#bare-throated whistler

[alonglistofbirds]

[621/10,977] Bare-throated Whistler - Pachycephala nudigula

Order: Passeriformes Suborder: Passeri Family: Pachycephalidae (whistlers and shrikethrushes)

Photo credit: Lars Petersson via Macaulay Library

[resident-idiot-simp]

BROOOO I FORGOT WHISTLER HAD CANCER IN THE FIRST BLADE MOVIE.

We appreciate easy angst in this household.

Blade who smelled the cancer on Deadpool as soon as he was near and it broke his heart as he remembered his mentor. Then when he reluctantly enjoyed the idiots company and even more so when he saved them from the void.

He asked Logan about it one day. Logan too knew the smell and he to was worried.

One day Logan and Blade were hanging out in Wade's apartment while he was out collecting money for a job he and Logan finished. Althea just casually asked when the cancerous tumor would be back.

Blade and Logan looked at one another with wide eyes. "You know about the cancer?" Logan asked tentatively.

"Of course I do one of the first things he told me when I met him. He had super cancer and now he couldn't die."

Logan looked positively startled. Blade spoke up next. "What does the cancer have to do with him not dying?"

"Oh he's dying he's constantly dying. It's just he's constantly regenerating cancer. Pretty sure it's because of you actually Logan or at least this world's Logan."

Logan looked at Blade with big eyes and Blade was even more curious now. Blade likes Althea she reminded him of Whistler in her own ways.

"What do you mean It's because of me?" Logan asked sounding as if he dreaded the answer.

"Off shoot of Weapon X got him if I remember right he said they used your DNA." Al said flippantly.

Logan felt his heart drop and a growl threatened to escape his throat and Blade held back a hiss.

"How did the offshoot get him?" Blade asked. Al sounded somber then as she answered. "The cancer. He was dying he was desperate and they convinced him they would save his life and cure it make him a hero."

Logan couldn't stop the growl then and Blade bared his own fangs with a hiss of displeasure.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Simply Save Me

Pairing: Scud x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cock warming; minor drug use; sexual themes

Summary: Scud is a known bad boy but what happens when you act like a bad girl?

A/N: Just catching plot bunnies with @lazyneonrabbitt 🩵

It was incredibly difficult to keep still, nearly impossible. You were so full, the intrusion that at first burned had morphed into a pleasurable stretch. You were near desperate to feel him moving inside you, massaging your deepest walls. 

“Josh.” You had your arms wound around his neck with your face buried against his shoulder. The position was necessary so he could adequately see the screen. With his biceps bracketing your ribs, he was able to handle the controller, moving it back and forth instinctually trying to encapsulate the movements on the television. 

“Come on, man! It was right there!” Scud yelled into the headset. You wanted to shush him, suddenly afraid that Blade or, oh god, Whistler would barge in to complain about the noise. They would find you utterly bare and split open on your boyfriend’s cock, clinging to him with tears in your eyes. Scud was still clothed, belt and zipper spread open. It was bad enough that the strangers he chose to game with could hear every whine and whimper.

“Please, Josh. Please.” You brushed your lips over his throat, licking his pulse point and feeling his heartbeat thrumming beneath your tongue. 

“Sit still, baby. Almost got this round in the bag.” He leaned, continuing to press buttons on the controller while grabbing up the half of a joint from the ashtray. The movement had him nearly pulling out only to fully re-enter you. 

“God, I need you. Please.” You began to roll your hips, the smell of weed wafting into your nostrils to combine with the spicy scent of his skin. He grunted and placed one hand on your hip, growling when you heard the specific tone indicating his character in the game had died. 

“Aw, man. Crash and burn. Couldn’t just stay still, could ya, girl? Wasn’t enough to just sit pretty on me, just had to take more.” You continued at a slow pace, already panting from the pleasure, how your walls would tighten only to be stretched back open with each downward roll. 

“I’m sorry, baby, I just needed you so bad.” You breathed against his ear. The controller and headset hit the floor with a thud and then his other hand was sliding up your side, over to palm at your breast. “Oh, god, yes. Touch me.” One hand disappeared as he hit the joint one last time, holding his breath as he put it out in the ashtray.  

“Gonna wish you’d been good for me, babe.” He smirked with smoke billowing from his mouth and nose. Both hands slid around to your ass, grabbing greedy handfuls before gripping tight to lift you with him as he stood. You whimpered when he pulled out and deposited you on his bed, your hungry cunt left clenching around nothing. 

The drawer to the nightstand slid open. You knew exactly what that meant for you. He was considering all the options at his disposal, finally reaching inside to pull out something with a quick flash of purple. Scud was notorious for tweaking anything he could use in the bedroom or crafting something of his own. A shiver ran over your form, anticipation building. You never knew what your boyfriend had planned for you. And you had just given him plenty reason to torture you in the most pleasurable ways his skilled mind could create. 

Bowing over you at the same time something silicone pressed against your hot core, the inventor kissed you, grinning against your lips. 

“Hold on, baby girl. The Scudster’s gonna show you what happens when you don’t behave.”

[flyingpotstickers]

Also for the word prompt: lips

Her lips pursed in a look of utter agony. Kate was unable to look away, though, as Lucy walked into the office.

It was still the week of their big fight, so she was still in the doghouse (obviously--- she didn't plan on succeeding when it came to the Great Escape. She wanted to though.)

Lucy wore a jacket that caught Kate's eye, her eyes scanning incredulously. Even after all the anger, after all the betrayal, Lucy was wearing Kate's clothing.

Kate could have cried, if she wasn't stronger. But she was. She squared her jaw, her shoulders straightening back. "Agent Tara, what can I do for you?" Her voice was way too stern, too callous. She winced. "Sorry," she muttered under her breath.

She would not be winning Lucy back with this behaviour.

She cleared her throat as she felt eyes on her. "Staying on the couch on purpose are we, Whistler?" One of the boys asked with a light sneer, snickers abundant.

"Shut up." Lucy snapped, surprising Kate and the team both. Lord knew that Lucy meant business now. Kate winced again. "I'm sorry, Lucy. I'm so---" She was startled into silence when Lucy got up close to her.

"Shut up," Lucy again said. This time quieter, this time gripping the lapels of Kate's jacket.

"Shutting up." Kate agreed with a gulp.

"Glad we have that under control." Lucy quipped as she actually smiled at her. Kate could have cried. If she were lesser, of course. She swallowed thickly instead. Their lips were close enough to touch, but didn't. Just barely, only hanging on by a thread of sanity.

She cleared her throat. "What are you doing?" Kate asked in a hushed whisper. Lucy's grip tightened.

"Making up. I'm tired of fighting. But this is it, Whistler. Your last chance. I can't do this again. Not when-- when you mean so much." Lucy said. "Is that okay with you?"

Kate nodded immediately --- anything she wanted.

"Wait. You're- you're gonna give me another chance?" Kate could hardly believe her luck.

"Don't screw this one up." one of the other boys shouted, making them remember they had an audience.

Oops.

Then?

Then they kissed, Kate dipping Lucy down in an arch. "I won't break your heart again." She promised.

[gible-love-nibles-archive]

Eternal Diva Fic (Part 8)

Here we go, we're past the halfway point now! And once again, we've got a long chapter ahead of us. This is me pressing the fast-forward button on the remote to get to my favorite part (JOKE).

Trigger warnings for child abuse (mainly being held in place), mentions of kidnapping, and mentions of death

Word Count: 2.1k / Previous / Next

We eventually came into a gigantic room with bare white walls and a red carpet.  The only things of note in the room was the large machine shoved against the back and elevated on a platform, and the massive red and green wires snaking on the floor.

I barely had a chance to look at those before a snarl made me turn my head.  A few familiar wolves were glaring right at me, fangs bared.

“Heel,” Descole commanded.  Immediately, they all backed down and sat. “She’s no threat.  Just keep an eye on her.” He turned over to me. “Please don’t pet the wolves.”

“That just makes me want to pet them more.”

He let out a short groan, but the curl of his lip suggested he was more amused than annoyed.

“Descole, who-- what is she doing here?!” I was shocked to see Mr. Whistler standing up on the platform, staring down at us in similar shock.

