#i was like what did this dream teach me? that i can be shallow? yeah probably

[britneyshakespeare]

I had a dream a few weeks ago out of the blue that H/san P/ker died and I felt really horrible about it. I am not a fan of the Twitch "socialist" man at all, I actually find him really grating. REALLY grating, he also spouts misinformation and then doesn't correct himself, he calls people he doesn't like "nerds" and "weirdos" like that's helpful, but whatever. I felt bad about how pathetic all the work he left behind was. And like since this is clearly not someone I'm a fan of, I should mention, no, I don't think about him independently much at all and I don't watch his content (if you do I'm not shaming you though). But ever since then whenever I've seen someone mention him on the internet I get a jumpscare like wait didn't he DIE? Oh wait no that was a dream.

[dappledpaintbrush]

If it becomes more than a dream, what do you think a Super Paper Mario movie would be like?

Please write down everything you have to say, it doesn't matter if it's a 100 page essay I would like to read it.

When I finally get not only yapping permission, but also yapping endorsement

I think about the SPM movie a LOT. Not because I think it’s going to happen but because I’m insane. I also think it works better as a show, but I always must migrate to thinking of it as a movie lol. I talk a lot I’m gonna divide my thoughts into sections (Again, I’m turning off reblogs because reblogging an ask gets rid of the read-more, I’m sorry!! It’s for the best LMAO)

Rating:

I would LOVE if they addressed it like the FNAF movie. I remember people talking about how “oh it’s gonna be for kids because it’s a kid’s franchise and they’re gonna make more money if they made it for kids” but they made it PG-13 and. Everything was fine. They made a shit ton of money and everything was fine. Point is, I think SPM would work best as a PG-13 movie. And yeah it sounds like that one clip of SpongeBob and Patrick screaming in terror on a baby rollercoaster, but SPM does have elements that would be Difficult to put in a movie format and still make it rated PG. With the game, it can be passed off as cartoon mischief and thus be E for everyone, sure, but in a movie? I don’t see it. And let me clarify- I know they could make the hypothetical SPM movie be rated PG and still have its original plot, but I believe that is only if they cut down on a lot of things and make it very goofy and overall remove the heart of the story. But do I think it would be fucking PEAK as a PG-13 movie? Hell yeah. They could have a lot more leg-room to truly pay homage to the game, which is known as one of Mario’s darker stories for a good reason.

But do I believe they would make it PG-13? No. Definitely PG. Again, I know this is a Mario game and it’s not some super evil sick twisted story oh my god cover your eyes little timmy blah blah blah, but STILL. Pulling off some of its core scenes on the big screen where there’s SO much more detail in the animation and the voice acting etc etc etc would be hard to accomplish without making said scenes less impactful or even shallow. And if you still think I’m being dramatic, the mario movie is rated PG. The Mario movie. And all Mario did was get punched and got a bruise on his eye. I’m sure if there was a storyboard scene of him, Luigi, Bowser, and Peach getting set on fire and going to the afterlife, it would have been SCRAPPED. OR, it would have absolutely no emotion other than “erm… THAT just happened!” Take your pick.

All in all, if it were to happen, the SPM movie will lose some things. Nintendo would NEVER allow Mario to be in an PG-13 movie. It’s unfortunate :(

Speaking of the Afterlife:

Nintendo will have to cut out the Underwhere, Overthere, Grambi, and maybe even Luvbi and Bonechill. OR, completely revamp that whole thing to make it as religiously ambiguous as possible. No fucking doubt about it. At ALL. I can already see the change.org petition run by a Christian mother screaming at Nintendo for blaspheming God and making a joke out of heaven and hell “which are very real and you’re teaching kids it’s some silly fake thing in a fake Mario movie BUT NO PEOPLE HAS TO KNOW THEY WILL BURN FOREVER IF THEY DONT OBEY!!!” (Note: just in case it wasn’t obvious, I am mocking the Christian mother in the quotation marks). I’m surprised Nintendo even got away with it in the first place, ESPECIALLY regarding Luvbi and Bonechill. I put “maybe” regarding those two because it’s likely 2 and 2 won’t be put together about who inspired their characters, but at the same time. It probably will. Yeah it definitely will

Bonechill is directly inspired by Satan, and Luvbi makes indirect references to Jesus. Regarding Bonechill, to quote from his Wiki:

“Tippi's tattle says that Bonechill may have once been a Nimbi, which is supported by the fact that he has feathered wings on his back. This fits into the overall motif of The Underwhere and The Overthere, which draw heavily from both Ancient Greek mythology and the Christian religion. In particular, the concept of a fallen angel (Nimbi) is inspired by the Biblical story of Lucifer, who became the devil after betraying God. Furthermore, in Dante's Inferno (of the epic Italian poem, the Divine Comedy), Lucifer (now known as Satan) is depicted as a giant, six-winged beast imprisoned in ice in the deepest circle of Hell. This is all paralleled by how Bonechill has six wings, was imprisoned deep below the Underwhere, and is a self-styled "master of the cold dark" who uses ice breath to attack and is "something of an evil celebrity in certain circles of the Underwhere". Similarly, his being released during an apocalyptic event (the emergence of The Void) may be derived from the Book of Revelation, where Satan escapes from hell and he and his army are battled and defeated in heaven.”

Do you see that shit. Do you think Nintendo would risk doing this in a movie, let alone ever again in any game?The backlash would be INSANE. And they could easily call Luvbi a blasphemous mockery of Jesus because she sacrificed herself to save the world, AND CAME BACK LATER😭😭😭😭😭

Anyways, yeah. In the SPM movie, that whole chapter of the game is what’s going to be changed the most. It likely will be solely based off Greek mythology with no Christian themes involved. Or even LESS than that if they’re too scared. God I wish they weren’t. That chapter is one of my favorites in the whole game (mostly bc it’s crazy to me how Nintendo didn’t chicken out of making it), and it sucks so bad to know it’ll likely be almost nonexistent if the SPM movie were to happen.

Run-Time:

This game is. Long.

In my perfect world, I like to think of it as one big grand movie and it’s the longest animated movie ever made and it’s animated by Dreamworks in the style of Puss in Boots: The Last Wish and it has 5/5 stars and critics are crying and screaming of joy and everybody who clowned on this game has personally showed up to my door to apologize for their wrongdoing and beg for my forgiveness. But unfortunately we can’t have everything we want

I don’t think they will cut out any of the dimensions, I just think that most side plots will be rushed through like a montage :/ It’s why I think it will work best as a series. Every episode could be dedicated to a Dimensional Door. But that also means it’ll likely have less of a budget which sucks

Blumiere and Dimentio:

Something will have to change.

First of all, Blumiere. I don’t exactly know HOW, but they will have to change about his story. The game itself has already gotten criticized for “romanticizing a toxic relationship” between Blumiere and Timpani, and that criticism will be MAGNIFIED with a blockbuster film. Again, I don’t know how the will do it, but they’ll have to adjust that plot to please the masses more than likely. It fucking sucks. But this is modern Nintendo. They are going to go the safest route possible.

That’s not the only thing regarding Blumiere that will have change. Yk how the game also gets criticized for giving Blumiere a happy ending but not Dimentio despite the fact that, regardless of their motivations, they both tried to kill everyone? That criticism will also be magnified with the release of a movie. They’ll have to modify the story to make Blumiere’s actions significantly less evil than Dimentio’s, which could be accomplished through making it so that Blumiere is mind-controlled by the Dark Prognosticus. OR, they’ll have to give Dimentio a happy ending too, whether that be he survives and changes his ways (BOOOOO🍅🍅🍅), or he also gets the “he’s alive somewhere” treatment like Blumiere and Timpani did. However, in order to accomplish that successfully with an audience of five years olds, they’ll have to directly talk about Dimentio’s own tragic backstory with as much weight as they do Blumiere’s. And l. Don’t see that happening. It would be absolutely CRAZY if it did and I would probably pass out in the theatre if we got to see the Pixl Creator, but yeah, it’s unlikely.

Mr. L:

Some good news! I see them making Mr. L recognizable

They probably won’t.

