not one bit surprised?” Maybe she would understand that he saw her doing that trick earlier, or put it on the account of an air she carried that gave her a mystical look. Both were receivable options. “I am a mechanic. I prefer the old cars, but obviously, I also repair more recent ones.”

“I smell like regular smoke enough from work, I don’t need to add weed smoke to it,” Bea laughed. The smell of smoke was light on her, but she knew that it clung to her. She wondered if because of her elementalist status  it was just a part of her normal scent. “She makes fun of me for everything. I’m a high strung stick in the mud to her, but I mean when compared to her who isn’t.” Her voice was light and matter of fact. She didn’t dislike that her sister saw her as high strung, she was rather aware of how high strung she could be. She raises an eyebrow at him with a grin,”Because my magnetic personality screams performer?” She couldn’t be sure if Nell had told Alain what they were, but she wouldn’t put it past her. Her little sister was more liberal with who she told and when. “I don’t know that much about cars. It must be hard work, seems complicated with all those parts.”

“Or you could tell yourself that if you’re going to smell like smoke, you might as well make it enjoyable,” always the pragmatic. Alain was starting to feel more relaxed, which was both thanks to the weed and his company. If he usually had a bad feeling about people, Beatrice seemed like a genuinely nice person to him. “I understand, I can’t seem to get rid of the smell of oil either,” it was etched so deeply in his brain that he could smell oil when there was none around. He felt the same about ash, and that was not an odor he really appreciated. “Heh, sounds exactly like my sisters, always making comments,” he mumbled to himself, eyes still up looking at the sky. “Why, yes. You are a very sociable person. I don’t usually make it an habit of smoking with strangers,” he eyed at her and smiled kindly. “Most people don’t. It’s a well kept secret. Here’s another secret : most issues on cars are easily fixed,” he shrugged. “It is hard work, but I don’t see myself doing anything else.”

Bea let out a laugh,”That’s a good way to turn it around.” She, probably, got high more often than her sisters, but even then she wasn’t partaking more than once or twice a week. It helped her relax, especially at things like this where she often got stuck in her ‘host’ mode, which the entire reason she ate part of her brownie before company showed up. She took a hit of the joint, “There are worse smells. Some people like the smell of smoke or oil.” She sat down with him as she passed over the joint. “Younger sisters?” She asked. She laughed again,”To be honest, I don’t really either, but here we are. Glad you decided to?” Bea tucked her feet under her legs, her posture finally relaxing a bit. She was usually very worried about her appearance and what people thought of her. “Most magic tricks are easy to learn. It’s all about practice. Same with you I imagine.” She smiled with a nod,”Once you find your thing, it’s the only thing you can picture yourself doing right?”

“I actually do enjoy the smell of oil,” Alain glanced at her to get the joint from her. “I can’t stand the smell of tobacco, however. Or maybe the bad habits smokers have, such as throwing the end of their cigarettes everywhere,” he shook his head. Even in the middle of the mountain, you still found goddamn cigarette ends. “Way to ruin an otherwise spotless environment,” he leaned back in his chair, bringing his feet up to rest on the end of the seat to keep his legs a bit warmer. Now he regretted leaving his house without running leggings. “Two sisters. We don’t talk much anymore,” or at all. He nodded, handing her back the weed. “I’m not regretting it yet,” he gave her a cheeky smile, knowing too well that his answer was not a very optimistic one. “I mean, I don’t usually make friends or whatever, easily, this is nice,” he looked away with no sign of embarrassment on his face, which was nice, for a change. “I mean, I could have been an astronaut, but my parents said that this was not a good idea. I still stubbornly learned the name of everything you can see up there, just in case,” he laughed, shaking his head. He was still very stubborn, and he still remembered the name for all the stars.

“It’s not a bad smell, neither is smoke, but I think I want people to associate me with things like cloves or cinnamon. You know?” Bea hoped she wasn’t talking too much. She knew she was a rambler in general and she could get worse when she was smoking. “I don’t mind tobacco on other people but it being on my clothes is so irritating. That smell never goes away.” When she was with one of her exes, he smoked throughout high school and she hated going home smelling badly. She hummed, not wanting to dig into his personal life, but she couldn’t imagine how much it hurt not to talk to his sisters. She had a feeling that she would struggle not being able to talk to her sisters. She wasn’t sure her sisters would reach out as much if they didn’t live together. “Yet is the keyword,” she laughed. “Let me know when it changes.” She smiled at him, imagining how different this conversation could have been if he had been an astronaut. “Well tell me the names of some things. I want to learn from the could have been astronaut.”

Lynn laughed at Nell’s description of her, but nodded nonetheless. “Yeah, you could say that.” She sipped at the drink she’d managed to snag before joining them and smiled at Nadia. “It’s great to meet you Nadia who doesn’t usually stab people. I believe we’ve spoken online once or twice.” She danced with them, feeling more comfortable the longer she stayed with them. The alcohol was probably helping too. She heard Nadia ask about Blanche and her ears perked up. Lynn had spoken with the younger blonde a few times and couldn’t help but be mildly interested in why Nadia was asking about her.

Nate danced from foot to foot, unable to contain the awkwardness he felt. “I’m gonna...go for a walk.” He wondered if he could just slip away, no need to say goodbye to Hope or Nell or anyone, no need for awkward excuses as to why he should have never come here in the first place. He shuffled off to the side, slipping out the closest door. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the front door leading out to his car, but rather a path leading to a small garden area with the familiar scent of marijuana. Suddenly worried about any underaged smokers, Nate continued down the dark path until he ran into two figures who were clearly old enough to make their own decisions about the drug. Two adults who were also clearly in a private conversation. “Oh! Oh- I’m sorry- I- was looking for my car, obviously it wouldn’t be back here, I got turned around though and-” he raised the solo cup full of alcohol Winston had made for him. “Maybe this was stronger than I thought!” He laughed briefly before his face turned serious. “But uh...careful with that stuff. No one should drive after you smoke it. Being high is just as bad as being drunk.” 

“No,” Remmy answered through a lump in their throat, “not really a...party person.” They used to be. They used to love going to parties and being around people and talking to them. They had so many late night “parties” in boot camp and circuit, and even when they were stationed. They celebrated every small thing because no one knew when it would be their last. Maybe that was why parties had a sour taste now. Maybe it was because they now had the danger of hunters coming after them. Nate excused himself after a second, and Remmy made to follow. “Are you leaving alrea--” they started, but stopped, eyes falling on who was outside on the porch Nate had walked onto. Immediately jumping back inside, a spike of terror running through them. They beelined back through the party to Nell. Tugged on her shirt. “He’s here,” they murmured.

Finally Nell felt like she was able to loosen up, laughing a bit at Nadia’s glare. “What? I said you don’t stab!” Then she became the smallest bit disgruntled before saying. “Blanche is supposed to be here! I don’t know where she went!” She was going to let Nadia and Lynn acquaint themselves for the moment when she was vaguely aware of a familiar face coming towards her rather quickly. “Remmy!” she greeted brightly at first, but her dancing stopped as it became clear that her friend was clearly not having a good time. “What’s wrong? Who’s here?” It took a moment for her slightly fuzzy mind to make a connection. Who was Remmy afraid of that she knew about? A long moment later she was asking in a quiter, somewhat sobered tone, “Alain?” Automatically, her hand searched Remmy’s wrist for the protection bracelet she’d made, trying to make sure it was on them. “Where? Don’t worry- I’ll talk to him. You go stay in my room upstairs, if you want.”

Remmy nodded at Nell, fiddling with the bracelet. Moose was getting antsy as well, whining quietly by their side. He could sense their rising anxiety levels. “Outside. Outback.” was all they said, the fear pouring off of them like a waterfall. They glanced at the people Nell had been with, felt like maybe they should apologize for interrupting, but just nodded again and waded back through the crowd, grabbing a cup from the table and straight into Nell’s bedroom, closing and locking the door, sliding to a sit behind it. They never should’ve come to this party. At least everyone else was having a good time.

Nell wasted no time in excusing herself from Nadia and Lynn. “I uh- I have to go- check one something.” It was a lame excuse as far as things went, but she couldn’t think of anything better in her current state. Gone was the careless fun she’d been leaning towards with the two women, replaced by a feeling not all that different from the one she’d had when she’d thought Nadia was going to hurt Regan. Fierce determination, a mental readiness to fight. But she was momentarily thrown as she got to the back porch. Foolishly, she’d assumed Alain would be alone. Instead- here was Nate and Bea as well? Well this...complicated things. “Bea-” she addressed her sister first, figuring that was safest. “Didn’t you show him the balloons? No boys allowed.” Then she sent a glance towards Nate. “Ah- except Nate, of course.” 

Nadia was beginning to not like parties. This one wasn’t even crowded, and yet it was already too much. The person (Remmy, she sort of knew Remmy, she remembered talking to Remmy) had come up and seemed worried, and that was fine, but Nell reacted so violently. Nadia felt it like it was her own, and suddenly she was ready to pick up a knife and start protecting someone again. Except she didn’t know who she was fighting or who she was protecting. She turned to Lynn. “Yeah, no, we met online. I probably need to schedule an appointment with you. Will you excuse me a moment?” She stumbled off, not really caring where she went, just trying to find somewhere quiet. She ducked into a hallway to pace for a moment, trying to walk off all of the energy and unfounded aggression. She took a large gulp of her drink. It didn’t help. So she leaned against the wall and tried not to pound her fist against it. Best not to cause a scene.