“She was running around where she didn’t belong and my men were being utterly incompetent in capturing her,” the masked man answered nonchalantly as our whole group walked up to meet him. “I had to take matters into my own hands.”

“Did-Did she see anything?  Anything at all?”

“All I saw was a headache,” I cut in. “I’ve never seen such a gaudy or confusing castle.” Mr. Whistler hummed in his throat and turned back to the machine.  It was only then I got a good look at it. “Wait… that’s not--”

“The Detragan,” Descole answered. “We brought it from the ship.”

“...What do you need a giant music machine for?” As the words came out, I felt a pit form in my stomach.  Descole was the one who made the thing.  Of course it wouldn’t be just a music machine.  But what other purpose did this thing have?

Mr. Whistler wasn’t listening to us, instead stroking a hand on the machine’s wooden frame.  “Have we come… to the end?”

“Everything is going according to plan, as I told you it would do,” the masked man reassured his partner, though I could hear hints of annoyance in his voice.

The opera director whipped around with an angry look. “You kidnapped people!  You sold all those tickets!  That’s no plan!”

Descole smirked and chuckled a bit. “Well, that was my plan,” he said smugly.

Just like he said before, the whole game for eternal life was just that: a game.  A scam to get some money out of some gullible rich people.  …But something about it still didn’t add up.

“What do you get out of this?” I finally asked.  The men both turned.  “What do you get out of tricking people to believe there's a way to get eternal life?  What do you get out of dragging people onto this island?”

“That's something you couldn't possibly understand.” I guessed Descole was being even cagier than usual because he didn’t want his business partner to know we knew each other.

On the other hand, Mr. Whistler sighed deeply. “You're too young… You're too young to understand.”

“Mr. Whistler.”

“What it's like to— To—“

“Oswald.” Descole barely changed his tone, but he somehow sounded much colder.  Mr. Whistler's voice caught in his throat and he turned away.

Whatever this plan was… it was something very emotionally charged for the composer.

But if that didn't demonstrate who was really in charge here, nothing would.

Footsteps from the back of the room made us all turn.  My heart sank as Amelia ascended the step along with a ring of Descole’s men.

“What’s she doing here?” I growled, but both men were focused squarely on Amelia.

“Ms. Clare?” she asked. “Mr. Whistler?  Are you both involved in this?”

“No, I’m not!  Amelia--” I tried to step forward, but someone suddenly grabbing my arm made me turn back.  Descole had me gripped tight and he stared at me with an unreadable expression.  I swallowed hard.

“Did… Did Ms. Clare get here first then?”

“Come, come, Amelia.  Everything’s ok,” Mr. Whistler reassured her.  

As much as I hoped and prayed she wouldn’t, the young girl stepped closer.  “Wh-Where are the others?”

“You’ve won the game!  Ms. Clare… forfeited the prize to whoever came after her.  And that’s you, Amelia!  You will receive eternal life!”

“From… the Detragan?”

“This beautiful instrument doesn’t just play music, Amelia.  It will also give you the gift you crave of eternal life!”

“How’s the Detragan going to give her eternal life?” I half-asked, half-shouted. “Wasn’t it the Elixir of Life that did that in the legends?”

Suddenly, Descole threw me away from himself, Amelia and Mr. Whistler.  It had enough force to have me stumble away and yelp, right into two of his men who promptly pinned my arms to my back.

“And it was I who created it,” he said proudly, completely ignoring my question.  He produced a key from (I presumed) a pocket in his suit.  He slotted it into a hole on a complicated side machine, which turned the entire thing on.  He turned a couple dials here, flipped a couple switches there, and the Detragan roared to life.

Still, something made Mr. Whistler panic as he hastily shoved Amelia towards a chair and a strange pedestal with a helmet on it.

Amelia started to protest. “Wait!  I don’t want eternal life!  I want to give it to my granddad!  He only has a month to live!”

Meanwhile, I was thrashing around wildly, trying to break free.  Descole’s wolf pack had started to circle around me and my captors, teeth bared.

Amelia jumped out of the chair Mr. Whistler pushed her into. “He has to drink the Elixir of Life!” I watched in horror as a whole swarm of Descole’s men swarmed around her, preventing her escape.

“There is no Elixir of Life,” the composer said gravely.

Amelia struggled more as the goons held her in place.  She locked eyes with me.  “Please, Ms. Clare!!  Help!!”

“I’M-- TRYING--”

The composer put the helmet on the young girl’s head and grabbed a lever. “Please, Mr. Whistler!!”

“AMELIA--!!”

“Enough!” The new voice caught everyone’s attention.  

A familiar woman in a yellow coat rushed over to Amelia’s aid, battling and easily defeating Descole’s men.  Emmy!  I didn’t even care to question how she got here.  Luke joined her, but only to make sure Amelia was safe.

Meanwhile, a man’s nearby yell made me turn towards the source.  I just barely caught Inspector Grosky barreling his way into the men that held me, sending them both-- and me-- into the floor.  Descole’s wolves retreated back to the masked man’s side.

“Er, sorry about that, miss,” the inspector said sheepishly as he helped me back up.

“No problem, Grosky.  Thanks for the rescue.”

“Mr. Whistler!” Layton stepped forward.  Behind him were Janice and the little girl from earlier.  Grosky hurried behind him too to watch the young girl, while I stayed in place. “I have deduced you never intended to give eternal life to the winner!  On the contrary: you were intending to steal that person’s life!  Take it away from them!”

The composer briefly squirmed under the accusations, but he steeled himself. “That is just not true.”

“I’ve finally discovered the truth… The awful truth behind this game.”

Here it was: Layton’s brilliant deduction at work to solve even the most complicated mysteries.

He started to explain: because Mr. Whistler’s daughter Melina was sick and near death, he commissioned Descole to build the Detragan.  But the Detragan wasn’t just a machine that played music.  It was a machine that could copy a person’s personality and memories, and then send the copy into someone else’s brain.

I was utterly baffled.  I stared at Descole, wondering how on earth you would even start figuring out something like that.  He noticed me looking.  He grinned proudly, silently saying, “Impressed?”

Layton continued: Unfortunately, the transfers didn’t go quite to plan.  The host’s real personality and memories would remain and eventually force out the copy.  And he had proof: the little girl, Mina.  

He kneeled down to her level as he approached her. “Tell me again,” he asked gently. “That person who you were talking to before.”

Mina gave him a smile and nodded. “It-It was Melina! But she’s gone now.”

Everyone was shocked, while Mr. Whistler looked completely devastated.

Layton stood back up and went on: the composer knew Mina’s memories were returning to her, which meant Melina would be lost yet again.  He needed to find a host that would accept his daughter’s memories.  That was to be Amelia, and who knows how many other girls if this hadn’t stopped.

“So, all you wished was to copy Melina’s memory to keep her alive forever.” The professor finished.

“Very impressive Layton,” Descole piped up. “When did you realise I was involved?”

“I suspected it for a while, and my suspicions were confirmed when I saw this gloomy castle.  Then I knew it must be you orchestrating this plot, Descole!”

The masked man just laughed.

Suddenly, Mr. Whistler whipped off Luke’s hat and shoved the helmet on his head. “This one… will have to do!  I can’t let her memories fade!”

Everyone panicked as Oswald dragged the boy towards the lever, and before anyone could do anything, the switch was flipped down.

Luke yelled out, but… Nothing happened.  No whir of machinery, no crackle of electricity.  Just silence.

Just as confused as everyone else, Descole turned to the side panel.  The answer stared him right in the face: the key that turned on the machine was missing.

Mr. Whistler ran over and saw the same thing. “Who took the key?!  Who took it!?” In an angry panic, the composer rushed Layton. “Layton!  Was it you!?  Give it back!” He grabbed the professor’s jacket and started to shake Layton. “The Detragan can’t hold her memories much longer!  She’ll disappear forever!!”

“Please calm yourself,” Layton said, the closest I’ve ever heard him be to annoyed. “I know who has the key.” He released himself from Oswald’s grip. “That person holds the key to the Detragan.  And to explain all the mysteries in this case, they know everything you’ve done.”

“Who is it?!”