BUT THEY LIKELY WILL

In the first movie, Mario and Luigi’s bond was shown in ways they have rarely done before. Their love and care for one another is clearly shown, not just “that’s my brother Luigi wahoo!” or something. I mean come on, think of the hug scene. And you mean to tell me in the 2nd or 3rd or idk movie, Mario can’t recognize him with a blindfold on? Be serious

In a game, yeah haha funny gag, but in a movie, it’ll be met with more annoyance than anything and it’ll be really disingenuous, and it already does get that criticism in the game where it’s arguably “more acceptable.”

Conclusion:

There’s a lot more that can be discussed, but this is all I’ve put a significant lot of thought into about what I think the SPM movie would be like if I thought about it realistically. Basically, if it’s gonna truly be an SPM movie, Nintendo’s gonna have to grow a backbone. But even then, I still think it would be a great movie, especially in the eyes of those who haven’t played the game and thus don’t have the same “ARGHH BUT YOU FORGOT FLIP-FOLK NUMBER FORTY TWO” mentality that I have LMAO. And even THEN, I still think it would be a great movie. Nintendo will just have to be reaaaally careful to adapt to the limitations (that they put on themselves 💀) and still make it a movie about Super Paper Mario.

[cedarbranch]

OMG... tell your beloved fans about haunt me PLEASEEE + also "show me how you do that trick" + one dealer's choice :-D

WARGHH thank u <333

in response to the wip meme... putting this under a cut bc it got long lol

haunt me is my monstrosity of a stranger things wip, sitting around 90k and MAYBE 65% complete. if i'm lucky. it's fucking Long. the basic premise is that eddie dies and then steve starts dreaming about him and eventually comes to realize he is NOT dead, but in fact alive in the upside down and somehow psychically linked to steve... i won't get too deep into spoilers but it's kind of a kas!eddie fic but with a twist that's it's less kas and more similar to the pacific rim fic designations congruent with things (<= sentences that mean anything only to the most Niche Possible Audience). anyway the more complicated premise is steve's savior complex and how every single issue in his life connects back to it

show me how you do that trick is the sequel to my hellcheer fic, push the limit! (which. is fucking crazyy to me that that's the only stranger things fic actually posted on my ao3 given how much time i've spent working on haunt me 😭😭) anyway. it's as horny as the first in the series but with more feelings and plot. it's from eddie's pov and includes some actual proper kink negotiation and apologies following the insanity of the og fic, and also some RLY CUTE FLIRTING!!! a snippet for thee:

“I don’t like… weird dirty talk?” Chrissy says, wrinkling her nose. “Like, the stuff they say in bad pornos.” Eddie sighs in feigned exasperation. “God, it’s like pulling teeth here. Specifics, woman, I need specifics!”  “I don’t know! Like,” Chrissy opens her mouth, then closes it again, flushing brilliantly. “No. I’m sorry, I can’t, I can’t say any of it. I just—I don’t like the word ‘pussy,’ or ‘cunt,’ or anything like that, just—” She flaps her hands in the direction of her crotch—”Just don’t directly refer to it while we’re in the act? Like, if you’re having sex, it should speak for itself!”  Eddie grins at her.  “What?” she demands, all frustrated but laughing with her eyes.  “I love that you have porn opinions,” he says fondly. “You asked!”

for dealer's choice... oooh this is tough... but i think i'll go with 5 + 1, the full title of which will one day be "5 times steve tried to teach eddie how to swim and one time it worked" or something of the like. this fic was born out of me a) wanting to write something with intense hot-summer-day energy, b) being really interested in water/swimming as the focal point of Multiple Traumatic Incidents in steve's life as of s4, and c) can you fucking imagine if part of the reason eddie was last to jump from the boat in lover's lake was that he couldn't swim. and then he DID IT ANYWAY. but yeah second snippet:

Eddie is, in fact, wearing boxer briefs, and nothing else. Seeing so much of his skin never gets less startling, no matter how many times Steve’s splashed around with him in the lake. He always forgets that Eddie’s shoulders aren’t as broad as the vest normally makes them look. He’s pale as a goddamn sheet, too, except for the pink-red scars that pockmark his stomach and chest.  Eddie catches him looking. “Might not even be worth it to teach me to swim,” he says wryly. “Don’t think I can ever set foot at a public pool again with these bad boys.” “We could just go together,” says Steve. “Then we’d match.”  His own wounds have healed up better than Eddie’s. The demobats tore him up pretty good, but the bites were shallow; as months passed by, they’ve smoothed over into pale, warped ripples of scar tissue. Without thinking about it, Steve touches one close to his hip. As if in a mirror, Eddie does the same, his fingertips brushing over his stomach.  His boxers have little skulls on them.

your honor i fucKGIGN LOVE THEMMM!!! IDIOTS!!!!

[chevelleneech]

Tommy is actually into Eddie

I love this theory even though I know it’s not going to be canon, because I have zero faith in Tim or anyone at the moment to craft something interesting for this particular arc and character.

But, we know 7x04 is from Buck’s perspective, so imagine how good the storyline would be if we learned that the reason BuckTommy is underdeveloped, is because Buck is once again idealizing things? He’s seeing Tommy as someone he should keep pursuing, because he kissed him so that means he wants to try long term commitment. Only, all the audience sees is Buck and Tommy sharing a moment here or there, because that’s all their relationship is.

In “reality”, Tommy’s not really into it, which is why we see little of him or only get sarcastic comments from him. But in that same “reality”, Tommy did invite Eddie on a helicopter flight and to a fight match in Vegas. He did invite Eddie over to fix up cars, he did teach Eddie Muay Thai, and he did agree to tag along to a basketball game with Eddie. All without Buck. Meaning, even though we know Tommy knew Buck and Eddie for the same length of time and had every opportunity to include Buck if he actually liked him (aka, if the writers had actually thought to build up this relationship), he didn’t. Leading to a very jealous Evan Buckley.

Yes, the way Buck saw Eddie and Tommy’s growing bond was made worse by his abandonment issues, but it doesn’t negate the reality of what was going on. So imagine them writing this in the finale, and having the conversation go something along the lines of:

“I wanted to make this work, Evan, but I don’t think it’s going to.” “Why not?” “Because… as sweet as you are, I only kissed you, because you said you wanted my attention. And I like good-looking men wanting my attention.” “Me too. You helped me figure that out.” “Yeah, and I’m happy to have been of assistance, but—” “What if we try one more time? There’s been so much going on, you haven’t even given me my flying lesson yet.” “I don’t think that’s going to happen.” “Only Eddie gets to go up in the helicopter then?” (Buck says with a sad laugh, only to realize Tommy looks a little guilty.) “Oh…” “Evan.” “No, you said it. You like good-looking men wanting your attention, and Eddie wanted to hang out with you.” “I didn’t mean it like that.” “Still, you were initially trying to date Eddie, right? Not me.” “…Yes, I was, but I didn’t mean to lead you on.” “I get it. Eddie Diaz is a very good-looking guy.” “So are you.” “I know. Trust me, that’s one thing I’ve never been oblivious too.” “Someone thinks highly of himself.” “Someone has had more than enough ‘confirmations’ to think any different.” “That I believe. Friends?” “I guess we can still be friends. As long as you’re not trying to date my best friend anymore?” “Still as possessive as ever, but, no. Besides, I’m pretty sure his feelings lie elsewhere.”

Anyway, I just fan fic-d the hell out of that, lmao, but it was fun to write. It’s not going to happen, but dreaming about an actual storyline for them that is more interesting than just: Buck-kisses-man-man-becomes-Buck’s-boyfriend-the-end, is great. Even if the storyline is shallow and intended for them to breakup.

Side note: this type of breakup would also push Buck further into thinking he’s either unwanted or not cut out for romance, yet also plant the seed in his head about what it would look like if Eddie dated a man. Both of which could lead to him thinking about why he was so possessive over not wanting Tommy to keep pursuing Eddie, despite the two of them not having been in love or anything close to it.

[marvelmaniac715]

This fic comes from a dream I had where Chucky was actually trying to be a good parent. I know, Chucky actually trying to be a good dad? It has to be non-canon, right? I’ve forgotten most of the dream, but I remembered this tiny bit of it, and because I’m a sucker for Chucky and Glenda’s dynamic, I’ve decided to write it down. Oh yeah, and I gave Nica/Chucky their limbs back, because I don’t think this will work without arms or legs.