“I think the only times I don’t feel like I smell like oil is when I’m cooking too,” Alain nodded silently at her comments about clothes and tobacco. This was another reason he hated that. He had never been fond of smoking cigarettes and yet, if you had the misfortune of standing near a smoker, you were doomed to smell like one. “I’ll make sure to let you know,” he scoffed, pointing at a specific bright star in the sky. “Alright,” he began, but deadpanned at the could have been astronaut comment, “if you’re gonna be mocking me like that, I’m not sure I’ll be willing to tell you thing. As if. He couldn’t resist talking about the sky. Although, as he was about to keep going, a familiar silhouette approached them, and brought a smile to his face. God, he really was high. “Nate, right? How’s the elbow?” Alain paused and raised a confused eyebrow at Nate’s comment. “I came by foot. Although, if I may, I’m not sure you should be driving yourself if you can’t remember where you parked,” he did not notice Remmy, as they appeared right when he glanced back at Beatrice. It wasn’t long before another person showed up. Nell. Maybe this was his cue. “That’s alright, I’ll head back home if this is a problem.”

Hope had been keeping her distance. She was still quite new to this group of people, and as much as she was most familiar with Nate and had invited him to the party she couldn’t bring herself to feel his heart sink when he looked at her. Not to ruin his night she’d vanished off to have a few drinks to herself and observe the the people milling around. However a call from her boss took her into the hallway away from the noise, a few moments and they’d both agreed she was in no state for a power cut call in at this time of night. With her phone pushed back into her pocket she paused as she turned to return. The unnerving radio silence was back, and the girl causing it was in the hallway too. There was emotion on her face but without being able to feel it, Hope was too useless to place it. “Hey, are you okay?”

There was a lot going on and Bea had to be honest, she couldn’t follow any of it for the life of her. She was too high to follow all the sudden movement and people coming outside to talk to them. “I live here,” She replied to Nate with a laugh. “No driving for me.” She pressed her fingers against her temples, shaking her head. “There’s a lot of people talking to me right now.” This is why she got high alone in her house or just with another person. This was a lot speaking she couldn’t follow right away. She liked the simple talking that her and Alain had been doing just a few minutes ago. “He didn’t come in so it’s okay that he’s a boy, Nellie. Plus, you love him. You talked about him for like forty five minutes last week.” She turned her eyes to Alain,“You can stay if you want. I don’t see why there would be a problem.”

Nell was all too ready to cling to Alain’s offer to go home. Honestly, it was probably better for everyone. Those who know he was Hunter wouldn’t be uncomfortable, and Alain wouldn’t get ten million pairs of daggers staring at him. Win-win, right? It seems she’d been wrong to hedge her bets on Bea, though. Nell had counted on the age-old practice of good ol’ sister not so telepathy, but she saw the problem as she got closer. Bea was fucking baked. “I don’t love him! It wasn’t- it was not forty five minutes!” she denied childishly in her embarrassment, a higher pitch entering her voice. It couldn’t have been more than a half hour. Why was this happening now? “Besides maybe he’s just tired and wants to go home!” As a last ditch attempt, she was hoping Alain would get the hint, and remove himself from the situation. “After all, he’s very old. And the balloons- the balloons are rules for outside too.”

Alain raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips, watching the two sisters discuss whether or not he should be leaving. Wait, forty five minutes? Well someone was obsessed. He looked up at Nell from his chair, as if to say what the fuck. His nose wrinkled at the sound of Nell’s voice. Okay, he silently mouthed, glancing back at Beatrice, as he wondered if she was feeling the same as him about this : Nell needed to chill. “What? I’m not old, you and Blanche got to stop saying that I’m old,” he shook his head. Leaning forward to have a look inside and maybe see at least a part of the balloon rules, he didn’t see anything and with a confused look on his face, added : “I don’t see any balloons outside. So technically…”

Bea couldn’t help but let out a laugh when she saw Alain’s facial expression. She nodded at him as if to agree that her little sister had to chill out. “You talked about how much of a ‘badass’ he was. And told me like a few times that he was hot.” She shrugged,“I actually think the words were ‘hot man muffin’, which I still don’t know why you decided to use those words. Just saying hot works, which he is, so good job for having good taste.” She studied Alain’s face for a second, he didn’t seem that old. “He looks like he’s thirty five, Nellie. That isn’t old.” She wondered why her sister was freaking out so much. She would have thought the girl would have loved that Bea was getting along with the guy she seemed to want to be. “He has a point, Nellie. You should chill, it’s fine if he stays.”

Nell’s eyes grew to saucers as Bea repeated words that- well- no longer had any place in her vocabulary. “Bea!” she exclaimed, the beginnings of an outraged shirek in her voice. “That’s all- that is very out of context! I didn’t even- you’re high! High as a kite!” It seemed alcohol didn’t make for formulating good arguments when it came to things like this, and Nell was thankful for the dark of the night that hopefully hid the rosiness in her cheeks. “The balloons are obviously- all encompass-” she stumbled over the word for a moment. “-all encompassing. I just think- think that some people, Alain included, would have more fun at home.” At this point, Nell was staring at Bea as intensely as she could, trying her best to convey an essence of ‘please just help me out for these two seconds.’

Nate realized his mistake as soon as Nell came bursting out of the house and he found himself once again trapped in the most awkward of situations. He stood there, clutching his solo cup as his eyes darted back and forth between the sisters as they discussed Alain’s age, hotness factor and whether or not he was allowed to be at the party. “Just- I mean...I didn’t know it was no boys allowed...Alain probably didn’t either?” He smiled lamely and chugged the rest of his drink. He didn’t want to get in the middle of the sister’s argument, and for a split second, he totally understood why people got high.

Nadia knew who was approaching her before she even looked up. That strange girl who felt like white noise. Something was there, but it was hard to place and annoying to dwell on. That, coupled with the fact that she still felt like she was going to hit something, probably made her smile seem a little strange. “Oh, yeah, no. Totally fine. Never been better. I just don’t like crowds. Not, you know, that this place is crowded. It’s just, like, people.” She paused. Then, because she lacked a fucking filter at this point, she said, “I don’t get out much.” 

Alain barely had time to cover his mouth before he started laughing. "Alright that's embarrassing," standing up from his chair he glanced at Nate and patted his shoulder with a friendly smile on his face. "It's alright pal, I'm gonna head back home," turning around to say goodbye to Beatrice, an idea crossed his mind, "I should show you my garden. It doesn't have balloons or weird rules," his offer came with a kind smile although he was fine heading back home without his new friend. This was enough interaction for today.

This wasn’t fair. Now Nell had to look like the asshole, when it was Alain who was the polarizing person in this situation. Still, she narrowed her eyes in the Hunter’s direction as he dared to laugh, but let it slide for the moment being as it seemed he was willing to head out. Then she spared Nate a glance before saying, “I’m not blaming, Alain.” Now Nate probably thought she was even more of an asshole, too. But then a stab of...mixed emotions, all of them negative, filled her as he invited Bea to his garden. This was Nell’s garden. And of course he liked her sister better. “She can’t,” she said hastily, reaching out to latch onto Bea’s arm. “She’s too high. And she has to help clean up the party when it’s over. And Dia will be sad and miss her. Especially after all the noise of the party.” If the first two failed, Nell was certain the last one would get her sister.

Time moved funny when you were high and Bea was struggling to follow the quick moving events. It took her a few moments after Nell’s grab to have a response. “Nellie,” She pulled her arm from her sister’s grasp looking all the more confused. She turned to Alain, an apologetic look on her face,“I’ll come by another time. Nell’s right, I should stay. My cat needs me.” Dia wasn’t a fan of a lot of people being in the house and she knew that the kitty would tear up her room if she left her alone for any longer. “I’m glad I invited you in,” She offered to Alain with a smile. 

"Are these not all your friends?" Hope asked the other girl curiously. Although she definitely understood the desire to avoid crowds, even if Hope was sure it was for different reasons. The girls smile was strained and yet even as she leaned a little closer to try and get a read all she got was static. It was stranger than anything she'd ever felt before. People felt duller sometimes, like Nate, but never just like….nothing. "Oh well no shame in getting out and feeling overwhelmed if you don't do it often!" Hope offered an encouraging smile. Her brain whirring away trying to figure this girl out. "...is it overwhelmed you're feeling?" She couldn't help but pry. 

"It's alright Nell, I don't take it personally," he reassured her, brushing it off with a wave of his hand in front of his face. Alain nodded politely at Beatrice before he stepped further away from the house and eventually was gone. What a weird evening, he thought to himself as he jogged back home.

As the girl leaned in closer, Nadia leaned back, just a bit. At least her damned fight or fight sense was dialing down; the last thing she wanted to do was actually hit someone, and this girl hadn’t done anything. She was just being curious. Nice. “I, like, know a few people here? Nell, personally. I know Nell. Everyone else I’ve maybe talked to online a few times, I think.” She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the girl’s white noise, like she did with Remmy’s nothingness and, when they’d gotten coffee, Carrington’s, but it made her feel a little sick, honestly. Maybe it was the booze, coupled with the dancing, and the jarring shifts in emotions, but she wasn’t feeling well, as her head started spinning. I-- yeah. A little overwhelmed is all.” And anxious and awkward and ready to fight and curious and confused. Very overwhelmed really. “I need a minute.”