“You haven’t guessed?  They hid themselves carefully, to save you from your mistakes.”

“So… who is it then, Professor?” Luke asked.

Layton whipped around, pointing an accusatory finger… at Janice Quatlane.  “It is you!”

Janice didn’t have much of a reaction, only looking mildly guilty.

“Wha-- J-Janice?!”

Everyone was shocked; even Descole seemed a bit surprised.

“I think it is time to tell us everything, Janice.  Or should I say, Melina.”

Unlike Oswald (her father???), Janice (Melina???) didn’t try to deny anything. “...You’re right.  I am Melina.” Mr. Whistler was gobsmacked.

Janice… No, Melina started to tell her version of events.  Janice was the first person Mr. Whistler attempted to put Melina’s memories into.  It seemed like a failure at first, but-- due to them being close friends-- Janice buried her personality willingly and allowed Melina’s memories to be fully transferred.  Melina essentially took control of Janice’s body.  Melina had been sick all her life, and now she could live life without that restriction.  She could walk, dance, sing-- most things normal people take for granted.

“Th-Then I didn’t need anyone else!” the composer said incredulously.

Descole began to clap. “Congratulations, Whistler! We’ve accomplished our objective.”

Melina continued.  As time went on, she felt more and more guilty and realised how wrong this all was.  She was living at the cost of someone else’s life.  While they weren’t dying per say, their time on earth was being stolen away.

“So you sent me that letter?” Layton asked.  Luke, Emma, and Amelia stuck behind him; I still hadn’t moved.

“Yes… Janice told me you were the right man, Professor.  You were the only hope… of stopping my father.” Her voice started to crack, and she cast a sad look at Oswald. “N-No, I can’t take other people’s lives.  I knew while Father had that machine that he would never let me go.”

Mr. Whistler struggled to say anything, only letting out her name.

Melina turned back to Layton. “Janice has told me so many great things about you, Professor.  She is very, very fond of you indeed.”

Knowing Melina had been with us this whole time was quite hard to imagine.  But it was the truth.

“Melina…” Mr. Whistler had finally found his voice as he stumbled over to her. “I-- A-All I did… It was all for you.”

She gently took Oswald’s hand. “Thank you Father.  Thank you for your love.  But… please, this all has to stop!”

“How can I possibly keep on living without you here with me?  Tell me!!”

This heart wrenching reunion between father and daughter was abruptly interrupted by the ground shaking beneath everyone.  Everyone cried out in alarm, including me.

“Professor!  The roof!”

Just like at the opera, the roof started to open up.  But this time, it didn’t reveal the stars.  This time… I couldn’t see what it was.

Oh no.

[birds-that-screm]

Bare-throated Whistler (Pachycephala nudigula)

© Lars Petersson

[birdstudies]

September 29, 2018 - Bare-throated Whistler (Pachycephala nudigula)

These whistlers are found in parts of the Lesser Sunda islands in Indonesia. They feed on insects and spiders, picking their prey from branches and leaves in the understory and middle story of the forest. Little is known about their nesting behavior, but their breeding season is between May and July. Though they are considered a species of Least Concern by the IUCN, their population is likely decreasing due to habitat loss and degradation, as well as trapping.

[kacywhistler]

Kacytober Day 22- Pool

“ We really don’t have to do this” Kate says looking at Lucy who is gripping her hand.

“Uh no, I’m ready” Lucy nervously replies gripping Kate’s hand tighter.

“Okay how about I get in and you can sit here till you feel ready” 

Lucy looks up at Kate “yeah okay, thank you for being so patient with me” she says getting on her tippy toes to kiss Kate.

“Ofcource” Kate says removing her cover up

Lucy is about to say something but she stops as she takes in Kate in a blue two piece.

“Eye up here” she hears Kate say

Lucy clears her throat “uh yeah, how about you get in the pool” she says barely stumbling over her words.

Kate presses a kiss to Lucy’s cheek before sauntering to the swimming pool.

I definitely didn't think this through Lucy thinks to herself as she shamelessly watches Kate enter the water.

Lucy sits down on the bench, eyes following Kate as she swims effortlessly. Lucy takes a deep breath trying to keep her arousal and nervousness at bay.

She spends the next ten minutes calming herself down, glancing occasionally at Kate’s direction, she stands up and starts heading towards the pool.

Kate sees Lucy approaching the water and swims towards her, “hey there” . 

“I’m ready,” Lucy says nervously.

“Are you sure” 

“As sure as I’ll ever be” Lucy says, swallowing hard as she dips her leg in the water.

“What are you doing?” Kate questions her.

“Getting in the pool” Lucy responds a little annoyed.

“I thought you’d start with the kiddie pool” Kate says before erupting into laughter.

Lucy rolls her eyes, “very funny Whistler” 

“I’m sorry I had to,” Kate says, giving her a small smile.

Lucy takes a deep breath before taking a few steps into the water before she wraps herself around Kate.

“Not too bad huh” Kate asks, wrapping her hand around Lucy and placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Still don’t understand the need to have so much water in one place for fun” she says rolling her eyes and wrapping her legs tighter around Kate.

“I’ll make sure you’re okay Luce” 

“I don’t doubt that babe” Lucy says before pulling Kate in for a kiss. 

[jdwright8330]

Distracted Special Agent Lucy Tara, Kacy fan fiction

Note - WARNING : SLIGHTLY NSFW

This is my lame attempt at smut, I think it could be better but smut seems so hard to write. Any suggestions, comments, criticism is always appreciated. A little rewrite of their balcony scene.

There’s not a lot of things that can disarm or distract special agent Lucy Tara especially when it comes to her job, but of course there was someone that could always distract her and that was none other than DIA Officer Kate Whistler.

Enjoying their fair trade coffee on Kate’s balcony, Kate is reading the newspaper, and Lucy can’t help but be distracted by Kates long legs in that skirt. Seeing that Kate is engrossed in her newspaper Lucy inches closer, hand barely grazing at Kate’s knees. Kate doesn’t seem to flinch and continues reading. Studying Kate’s reaction, Lucy continues on and places her whole hand closer to Kate’s upper thigh rubbing her thumb up and down. Kate shifts but still doesn’t pay Lucy any attention, yet she can feel now the Lucy has switched from rubbing just her thumb to her whole hand, inching closer and closer underneath her skirt. Trying not to let Lucy get the best of her Kate continues to ignore Lucy’s antics, Kate can’t deny though that she can feel herself growing wetter by the second from Lucy’s touch, underwear definitely ruined.

Lucy now practically on top of Kate can’t help herself, her hand has finally made its way all the way inside of Kate’s skirt, her fingers can feel the heat radiating off the apex of Kates center. Lucy attaches her lips to Kate’s neck placing kisses up and down her throat. Finally abandoning her coffee and newspaper Kate moans out “Ummmm Lucy we can’t” but has not bothered to stop Lucy. Just as she’s about to place another kiss on Kate’s throat, Lucy breathily says “I promise I’ll make it quick”. Lucy’s fingers make quick work of removing Kates underwear down her long legs and tosses it on the balcony floor, slipping two of her fingers into Kate’s wet folds

“God your so tight”, Lucy whispers in Kate’s ear as she strokes her fingers in and out of Kate, while pressing her thumb against her clit.

Kate brings Lucy’s lips to hers all teeth and tongue clashing together riding Lucys fingers as she continues to fuck her there on her balcony.

Lucy can’t get enough of Kate, being inside of Kate’s wet folds she strokes every inch of her, touching her in all the right spots that she knows will make Kate come undone. They’ve been doing this for a while now , Lucy has memorized every move and every touch that will get Kate Whistler to scream her name.

Lucy for her part can feel the effects of what fucking her girlfriend does to her. She can feel her own wet center dripping and tightening, while hitting Kate’s g-spot. Lucy is clenching her thighs together, hoping to keep her own desires at bay until she gets her girlfriend off.

Kate is wound so tight and can feel her orgasm about to approach she doesn’t think she can last much longer, wanting to feel her release so bad she tells Lucy she wants it faster and harder.