————————————————————-

Glenda winced as they accidentally sliced their finger. As blood began to seep out of the shallow cut, the teen was even more confused when the person in front of them- Nica- began… having a breakdown? It wasn’t quite clear, but after a few seconds, she sat up straight, but her posture was entirely different. There was also something slightly different about her face, it was almost as if there was someone else inside of her body. 

To further back up this theory, ‘Nica’ spoke, but their voice was rougher, less feminine. Making eye contact with Glenda, they asked in surprise:

“Glenda?”

Not quite sure what was happening, Glenda just nodded, deeply confused because didn’t they already confirm what their name was? At the nod, ‘Nica’ (was it Nica? It didn’t seem like Nica, so Glenda decided to refer to whoever this was as Person Two for now) grinned and walked tentatively towards the teen, beginning to raise their arms before changing their mind at the last second. Instead, they cautiously asked:

“Can- can I hug you? Would that be okay?”

Glenda smiled awkwardly and walked towards Person Two, nodding in confirmation. Immediately, Person Two closed the distance between them and wrapped their arms around Glenda, one hand carded through the teen’s short red hair whilst the other rested lightly on their back. It was a nice moment, and for some reason, Glenda immediately recognised the gesture as something along the lines of parental affection. For a relatively touch-starved teenager, this sort of hug combined with the parental feelings attributed to it was something they secretly loved and didn’t want to end. But just as it began to feel comfortable, Person Two’s arms tightened around Glenda as they mused aloud:

“Wait, I’m awake, and the main trigger is… so that would mean…”

Immediately, the hug ended as Person Two immediately pulled away and frantically looked Glenda up and down for signs of… something. Then, they took hold of Glenda’s hand, the one that was still actively bleeding, and gasped. Their eyes landed on the blade resting on a nearby table, and some kind of realisation seemed to wash over them. Then their focus was back on Glenda, and the teen was given a reproachful stare that somehow seemed more meaningful than their mother’s more half-hearted attempts at discipline over the years.

In a mildly exasperated tone, Person Two admonished:

“Glenda, did nobody ever teach you to be careful around knives? Accidents can happen, people can get hurt. It’s wonderful to see you again but it shouldn’t have to be because-‘

Because what exactly Glenda never learned, because this borderline stranger guided them to the bathroom with a determined expression on their face. Once there, Glenda was instructed to sit down on the edge of the bathtub whilst Person Two rifled through drawers to find a first aid kit. It took a little while, but once they found it, they held it up with a triumphant grin, immediately tearing it open and searching for disinfectant spray and bandages. 

Glenda tried to weakly protest that it was nothing, and that a band-aid at most was all that they needed, but Person Two shook their head and insisted:

“No, no, this is the least I can do. Let me help, kid. I have experience with this kinda stuff.”

True to their word, Person Two immediately set about rinsing the cut with a paper towel and warm water, apologising ever time the teen winced in discomfort and giving them a reassuring hand squeeze. Then, they uncapped the disinfectant spray and briefly warned:

“Brace yourself for a second, this might hurt, but it’ll be worth it.”

The warning was very much appreciated, because when the spray hit the cut, Glenda felt like their hand was on fire, and they yanked it back abruptly with a soft yelp. Person Two offered them another reproachful stare and wordlessly held out an expectant hand, leading Glenda to immediately place their still bleeding hand in their’s.

As Person Two finished wrapping and tying the bandages, with a band-aid underneath, they smiled at Glenda and asked:

“There, now how much better does that feel, huh?”

Glenda grinned in relief, because it really did feel a lot better, and nodded, letting out a heavy sigh. Then their survival instincts kicked back in, and they asked what really should have been the obvious question from the start.

“Wait, who are you?”

Person Two tried to change the subject, but when Glenda fixed them with a reproachful stare of their own, they admitted in a voice that was barely above a whisper:

“I’m Chucky, and I’m… your dad.”

Glenda shook their head in disbelief, unable to do anything except repeatedly mutter the word ‘no’ under their breath. A hand on their shoulder snapped them back into reality as they said the first thing that came to mind: 

“No, you can’t be. My dad bailed when Glen and I were babies, mom said he was an asshole who didn’t care about us, but you’ve been so nice… you can’t be my dad.”

Person Two (or Chucky, as he was apparently called) shook his head adamantly and rushed to explain himself.

“I didn’t want to leave, you have to understand that. Your mom and I… had our differences, and we still do, but it doesn’t mean that either of us love you or your twin any less. I didn’t know where you guys were, and your mom wouldn’t tell me. I tried to get in contact, you have to believe me. But when I found your mom again, you were both off at school, it’s just been a long string of bad timing and unfortunate circumstances.”

He paused for a moment to let this sink in, then he tentatively cupped Glenda’s cheek with his hand and said again:

“I didn’t want to leave.”

Glenda didn’t know how to feel. Their whole perception of their mother, of their entire family, was beginning to crumble. But their father seemed genuine, and they were exhausted from the bombshell revelation that their father loved them. So they gave in to the childish impulse inside of them to lean into the only taste of paternal affection that they’d ever experienced, savouring the moment for as long as it lasted.

————————————————————-

Chucky was still new to the whole ‘being a decent parent’ thing, but after his catastrophic attempts to interact with Glen, he took a good long look at himself in the mirror and asked himself: was this really the type of father he wanted to be? A father that terrified his children and had no bond with them whatsoever? It wasn’t even a question for him. That wasn’t the sort of man- the sort of father that he wanted to be.

He had years to reevaluate his memories of the twins, and the more he thought about how he’d handled things, the worse he felt. After a few years of analysing where he’d went wrong, he began to feel genuinely sick to his stomach whenever he saw his kid quivering in terror… because of him. He made himself promise that if he saw the twins again, he’d do his best to be a decent father, no matter what it would take. 

He wasn’t entirely prepared to talk to Glenda after all that time, but when he saw the cut on their finger, all of his dormant fatherly instincts that he didn’t even know he had kicked in. Did he handle things in the best way? No. Did Glenda seem confused and mildly traumatised as a result? Unfortunately, yes. But Chucky figured that tending to his child’s injuries and proving to them that he was not a threat was a decent start when it came to establishing a bond between them.

[temporarymoods]

mwah

scatch what i said on that last post. idk her. im CHILLINGGGGG!!!

MarMon today: yes I celebrated. you gotta. duh. Patriot's Day-- a Mass thing!? Hilarious.

We went to the race and yelled and screamed and cheered on at various points. Walked a bunch. Got sunburnt in that shallow way, but my nose is pink. It was pretty emotional! So proud of everyone. Kept thinking that this is kind of one of the best things humanity can do. Anyway-- B)

Got sambas, lmfao?! Trying to look like a boy. Followed by some really good pasta. and then trying to look like a girl. i went to a frat! for the first time! i got champagne on my sambas. christened. the person who clocked me as queer at the party said "christened" after i had minutes prior. yeah. a good thing

- - i know the gender thing of it is ridiculous but for some reason my soft complicated body craves that sexual weirdness between men and women and particularly these young men and women in that..disgusting atmosphere. a disgusting atmosphere. really hungry for that generalization.. it's true. im really attracted to men

other than that^ being tough,

i went DANCINGGG!!!!!1!1!11!!11!!

and I LOVED IT SO MUCH!!!!111!1

What a GREAT night!!! i can't put into words how amazing i feel even though that is why i came here...shucks. has the moment past? did i spend too much time on the queue?