“I get it, almost everyone who knows me here is someone from online, the forum for this town is pretty good for meeting new people. I brought along a familiar face though, didn’t realize it was no boys allowed.” Hope made a face to express her guilt at the mistake. “But Nell took it in her stride so I figure that’s okay right? He’s friends with a few of the people here.” Hope was making conversation trying to gauge if she could feel anything from this girl. So far nothing and it was getting a little eerie, as the emotions from the next room faded. The girl paled and Hope leaned back again, feeling guilty as if she might have caused the reaction. “Do you want a seat? A drink of water? You drank a lot?”

Nadia waved the girl off. “I’m fine. It’s fine. I had like two drinks.” Strong ones, but that hardly mattered. She leaned against the wall and kind of just slid down it until she was sitting on the floor. “I might just, you know, hang out. Right here.” She leaned her head down. “I’m sure Nell’s fine you brought, uh, Nate, right? He’s nice.” Yeah, the floor was nice. It was calm. No people. Nothing but this girl and her static. “If anybody needs me, I’m just gonna chill. Right here.”

#palentines day #chatzy

[girlafraidinacoma]

In The Lap of the Gods: Chapter Six - Fanta-seas and Denial

Summary: What do you get when you mix a tight-knit art community, young, hot-blooded twenty-something university students and good old-fashioned British Rock & Roll? Probably the next best hope for art and music that generation has to offer. With her friends’ band skyrocketing to fame, what exactly does a girl do when she suddenly finds herself sitting in the lap of the gods? The answer: do the only thing she can do, rise to the occasion of course!

Pairing: Gwilym Lee!Brian May x Original Female Character

Author’s Note: Sorry, not sorry for the incredibly late update dudes. Was super uninspired for months, had a break down, got over it, bon appetit.

( gif credit goes to @queenmercurys.)

Kind of AU, contains both elements from real life and the Bo Rhap universe, so imagine whoever you prefer whether they be the real thing or the Bo Rhap Boys–be free.

[Link to Ao3 fic!]

Chapter Playlist:

Both Sides Now - Joni Mitchell

Astral Weeks - Van Morrison

Chapter Six - Fanta-seas and Denial

Ealing, December 1969.

“You’re incorrigible. I’ll never finish at this rate!” Wyn cried, throwing her arms up.

“Nobody told you to leave it until the last minute to work on your project.” He grumbled. It seemed like only yesterday that she began her first day at the Ealing Technical College and School of Art, but December had finally crept in, summoning the looming toll of due dates and unfinished critical projects.

“I honestly didn’t mean to forget, I thought I’d still have a week, not three bloody days.” Wyn whimpered a little pathetically, feeling the mounting panic bubble inside at the thought of not submitting her work on time. Currently, they were seated on the floor at the centre of Wyn’s dorm room, the space her easel usually occupied, cutting out various images and words out of several dozen stacks of magazines, newspapers, catalogues and a charitable helping of Woman’s Weekly – courtesy of Jer Bulsara.

Wyn’s dorm was a site Freddie had quickly grown accustomed to during their past few months of friendship. He liked her place. Sure, there were several others that lived on her floor and there’s only the bare modicum of privacy, but it was a decently sized space for a dorm, generous even, were it not cramped with half-finished canvases and art materials at various stages of use. Despite this fact, Wyn had tried her very best to make it up as nice as she could without having to open a Better Homes magazine. It was a place of barely organized but brightly coloured chaos.

The room itself was divided into two halves, one half where she slept and lounged, and the other half reserved for her work. The narrow bed which she slept in had been pushed up flush against the far corner of the room for the spatial economy. There was an olive-green loveseat with faded upholstery situated opposite the bed, and next to it was her bookshelf (definitely someone’s previously discarded woodworking project), keeping her collection of vinyls, novels and art journals. The side of Wyn’s room that served as her work area had a very large window that provided her place with natural light from about six or seven in the morning to four in the afternoon. Beside the window was a small desk, perpetually cluttered with paper, and a heavy wooden trunk packed to the brim with art supplies. One would think she’d been living there forever with all the stuff she’d accumulated in the past four months; the result of which was an assemblage of mismatched furniture that on its own were rather forgettable or borderline hideous, but somehow miraculously worked together, grudgingly made ‘cool’ by the person inhabiting it.

“Now who’s incorrigible?” As much as Freddie teased, it only took about five minutes of begging and a promise to cover one of his shifts at the Kensington stall for Freddie to generously acquiesce his time to help her out with one of her class assessments, to her supreme relief.

“Besides, they only want proof of concept. The whole thing’s not due until the end of Christmas hols.” Wyn said, flipping to the next page.

“Sure, sure.” The man rolled his eyes, waving a large pair of shears around. “What’s the focus for this piece anyway?”

“Oh, you know, just a bit of social commentary about defining identity through materialism and the like.” She told him, picking up a scrap he’d just finished cutting out, “These little bits here, will eventually be put together and build up a face or whatever, then I think I’d slather some paint on it, use some charcoal and call it a day, probably.”

“Is it still Granger and Warton assessing?”

“Warton is on leave, taking the airs in Bournemouth. Connelly is subbing in.”

“Even better, Connelly likes anything that’s remotely opinionated. He’ll be eating this all up with his Sunday roast.” He laughed. It gave her that smidge more comfort to hear his approval and she told him just as much.

She and Freddie were both dutifully attending to their work when out of the blue, Freddie sniffs the air, saying: “Have I told you how much your room smells?”

“Oops,” The girl said sheepishly, “Sorry. Let me just open a window. Afraid I’ve gotten quite used to it.” Briefly, she pattered away from him to do just that, lighting a rosemary and orange-scented candle, a gift from an aunt who had taken up chandlery upon retirement.

“Yes, the smell of varnish does tend to make the uninitiated rather queasy.” He nodded. “Lucky for you, I know the smell intimately. Unlucky for you, it still makes me queasy. Unless… you’ve become a junkie, in which case there are better highs than paint fumes, my dear.” A hand rose to Freddie’s chest, playfully aghast.

Wyn shook her head with a laugh. “I don’t even realise sometimes, too stuck in my work.”

“Still, you should always remember to take care of yourself. What good is your art if you’re not there to appreciate it? I’d rather have you, than a painting.”

Wyn dropped the page she was holding and looked at him. “Always so sweet. Where would I be without you, my dearest Freddie?”

“Probably still glued to a wall in that function room with the horrible punch.” Fred snarked, letting out an inelegant snort in the magazine his face was buried in.

So far, they were amassing a pretty sizeable pile of clippings and Wyn wordlessly congratulated herself and Freddie for making progress, but the good feeling didn’t last long. The two had been quiet for a while, with only the sound of snipping and paper tearing to fill the silence when reluctantly Fred releases the lip he had been gnawing on for a solid two minutes and clears his throat. “I’ve got something to tell you,” He says, putting down the pair of scissors he was using. “Actually, I could use your opinion.”

Still focused on an area she was clipping, Wyn nodded. “Spill, it’s not like we’re going anywhere soon.”

He exhaled deeply and gave what could be likened to a formal announcement. “I’m thinking of seeing Mary. Scratch that, I’ve seen Mary and had a cup of coffee with her, and I’ve been thinking about doing that more.”

There was sudden a hush that came about the room and settled in like a third guest. It took her several moments to process and Wyn gently reminded herself to lower her pair of scissors, lest she accidentally hurt a friend. “Wait, Mary, as in 'the coat's BIBA', Mary? As in Brian’s Mary? That Mary?” She gauged him with a puzzled look.

“As in Brian’s ex-girlfriend, Mary Austin, Yes.” Freddie confirmed, not blinking.

“So, you want to go see Brian’s ex, that is what you’re saying?”

“Ex, being the operative word, but yes.”

“You don’t think that’ll put a wrench into things?” She asked with a furrowed brow. “Smile hasn’t even begun performing again yet with you as the lead. Do you understand where I’m coming from, how precarious your situation is?”

“I don’t know,” It was his turn to shrug, eyes large and expressive. “I think she’s sweet and gorgeous and she doesn’t mind my teeth. Wait, where did you hear about Brian and Mary anyway?”

Wyn shrugged, “Roger told me.”

“That gossiping cow.” Freddie scowled.

“Well, no, we were just talking and the subject came up,” Wyn said levelly, grabbing a new catalogue from the stack.

“Oh, it came up naturally, did it?” He asked, picking up his scissors and cutting the page he was on a tad aggressively. “Not that you were asking after a certain boy with a guitar, needling poor Roger until he revealed whether said boy was single or not?”

“No,” She denies, “Roger and I were just talking about that night at the bar, and he just happened to mention that until recently Brian had been seeing Mary and hinted that maybe Brian was still interested in seeing her.”

Freddie had narrowed his eyes. “And Roger told you that, did he? Are you sure this isn’t about you and Roger?”

Her head quirked. “Why would this be about me and Roger?”

Freddie laughed. “Maybe because Roger thinks you’re fit and he’s trying to eliminate the competition by hinting that one of his friends might be keen to reconnect with an ex so that you won’t consider that friend as a potential romantic partner?”

“Or, you’re spinning this intricate web because you’re in denial that Mary wants to be with Brian and continuing to see her might ruin your chances with the band?” She offered sweetly.

“Or, this is about you and Roger.” Wyn had to roll her eyes at that.