Not one to disappoint, Lucy moves her fingers inside Kate’s dripping center harder and faster as deep as her fingers can go. With one last stoke Lucy can feel Kate’s pussy contract and tighten around her fingers and feels her loves cum dripping down.

“Oh fuck, LUCY!” Kate loudly moans as her orgasm comes crashing down.

Lucy plants her lips on Kate, kissing her softly as she brings her down from her high. Slowly removing her fingers from Kate’s dripping center, Lucy places her digits in her mouth licking the sweet nectar that is one Kate Whistler.

“Told you I’d be quick” Lucy states with a smug look on her face.

[rolypolypellmell]

Happy Birdsday! Bare-throated whistler.

[queencarolinemikaelson]

We’ll Never Be Royals

Klaroline Bingo as hosted by @klaroline-events Prompt // Royals (Though, perhaps not quite the ‘Royals’ story you’re expecting! Enjoy!)

/

Klaus’ heart was p u m p i n g.

He didn’t think he had ever been quite as nervous as he was right in that moment. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he was nervous at anything? It was kind of his thing to be level headed and unfazed. 

But apparently his cool-calm-collected persona was shattered by performing – who would have thought?

Certainly not him.

Although, he never thought in a million years he would ever actually do any performing.

Klaus had always been a behind-the-scenes, out-of-the-spotlight kind of person. Don’t get him wrong, he loved attention, but only on his terms, and definitely not when he had to sing in front of a thousand or so people.

He felt nervous beads of sweat begin to form on his brow, and a lump rise in his throat.

He couldn’t do this? He couldn’t do this!

It had honestly never meant to get this far – but he couldn’t help himself.

It all started a few months ago, when Klaus transferred from his university in the UK to Whitmore College. He was just strolling around the campus, getting a feel for the place when he had seen her.

Now, he knew he wasn’t a stalker, and it was quite the point of pride with him that he didn’t chase any of his ladies too hard. But the moment he clapped eyes on her, it was almost as if his entire being had been taken over by some external force.

She had bouncy blonde hair, and twinkling eyes. She seemed to exude a sparkle that Klaus really just wanted to blanket over him at all times.

So he had followed her. And he really had planned on just talking to her, but became far too proud at the thought – pushing against one’s own nature for a girl? Preposterous! But he followed her long enough to notice she pinned a poster up.

A poster which he casually sidled up to to read.

Auditions!

The Whitmore Whistlers are looking for Sopranos and Baritones.

When: Thursday, September 5 & Friday, September 6

Where: The Whitmore Auditorium

For an audition pack, send us a Facebook message or email us!

Klaus hadn’t really even known what the Whitmore Whistlers were, but he emailed for an audition pack anyway.

Apparently they were an a cappella singing group.

And when he’d shown up for his audition a week later, she had been there.

Caroline.

She gave him the sunniest smile he had even seen, and welcomed him in.

“The choir needs boys more than I do!” she laughed, as she introduced herself, and the rest of the audition panel.

Klaus had nervously, but quite tunefully, sung the set audition piece. And three days later he was an official member of the Whitmore Whistlers.

Fast forward a few months, and here he was, many rehearsals later waiting to sing to a crowd at the regional a cappella championship.

Why on earth had he done this again???????

“Hey, you’re gonna be great.”

A gentle hand rested itself on Klaus’ shoulder.

Oh, that’s why.

“I’m very nervous,” Klaus muttered, keeping his voice low – he was side of stage, after all.

“I can tell,” Caroline smiled. “But you don’t need to be, your voice is magic, and you’ve worked really hard to learn your part. You’re going to be wonderful.”

Klaus looked into her twinkling eyes, and he thought maybe – just maybe – the nerves were worth it.

“Y’all are up!” the stage manager whispered, commandingly. “Chookas!”

Klaus barely had a moment to register the strangeness of the word chookas before he was poked in the back to move out onto the stage.

God, his hands were shaking. Was it worth it? Was she worth this??

Caroline took her place at the very front of the group, her presence engulfing the audience. She gave the crowd a rye smile, raised her microphone to her lips, and nodded the Whistlers in with a bar of four, before she began to sing.

I’ve never seen a diamond in the flesh

I cut my teeth on wedding rings in the movies

Yes. She was worth it.

And I'm not proud of my address In the torn-up town, no post code envy

Her voice was so clear, so powerful.

But every song's like gold teeth, Grey Goose, trippin' in the bathroom Blood stains, ball gowns, trashin' the hotel room We don't care, we're driving Cadillacs in our dreams

As Klaus’ cue to begin singing came, he took a deep breath and concentrated on his own part.

But everybody's like Cristal, Maybach, diamonds on your time piece Jet planes, islands, tigers on a gold leash We don't care, we aren't caught up in your love affair

As they built toward the chorus, Klaus let the euphoria of their voices and the music take the place of the nerves.

And we'll never be royals – royals It don't run in our blood That kind of lux just ain't for us We crave a different kind of buzz Let me be your ruler – ruler You can call me Queen Bee And baby I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule Let me live that fantasy

As the group began stepping to the beat, and the song continued, Klaus had a few moments beyond his body, and he was mildly bemused by his behaviour.

If one of his siblings had done something like this for a love interest, he would never let them hear the end of it.

Perhaps he owed Rebekah an apology.

His mind and body synced back up just in time to enjoy singing the final chorus.

And we'll never be royals ­– royals It don't run in our blood That kind of lux just ain't for us We crave a different kind of buzz Let me be your ruler – ruler You can call me Queen Bee And baby I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule

The song drew to a close, and Caroline took one step forward, her commanding gaze somehow boring into every eye in the audience.

Let me live that fantasy.

There was a moment of silence as her voice rang out the final line of the song, before the crowd began their applause. Maybe he was being biased, but he was pretty sure it was the loudest it had been all night.

Caroline took a bow, and led the rest of the group through their bow, before leading them from the stage.

“You did it!” she said excitedly to him, as they made their way back to the greenroom. “Congratulations on your first performance!”

She squeezed his arm, and gave him that dazzling smile of hers.

“I told you, didn’t I! I said, Klaus, we’ll make a performer of you yet!”

She let out her tinkling laugh, and bounded away, to congratulate and encourage some of the other new members.

And Klaus could help but grin goofily, and think about how warm and/or fuzzy he was feeling.

It was about thirty minutes later when Caroline was trying to convince the group to get after-show drinks.

“Come on guys, the rush of performing is the best chaser to all drinks!!”

But between excuses of early morning classes the next day, the fact it was already 10pm, and the Whistlers post-regionals house party was only two days away, there wasn’t much interest.

“I’m not averse to a drink,” Klaus said, casually.

“Yes!” Caroline cried. “I have one, that’s enough! Bye guys! Text me if you decide to join!”

With that, Caroline looped her arm with Klaus’, and pulled him away from the rest of the group, beginning a cracking pace.

“Afraid I’ll change my mind, love?”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Caroline laughed, as she continued her speed. “I’m just freezing out here!”

“Would you like my coat, sweetheart?” Klaus offered, graciously. “I come from a much colder climate than this.”

“No, no, it’s okay, it’s only about a seven-minute walk away, we’ll be there soon.”

“Where is?”

Caroline just gave him a sly, side-ways smile, but didn’t reply, opting instead to happily hum Royals.

“When will we find out results?” Klaus asked, after a minute or so. “Of the championships, I mean.”

“Apparently there are too many groups to judge on one night these days, so I think tomorrow night after the second round?” Caroline said, in an unsure tone. “We’re meant to send a representative to collect the award in case we win, but I can’t be bothered doing it, and neither can the rest of the committee, so we’ll just collect the trophy if we win another time, and not waste a precious night if we don’t.”

“I see,” Klaus replied. “What happens if we –”

But he was cut off as Caroline squealed, “We’re here!”

Caroline pushed her way through the door of the little place – which looked far more like a café than a bar, in Klaus’ humble opinion – and took a seat on a squishy looking couch, immediately picking up a menu to inspect it.

“This place looks… nice… quaint,” Klaus mumbled to himself, thinking it wasn’t quite what he was expecting, given Caroline’s fervour to get there.

“Yeah, it doesn’t look impressive, but everything on the menu is so good,” Caroline said. “They do the best loaded fries I’ve ever had, but they stop doing food in like ten minutes, so hurry up and choose!”