My foot is sore as I type this. I came home so inspired and read up on country swing vs other kinds (I knew jazz swing was the thing, and swing dancin aint line dancin !) then i listened to a lot of good music:

Slow Dancing - Aly & AJ * total classic for me lmao. damn they have the best spotify top 5

Let's Get Married - Bill Elliot Swing Orchestra * when i didn't yet understand that i had to look up **country** swing music. now i know ;) god i cant wait to go again

-- what is it?! i think its that i really love to dance, to move my body, to try and get it right, to improve? to be good? to have fun in a choreographed way. to conform. the do the correct thing. idk

here's what i think its really about: i think i like smootheness. and i like the click of a phenomenon you can't pull a word for. and short counts. and intention. and shape. mostly shape. beat, sure, too. i like beat. i like rising to it, and not tiring. i dont know how i get so obsessed. i need to go back. that was exactly what ive been looking for for months, and what i thought i found but only got in part in the club, which i go to for the dancing, the loud music, the blindingness. but i dont contribute there. my ears are filled but the sound can only vibrate me a little. im not, swung, literally. and i cant provide energy to the space like you can witcha boots awn. so yeah, i think thats really it. dancing. i fucking love dancing. ive always fucking loved dancing. for real! really! i never got that good, yeah. but i fucking loved it thats for sure. i always wanted someone to actually teach me shit. they didnt do that enough in theatre. maybe they did. maybe i just wasnt that talented. not now though. dead. fucking. ass. just input my entire work calendar that i have access to because this shits getting real my life is mine and theres fan fucking tastic things to be doing with it.

alright...i could continue...i'll pick up the rest in my dairy ;* not gonna get too personal, phew. uhm. eh hem.

That Don't Impress Me Much - Shania Twain

Tequila - Dan + Shay

End of Beginning - Djo * lmao i got on this because i saw some interview w him online as im jamminggugghh i got sucked in. then all this happened:

Change - Djo * so much better than the one blowin up btw

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) - Eurythmics, etc * i looked up more songs like Change :| hahaha. then all this happened:

Lifetime - Yves Tumor

Pop Song - Perfume Genius

Here Comes the Rain Again - Eurythmics, etc

Here Comes Your Man - Pixies

Eye in the Wall - Perfume Genius

Boys - Amen Dunes * at this point my original mission is fucked. the intention's gone. i'm so far from where i started: country lovin

at the same time the joint i rolled before we went out and shared on the way home is getting its way through my system for sure. its approaching 2am, woah! full day tomorrow but not nearly as inspired at this one. this one's literally how you're supposed to live . well maybe beer not getting stolen at the bar mmmm. mhm. yeah i'll tack that on as well.

i didnt, dont, want to let go of tonight skrrreorgihveouhv!!!! uuuummm! yeah i should keep thinking about it. : ) : ) hehehehehe

Man! I Feel Like a Woman! - Shania Twain

<3 , so much ;)

Kate

[somanywips]

hi!! can you explain why you hate koushirou? i’m curious bc i feel like ive never heard any hate on him and i would love to hear your rant

I might be projecting a lot here, but a father who discourages his child from pursuing their dreams just because of something as shallow as gender makes me infuriated. Like it's so stupid, and you could even argue that "oh but it's dangerous for a girl" and I would tell you to go fuck yourself because danger is not a reason to stump your child's dreams. Everything has danger to it, a parent's job is to give and teach their children ways to avoid or minimize said danger. What Koushiro did to Kuina was not only unnecessary but also cruel, because what else does children have besides their dreams???? So yeah I hate him and I hope he burns smily face :)

[piilokarsastus]

You wanna find out some personal shit?

1. Any scars? Nothing cool. I do have a little dent on my forehead from the time my friend accidentally drew blood on me with a toy sword when we were like 12 but that’s about it. But yesterday, I accidentally caused myself a 7 cm long (and luckily very shallow) cut on my forearm so we’ll see what happens with that.

2. Self harmed? I’ve done things that probably count as self harm but I’ve never cut myself (on purpose...) or anything like that.

3. Crush? Not at the moment, although there’s a person who could definitely change that if we saw each other a bit more often.

4. Kissed anyone? It’s been like 2,5 years but yeah.

5. Coke or Pepsi? I don’t like to breathe in carbon dioxide, much less drink it.

6. Someone you hate? Conservatives. What exactly is it that you’re trying to conserve? Society has always been in constant change and there’s little you or anyone can do to stop it. Seriously, didn’t you learn anything from the Congress of Vienna?

7. Best Friends? I’ve had several but I’m currently in a phase where I’m not that close to anyone.

8. Have you ever done alcohol or drugs? No. I’ve tasted alcohol plenty of times but I don’t think it counts as “doing” it if I don’t get drunk.

9. What’s your dream job? Teaching music theory somewhere in higher education (you know, with motivated adult students who don’t have to be disciplined)

10. Ever been in love? Yes

11. Last time you cried? Last proper cry was probably in January but my eyes have been known to get watery whenever I see a tiktok about someone’s cat passing away.

12. Favorite color? There are so many good colours out there but I’m gonna say ultramarine blue.

13. Height? 170 cm

14. Birthday? September 6

15. Eye color? [shrug emoji]

16. Hair color? a very deep brown

17. What do you love? classical music. nature. cats. food.

18. Obsession? classical music. nature. cats. food.

19. If you had one wish, what would it be? That no human was capable of any sort of violence towards other humans. I think that would pretty much solve every problem we have as a society.

20. Do you love someone? romantically, no

21. Kiss or hug? why not both?

22. Nicknames people call you? none at the moment

23. Favorite song? Ravel’s “Asie” does give me the chills every time

24. Favorite band? The Netherlands Bach Society

25. Worst thing that has ever happened to you? finding out my crush chose someone else over me is up there but I’m so very over it now

26. Best thing that has ever happened to you? idk

27. Something you would change about yourself? nothing much, just like my entire face and body #justnonbinarythings

28. Ever dated someone? yes. it’s been five years... but yes.

29. Worst mistake? Hard to say. Me choosing to get to know aforementioned crush did lead to a very weird and not always easy 2022 but I guess it lead to some growth as well.

30. Watch the movie or read the book? If we’re talking adaptations, the original is always better.

31. Ever had a heartbreak? yup.

32. Favorite show? Better Call Saul

33. Best day of your life? there have been many great days in my life but just based on concentration of emotions felt in a singular day, none have felt quite as great as high school graduation day on June 2nd 2018.

34. Any talents? I’m great at making music and a pretty solid writer. I also have a fantastic memory.

35. Do you wish you could ever start over? Start over what, my life in general? There are experiences I’d like to relive and things I wish I experienced but never did, but I’m reasonably happy with how things have turned out. I have often wondered what my life would be like if I were a different person altogether but that’s kind of the point of “self”, if I was any different I’d be someone else.

36. Any bad habits? indulging like every single craving i get. god giving me access to wolt was a mistake of drastic consequenses

37. Ever had a near death experience? no

38. Someone I can tell anything to? my mum 

39. Ever lost a loved one? no

40. Do you believe in love? yes. it sure is a thing that exists.

41. Someone you hate/Dislike? wasn’t there a question like this already?

42. Are you okay? honestly, yes? more so than in a long time.

43. Relationship status? single, and for the first time in 5 years it doesn’t seem to be bothering me that much.

[super-predictable98]

(Not) My Dream Girl | Princess Jellyfish AU

Warning: Strong language, sexual content

(Masterlist)

September 27th

Dear diary,

Oh well... Seems like things took a turn. I feel a little stupid for only writing about Suke, but ever since we met, he's all I can think about and I've never been happier. I don't wanna sound dramatic, but he definitely changed me for the better, he's the fabulous Glinda to my Elphaba. Except, well, Glinda and Elphaba don't do what we did (at least I don't think so).

It was pretty obvious it would happen sooner or later. Okay, guess it wasn't obvious, but I really wanted it to happen, so I've just been on cloud nine for the last few hours. Let's start from the beginning, shall we?

Suke came over after class to study fashion history together. He was wearing a fabulous red dress, black high heels, and long blonde hair to match it. His makeup was also incredible, I've been begging for him to teach me how he does his eyes, but so far we didn't have any time.

"Hey, I got us some cake pops on my way here, you like Starbucks cake pops, right?" he asked, showing me a small paper bag with four of them.

"Yeah, they are my favorite," I pulled one out and immediately took a bite.

We managed to study for maybe twenty minutes before I lost focus completely, getting too entertained with some story or a joke he would tell me. He just has the talent to make me forget the rest of the world exists. The one person you can't look away from, all your attention is always on him.

As much as he says doesn't want to be a politician, he certainly has the genes. He would be able to make the entire world vote for him if he really tried, his charisma was nearly blinding but not in an annoying way that makes you jealous or makes you hate that person for being so nice... In a way that embraces you and makes you feel listened to.

Makes sense that he's the son of a politician and an actress, he sure knows how to keep a captive audience (oftentimes me).