“This is so not about Roger.”

“Brian, then.”

“It’s not like that.” She shakes her head, eyes trailing to the ground.

Freddie was not convinced, “I saw you and Brian looking cozy together. In that booth, on the way home, going for a little shopping trip…”

“We went shopping to feed you!”

“It’s probably what set off Rog in the first place.” He said in sing-song.

“N-no, the man doesn’t even flirt with me--” She was growing exasperated quickly.

“So, you admit that you flirt with Roger all the time.” Freddie was a dog with a bone.

“That’s just the way we talk to each other! He just thinks it’s a bit of fun, and I’m not about to let him think he can get a rise out of me.” Freddie could have sworn her voice rose an octave.

"I think you have a crush on him."

"I do not have a crush on Brian."

"Who said anything about Brian?" Freddie cracked a devilish grin at having caught her out. He batted his eyes at her.

The girl, on the other hand, was at a loss for words, opening her mouth and closing it again a couple of times, before scoffing. “Oh, shut up. You haven’t proven anything. Go see Mary then if you’ve already made up your mind.” She resigned, covering her discomfort with a laugh. Wyn looked down and busied herself by neatening the growing pile of magazine and newspaper trimmings she was collecting, forcing her hair to fall and obscuring her face. She absolutely was not going to let her friend see the burning flush she was newly sporting.

Fred chuckled beside her, examining his manicured hand. "I honestly wonder what fantasy world you're living in, darling. You're so caught up in it."

Instead of answering him directly she chose to switch to diversionary tactics. "You say that like it's a bad thing, or like you're not right there with me. You're just as mad as me." She poked his cheek.

"True, darling." He conceded, "I definitely see the appeal; I mean who wouldn’t want to escape this old tedious business for one in a fantasy book?” Freddie sighed dreamily, “I say, human ingenuity peaked when we learned we could just imagine ourselves far away from here.”

The girl hummed, gladdened to finally be talking about something else again. “Where everything is weird and wonderful, and you finally belong…”

“You can be anyone you want to be.”

“And bugger the rules because there are none.” She supplied without missing a beat.

“Get out of my head, Wyn Clemens.” He chided her. “You know, this reminds me of when Kashmira and I used to spend all our time in the afternoons together lying on a dusty floor, making up crazy stories.”

A fond smile came over Wyn’s face. “Oh? What about?”

“Well, tis a tale of a long and arduous quest to save the magical Kingdom of Rhye,” He said indulgently, “Your usual fight between the forces of good and evil, brave knights, lavish castles, rival queens, and a sprinkling of anthropomorphic animals.”

“Ah, but of course! I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She leaned back and drew her legs under her chin. “Pray tell then, merry minstrel, regale me with the story of Rhye.”

Freddie sat a little more upright in his spot, his teeth showing in a big smile. “Alright, so, it all began when the White Queen was abducted from her castle. Now in hopes to rescue her, her brother, the handsome Prince, scours all the land gathering knights…”

Wyn had already forgotten they had been arguing not two minutes ago. It was like that with her and Freddie, they never could stay cross with one another for long, always managing to read what the other was thinking. It was shocking how close the two had gotten in such a short span of time. Suddenly the prospect of Freddie graduating brought a sinking feeling to Wyn’s chest. She silently hoped he’d still have time for her, or would deign to remain her friend. The future always seemed so unsteady. Standing on its precipice, Wyn supposed that if she’d have to drink some horrible punch at some mediocre party, she’d rather be suffering through it with him than without him.

#itlotg fic #bo rhap #bo rhap fic #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody movie #queen #brian may #brian may x original character #gwilym!brian #freddie mercury #rami!freddie #itlotg

[meltingalphabet]

Spiders in the chimney

In the fall of my ninth birthday, my family moved from a small two-bedroom apartment to a six-bedroom farmhouse. We hadn't lived in a city necessarily, more like a big town, but compared to the country surrounding the farmhouse, it might as well have been New York City. The house wasn’t exactly in the best shape: shingles hung loosely from the roof like crooked teeth, the shutters were missing several grey - once black - slats, and the red paint on the vinyl siding was being eaten away by age and disrepair.

Despite my parents referring to the house as a farmhouse my whole life, I’ve realized as an adult that the building is surprisingly modern for the year it was built. Having stood at least through the seventies if not before, the house’s roof slanted at a gradual angle from the left, only a few feet above the ground, towards the right side of the house, which ended in a curved wall stretching high, probably fifty or so feet into the air. While the left side was made up of edges and planes, the curved right wall, laced with bay windows topped with abstract stained glass, softened the angles of the house. The curved wall ended in a steepled tower sticking out from the roof. A small window was recessed into the tower, and my heart fluttered with excitement the first time I saw it. I knew, before stepping foot into our new home, that that room would be mine.

Mom explained that we moved into the farmhouse for my dad because the house came with a large barn. Construction-site supervisor by day, woodworker by night, my dad’s dream had always been to have his own workshop and make woodworking his full-time job. When we didn’t have the space, woodworking was just a passion, a well-loved hobby that took my dad across the river to a mill-turned-studio-space a few nights a week. We had only lived in the farmhouse for a few months before the barn had been transformed into a woodworker’s paradise.

Compared to our apartment, the farmhouse was ginormous. The first floor consisted of a kitchen, pantry, living room, dining room, and a sun room off the back. I did not spend much time on that floor the first day. Instead, I spent the first hour drifting frantically from one bedroom to the next, searching for the room which was to become my own.

The second floor of the house was half open space, and half bedrooms. The hallway, instead of lined with two walls, was lined with doors to the rooms on one side, and a railing overlooking the living room on the other. Standing at the railing gave you an all encompassing view of the living room, while the slanted roof of the first and second floor hung low over your head.

I ran from room to room in glee, standing in the middle of each, inhaling the dusty air deeply, then running out in a burst of excitement to see the next. None of the four rooms on the second floor were satisfactory, so I ran up the creaking wooden steps to the third floor. The third floor was smaller than the second floor, the ceiling cutting into it so that it only took up half the width of the house. I explored the two large rooms set on opposite sides of the hall, identical to each other, both dirty with disuse. I left the twin rooms in haste, knowing that I had been prolonging the discovery of my bedroom, drawing out the inevitable exploration of the tower.

My expedition brought me to the far side of the thin hallway, which ended in a small white door. I opened it without caution, and was rewarded with a narrow staircase. Thick layers of cobwebs traced the corners of the stairs, worn from footfalls over the years which had created shallow divots in the middle of each step.

My enthusiasm waned as I looked up into the darkness, which was complete and suffocating. I searched the wall beside me for a light switch, but there was none. I steadied myself, and took one hesitant step up into the black.

The steps groaned beneath my weight as I took each with a deliberate determination. My vision began to fade into shadow, but as I crept to the top of the stairs, I noticed a slight light coming from my right. Soon, I lifted my foot and almost fell with surprise at the lack of another step: I was at the top.

I turned to the square source of light - a window - and walked towards it. As I approached I realized that there were small shutters blocking the light, locked in place by a small silver hook. I lifted the hook and threw the shutters back with a bang much louder than expected. The fourth floor of the farmhouse was suddenly bathed in muted sunlight coming from the grimey panes of the window.

I was standing in the interior of the tower. The room was small: about 10 feet across in either direction. The walls were entirely round, surrounding me in an almost perfect circle: on one side of the stairs the wall was cut short by about three feet of brick wall that jutted out into the space. The brick continued up past the ceiling - the chimney, I realized. I walked towards it and looked down the stairs from where I had come, now illuminated faintly. There was a small ledge, about three feet high, two feet wide, and two feet across cut into the wall between the outside and the stairs to the tower. The ledge was blocked partially by the wooden railing.

Small, dingy, and lacking light, my heart fluttered with the tickle of love at first sight. I ran down the stairs, skipping steps all together in my excitement to tell my mom and dad that I had found my new bedroom.

Within a week, my tower had been cleaned and my mom had painted the walls a dark blue. Small white circles dotted the ceiling, making up constellations of stars for me to look at every night and memorize. We hung white Christmas lights to give my dark room a warm glow. The back of my white metal bed frame rested against the brick chimney, which allowed my bed to be flat against the otherwise curved wall. I filled the nook in the staircase with stuffed animals and action figures. A tall bookcase and dresser along with a small desk and chair completed the room.

I remember snuggling between the fresh sheets, perfectly at peace with my new home. As I drifted to sleep, I heard a small rustling noise coming from the chimney behind me.

As November descended on the farmhouse, a cold draft began to manifest against the thin walls, tendrils of the wintry chill outside sneaky soundlessly towards the warm insides of the house. On the first frigid night, Dad tried to light a fire in the living room fireplace. The flames grew quickly, reaching high into the chimney as the downstairs quickly filled with a noxious black cloud. Mom threw every window open wide as my dad took me out onto the front yard and then ran back in. The image of black smoke pouring from the windows of the farmhouse - slowly being repaired and repainted, but still looking old and worn - was terrifying yet beautiful. The black smoke looked evil and dangerous, but the contrast of it against the red and flaking walls of the house was striking, leaving a lasting impression on my young mind.

My parents soon got the fire and smoke under control and I was lead back into the house, which now smelled like burnt toast.

“Chimney must be blocked.” My dad said matter-of-factly. “I’ll have to clean it out.”

“Or pay an expert to do it.” My mom suggested. My dad shrugged at her.