Caroline giggled a little to herself, as she resolutely shut her menu, and looked pointedly at him. He fumbled a little with his menu, in his haste to meet Caroline’s expectations – and she was right, everything on the menu sounded delicious.

Before a couple minutes were up, their orders of two plates of loaded fries, and a pitcher of mulled wine each, were in, and for the first time that evening it was just the two of them, with nothing to do, and nowhere to be.

Klaus thought that maybe it was the first time ever that it was just the two of them, with nothing to do, and nowhere to be…

“I’m really glad you joined the Whistlers, Klaus,” Caroline said, genuinely. “You carry your part really well, and I know you’re new to the collegiate a cappella style, but you’re a natural.”

“Thank you, Caroline,” he said, slightly taken aback by just how sincere she was. “Your voice is phenomenal, and you do a spectacular job leading us.”

She smiled warmly at him, but forwent a response to pick up the drink that had just been placed in front of her.

They fell into easy conversation after that, and their one glass of mulled wine turned into two, then it was four, and both of them were feeling warm a little buzzed – and were somewhat obnoxiously testing out new harmonies for a song Caroline was arranging for the Whistlers.

“See, I wanted to do this – you sing the melody and I’ll sing the harmony,” Caroline said, before singing the line they were rehearsing. “But then I actually think I want this.”

“We sound much more like the Whitmore Wailers right now, if you ask me,” Klaus said, smirking.

“Wash your mouth out!” Caroline said in faux indignation. “I always sound perfect!”

“Repeat that mantra to yourself, if you must, love, but I know the truth.”

Her faux indignation, making way for more serious incredulity, Caroline gave him her most petulant pout, and swatted at his chest.

Feeling cocky, Klaus caught her hand with his, and kept it firmly in his grasp, levelling his flirtatious eyes at her.

Caroline’s face dropped its melodrama, and she stared into his eyes, her breath hitching a little.

He quirked an eyebrow as her, and carefully manoeuvred his hand so his fingers were laced with hers.

“Your hands are softer than I imagined,” she said absent-mindedly.

“You’ve imagined my hands?”

Caroline blushed, and looked away, but kept her hand tangled with his.

After that, the conversation, while still easy, was a lot more layered and no opportunity for entendre or flirting was missed. And when they left an hour later, in the Uber back to campus, Caroline leaned over to softly kiss him.

It was a gesture he eagerly returned, and soon their kiss was anything but merely soft.

They broke apart for just a moment to climb from the cab, and immediately their lips were attacking each other once again.

Until something seemed to click in the back of Caroline’s mind.

“Klaus, wait,” she said, pulling away from him, with a little pop.

She was a beautiful shade of flushed, and Klaus couldn’t help brushing her hair behind her ears, with both of his hands.

“Gosh, Klaus, I’ve wanted to do that for weeks but…” she said, before clapping her hand over her mouth, flustered.

“I’ve wanted to do it too, love,” he said, his voice seductively low. “You are so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she said, staring up into his eyes.

He placed another kiss to her lips, though this one was far more chaste than the previous ones.

“I really want you to come up,” Caroline whispered, nervously chewing her lip.

“But?” he prompted.

“But I don’t think you can… my roommate… is Bonnie from the Whistlers. And I love her, but she will not approve – apparently you’re not experienced enough to be a Whistler, I actually pulled rank on her to get you in, and she accused me of only wanting you in because I thought you were hot. And if I sleep with you… she’ll just assume I let you in to… you know… she’s right… even though you definitely deserve your spot.”

Klaus nodded curtly, he had got the impression Bonnie didn’t like him.

“But maybe…” Caroline said, barely above a whisper. “Maybe, you can take me out next week?”

“Like a date?”

“Yep, like a date,” she shrugged a little. “I like you Klaus.”

“I like you too, Caroline.”

The two smiled at each other, and just held their intimate position for a couple of moments.

“But the real question is, love,” Klaus said. “How on earth will I keep my hands off you at the party this weekend?”

Caroline grinned wickedly.

“Maybe we will just have to be really careful.”

“Dare I say, we’re caught up in a love affair?”

“We’ll never be royals, Klaus,” Caroline said.

“You know, that’s not quite true, part of my family line is English nobility. My eldest brother, Finn, is something like 47th in line to the throne,” Klaus said, smugly.

“Oh my god, Klaus, you’re supposed to say ‘I’ll rule you, if you let me, or something!”

“Oh, right you are, love,” Klaus said, before clearing his throat theatrically. “I’ll rule you, if you let me.”

Caroline rolled her eyes, melodramatically, but laughed at his joke. As she turned to go, the promise of the future hopefully between them, she threw over her shoulder –

“I’ll let you live that fantasy. Night Klaus!”

“Good night, Caroline.”

/

Hope you like my first of only about five things for Klaroline Bingo! As I said, it’s probably not quite the Royals you were expecting, but I couldn’t help myself! hehehh I’m such a choir nerd. I used to run a choir, and I literally said to one of the people I was auditioning ‘the choir needs boys more than I do!’ lololol.

The song they’re singing is obviously Royals by Lorde!

[ashes-2-cashes]

whistle

look idk what to tell yall other than i was bored again and i had no idea what hippity hoppity fuck i was doing

Trigger Warnings: mentions of gore and death, as well at hyperventilations. Continue reading at your own risk.

A heavy yawn escaped chapped lips as the tired man pulled the van into an old and empty gas station, turning the car off and leaning back against his seat. On the passenger side, a man with thick glasses and a pale pink blanket pulled around his legs looked up from his phone, pushing his glasses up and rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Want me to go put the money?

“If you want. Hey, Mase, want to-”

When the driver turned slightly back, he saw the rest of his friends fast asleep, two young boys in the very back huddled together under a couple of blankets while the other two older one’s leaned slightly against each other. The passenger beside him chuckled quietly and slowly opened the door.

“Come on, Cam, before they wake up.”

Cam nodded and gently pushed his own door open, stepping out and stretching his long and tired limbs with a groan. He turned to look at the dark, empty forest on the other side of the highway, its lonely trees swaying with the chilly wind that blew through. He stared for a few moments, just watching the green lush sway in the wind when suddenly, he heard it.

A small whistle, tiny and far, but still audible. His brows scrunched up as he listened closely for the whistle, getting lost in his own head and jumping when a gentle hand touched his shoulder.

“Fuck, Toby, don’t scare me like that!”

“Sorry, but you just zoned out on me. I kept calling you and you didn’t respond.”

The Kiwi mumbled out an apology as he rubbed his eyes, letting Toby take ahold of his hand and bringing it up to his lips, kissing the cracked knuckles and causing Cam to smile softly.

“Come on, the faster we get out of here, the sooner we can get home and cuddle.”

“Mm, in a moment. I’m just trying to listen for the whistle.”

Toby gave Cam a confused look as the taller man blinked.

“Whistle? What are you talking about?”

“The whistle in the woods, did you not hear it? It wasn’t that loud but it was definitely there.” when Toby shook his head, Cam bit his lower lip and let out a deep breath, shaking his head and making his dirty gold hair fall against his tired and pale face.

“You know what, forget it. I’m probably imagining things. Come on, before Mason and Jay get up asking if we’re home yet.”

The shorter man slowly nodded his head and followed Cameron inside the barely intact station, dirt and dust covering the linoleum floor and old wooden shelves. Toby wrinkled his nose at the gross smell of grease and gasoline combined. While the shorter man went to pay for the gasoline, Cam wandered the aisles of the store, looking at the rip-off brands lining the shelves. He stopped himself midway through grabbing a bag of Doritos, looking up and outside the grimy windows and into the forest.

There was that whistle again.

He didn’t know why, but he started to shake. His whole body trembled as a lump formed in his throat, preventing him from swallowing, the bad of chips falling from his grasp as pretty blue eyes blew wide in fear.

He just wanted to get the absolute fuck out of there.

Not even bothering to pick up the chips, he went back up to the counter, grabbing Toby’s hand and practically pulling him out of the humid store and to the cold outside.