"Ugh! Why is it so hot? I look amazing, but at what cost, you know?" he pulled his wig off, his hair was tied up in a messy pony and a few strands framed his beautiful face.

"Someday you're gonna find someone to bring you down a notch," I teased, as I always do, a way I found to make myself less embarrassed and flustered by his own teasing. "Tell you you're not all that you think you are, Suke."

"Really? It's not you though, is it?" he chuckled. "You think I'm irresistible."

"You can dream I guess..."

"I do."

I froze upon hearing those words, I was so confused by that statement. On one hand, Suke loves to make jokes and screw around, but he's also brutally honest, he usually says whatever is on his mind.

When I looked back at him, he laughed with the cake pop in his mouth, rolling around on my bed as I sat on the floor. "Look how red you are! Oh my God, you're so cute!" he smiled the most roguish smile I've ever seen.

Those are the moments I am one hundred percent sure the person in front of me is not that elegant creature I imagined him to be, and I love that about him.

"With so many girls after you, I bet you don't even have time to dream of me."

"They are boring! All of them are so shallow, you're not like that."

I asked him what I am like and this time it was his turn to freeze, I don't think I've ever seen Suke hesitate.

After some careful consideration, he sighed as if he had been defeated by my words somehow. Like he has been trying to hide this information for the longest time.

"You're... Cute," he admitted and I laughed, thinking he was just trying to mess with me again. "You're sweet, you care about me, you look at me like I'm some sort of masterpiece. Sometimes I get angry with how adorable you can be without even trying. Like that one time we were walking around Soho at night and you told me the city is so bright because it's full of dreams and every single person can shine with their own dream, so the nights are never dark and that's why you're not scared to be out late."

"You remember that?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

"It was torture! How can you just look at me with those sparkling eyes, say something like that under the moonlight, and expect me not to...? Not to...?"

Instead of finishing his sentence, Suke went straight for a kiss, tilting my head up and pressing those red lips to mine. I was pretty sure that was a hallucination, it wouldn't be the first time I had very vivid fantasies about him kissing me like that, but it was real, his tongue was really in my mouth, and he really tasted like white chocolate and cranberry tea.

Wow, he was a really good kisser too, if I wasn't sitting down, my knees would've turned into jelly on the spot.

"Suke? What was that for?" I gasped for air once he finally pulled away.

"I just couldn't help it..." he groaned. "You're just so pure and so amazing, I couldn't keep it in."

How could someone look so sexy with red lipstick smeared around their lips? With that frustrated look on his face? Why was that hot?

"Don't feel bad, I liked it. Maybe I've been waiting for you to do that."

"I thought you might've, but I like you, what happens when I move back to Japan next year? Not to mention I don't wanna ruin our friendship, you're pretty much the only real friend I have."

"Y-yeah, I guess you're right, we don't wanna get hurt."

We both agreed it would probably be a bad idea to mix our friendship with all these feelings, and it would already hurt so much to say goodbye as friends... But none of that mattered at that moment, that moment when his lips found mine again.

I didn't really understand what was happening until a few seconds later. Suke pulled me into his arms, kissing me like his life depended on it. I had never seen that side of him, but I'm glad he decided to show me. His hands knew exactly where to go, he knew every corner of my body by heart.

"Is this okay?" he asked, sliding one hand up my shirt.

The way he said it was really sexy, or maybe it's just me who was really horny, but all I could do was take my shirt off and let his red-colored lips mark my chest with passion.

I know what you're about to ask... Yes, we had sex and it was amazing. Suke really knows what he's doing, so do his fingers, and his tongue, and other parts of him that I've come to like so much. He really worried about me and making me feel good, little does he know I've been imagining that moment almost every night. And yes, his cock is pretty impressive (as I imagined).

He ended up falling asleep in my room again, I really hope my roommate doesn't freak out if she comes back tonight. Soooo here are a few of the dirty talk highlights that I'm writing down so I don't ever forget them:

- I wanna taste every inch of your body, you have no idea how much I want you...

- The way you look at me when I make you cum is so sexy, it makes me wanna do it again. And the little sounds you make... You really know how to drive me crazy, don't you, sweetheart?

- Yeah? This is what you want? Then beg, I wanna hear how much you want me to ruin you (that one was whispered in my ear, I nearly melted)

- Say my name, sweetie, who's making you feel good right now?

- Kawaii (okay, that's not dirty talk, but it's what he murmured when he saw how I squirmed as he touched me there and it was so hot, I couldn't even think straight)

Tag list: @elliethesuperfruitlover

[janghoefett]

Hotline Bling (Jango Fett x F!Reader)

Jango invites his favorite girl over to Kamino for a booty call.

Rating: Explicit (18+) Pairing: F/M Word count: 1.7k

Inspired by the energy of the blue tunic scene that gets me flustered. Reader has some sort of implied sexual relationship with Obi-Wan Kenobi that Jango is aware of, so he invites her over to remind her that things are much better with him. I’m literally so sorry I did this to Obi.

Warnings: 98% porn, 2% plot, unprotected sex (p in v), dirty talk, creampie, oral (f receiving), spitting in mouth, praise kink.

“Need you to come. Waiting on Kamino. J.”

There was no innocence about the bounty hunter’s message. You knew exactly what it meant.

The journey to Kamino was spent with a dull ache between your legs. How many times had you found yourself dreaming not about the Jedi Master who fucked you sweetly, but about the bounty hunter with a hundred scars who played your body like an instrument?

Jango knew about you and Kenobi. There was nothing exclusive about your relationships with either men, but you had found yourself in bed with the Jedi to feel the heat of another body as you resided on Coruscant. Obi-Wan was sweet and gentle… but Jango was dark and red-blooded.

Jango has no shame leading you inside his apartment despite watchful eyes. If a Kaminoan happened to be in the hall outside his door, or if someone recognized that you only came to stay in Jango’s quarters, it made no difference to the bounty hunter. Instead it only brings on a power dynamic that makes you feel like his prize to be flaunted.

His kisses burn like fire against your lips as he keeps you pressed against the wall just on the other side of his door. His musk is familiar; it’s a masculine scent that makes you swoon and entices your fingers to dance against his stubble. With Jango, you fall back into a fast paced rhythm despite weeks spent apart. Your bodies grind against each other without care, only greed and primal desire.

Jango turns you to face the wall suddenly, wrapping an arm around your stomach and pressing himself into your backside. Your breath hitches.

“I need to fuck you,” he breathes lowly in your ear, sending a chill up your spine.

You whimper at his words, gripping the wall for support, as your knees grow weak with anticipation. Jango slides your pants down and off your feet, and kneels to be level with your hips. His hands grip your ass, kneading the flesh before spreading your legs further apart.

You bend over further and arch your back on instinct, allowing Jango access to bring his mouth to your wet cunt. Your legs buck but his two large hands continue to support you as his strong mouth works at your center, sending shockwaves up your body.

You allow it to continue until the sensation proves to be too much.

“Shit, Jango! Take me to the bed! I- I can’t stand.”

“Yeah?” he says, smacking your exposed bottom. “You gonna let me fuck you there? Remind you who you belong to?”

“Yes!” you croak, bucking your hips.

The desperation in your voice stokes Jango’s fervor. He turns your body to face him and lifts you in an impressive feat of strength, wrapping your legs around him as he carries you to the bed.

You strip your jacket and top off your body, which you only now realize were slightly damp from your entrance to Kamino. The air bites at your skin.

Jango’s breathing deepens at the sight of you unwrapping yourself, and his eyes trace over the contours and curves of your body like a wild man. He discards his shirt easily, revealing the thick layers of a warrior’s muscles, and his hands work to unfasten his pants.

Jango’s head gestures for you to move back further onto the bed. “Bend over,” he orders simply, taking his cock out.

You shudder at the sight. Who were you to refuse him?

You do as he says, crawling up on the bed with your ass in the air and your forearms keeping you balanced.

Jango comes up behind you. Holding your hips down, he spits on your cunt, using large fingers to prime you. You bite your lip, taking deep breaths to relax, just waiting for that delicious moment…

He enters you quickly, drawing strangled groans from both of your lips. The stretch makes your legs quiver; you were just so full. Jango’s length was standard, but his girth? Feeling Jango push into you quite literally takes your breath away.

You lay there with your face pressed against the sheets and your mouth agape.