The next day small electric heaters appeared around the house.

But the fire had stirred something inside the chimney. The small rustling I heard at night grew louder, almost as if distressed. I was unnerved by the sound, but I restrained myself from running to my parents’ room. My dad had warned me that I was getting too old to sleep with them. I wanted to prove to him that I was a big boy, that I could sleep in my own room. But the noise was chilling, like the rustling of paper. Chittering and skittering, the sound of a muffled maraca. It was simultaneously comforting and disturbing. On one hand, it sounded like the rainstick Mrs. Paxon, my teacher, had brought into class once. She turned it one way and then the other, the cooling hiss of sand running over nails and wood, creating ghostly tingles at the back of my neck. But it was also menacing, like a stampede in the distance, the combined force of hundreds of animals, unaware of the damage caused by the combined power of their hooved feet.

One Saturday morning, over pancakes with maple syrup and thick strips of fatty bacon, I told my father that there was a ghost living in the chimney and I could hear him moving at night.

His laugh was hearty and warm, “It’s probably just mice,” he said over mouthfuls of sticky pancake, “I bet their nest is what’s blocking the damn chimney.”

I shook my head stubbornly. When we had first moved in, there were mice in the barn. Dad bought traps and I cried because he was going to kill them. He ended up buying non-lethal mouse traps and releasing the ones he caught far from the house. But in the process, I had learned what mice sound like, and whatever was in the chimney was not mice.

“There’s no squeaking. And it sounds like a lot of something. If it is mice, there must be hundreds!” I exclaimed dramatically.

My father laughed again. “Alright, alright. Calm yourself, Jacob. I’ll check after breakfast.”

Once the pancakes and bacon had been eaten and the coffee and orange juice finished, my dad and I went to the fireplace. Dad knelt down on his knees, and shone a flashlight up towards the top of the chimney. He moved the beam of light this way and that, his eyes squinting.

“There’s definitely something up there.” He craned his neck further. “What the…” he said as his light caught the culprit.

Suddenly, my father jumped backwards, banging his head hard against the brick opening. “Ah, fuck!” He cried, falling onto the living room floor. I stepped back in surprise: my father never swore. “Jesus fucking Christ!” He yelled, scooting away from the fireplace in absolute horror.

My mom ran in from the kitchen, “what is it? What’s wrong?” She asked, her face strained with worry.

Dad stood up, roughly wiping at his sleeves and front, as if rubbing burning embers from his shirt. “What the fucking fuck!”

“Mark!” My mother scolded, worry turning into displeasure.

He looked up at her, his teeth bared. “Goddamn spiders!” He seethed, “the bloody chimney is full of them!”

They stared at each other, my mom’s mouth slightly agape, my father’s body rising and falling with his angry breath.

The silence was broken with my mother’s warm laughter.

“Dammit Margaret! This isn’t funny!” My dad said, which made my mother laugh even harder. She bent over herself, clutching her stomach. Wiping tears from her eyes, her laughter finally settled, and she looked up at my dad. Two hundred and twenty pounds of muscle and bone, hard work and calluses. Brine, vinegar, and salt.

That was the day I discovered the only things my father feared were losing me and my mother, and spiders.

“Want me to squash them for you?” My mother chided.

“It’s not funny,” my father said, a small tone of embarrassment in his voice, “these bastards are huge. Wolf spiders probably.” He shivered and my mom smiled at him as she rubbed him arm tenderly.

“We’ll call someone in to take care of them.”

“We don’t have the money.” My father said in a hushed tone.

“Well,” my mother said, her voice loud as if to compensate for his whisper “in the meantime, they haven’t done anything to us yet other than block our chimney, so I think we’ll survive for another week or so until we’ve got the funds.” She wrapped an arm around my father, his pride wounded. “And please stop swearing in front of Jacob.”

Dad grunted at her as he stared threateningly at a floorboard, as if it had personally affronted him.

A few weeks later and the spiders remained in our chimney. Dad didn’t seem to be selling his woodwork as much as he thought he would, and because all the construction sites were closed until the snow cleared, he couldn’t get another job in the meantime. Mom was working extra shifts at the hospital, but still the spiders stayed. Unwanted roommates we couldn’t kick out. But I guess it had been their house first.

At night, I’d hear their hairy paws scuttering across the bare bricks by my head and I’d hug my teddy bear tight. Dad had gone from the first floor to my tower, filling any holes in the bricks with foam insulation to keep them contained.

We’d often forget about our creepy housemates however, and in those moments the place felt warm and loving. Dad had gotten the oil heater in the basement running again and so dry heat emanated from the radiators throughout the house. Mom fixed up two of the rooms as guest rooms for when family and friends visited, one as a playroom for me, and the last room as a computer room. The old and forgotten house quickly morphed into an inviting home.

Our first Christmas in the farmhouse was an exciting one. Mom had gone all out decorating the house: lighted pine garlands hung from every railing and mantle, lined with candy canes, red and green striped stockings hung above the fireplace, candles sat in every one of the many windows, and our Christmas tree towered in the open living room, only a foot away from the ceiling that stretched over the first and second floors.

I curled up into bed on Christmas Eve, my skin crackling with the excitement of the coming day.

I awoke suddenly. The room was dark, but moonlight streamed through the small window across from me, illuminating everything with a silver glow. My heart was racing and I could hear my blood flowing through my veins, filling my ears with a low rumble.

Something had woken me up. Something wrong.

My body was stiff with fear as I strained my ears, trying to hear what had waken me.

“Ho… ho… ho….” A voice creaked.

I no longer believed in Santa, but even if I did, I knew that voice was wrong. It was not the voice of a friend. It was the voice of an intruder, dry and cracked. A voice echoing through forgotten crevices, etched with time and hate.

“Ho… ho… ho…” The voice creaked again, this time louder, closer to my face.

My heart stopped, the breath I had been taking catching in my throat.

“Ho… ho… ho…” With a boom, my heart pounded, once, loudly and I had to stifle a cry. The voice was coming from inside the chimney. I hugged my bear to my chest, pursing my lips tight together to prevent my whimpering from escaping my mouth.

“Ho… ho… ho…” The voice said again, this time below my bed. Whatever it was, it was moving downwards.

The fireplace.

I sat up slowly, still clinging my teddy bear, and softly placed my feet beside my bed. I stood.

“Ho… ho… ho…” It was even fainter now.

As quietly as I could, I padded down the stairs. I was beginning to know those steps. To know where the sensitive spots were that would scream if you stepped on them. My socked feet traced the edges, making only the softest murmur against the wood.

At the third floor, I stood in the doorway of the computer room below my tower and listened.

“Ho… ho… ho…” The voice was getting louder. Not closer, but louder, as if the one emitting it was getting more invested in the holiday spirit.

I followed it down to the first floor. The door to my parent’s bedroom opened with a small creak and I jumped. My father’s concerned face appeared. He looked down, saw me, and stepped out, placing a protective hand on my shoulder. In his other hand was his shotgun.

I had seen the shotgun for the first time a few months beforehand, during fall when my father set out to hunt our Thanksgiving turkey. It was a yearly tradition, but before the farmhouse, the gun would remain locked in dad’s studio. Now it lived in a locked box at the top of my parents’ bedroom closet.

“Ho… ho… ho…” The raspy voice grated through the air sending chills down my spine.

Dad looked down and placed a finger to his lip in a gesture of silence. I nodded. He turned away from me and we both traced the stairs to the ground floor, my confidence rising with the presence of my father and his gun to protect me.

We followed the voice down to the living room, which glowed with the soft lights hanging from the Christmas tree.

“Ho… ho… ho…” The voice trickled through the opening of the fireplace, echoing along the brick walls, magnifying till it reached out towards us, grasping for us, my father towering in the middle of the room and I cowering behind the couch, peeking over the back.

A black shape slowly emerged from the fireplace. My dad raised the shotgun to his shoulder. The shape came forward, reaching out, and then landed on the wooden floor with a soft click.

We stared at the shape, unable to recognize it. It was thick and long, jointed and knobby like a stick, but the surface was smooth and shiney and black. It stretched out into the living room, but the other end was still unseen, hidden deep inside the chimney. Whatever we were seeing was only part of it.

“Ho… ho… ho…” The voice was almost upon us, hanging heavy in the air like a thick fog. I shuddered with the cold that emanated from the fireplace. From the thing inside.

Another black shape, identical to the first, slithered out. My father took a step back, his gun swinging from one to the other.

A black mass lowered down from the chimney, so large it completely filled the fireplace. It was a dark so black, so deep that it seemed like we were staring at nothing at all.

The first shiny black shape rose into the air and landed a foot in front of where it had been, the other following, the black mass growing, as if being pulled forward. Another two of the shapes emerged from the fireplace to join their brother.

Legs. They were legs, I realized. A scream caught in my throat.

My father seemed to realize as well, for he ran to the couch, grabbed me, and pushed me to the stairs.

“Run. Go to your mother.” He said. He turned without checking that I obeyed his orders, and lifted the gun again.

I ran up the stairs, looking behind me as I did. The black mass flowed from the fireplace like thick molten lavas, growing slowly but containing the power to destroy anything in its path. I turned the corner of the stairs, reached the top, and ran to the railing overlooking the living room.

The mass slid out completely, followed by another large shadow being vomited forth from our hearth. Two more legs appeared, and then the rest of the beast fell and rose, no longer constrained by its brick prison.