“Whoa, whoa, are you okay? Cam, you’re shaking, what the hell happened? Cam? Cameron!”

Something deep inside him told him to run, to get the hell away from the place as fast as possible and never look back. His whole body shook violently, breathing uncontrolled as he leaned against the car and began hyperventilating.

Something was coming.

Nothing could stop his shaking, not even when Toby wrapped his arms around his lithe waist and pulled him close, not when he kissed his cheeks and neck, things that would usually help him calm down when he panicked. Nothing could stop the ever-growing fear rising in his stomach, up to his throat, and down his back. Cam didn’t even notice the tears that slipped down his face and wet the collar of his jacket, seeping into cotton as he closed his eyes.

The whistle came again.

Closer.

Louder.

Like a trumpet blown to signify the end of times, it was haunting, ripping out all the fears Cameron had hidden deep inside his mind to protect himself from the world.

Before he even knew what was happening, Toby was pulling him into the car, the gas having been loaded long ago by I know half awake Matt, who looked at Cam with wide, worried eyes. Beside him, Eric stared intently at him, worry gnawing at him from the way Cameron shook and cried.

“Alright, let’s get the fuck out of here. This place is weirding me out.”

In a split second, Toby was jumping into the driver’s seat and turning the car on, pulling away from whatever portal to hell they had stopped at. Cameron still shook in his seat, eyes blown wide as he stared out the window of the car and into the woods that seemed to reach for him outside the window.

As they drove further and further away, the Kiwi seemed to grow more and more tired, shaking from time to time and quietly sniffling. Toby had one hand on the wheel, the other rubbing small circles into the taller man’s thigh. Everything seemed to grow calmer, the still night outside being replaced by the gentle rain that fell against the car and pavement below.

Just as his eyes grew tired and his head nodded from side to side, Cameron caught sight of a man standing in the middle of the road, features hidden under a mess of long frizzy brown hair and a mud-covered trilby sitting atop his head. His suit was complete rags, dirt, and water covering the once pristine coat and shirt he wore.

He couldn’t help the blood-curdling scream that escaped him as the man slowly turned its head up to look straight at the moving car, mouth twisting into a wide smile that bore yellow teeth, through which that haunting sound came from.

The next day, off the side of a shattered bridge, they found a rented van turned upside down, the river water overflowing the inside and moving through shattered windows. The bodies of five young men were all found scattered through the shallow water, heads having been busted open from the jagged rocks hidden underneath the rapidly moving water, taking with it the spilled blood of the males. All but one were found near the tragic scene, the last man having been found strung high above the ground on a sturdy branch, brown rope digging into the pale and broken neck of the man later identified as Cameron McKay.

Under his hanging corpse laid a dirty and insect-eaten trilby hat, covered in droplets of blood dripping from the corpse above it and withholding a small piece of parchment paper containing the name in cursive, clearly written in the blood of the young man.

The Whistler.

[brightpinkpeppercorn]

No reason at all kiss with Parker and F!MC please?

Thank you for this request, Nonny! Also, thank you for your patience. I hope you enjoy this!

Whistling on the Dock

Pairing and Book: As above - Parker and F!MC (Rachael) from It Lives BeneathRating: PG Word Count: 1303

A/N: Huge thank you to everyone who has been so supportive with my writing for this fandom. Please know that I appreciate the positive feedback, comments, and reblogs. Thank you all so, so much, you’re amazing.A/N Part 2: I was inspired by a fic written by @the-writerly-night-owl called The Summer They Deserve. 

“Let’s try this technique.” Rachael flipped her phone towards her boyfriend and pointed to an image on the screen. “Put your lips together.” Setting her device down on the dock of her Grandpa’s house, she shook out her wavy blond hair and puckered her lips. “And blow.” The sound that subsequently followed wasn’t a short whistle but, much to her chagrin, just one of a forced exhalation. She scrunched her eyebrows, that wasn’t right.

Picking up her phone, Parker studied the screen, swiping a finger to the right then left. “What are you doing with your tongue?” A warm blush crept up her cheeks and Rachael hoped the rosy tint created by the sinking sun on that warm Pine Springs evening hid her embarrassment. Here she was, trying to teach Parker how to whistle - the one thing he couldn’t do - and botched the first demonstration. Her, Rachael Vance, a self described expert whistler. “Says here to touch the tip of your tongue against the back of your front teeth.”

Usually, a mistake like this would have irritated her enough to snap at her companion. For God’s sakes, she once competed in whistling contest at a state fair and took home the blue ribbon in her division. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. Upon opening them, she tilted her head and peered at Parker.

Parker, whose good naturedness and positive attitude made him shine like the very rays of sunlight highlighting him at that moment. It was nearly impossible for her to make a snide remark towards him, especially when he was being helpful. So, despite knowing how to whistle, she took his advice. Wetting her lips and flattening her tongue against the roof of her mouth so she touched her top molars, she gently blew out air again. To her satisfaction, she let out a smooth, high pitched whistle.  In congratulations, Parker’s hand met Rachael’s in a high five. One of those high five that were a bit too enthusiastic and left her much smaller hand stinging, especially in her permanently crooked pinky finger.

Trying not to wince, Rachael leaned into him and pushed a needing-to-be-manicured index finger against his beige shirt, barely making a dent in his firm chest. “Your turn. Put your lips together like you’re saying ‘ooh’.”

“Ooh?” There was a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Like ‘ooh’, I’ve finally been invited to Fish Stick Friday?”

Indeed it was a special Friday. Grandpa had invited Parker and her brother Elliot’s boyfriend, Robbie, to join the small Vance family in their weekly tradition. “More like, ‘ooh’, Grandpa is actually cooking real fish and the not stuff from the box.” Arthur didn’t get excited about much but during the week, he’d been fluttering about, asking what panko bread crumbs were and complaining about the cost of macadamia nuts.

Reaching out, Parker gently swept her blond hair off her shoulders and gently twisted the few strands he caught. “Or … ‘ooh’, you look really …” Quickly, his eyes scanned over her, taking particular note of what she was wearing. That playful look on his face morphed into a sheepish one and he cleared his throat. “Stunning. I mean, you always look stunning but wow, you look … um. Stunning. Beautiful!”

Trying not to smirk at Parker’s awkwardness, Rachel picked at the skirt of her cotton wrap dress featuring large magnolia flowers set to a teal background. After taking a few seconds to compose herself, she knocked her knee against her boyfriend’s and winked at him. “Maybe like, ‘ooh’, you’re not going to learn to whistle if you keep complimenting me.” Squaring her shoulders, she found her phone and picked it up again to show him to the screen. “Wet your lips and pucker them like you’re saying ‘ooh’” After following her command, he focused on his tongue placement then indicated he was ready for the next step. “Blow.”

Despite the clear directions, he still couldn’t whistle. He could, however, let out gusts of air in various pitches. Altering the placement of his tongue, on the base or roof of his mouth or even in no particular position at all proved fruitless. Several failed attempts later, he shrugged his shoulders. Honestly, it never actually bothered him that he couldn’t whistle. Rachael had suggested the activity to help pass time until dinner and he was happy to oblige. “You know, Rach. I do have a metal whistle which has been useful. It got me through the Boy Scouts, the police academy, and it’s what I use when I’m on traffic duty.” Scratching the back of his neck, he hesitated before continuing. “It was the first thing Abe ever gave me.”

The air between them suddenly felt heavy, both unsure what to say. Both were definitely aware this was not the time to talk about his former mentor-slash-cultist. An idea struck and Rachael scrambled into a kneeling position. In front of the new chief of police, her deep brown eyes were level with his sparkling hazel irises. “Well, if you made it this far in life, I suppose you can go one more evening without mastering the skill.” Walking her fingers up his chest, neck, and jaw, they landed on his mouth and pinched his lips together. “But let me do one more thing.”

Parker anticipated one last, unorthodox method to help him complete his task. In reality, though, she briefly gazed at him, giving him a small smile before leaning in to take his full lower lip in between her own, gently kissing him. The scent of orange blossom perfuming her skin filled his senses when he instinctively wrapped her in his arms, allowing her to melt into him. Their kiss grew in depth and intensity as their lips slowly glided together. No prodding was necessary as he allowed her tongue to slip in his mouth, giving him a second demonstration on the various positions they’d discussed minutes before. A low moan emanated from the back of Rachael’s throat as she grasped his shoulders, the back of his neck desperately, seeking more physical contact. 