���Such a good girl,” he praises you, running a hand up your back and down your thigh. “All tight for me.”

Jango begins to move and picks up the pace quickly. You are practically soaking his length as he fucks into you, gripping the sheets in an attempt to hang onto reality. Your eyes close. Your breath is shallow and you can faintly can hear Jango’s rough breathing as he thrusts into you with strong juts. Your arm reaches back for him mindlessly as he hits something that pushes you closer towards the edge.

“Does your Jedi fuck you like this, princess?” he growls through gritted teeth.

“No…” you breathe, struggling to speak. Jango was marking you as his territory and it was going straight to your core. “He’s… he’s gentle…”

You can’t finish your sentence.

“Cockdumb already?”

Yes. You were.

He slows for a moment to bring your torso upright and continues his brutal pace. His hands come around your body, clutching at your breast and toying with your clit.

Jango starts to mumble phrases in Mando’a, and whether they were curses or praises you have no idea. “Atiniir… atiniir...” he chants. “Take it,” he’s telling you. The low vibrations of his voice push you closer to the edge as you take his thrusts.

You clench around him hard when he hits something new, coming around his length, as he supports your body. He slows to a stop after a moment, allowing your muscles to relax again.

“Come on,” Jango huffs, smacking your ass again. “Lay down.”

Obediently you move up onto the bed, laying back on a pillow and looking up at the hunter with wide eyes.

Jango takes you again with ease as he comes over you. You moan softly at the way his heat warms your chilled skin, and your legs and arms wrap around him.

“You want me to fuck you gently, mesh’la?” Jango taunts, remaining still.

“No,” you whine, grinding your hips into the bed. “Hard… please…” Your hand comes up to Jango’s cheek but he grabs it in turn, pinning your wrist down by your head.

Jango starts up a hard pace again, linking an arm under your knee. “Look how you take my cock,” he growls. “You know how good you feel on me, girl?”

Jango’s praises make you clench around him; you mewl slightly, inching closer to another orgasm.

Jango is greedy as he devours you, his strong arm snaking under your body to hold you close to him. He fills your senses while penetrating your aching cunt with strong juts, exploring your mouth, keeping his body flush against yours. Your toes curl and your legs start to shake. “Come on!” he growls.

“Fuck!” you cry. “Jango!” Your hands rake at him as you come again, pulsing around him for several seconds, but he keeps fucking you through it. Nothing exists for you in this moment except for a wave of hot pleasure that leaves you breathless.

Jango’s hand comes to grip your face, inching your jaw open with his thumb. His mouth comes down to yours - spitting inside of it - before closing your jaw back up. You whine pathetically in appreciation as you swallow. “Such a precious girl,” he coos, sealing the lewd act with a kiss.

You were stirring back to life and ready to come again. Jango never came more than once, he knew how to push through it, how to allow your cunt to milk him without spilling a drop. When Jango did finally release himself, however, it was going to be final and it was going to leave you full.

“I want one more from you,” he says with that low, raspy voice, as his thrusts become more erratic. “Come on, show me what a good girl you are, mesh’la. Show me how much you love getting fucked.”

You take his words as a challenge and begin to come again, picking up on the feeling of your last. Your hips start to grind again and your cunt pulses, eliciting a strangled groan from the bounty hunter.

“Come inside of me,” you whine desperately. “Please.”

Hearing you beg makes Jango come with a deep groan, stilling deep inside of you and leaving bruises on your skin. Your legs still tremble as you lie there in recovery, smiling at the fuzzy feeling of his seed filling you.

Kamino’s air nips at your skin when Jango moves away and you shudder slightly, still heaving with shaky breath.

“C’mere, mesh’la.” Jango grumbles, bringing you into the space under his arm. You roll over to face him, wrapping your arm around him and burying your face in his chest gladly. “Can’t have you going cold on me,” he says with an audible smile.

Rain beats down against the large windows, filling the silence.

“Do you want me to fuck you gently?” he had asked after you had called Obi-Wan gentle just a moment earlier.

You sit on his words for a moment. Was Jango trying to provide what he thought you craved? Would he have fucked gently if you asked, or was it another game to hear you beg?

“Do you have to get back to your Jedi?” Jango asks through the darkness, breaking the silence.

Your breath catches in your throat. Jango had said he didn’t mind you seeing other people, but there’s something different, something about the way his tone of voice feels detached. Something that shouldn’t be opened.

“He’s not my Jedi,” you say, avoiding his gaze. “He’s… a friend.”

You cringe at your choice of words as soon as they leave your lips.

“I don’t fuck my friends,” Jango laughs under his breath.

“Then what am I to you?” you counter. You prop yourself up on an elbow and bringing a hand to his warm chest, cocking an eyebrow at the man underneath you. Your fingers trace lightly over the contours. “A stranger?”

“Not a stranger,” he smirks. “I can teach you a few words for it in Mando’a.”

------------------------------------------------------------

Atiniir = “take it” Mesh’la = “beautiful”

------------------------------------------------------------

yes jango fett wrote hotline bling about u

[stylistiquements]

The Sorcerer pt. 3

Corpse Husband x gn!reader

Reincarnation AU | Summary :

The same candle lights up on Corpse’s desk every time you are reborn and turn 23. He has been looking for you during centuries but this time you might be closer than anticipated.  {Playlist}

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝟯 : 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙚

An eagerness for a special sense of belonging brings you to a lot of unexplored roads. 

☾ Words : 6159.

☾ Warnings : swearing

Masterlist | Previous | Next 

George has barely spoken a word since he started diving into the golden pages of the book Dream brought home. He doesn’t even notice his presence by his side, too absorbed by the perfect calligraphy inked on the paper, curled up on the rocking chair which swings back and forth at a tireless pace.

Dream leans toward his familiar, slowly unfolding his arm so his fingers could get closer to George’s one. His long fingers are curled around the book and it feels as though the contact would be enough to make sure George is okay.

Dream leans toward his familiar, slowly unfolding his arm so his fingers could get closer to George’s one. His long fingers are curled around the book and it feels as though the contact would be enough to make sure George is okay.

When George exhales deeply and rapidly leafs through the golden paper one last time before closing the book, Dream flinches and sits up while clearing his throat.

“You said it was supposed to help y/n but I’m afraid to ask how,” he says as he lifts his head while shaking it in confusion. “I feel like a voyeur after reading all of … this.”

“You don’t have to ask,” Dream mumbles, hoping that it would be enough for George to brush the matter away.

“I have another question that needs an honest answer.”

Dream hums. He hates the way George is looking at him, as if the wrong question was about to come out of his mouth.

“Did you get that book or did you steal it?”

Yeah, wrong fucking question.

“The book contains too much crucial information it to be given to anyone. Even I can feel that," George pushes and he’s so right Dream can’t bring himself to lie, only cover sugarcoat the truth as much as he can.

“It’s ours. I didn’t steal it, I took it back,” he mutters and George sighs exasperatedly.

“So you got us into trouble,” he concludes.

Dream’s lips part but the words get lost in George’s incriminating eyes. He reaches for his hand and grabs it, one last attempt to reassure him as much as he can.

“It’s okay,” Dream finally breathes. “I’ll make sure everything is okay, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“You better because if this goes wrong a human will get involved.”

Sitting in your car in an empty parking lot, you find yourself staring at the object you just bought with a puzzled expression while taking another bite of your bagel. The clueless item, which sits so perfectly still on the passenger seat, seems to be setting a silence you’re not sure how to handle. It’s an awkwardly clear stone in a conical shape attached to a chain reflecting the rays of the sun into iridescent light that spreads above your head and turns the grayish ceiling of the car into something vivid. You take another bite of your food, the only excuse you found to break eye contact for a second, hoping that it would ease the tension that has been growing since you started feeling like the object observed you as much as you observed him. In a long exhale, you end up covering it with your jacket.

You’re not even sure why you bought the pendulum in the first place. Probably a mind busy with a sense of curiosity and the remains of eerie stories you’ve been narrating all morning that still creeped upon you, leaving you feeling a lot more mystic than usual. You just stopped to describe that cryptic looking shop and your steps were leading you inside before you could realize it, the door tinkling as you pushed it open.