A giant monster, deformed into a grotesque mimicry of a spider, towered over my father. It’s abdomen the size of a large dog, covered in coarse hair, red like old rust. Two pointed needles stuck out from the bottom, snow white strings coming out from between them. The spider’s spinnerets pulsed as the string slackened slightly. The threads of silk gooey, like a melted marshmallow pulled apart, stretching and sticking to everything as the creature stepped forward.

The front section, the cephalothorax, hung in front of the large round abdomen, like it does for a black widow. But it was not the rounded square of a normal spider. Instead, the flat body was replaced with the torso of a very obese man. Shirtless, it’s thick gut hung over the top of its abdomen. What I could see of the chest was covered in rough white hair, thick and curly, coiled tightly against the pale skin, which was littered with brown moles. Two pink nipples, chapped and turning white around the edges, stuck out from the fur. The bulging chest was framed by thick arms, bulking with muscle and fat, the skin hanging loosely, thin and puckered like crepe paper.

At the top of the torso was the head of a man. Or, at least something man-like. The skin was moist and dewy, it’s rounded cheeks blotchy with red stains. Around its nose were the red and purple lines of broken blood vessels, intersecting with each other like the highways on a map. A heavy long beard fell from its chin, a mix of white hair greyed with age and unwash, stained on the edges with black soot. It landed on the floor, twisting around itself.

White matted hair flowed from the top of its head and hung loosely around its shoulders. Clay, mud, and dirt caked around the edges. Two large pupil-less eyes sat in the center of its round face, staring down at my father. Four smaller eyes rested beneath those like still pools of dark water. Two more were inlaid into its temples, one of which, I realized, my bladder emptying itself in utter horror, was looking right a me. All eight eyes were pitch black and glistening with wetness, the reflections of the Christmas tree lights making them glint viciously. Warm liquid ran down my inner thigh, the stream finding its way into the band of my wool socks. I could smell the hot scent of urine rising around me.

Drool fell from two large pinchers set into the massive jaw of the beast. The fangs were inverted triangles, coming to a thin point like a tiger’s claw. They were surrounded at the base with the same coarse hair that covered the abdomen, but this hair was shorter and thicker. The muscles at the base of each fang convulsed and twitched separately from each other, the pinchers moving out of sync. Large clear droplets formed and fell.

The creature straightened its legs, raising into the air, it’s head brushing against the top of the ceiling.

“Ho… ho… ho…” It cried, its humanesque voice filling the large space. It’s head was level with mine as I stood in shock on the first floor landing.

There was a high pitched scream, and I looked to see my mother standing in the doorway of the bedroom she shared with my father.

It turned its head and looked at her. I could smell decay and blood heavy on its breath.

She screamed again.

Its face came towards her, and I heard a shot. The room illuminated with a sharp flash of light, and the beast erupted in a scream, the noise, like the bow of a violin being dragged roughly the wrong way against the waxed strings. It whipped its head towards dad, lowering its shoulders so that its eyes were in line with his. A black leg struck out with lightning speed and my father hit the wall behind him with a crack and a thud. He fell limply to the floor, his gun hitting the wood with a hollow thunk beside him.

I looked at my mother, who stood there in shock, shaking.

“Run!” I screamed, moving towards her. I grabbed her arm as I passed, and she followed me easily as if she had lost all agency. We ran up the stairs. My shoulder slammed hard into a wall as I turned sharply around the corner, pushing myself and my mother forward onto the third floor.

Hot pain radiated through my arm as I heard the procession of spindly legs on the landing below us. We raced towards my open bedroom door. As we approached, I turned to look behind me and saw the creature’s head emerge from the other stairway. I hesitated, drawn by the hideousness and monstrosity of the thing pulling its body - something that shouldn’t exist in this world - towards us.

My mom had regained her senses and began pulling me up. I followed, tears clouding my sight, and ran into my mother’s side as she stopped. I looked up at her and she picked me up, shoving me against something soft. I blinked tears away and was faced with a stuffed elephant. I was being pushed into the nook between the wall and the stairs. I understood and began to climb over my toys. When I reached the wall, cold from the winter night beyond it, I turned and, with my mom’s help, arranged the toys so they covered me as much as possible.

I saw her run up the remaining stairs, and heard metal hitting wood with a loud bang.

To my right was the noise of struggling and wood snapping. I held my breath. My view was soon eclipsed by something large and black. I strained to keep from screaming as I saw the white flesh of its humanoid shoulders only inches from my face.

My mom screamed and I heard something bounce off the beast with a bodily thud and land on my floor with a crash.

The creature screamed and I saw its abdomen lunged forward past my hiding spot, a red blur.

Suddenly, the room was illuminated with a flash and my ears rang. I was dazed. The world around me had grown silent, my hearing muted as if with cotton. I saw a white t-shirt emerge, cut off by the railing in front of my face. I soon recognized the shape as my father.

I waited, but the room was still. My hearing slowly came back, like a lens coming into focus, and I could hear my mother crying softly. My father’s heavy footsteps rang out as he walked the rest of the way up to my room.

“Where’s Jacob?” He asked, his voice flat.

I scooted out from my nook, animals and toys falling to the stairs clumsily.

“Dad?” My voice was small, smaller than I had ever heard it.

My father turned towards me, his face and shirt wet with a viscous blue liquid. My mother stepped out from behind my overturned bed. I climbed the remaining stairs to the tower floor and my father picked me up into a sticky hug. My mom walked to us and encircled both of us in an embrace. We shook where we stood, heavy blood covering every surface, my mom’s soft crying filling the empty silence.

I took a warm bath while my father and mother cleaned up the mess. I don’t know what they did with that thing’s body. Knowing my father, he probably took an axe to it and brought it, piece by piece, into the woods.

After my bath, my mother, now wearing jeans and a t-shirt, her hair tied loosely into a ponytail high on her head as if in the middle of spring cleaning, tucked me into her and my father’s queen bed, still clean and dry, and kissed me on the forehead.

We never talked about that night again. For most of my life, I had thought it had been a horrible nightmare.

Life in the farmhouse after that was uneventful. Every year, dad called an exterminator to come to the house and spray, paying careful attention to the chimney. My dad tried to get the chimney cleaned out so we could use the fireplace, but no matter what we did or how many professionals we called, fires would turn to black smoke, filling the house once again with the scent of burnt toast.

I’m in college now. Last year, like most of my peers, I went back home for Christmas. My childhood bed has since been replaced with a more comfortable full-size bed, but otherwise the room is pretty much how it was when I was a child, plus a few band posters and minus a lot of toys. I still keep my teddy bear however, in a special spot on my bookcase, and I still fall asleep staring up at the painted stars I have long since memorized.

The rest of the house, however, has been upgraded. With the fad of artisan crafted furniture, my dad’s woodworking has become a hot commodity. He’s even had a few celebrity clients. My parents have completely replaced all the old appliances with fancy high-tech gadgets. Both the roof and the red vinyl siding have been taken apart and completely replaced. The only thing that remains untouched is the old brick chimney.

The first night I was back, I woke up suddenly, as if from a nightmare. The red numbers on the clock beside my face read 3:00 AM.

My blood went cold as I heard a rustling beside my head and a soft echo of “ho… ho… ho…”

I closed my eyes tight, and waited. But nothing happened. Eventually I fell back asleep.

This year, I’m a sophomore, living in an apartment off campus with some friends. I invited my parents to spend Christmas with me here, since my roommates will be away. I’ve cleaned up all the empties and thrown away the old pizza boxes, and while it might not be the flashiest of Christmases - my decorating skills pale compared to my mother’s - at least we’ll be safe.

#nosleep #christmasstory #christmashorror #shorthorrorstory #creepypasta

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Fun Coeur d'Alene Wedding Chapel Spring Wedding

Fun Coeur d’Alene Wedding Chapel Spring Wedding

(Coeur d’Alene, Idaho)

Katie & Chad – 05/21/16

Venue & Wedding Details:

The Coeur d’Alene Wedding Chapel has stood as a proud sentinel at the corner of Wallace and 7th in the “Garden District” of Coeur d’Alene, Idaho for over 100 years.  This majestic white brick church and adjoining garden are skirted on all sides by lush greenery and vibrantly colored blooms; a stark contrast to the blanket of grey rain clouds enveloping the city on this cold May day.

We enter the garden gate and are immediately greeted by the tranquil gurgling of a water feature on the outdoor patio, followed by the happy bustling of preparations being made inside the tulle-laden reception hall beyond.  We wound our way through the historic chapel and found our beaming bride in an interior room smiling from ear to ear as she looked at herself in the full-length mirror.  Katie’s golden blonde hair swept up in curls at the nape of her neck just above her hands as she nervously adjusted the jeweled necklace at her throat.  The smile she wore at that moment lit her face the entire day, a testament to the vivacious and lighthearted spirit of this bride.

Moments after our arrival the groom and his entourage of family and groomsmen filled the opposite end of the building with deep laughter and palpable excitement.  Metal clanked against itself and the steady cadence of crutches approached.  We hurried to divert our dashing groom, Chad, away from his waiting bride until we were able to prepare the couple’s first-look encounter.

When we found him Chad stood proud in his dressing room, laughing and joking with his friends and soon-to-be son.  Other than the cane ever-present by his side and the brace forcing his pant leg to wrap tautly around his leg, no one would have even suspected that he had suffered a traumatic injury to his leg just two weeks earlier.