Rachael’s perfect boyfriend, whose lips were smooth like whipped butter and whose mouth tasted like the peppermint candies on his desk, may never learn how to whistle but he sure knew how to kiss.

She sighed contently when he pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. “Probably shouldn’t be doing this out here, Rach. I don’t want to be caught by the man preparing my food.”

“Or have him drone on for years about how you lost his vote for sheriff.” Disregarding his instructions, Rachael snuck in another kiss before he could react to her random statement.

As suddenly as she started it, Rachael broke the kiss and sprang up to her feet, pulling him up with her. “What was that for, anyway?” He asked, watching her rub the pads of her fingers along her tingling lips.

In an attempt to be sly, she nonchalantly waved her free hand. “Oh, no reason.” Sure, there were plenty of things Parker still needed to discover about his girlfriend but there was one thing he did know, Rachael rarely did anything without purpose. Crossing his arms and giving her a skeptical look caused her to yield. “Okay. Maybe I kind of like that I can do this relatively simple thing and you can’t. It makes me like you even more than I already do.”

Patting her upper back, Parker beamed at her. “Well, that’s funny because that makes me like you even more than I already do, too.” His arm slid around her shoulder, pulling her into a side hug. “Thank you for trying to teach me, Rach. I had fun.”

Their moment was touching and brief, interrupted upon hearing “soup’s on!” from Elliot, quoting Grandpa Arthur, back at the house.

Tag list (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed and I’ll be happy to do so): @likethetailofacomet @zaffrenotes @ooo-barff-ooo @mind-reader1 @bbaba-yagaa @bhavf @mysteli @queerchoicesblog @pbmychoices @tabithacarlisle @50shadesofgrayx @teenagediplomatfestivalauthor @griffinsbigdickenergy @nitta-jaeguet @danni-whatshername @endlesssummerfan @mkatschoicesblog @bailey-choices @acidsugar0 @akrenich @choiceslife @ludextruction @lostlightningbug @europeanguy @littlecrookedheart @darley1101

[knifeshoeoreofight]

part 1  part 2  part 3  part 4

A03

“Your dog is stare at me.”

“Hm?” Sid lifts his head, pausing the attentions he’d been paying to the sweet little hollow at the base of Zhenya’s throat.

Ref is standing at the end of the couch, staring with the intensity only a herding dog can produce. Sid snorts, and snuggles down to rest his head on Zhenya’s shoulder. He feels gentle fingers settle into his hair, and he thinks that he can’t remember ever feeling so content. The fire he’d lit in the wood stove before dinner is still crackling softly every once in a while, and the room is warm.

So is Zhenya, where they’re tangled together on Sid’s couch. Sid slides a hand up under his thin t-shirt, more just to be close than to start anything. Zhenya hums, the noise a deep buzz under Sid’s ear where it’s pillowed on Zhenya’s chest.

“He’s judge me,” Zhenya complains, but Sid can hear the smile in his voice.

“Ref. C’mere, bud,” Sid says, and extends a hand to his dog. Ref whines and surges forward to lick at it, wagging his entire body. Sid laughs. Zhenya shifts beneath him, and he reaches out to Ref too, to scratch at his ears. Ref wriggles with happiness and makes as if to leap onto the couch.

“Nuh-uh, don’t you dare,” Sid says. He yawns.

“Getting late,” Zhenya says softly, and touches his thumb to Sid’s bottom lip. “Should go. Need to get Sofia to school in the morning.”

Sid slides off of him, and stays seated on the couch as Zhenya rises. He feels tired, and muzzy, and well-kissed. He lets his eyes linger on the breadth of Zhenya’s shoulders in his tight sleep shirt,, the long, lean line of his torso. His ridiculous ass, emphasized by the pajama pants he’s wearing.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Zhenya says hoarsely. “Or I’m not be able to leave.” Sid flushes, and almost apologizes, before deciding he’s not sorry.

“Look at you,” Zhenya says softly, and crosses the room back to him. He touches Sid’s cheek, and Sid leans into the touch. God. He’s never had anyone be so sweet with him before.

“What about me?” Sid asks.

“Hair all fluffy,” Zhenya says, smiling. “Sleepy. Pretty mouth all red, because of me. Make me want to stay forever.”

Sid wants to tell him “then stay,” but he knows that it’s too soon. Making out on the couch for an hour right after realizing they have mutual feelings is probably too soon, for what they are to each other. But everything about it had felt right.

“Let me find you a warmer coat,” Sid says, getting up. “The one you had on was ridiculous for this weather. Over pjs, even.”

Zhenya smiles sheepishly. “Couldn’t wait.” His words make the warm glow in Sid’s chest go even warmer.

Sid finds him his warmest coat with the least amount of horse and goat hair on it. He unnecessarily helps Zhenya into it, smoothing the front of it down after he zips it closed.

“Too big on me,” Zhenya says appreciatively, eyes resting, heavy lidded, on Sid’s shoulders and chest. Sid turns red and busies himself finding a scarf and a toque to give Zhenya as well.

When he’s bundled up to Sid’s satisfaction, he kisses him again at the door, long and lingering. When they step out to the porch, there’s a dusting of snow, and even more swirling down in the light spilling from the house.

Zhenya laughs, and reaches out to catch a flake on his palm. Sid eyes what he can see of the driveway.

“Drive careful,” he tells Zhenya. “It’s just a dusting but it’ll be slippery. Text me when you get home.”

Zhenya promises to do so, and leaves, only pausing to come back and kiss Sid one more time once.

After about twenty minutes, he texts Sid two snowflakes and a heart.

***

He texts Tanger, even though it’s late.

>call off the Québécois mafia.

>i have no idea what you’re talking about

>yes you do. Don’t hassle Evgeni Malkin.

>who?

>Kristopher.

>ok fine

>why not

>we dealt with it like mature adults is why not

>define mature adult. I’m hoping you told him off but inside my heart I know you’re too Canadian

>tanger. You’re Canadian

>I’m French Canadian. Big difference and you know it

>deets, or I’m not letting you hold Victoria at the next potluck

>we talked.

>aaaaaaaaand???????

>we’re going to try it out.

>like dating???????!?! Or just like banging

Tanger then sends a truly distressing combination of emoticons.

>yes, dating, you heathen

>gett iiiiit

>stop

>you know what this means. we have to make sure he’s good enough for you.

>Kristopher Allen Letang I am a grown-ass man, not a fair maiden in one of Cath’s period dramas

>which I know you secretly love, even though you complain like hell when she wants to watch them

>we share a Netflix, I know you watched the entire 1995 Pride and Prejudice when she was out of town last month.

>I did NOT

>check your pants bud, might have to call the fire department

>my pants situation is hot as burning all the ttime, Sid

>gross. Tell flower and Duper to leave Evgeni alone. I know Brass will, because he has more decency that the rest of you put together.

>You wound me

>Really though, if you’re happy, I’m happy, bud. Congrats.

>Thanks

>If he breaks your hearts all bets are off though

>KRIS

>I’m kidding. We love you, man. That’s all.

>I love you too.

***

When Sid wakes up the next morning, the light coming through the curtains is the pure, bright kind that means only one thing. The dusting of snow from last night has become a pristine blanket of white. He smiles, and fumbles for his phone to check the time. He smiles even wider to see that he has a text from Zhenya. It’s just “good morning” and another heart, but it makes Sid bury his burning face into his pillows all the same.

Sid isn’t a whistler, he’s a hummer. Or more accurately, a mutterer-of-nonsense-syllables-to-the-tune-of-a-song. This morning he has that one song about bodies and backroads that keeps playing on the radio stuck in his head, and he’s not ashamed to say he bops around the kitchen to it, Ref dogging his heels, excited that his person is so excited too.

Caro sprawls elegantly underfoot in the exact middle of the kitchen floor and the kittens alternate between trying to climb Sid’s pants legs and chasing balls of tinfoil he tosses for them.

It’s a good morning.