The shelves were brimming with crystals and herbs and things you couldn’t identify. From potion ingredients to candles and incense, it looked like the perfect witch den and you hated that it felt so close to home even though it could never be. It was a strange feeling; a sense of belonging as illegitimate as helpless.

Maybe that’s why you wandered around as you did, sight getting filled with questions and a hint of confusion as you analyzed every display meticulously. As if learning more about their world could give you the illusion of being an active part of it. What an irony to hate something you’re so irremediably drawn to.

When you met the object, your attention stopped and you described it with a careful eye. The owner found her way to you; a young lady with faded purple hair and winged liner that made her eyes look like cat’s eyes. She spoke in a funny accent that left you wondering where it could come from. There was something about it -or her- that felt so peculiarly familiar,

“This is a fascinating pendulum, isn’t it?” The woman said, more of a statement than it was a real question. You brushed the impression away and gently smiled at her, not sure what to answer nor even what a pendulum was.

The lady opened the glass cabinet. The chain intertwined with her long fingers and the thing looked more like a jewel when held so delicately and dangling as it was. It swung from back and forth, movements perfectly calibrated. It was inquisitive, a little mesmerizing and, before you knew it, you both were standing on each side of the counter and the lady carefully covered the pendulum with tissue paper.

The way her hair fell behind her ears, the constant smile that was tattooed on her lips, the way the paper crinkled under her fingers, it all grew together to create this one and so lucid déjà vu. The presence felt so intimate, leaving an odd and indelible aftertastes in your throat.

“I’m sorry but haven’t we met before?” You dared to ask as your mind pressured you to.

“Maybe we have,” she simply answered with a soft smile, eyes still locked on the wrapped pendulum. What a weird way to answer a simple question, neither a validation nor a denial.

“I feel like I know you,” you insisted, narrowing your eyes as if you knew there was something more, something that would make everything make sense.

She didn’t say a word, only handed you the small bag she just packed while leading you toward the exit with a hand on your lower back. It wasn’t pressuring but it was firm, an obvious invitation to leave. Maybe you were just being too annoying with the matter and she wouldn’t have been the first one to think so.

“Take care of the pendulum. It’s very special,” she demanded and, just like that, she closed the door of the shop behind you and flipped the card from “open” to “closed”.

You stood puzzled on the pavement for a minute, not too sure how to feel about all of this. Everyday keeps getting weirder and weirder.

The whole experience was odd, really, and maybe that’s why the purchase feels a little wrong, a little off. Like something that was never meant to happen in the first place.

Now, you place an index and a middle finger around the chain. The pendulum dangles, untamed movements that send vibrations against your skin. Your eyes are trying to focus on the stone, to forget about the people walking down the street you still see in your peripheral vision but, as much as you wish for something magical to happen, it’s nothing but a stone that sways aimlessly in the air. You scoff, it just makes the whole thing even more ridiculous. So, you intuitively take a picture of the thing and send it to Corpse before placing it back on the passenger seat.

[Look what I bought,] you type before clicking on the send button.

[Nice pendulum, didn’t know you were interested in that kind of stuff,] Corpse responds

[Me neither but it’s pretty cool, right? I don’t know how to use it though.]

[Why would you buy a pendulum if you don’t know how to use one?]

Thank you Mr Sorcerer, good talk, you mouth with a fake smile that, realistically, looks more like a wince. He always has a way to make you feel so stupid. You don’t feel like responding, too annoyed to give him the credit of asking an interesting question. Yet, your fingers are telling another story.

[Do you wanna teach me, maybe?]

You twist the key inside the ignition. Is this conversation even of any use? It feels like rhetoric at this point; you already know he won’t answer such a question. Yet the phone lights up in your palms before you’re able to put it out of sight. A two letter response that makes you regret hoping he would answer in the first place.

[No.]

There’s this deep exhale as you rub the exasperation out of your face. Why does he always have to be so ungracious? As if bitterness was the only thing he had left. In the end, this is nothing but a reminder that it’s just your friendship with Corpse in a nutshell; shallow and endless exchanges of fuck yous and you toos and that’s just as deep as it can get. You’re stuck inside this infernal game of cat and mouse, looking for a way to approach the real Corpse without him flinching away. This really isn’t of any use. Why would you even try to crawl inside his mind in the first place?

You push the gas pedal, trying not to stare too long at the shop that gets further and further away through the rear-view because, soon enough, you’ll forget about that odd encounter, about that even odder attempt to feel like belonging in a world you could almost think you despise.

You find yourself thinking about Corpse’s harshness, about the expression he probably wears on a face you know nothing about. Can the coldness be seen on his expression every time he chooses the crudest answer? The city scrolls before your eyes and you don’t pay much attention to it. Does he always consider the options or does his mind automatically go to that place where you’re not allowed?

It feels like every response serves a purpose to draw a line you’re so tempted to cross. You sigh heavily. Leaning closer in the purpose of a touch that can never lead anywhere is one weary way to live a friendship. You’re stuck between the wish to get closer and the wish to let go, neither one of the two being a possible thing.

By the time you reach your apartment, it feels like you’re more confused than you usually are. It’s usually so easy to brush it off, to shrug and think that it’s just Corpse being Corpse. Not today, today you're trying to understand an existence that can’t be put into words.

Why can’t I let it go? It’s with that question that you spent the rest of the day answering emails and reading more gruesome stories and now lay restless on your bed. You press the cold pillow against your face as if it would’ve been enough to stifle the question that spreads in your mind like mold. Maybe, at the end of the day, it’s not that you don’t want to let Corpse go, but simply don’t know how to.

The light of the full moon is growing electric, shining so bright that you doubt even being able to sleep.

You fall asleep, eventually, and when you do, you get woken up by the irrepressible necessity to snatch what tickles your nose with an irritating vigor.

Huh?

Your vision gets clearer as you become aware of your surroundings; vastness of meadow and cottony clouds passing fast in a blue sky. Your body rolls on what feels like a picnic blanket under your touch. You sit up abruptly, meeting the eyes of the one who sits cross legged in front of you.

Dream?

Your lips part to talk but you find yourself unable to let a word escape your grip. The energy that emanates from Dream is familiar but this face is new. He never showed it. A secret he wasn’t ready to share before.

Quite the irony if you think too much about it; the man granted you a secret that probably could have ruined his life but has never been comfortable enough to show his face.

You describe his face; green eyes that show confidence, a good amount of pride and wrinkle under a rooted smile as dirty blond hair frame the whole living painting.

If it wasn’t for the feeling that agitated your heart, you would’ve believed to be in front of a complete stranger. Warmth agitated your heart. The leap of faith he took months ago reflects on the softness he never fails to perform. Warmth and relief to have the confirmation that, after all, Dream is still here.

You try to talk again but no breath dares to fall out of your mouth as relief gets caught in your knotted throat. You wish you could wrap your arms around him, you wish you could cry from worrying so much.

It’s with the same gentleness he radiates that he raises a kettle to pour steaming water in a tea cup that sits in front of you.

“Why aren’t you wearing your mask, Dream?” You say, head leaning on the side with a confusion that is starting to grow more and more intense.

“Do I really need to hide my face any longer?” He answers as he hands you a slice of fruit pie on a golden detailed plate. The wind gently ruffles his hair and you find yourself deep diving inside your own mind in search of an answer to a question that really is more rhetorical than anything.

The meadow is as endless as essentially peaceful but there’s something so bittersweet about it. Maybe it’s the silence that makes the wind’s whistle so clear and the lack of human contact even more obvious, maybe it’s Dream’s unexpected presence. In any case, there’s something about those stirring eyes that makes your mind wander near the ghost of a presentiment you’ve been willing to forget this whole time; am I dreaming?

“This place isn’t real, is it?” You ask and Dream’s eyes lower to his tea cup, only proof that he heard the question since he doesn’t acknowledge it verbally. The light gets softer as a cloud obscures the sun and you wonder; if you were to touch him right now, would you even be able to? It’s a tempting wish for a confirmation that Dream isn’t only a chimera, something that would’ve been meant to ease a bit of disorientation.

“It is real but-”

“-but we’re not really here,” you complete the answer as you nod. It’s just a dream. “How do I know that you’re real and not only the fruit of my imagination?”

“Because I know this place and you don’t,” Dream answers and it’s as obvious as deprived of any sense.