It was clear that Chad would let nothing stop him from marrying his bride and creating a family with her from this day forward.

Even though we knew Chad was a trooper, we wanted to be mindful of his comfort throughout the day.  The Coeur d’Alene Wedding Chapel’s garden and grounds offered us several picturesque areas to photograph the couple and their wedding party without putting undue strain on our groom.  We began the day’s adventure with the “First-Look” location.

Chad and Katie wanted to exchange notes they had lovingly hand-written each other prior to seeing one another on their wedding day; a beautiful, private sentiment.  We led Chad to a quiet room away from the rest of the group and had him stand with his back against an open hallway door.  We brought Katie through the hall to the other side of the door.  Back to back, the couple reached tentatively around the door and gently held each others hand before exchanging notes.�� They opened the notes in silence, each wiping away joyful tears as they read.  Soon enough the tears turned to laughter and Katie shyly crept around the door to see her man.  The first-look is often the most heart-felt and emotionally evocative moment of the day for us … this day was no exception.

We let the couple talk and adore the sight of one another for as long as we could before excited family started spilling into the room.  As much as everyone wanted to start the festivities early, we knew there was still much to do before the “I Do’s”.  A break in the rain gave us good reason to round-up the handsomely dressed wedding party and head outside for group pictures.

Instead of trying to hide Chad’s injury, the couple encouraged us to incorporate it into the images of the day:  We playfully used crutches to create a saber arch over the couple while the wedding party threw out their best jazz hands and theatrical poses; Chad made Katie giggle in a candid moment while balancing in a child-like swinging pose at the front entrance of the chapel; The groom and his court sat in the garden feigning sophistication while showing off colorful socks (and Chad’s brace); and Chad’s use of his cane while dancing at the reception was truly a sight to be had!

As the rain picked up again and guests began to trickle in, we returned to the inner rooms of the chapel for privacy and some one-on-one time with the bride and groom.  We chose to photograph in the groom’s dressing room because of the unique stained-glass windows along one wall and the rich woodwork throughout.

The shadows played on the faces and bodies of the couple, offering dramatic lighting and sultry composition.  We wanted to offer a timeless look at this couple’s love and affection for one another without reminding the viewer of Chad’s compromised state.

Sure, it was fun to capture images which poked fun at the unfortunate timing of the injury, but this is a stunning couple and they deserve to be photographed well also.

During the ceremony the couple exchanged personal vows of love, loyalty, and deep commitment to build each other up in Godly faith.  Not a dry eye remained after Chad knelt down and gently spoke directly to Katie’s son.  He vowed to not only honor his bride, but stand as a loving and nurturing father to the boy forever more.

As should be expected, this amazing couple is loved and supported by some pretty outstanding family and friends.  The wedding reception was filled with joy, laughter, scrumptious food, sweet homemade treats, and sooo much lively dancing!  Speeches made drew a picture of two wonderful people who had been living fulfilling lives separately, yet waiting for partners who appreciated the deep bounty they had to offer.  Clearly, their faith and strong personal character would lend themselves well to building a lasting bond between these two gentile souls.

We snuck away from the celebration while the party was in full dance mode.  The clouds had parted, and stars shone brightly in the crispy, night sky.  The passing of the rain and the exhilarating warmth which radiated from inside us made us appreciate the tepid evening air.

As we drove away and I replayed the day’s events in my mind, I was reminded of 2 Corinthians 4:17 (NLT) “For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever!”  I believe Chad and Katie take the truth in this statement to heart … Not just in their acceptance of larger life events (such as past heartaches), but also the grace with which they handle smaller annoyances (like a broken leg on their wedding day).  We honor their humble spirits and wish them a lifetime of joy together!

Highlight of the Day:

Jeremiah and I have an infinite soft spot for blended families.  Watching Katie’s heart fill with love for her groom as he poured his love out to his new son was just the kind of thing that makes our hearts brim with hope.  Parenting is difficult, and step-parenting exponentially more so.  However, with the right heart toward the children involved, there can be so much healing and closeness that comes from the creation of a new family unit.

Voice Behind the Lens:

Indoor wedding and reception venues offer year-round convenience, romantic backdrops, and cozy nooks … where they challenge photographers is in color, light, and space.  Jeremiah knows the ins-and-outs of photographing at the Coeur d’Alene Wedding Chapel better than any other venue; he has photographed more weddings in this particular venue than any other in his career.  In fact, the first wedding he photographed was at this exact location!  Here are a few points he is mindful of while photographing here.

The wedding chapel offers natural lighting which originates from intricate stained-glass windows lining the outer walls.  While the ambient light is warm and comforting, the light that shows up in pictures is more orange than is appealing; Jeremiah must adjust the temperature of the images to offset.  While some color temperature can be adjusted during editing, he also knows to make critical adjustments during the shoot.

Dark composition can create captivation, moody images, but it can also make the subjects dull and poorly defined.  Jeremiah uses natural light whenever possible.  However, he supplements the available natural light with bounce flash and off-camera flash.  The bounce flash ‘bounces’ light off of the ceiling or adjacent light surface to minimize the appearance of “crazy shadow people” behind his subjects while lending more light to the overall space.  Off-camera flash helps us add definition to specific details in the image.

While lighting can be manipulated, Jeremiah must work within the limitations of space in any indoor venue.  This proves challenging when Jeremiah photographs large-group shots during the festivities of the reception.  Many would-be subjects naturally turn away from a camera creating disjointed group images.  Jeremiah gives subtle direction to his subjects to maximize available space (and light).

Beautiful blonde bride raises her pastel bouquet to the sky offering a side view of her ruffled mermaid gown.

Fit and smiling bridesmaids in soft pink toga style dresses make fun and silly faces holding pastel floral bouquets

Groom with cane and groomsmen in dapper grey vests strike a pose in the garden on a rainy afternoon

Smiling blonde bride with updo and strapless gown in background, pastel rose and baby’s breath bouquet in foreground

Young bride and groom look over their shoulders and walk together holding hands in the garden under an umbrella on their rainy wedding day

Groomsmen sit together on the patio looking serious with their pant legs pulled up for this funny sock image

Radiant bride in fitted bodice gown and gemstone necklace, filtered sunlight in backyard garden creates a magical contrast with tree foliage

On the front steps of the Coeur d’Alene Wedding Chapel our bride and groom playfully accept the rain and injured knee that are a part of their special day

Back to back, with a door between, this bride fans away tears while her groom carefully reads the pre-ceremony notes exchanged just before they saw each other for the first time

Bride and groom in black and white, back to back, while reading sweet private notes to each other

Dramatic black and white image of bride looking coyly over her shoulder. The stained glass and cross shadowing her body, face, and beautiful fitted sequence gown

The rich woodwork, craftsman style, and bold wainscoting add architectural detail to this image of our bride and groom just before the ceremony

Shadow and dramatic lighting make this black and white image of our groom kissing his bride’s cheek romantic and candid

Our sweet bride got sassy when she popped her rhinestone necklace and framed her face with the lovely pastel rose bouquet

Elegant and stunning, this bride and flowergirl have matching dresses and lovely smiles

At the alter, posing for a quick selfie, just after this fun couple said “I DO”

Always a good sport, our groom is helped down the aisle by his lovely bride while smiling and being cheered on by guests

Tables of hand-crafted sweets dotted the wedding buffet table, but this “God gave me you” rhinestone wedding cake topper provided the ‘sweet spot’ for our ring shot

Super fun and energetic, this wedding party looked great and was a blast to photograph. We used the groom’s cane and crutches to create a fun and memorable group shot in the garden

Low lighting at the intimate wedding reception hall made capturing special moments a challenge. Luckily, our radiant bride’s happiness shone brightly as she danced and hugged her groom

Our bride and groom turn up the volume and dance the night away with their loved ones, a perfect day for a perfect couple

Elegant and scrumptious, this white chocolate wedding cake top was ornately adorned with a lovely “God Gave Me You” jeweled cake topper and skirted with pearls and black satin ribbon

White and silver gilded presents atop the gift table sit next to a sweet note tree full of loving words for the newlyweds.

Shy flower girl takes a break from dancing during the wedding reception to steal a sweet dessert from the decadent spread of homemade treats.

The large basement reception hall at Coeur d’Alene Wedding Chapel is large yet cozy, and the decorations are enchanting

The ladies of this family pulled out all the stops when preparing all of the sweet reception desserts by hand… one more delicious than the last.

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Fun Coeur d'Alene Wedding Chapel Spring Wedding

Beautiful blonde bride raises her pastel bouquet to the sky offering a side view of her ruffled mermaid gown.