***.

Sid has Sofia and Zhenya over the first day that the snow is deep enough to get the sleigh out.

Sid uses the excuse that he has to get the horses used to it again before the tree lot goes up and he starts giving rides to visitors, but the real reason is that he wants to see Sofia’s face when she sees its gleaming sides and hears the jingle of the harness bells.

The sleigh is a beautiful, impractical thing, a holdover from the his great-uncle’s horse training and showing days. Sid has a bare bones work sled for when he needs to actually haul things, but he loves the sleigh. And he does make a nice amount of money from giving visitors rides all December.

He’s in the barn when he hears their car pull up, and he can hear a stream of excited, high-pitched Russian from the moment the car door opens. The sleigh is already sitting out in front of the barn and he can hear Sofia exclaim over it, and Zhenya’s patient answers to what must be a volley of questions.

Sid grins to himself and does a final check of all the straps and buckles of Puck’s tack. Then, harness jingling, he leads the massive horse out of the barn and into the snow-bright afternoon.

He keeps grinning as he watches Sofia’s eyes go round as an owl’s, and as she covers her mouth with a mittened hand. Evgeni smiles at him and pats Sofia’s head. She’s got a toque on with a massive pom pom on top, and she’s pretty much the cutest thing ever with her matching mittens and cold-reddened cheeks.

Sid gets to work hitching up Puck before he goes back for Stanley. By the time the horses are ready to go, Sofia is jumping up and down.

“Hey,” Sid tells her. “Easy there. These guys are pretty relaxed but not all horses are.”

Zhenya relays the information to her and she settles. Sid lifts her up so she can stroke Puck and Stanley’s velvety noses. She gives Stanley a kiss and Sid looks over at Zhenya to smile with him about how cute it was.

Zhenya is watching them with soft, soft eyes. He moves in closer and wraps an arm around Sid’s waist and squeezes.

“Thank you, Sid,” he says softly, and Sid has to glance away from the way he’s regarding Sid.

“I’m happy to do it,” he tells Zhenya, and goes to hoist Sofia onto the sleigh’s seat and to tuck her into the blankets there.

The first time he takes the Percherons out into the snow every year is always pretty magical. But it’s the best it’s ever been with Zhenya and Sofia sitting behind him.

The wind bites their faces and it starts to snow halfway through. Sid turns to look back at Zhenya and Sofia. They’re wearing wide, matching smiles, and there are snowflakes dusting their hats and scarves.

Evgeni grins at him and jerks his chin at the route they’re taking. “Hey! Watch road!”

“What, you don’t trust Puck and Stanley?” Sid chirps back, but turns around with a shake of his head and a smile.

***

After the horses have been cooled down, groomed, and put away, they find themselves once again in Sid’s kitchen, warming back up with coffee for Sid, tea for Zhenya, and cocoa for Sofia. Sofia clambers down off of her father’s lap and into Sid’s, snuggling in and pointing at things so that he’ll tell her the English words. He thinks he probably know a lot of the words already, but he’s beyond touched that she’s asking him.

“Oh, yeah, that’s a teapot, eh?” Sid tells her.

She nods solemnly. “Teapot, eh.”

Zhenya doubles over laughing, and leans over to noisily kiss his daughter’s cheek. “She gonna sound so Canadian.”

Sid’s heart feels warm and tender in his chest. He meets Zhenya’s eyes. He wants to… ask him if he means it, if he thinks Sid is going to be part of his and Sofia’s life long enough to leave his mark on her words.

Zhenya’s expression is gentle, as if he knows what Sid’s thinking.

“Have this feeling, you know?” he says. “Strong feeling.”

Sid ducks his head, and tightens his arms briefly around Sofia for a hug, her soft hair against his cheek.

God, he want this. A child in his arms, someone he loves smiling at him across the table. The dream used to be a nebulous one. A faceless man and the merest idea of a child.

The dream is a little different now.

[101flavoursofweird]

2, 11, 30 and 34?

Maybe this was a mistake, Melina thought as she stifled another cough.

Janice had warned her about the fumes from the car factory- Father had begged her not to go- but Melina told them she could handle it (fresh country air and all that jazz).

She couldn’t spend her life cooped up at home, and besides, Mr Barde was depending on her...

She cleared her throat, shouldered her bag and continued her journey through Misthallery.

There was a canal boat she could take up to Highyard Hill (very romantic- she’d have to ride it with Janice sometime) but the rest of the way was quite a trek, and she was exhausted by the time she reached Barde Manor.

She took a moment to catch her breath before tapping on the double wooden front doors.

A maid welcomed her into the manor and brought her to Mr Evan Barde in the lounge. He greeted Melina cordially and, no doubt noticing how tired she looked, asked the maid to fetch her some tea, along with his daughter, Arianna.

Arianna- having been playing by the lake with her bother, Tony- came in ten minutes later.

Smiling fondly, Mr Barde informed her, “Arianna, this is Miss Whistler, your new music teacher.”

Arianna kept sneaking glances out her bedroom window as Melina demonstrated a basic C Major scale on the piano.

When Melina asked if she could play the scale, Arianna hesitated and said, “Can you repeat that, please?”

Melina closed the piano’s lid, laughing, “Let’s take a short break.”

But-“ Arianna frowned at the clock, “-won’t you have to go soon?”

“I can hang on.”

Staying in Misthallery had been easier since Mr Barde closed the factory- a drastic decision that put a lot of people out of work, but he had done it to improve Arianna’s health.

Melina could see her own father going to similar lengths for her...

Much to her surprise, Arianna invited her to come to the lake to meet a ‘friend’.

Melina thought she might mean the small boy in the blue cap- the one Arianna seemed to have a crush on.

...Actually, she meant Misthallery’s friendly version of the Loch Ness monster.

That day, Melina was very glad Janice had decided to accompany her.

Her chest felt tight from the cold, she could barely see through the fog and to make matters worse, a policeman had interrogated them as soon as they stepped foot in Misthallery.

Janice demanded to know why they were being treated like suspects and the policeman revealed that a body had been discovered up at Barde Manor.

Melina ran.

Harsh whispers followed her through town: “Good riddance... He’ll rot in hell... Let’s hope his heirs don’t take after him...”

Outside the manor gate, she tripped over a tree root and Janice managed to catch up with her.

Melina was wheezing and shaking by this point, but Janice helped her to her feet and they soldiered on together, arm in arm.

They pounded on the manor doors and Melina cried, “Arianna, Tony!”

She feared her voice would be too raspy for them to recognise, but finally, the doors opened and Tony rushed out.

“It’s Papa,” he sobbed as Melina pulled him close, “Papa’s dead.”

Melina ended up spending the entirety of the Christmas holidays at Barde Manor.

Her father was so busy writing an opera (one of his first in many years) that he let Melina go with his blessings.

It was a subdued Christmas for the Bardes siblings compared to last year, when Mr Barde had bought enough presents to fill the dining hall and thrown a huge banquet for all their friends.

Nonetheless, Melina was determined to make their day special; they decorated a small tree with baubles and tinsel, strung lights on the willow trees outside, sang carols around the piano, exchanged homemade cards and gifts, baked gingerbread cookies, and went to deliver Loosha’s present in the afternoon.

Janice joined them on Boxing Day but by then Arianna had retreated to her bedroom.

When Tony went up to talk to her, Melina sighed, “What are we going to do...? It’s like the whole town has turned against them.”

“It’s scapegoating,” Janice mused, “Things just haven’t been the same here since Mr Barde’s death. Maybe I could write to my old professor- he’s solved a few cases for Scotland Yard....”

Despite everything, this made Melina chuckle, “You always were fond of him.”

Janice gave her a flat look before moving forward to kiss her.

[rockjumperbirdingtours]

Photo of the Day – The Bare-throated Whistler (Pericrocotus lansbergei) is a beautiful bird endemic to Indonesia. This is a deceptive species when looking at it: considering the name, it is easy to think that its bare throat would always visible, but the red wattle – or patch of red skin at the throat - only becomes visible when the bird is in song. Otherwise, when it is not in song, its throat is covered by black feathers.

This photo was taken by Adam Riley on Flores, Indonesia.