Fit and smiling bridesmaids in soft pink toga style dresses make fun and silly faces holding pastel floral bouquets

Groom with cane and groomsmen in dapper grey vests strike a pose in the garden on a rainy afternoon

Smiling blonde bride with updo and strapless gown in background, pastel rose and baby’s breath bouquet in foreground

Young bride and groom look over their shoulders and walk together holding hands in the garden under an umbrella on their rainy wedding day

Groomsmen sit together on the patio looking serious with their pant legs pulled up for this funny sock image

Radiant bride in fitted bodice gown and gemstone necklace, filtered sunlight in backyard garden creates a magical contrast with tree foliage

On the front steps of the Coeur d��Alene Wedding Chapel our bride and groom playfully accept the rain and injured knee that are a part of their special day

Back to back, with a door between, this bride fans away tears while her groom carefully reads the pre-ceremony notes exchanged just before they saw each other for the first time

Bride and groom in black and white, back to back, while reading sweet private notes to each other

Dramatic black and white image of bride looking coyly over her shoulder. The stained glass and cross shadowing her body, face, and beautiful fitted sequence gown

The rich woodwork, craftsman style, and bold wainscoting add architectural detail to this image of our bride and groom just before the ceremony

Shadow and dramatic lighting make this black and white image of our groom kissing his bride’s cheek romantic and candid

Our sweet bride got sassy when she popped her rhinestone necklace and framed her face with the lovely pastel rose bouquet

Elegant and stunning, this bride and flowergirl have matching dresses and lovely smiles

At the alter, posing for a quick selfie, just after this fun couple said “I DO”

Always a good sport, our groom is helped down the aisle by his lovely bride while smiling and being cheered on by guests

Tables of hand-crafted sweets dotted the wedding buffet table, but this “God gave me you” rhinestone wedding cake topper provided the ‘sweet spot’ for our ring shot

Super fun and energetic, this wedding party looked great and was a blast to photograph. We used the groom’s cane and crutches to create a fun and memorable group shot in the garden

Low lighting at the intimate wedding reception hall made capturing special moments a challenge. Luckily, our radiant bride’s happiness shone brightly as she danced and hugged her groom

Our bride and groom turn up the volume and dance the night away with their loved ones, a perfect day for a perfect couple

Elegant and scrumptious, this white chocolate wedding cake top was ornately adorned with a lovely “God Gave Me You” jeweled cake topper and skirted with pearls and black satin ribbon

White and silver gilded presents atop the gift table sit next to a sweet note tree full of loving words for the newlyweds.

Shy flower girl takes a break from dancing during the wedding reception to steal a sweet dessert from the decadent spread of homemade treats.

The large basement reception hall at Coeur d’Alene Wedding Chapel is large yet cozy, and the decorations are enchanting

The ladies of this family pulled out all the stops when preparing all of the sweet reception desserts by hand… one more delicious than the last.

Coeur d’Alene Wedding Chapel Wedding

(Coeur d’Alene, Idaho)

Katie & Chad – 05/21/16

Venue & Wedding Details:

The Coeur d’Alene Wedding Chapel has stood as a proud sentinel at the corner of Wallace and 7th in the “Garden District” of Coeur d’Alene, Idaho for over 100 years.  This majestic white brick church and adjoining garden are skirted on all sides by lush greenery and vibrantly colored blooms; a stark contrast to the blanket of grey rain clouds enveloping the city on this cold May day.

We enter the garden gate and are immediately greeted by the tranquil gurgling of a water feature on the outdoor patio, followed by the happy bustling of preparations being made inside the tulle-laden reception hall beyond.  We wound our way through the historic chapel and found our beaming bride in an interior room smiling from ear to ear as she looked at herself in the full-length mirror.  Katie’s golden blonde hair swept up in curls at the nape of her neck just above her hands as she nervously adjusted the jeweled necklace at her throat.  The smile she wore at that moment lit her face the entire day, a testament to the vivacious and lighthearted spirit of this bride.

Moments after our arrival the groom and his entourage of family and groomsmen filled the opposite end of the building with deep laughter and palpable excitement.  Metal clanked against itself and the steady cadence of crutches approached.  We hurried to divert our dashing groom, Chad, away from his waiting bride until we were able to prepare the couple’s first-look encounter.

When we found him Chad stood proud in his dressing room, laughing and joking with his friends and soon-to-be son.  Other than the cane ever-present by his side and the brace forcing his pant leg to wrap tautly around his leg, no one would have even suspected that he had suffered a traumatic injury to his leg just two weeks earlier.

It was clear that Chad would let nothing stop him from marrying his bride and creating a family with her from this day forward.

Even though we knew Chad was a trooper, we wanted to be mindful of his comfort throughout the day.  The Coeur d’Alene Wedding Chapel’s garden and grounds offered us several picturesque areas to photograph the couple and their wedding party without putting undue strain on our groom.  We began the day’s adventure with the “First-Look” location.

Chad and Katie wanted to exchange notes they had lovingly hand-written each other prior to seeing one another on their wedding day; a beautiful, private sentiment.  We led Chad to a quiet room away from the rest of the group and had him stand with his back against an open hallway door.  We brought Katie through the hall to the other side of the door.  Back to back, the couple reached tentatively around the door and gently held each others hand before exchanging notes.  They opened the notes in silence, each wiping away joyful tears as they read.  Soon enough the tears turned to laughter and Katie shyly crept around the door to see her man.  The first-look is often the most heart-felt and emotionally evocative moment of the day for us … this day was no exception.

We let the couple talk and adore the sight of one another for as long as we could before excited family started spilling into the room.  As much as everyone wanted to start the festivities early, we knew there was still much to do before the “I Do’s”.  A break in the rain gave us good reason to round-up the handsomely dressed wedding party and head outside for group pictures.

Instead of trying to hide Chad’s injury, the couple encouraged us to incorporate it into the images of the day:  We playfully used crutches to create a saber arch over the couple while the wedding party threw out their best jazz hands and theatrical poses; Chad made Katie giggle in a candid moment while balancing in a child-like swinging pose at the front entrance of the chapel; The groom and his court sat in the garden feigning sophistication while showing off colorful socks (and Chad’s brace); and Chad’s use of his cane while dancing at the reception was truly a sight to be had!

As the rain picked up again and guests began to trickle in, we returned to the inner rooms of the chapel for privacy and some one-on-one time with the bride and groom.  We chose to photograph in the groom’s dressing room because of the unique stained-glass windows along one wall and the rich woodwork throughout.

The shadows played on the faces and bodies of the couple, offering dramatic lighting and sultry composition.  We wanted to offer a timeless look at this couple’s love and affection for one another without reminding the viewer of Chad’s compromised state.

Sure, it was fun to capture images which poked fun at the unfortunate timing of the injury, but this is a stunning couple and they deserve to be photographed well also.

During the ceremony the couple exchanged personal vows of love, loyalty, and deep commitment to build each other up in Godly faith.  Not a dry eye remained after Chad knelt down and gently spoke directly to Katie’s son.  He vowed to not only honor his bride, but stand as a loving and nurturing father to the boy forever more.

As should be expected, this amazing couple is loved and supported by some pretty outstanding family and friends.  The wedding reception was filled with joy, laughter, scrumptious food, sweet homemade treats, and sooo much lively dancing!  Speeches made drew a picture of two wonderful people who had been living fulfilling lives separately, yet waiting for partners who appreciated the deep bounty they had to offer.  Clearly, their faith and strong personal character would lend themselves well to building a lasting bond between these two gentile souls.

We snuck away from the celebration while the party was in full dance mode.  The clouds had parted, and stars shone brightly in the crispy, night sky.  The passing of the rain and the exhilarating warmth which radiated from inside us made us appreciate the tepid evening air.

As we drove away and I replayed the day’s events in my mind, I was reminded of 2 Corinthians 4:17 (NLT) “For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever!”  I believe Chad and Katie take the truth in this statement to heart … Not just in their acceptance of larger life events (such as past heartaches), but also the grace with which they handle smaller annoyances (like a broken leg on their wedding day).  We honor their humble spirits and wish them a lifetime of joy together!

Highlight of the Day:

Jeremiah and I have an infinite soft spot for blended families.  Watching Katie’s heart fill with love for her groom as he poured his love out to his new son was just the kind of thing that makes our hearts brim with hope.  Parenting is difficult, and step-parenting exponentially more so.  However, with the right heart toward the children involved, there can be so much healing and closeness that comes from the creation of a new family unit.

Voice Behind the Lens:

Indoor wedding and reception venues offer year-round convenience, romantic backdrops, and cozy nooks … where they challenge photographers is in color, light, and space.  Jeremiah knows the ins-and-outs of photographing at the Coeur d’Alene Wedding Chapel better than any other venue; he has photographed more weddings in this particular venue than any other in his career.  In fact, the first wedding he photographed was at this exact location!  Here are a few points he is mindful of while photographing here.

The wedding chapel offers natural lighting which originates from intricate stained-glass windows lining the outer walls.  While the ambient light is warm and comforting, the light that shows up in pictures is more orange than is appealing; Jeremiah must adjust the temperature of the images to offset.  While some color temperature can be adjusted during editing, he also knows to make critical adjustments during the shoot.

Dark composition can create captivation, moody images, but it can also make the subjects dull and poorly defined.  Jeremiah uses natural light whenever possible.  However, he supplements the available natural light with bounce flash and off-camera flash.  The bounce flash ‘bounces’ light off of the ceiling or adjacent light surface to minimize the appearance of “crazy shadow people” behind his subjects while lending more light to the overall space.  Off-camera flash helps us add definition to specific details in the image.

While lighting can be manipulated, Jeremiah must work within the limitations of space in any indoor venue.  This proves challenging when Jeremiah photographs large-group shots during the festivities of the reception.  Many would-be subjects naturally turn away from a camera creating disjointed group images.  Jeremiah gives subtle direction to his subjects to maximize available space (and light).

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#best cda wedding photography #cda wedding chapel #cda wedding photographer #coeur d alene church venue #coeur d alene indoor wedding venue #coeur d alene weddings