You bring a spoon of pie to your mouth, doubting that this would be enough to prove anything. The sourness of the fruits awaken your tongue and he mimics your movements. There’s something so fundamentally confusing about doing something so domestic when it feels like you’re missing the whole point of it. The quietness being more of a hindrance than an actual help. You’re willing to brush the doubts away and believe that Dream is really here.

“Is this where you’ve been all this time?” You ask. The chances of an answer are thin but you simply can’t help it. Dream shakes his head and pinches his lips together. You hold eye contact, hoping to be able to get an intelligible message in those emerald irises.

“Well, have you been safe at least?”

And now he scrunches his nose as he can never be fully honest yet never dares to lie. Maybe that’s the issue. Maybe you wish he could lie from time to time and you could persuade yourself that it’s the truth as you did with his presence inside your dream.

You’re about to continue the interrogation when he interrupts you, “I’ll answer one more question.”

You huff, as if his facial expressions were actual answers.

“You said you knew this place and I believe you didn’t choose it randomly which means you wanted to show it to me … so where are we?”

And now there’s a full wince on his face. You roll your eyes and throw your hands in the air. You just love Dream’s way of answering questions, don’t you? The annoyance is throbbing, the simplest question becomes the most complex puzzle. You look away, plucking some grass mechanically to release the tension that is growing in your fingers.

“My turn. So you tried to use a spell and bought a pendulum,” Dream says before brushing the cup against his lips. “Bold move for someone who hates magic,” and your attention gets back on him; eyes sparkling and proud grin as if he finally proved a point he tried to make a long time ago. He probably did in a way but you won’t let him hear the whole story as it’s more embarrassing than anything.

“So that’s what you wizards do, huh,” you scoff as you raise an eyebrow. “You text each other to make fun of me?”

Dream doesn’t answer, lashes fluttering slowly as to let you steep in your own question but it only pushes you to talk more, “I have to handle this on my own since you're apparently not willing to help me with my issues.”

“Y/n,” he sighs to bring you back to a reality he thinks you’re too far from. “You don’t wanna get rid of the issues.”

You raise an eyebrow to the audacity, “Why not?”

“The spell didn’t work because neither one of you is ready to let go of the other, so what do you want me to do? There’s nothing I can do if you’re not willing to let go,” Dream explains, “and it’s pretty obvious that you’re not.”

Is it? Your mind hisses. Dream’s voice rings with a confidence that is as irritating as unwelcomed but, maybe, it’s just the way you react when he gets too close to an unwarranted truth. He isn’t as wrong as you wish he was. Why can’t you just let it go?

“Oh come on now, was I ever wrong before?” He continues while the words tangle in your brain for too long. You can clearly picture the wide and oh so proud grin that adorns his lips and you mumble something under your breath that is either related to a cuss or a request for the bragging to stop.

“I don’t want to get rid of him. I just hate that our paths always end up intertwining,” you admit in a deep exhale.

“Of course they do,” Dream murmurs. The words linger before fading away. It’s so gentle that, by the time you realize the breath was a whisper, it’s already too late to ask him to repeat himself. You remain silent, eyes fixed on the steam that escapes from your tea cup as you reconsider saying out loud the words that are hitching your throat so badly.

“It’s not as if a relationship with a sorcerer would be something fruitful or anything anyway.”

Shit.

Dream chokes on his tea he almost spit. You wish you could apologize and say that you didn’t mean the harsh words that left your mouth but it’s nothing but a truth that has to be owned.

“Pretty sure you shouldn’t see a relationship by its loss and benefits.”

“You know it’s not what I meant,” you retort. “I would never be able to be with someone who is so secretive about their life. I mean, to the point where they can’t even answer a simple question like ‘where have you been’.”

“I know,” Dream mumbles, quiet and whispery voice that almost melts into the wind that brushes against the tall grass, “but some things are just better left unsaid.”

It shatters the last glimpse of patience you have left. You can already feel your eyes going wide, ready to roll to the back of your head. You’ve heard this sentence too many times for it to be acceptable.

“See? This fruitless conversation is literally my point,” you complain while throwing a hand in the air.

The silence returns. It’s more irritating than any word could be. It feels like the conversation is about to get too heavy to be endured and you know it can never go that way with Dream. The arguments are always sterile, filled with forbidden words that never work at anyone’s advantage. That’s why you exhale deeply and force yourself to move to a lighter subject, “beside, if I were to decide which sorcerer I’d want to be with, I’m pretty sure I’d choose you.”

“That’s why you’re my favorite human,” Dream sings cheerfully and you can’t repress a smile from creeping on your lips.

“No I’m not. I’m just the only human you talk to on a daily basis,” you snort, “and I would only choose you because you’re the less secretive out of the two I know- which speaks volumes about the level of ignorance I’m on.”

“But you can’t choose, can you?” He trails in a low voice and the thought echoes inside your brain for a long time. His lashes flutter slowly, matching a soft smile that seems too compassionate for the situation, almost a little filled with pity.

“No, I can’t,” you finally conclude after thinking about it for a second and there’s something about that conclusion that almost rings as a confession you’re not sure you should be making in the first place. Spoon rattles against the plates and the sun seems to be back, shining to its fullest capacity. The rest of the tasting in silence, trying to brush every matter out of your sleeves to enjoy a time you’ve been waiting for so long.

“I have to go,” Dream informs you and you raise an eyebrow.

“What, now?” You ask, confused. “We haven’t even finished our picnic.”

“I know, peaches, but I don’t have much time left in here. Call me when you wake up and I promise we’ll catch up.”

Dream gets up and walks through the grass away from you. His silhouette gets smaller and smaller and just as he’s about to make one with the horizon, he turns around, “You were the one who brought up the whole ‘being in a relationship’ thingy. I never implied that.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

[Join the Discord VC,] Dream orders.

Corpse drops the phone on the side table as he lies down, eyes wandering around the crowded room where shelves are filled with books that haven't been read in decades and items he collected from his travels. The white light of the moon mirrors onto every shiny objects. Fatigue burns his eyes and even though it feels like a poker shot, he feels ready to try and get some sleep.

[Stop playing hard to get and join the VC, there’s y/n too,] Dream pushes.

He huffs. Even though he tries his best to keep you at a reasonable distance, you still appear everywhere his eyes lay, do you? He won’t answer, he knows he won’t. His body aches for some earned rest he hasn’t been able to wrap around in a shameful amount of weeks. Corpse exhales heavily, turning left and right on his bed to find the ultimate position he doesn’t seem to find. There’s always a bother he can’t get out of his shoulders. You keep creeping upon his mind as if you had the right to.

He won’t get involved, he knows he won't, but the night rings differently and maybe Corpse is longing to share it with someone a little more than expected. His attention falls upon the plant on a shelf, a distraction from a silence that is almost tempting. It looks miserable and the issue hitches his brain. He gets up, one touch and the plant looks alive again.

In another heavy sigh that drains all the air out of his lungs, Corpse stretches his sore limbs and tense back. He drags his feet to the desk and the computer illuminates the room as much as it hurts his tired eyes. He sits, soulless, for a couple of seconds while still debating whether he should join the call or not before ultimately giving in.

“-stupid. You don’t deserve any apology, Dream,” you roar and Corpse is blown away by a high energy that violently contrasts his.

He has no idea why he joined. It feels like he shouldn’t be here -and he probably really shouldn’t-. You blind him with an enthusiasm he doesn’t know how to handle and surely would never be able to match. He remains silent as voices and wheezes chime too loudly for a disoriented mind like his.

The mouse gets dragged across the screen, he’s so ready to end it before it even had the chance to really start. There’s no point in him being here and he feels like a fool for thinking there was one at some point. Yet, Dream greets him before he is able to.

Fuck.

“What are you doing up so late, you freaks?” Corpse grunts before swallowing a breath. His voice is thundering in a place where the echo is too clear for him to ignore how intense he sounds, too intense for the light mood he felt seconds ago. He doesn’t belong here, he shouldn’t have joined that damn call.

“Why, hello emo Howl, Dream here agreed to teach me how to use a pendulum because he actually cares,” you taunt maliciously as if you didn’t care, as if he never killed a mood he shouldn’t even have bothered to kill.

And now, he realizes there’s no use pushing you away as it only makes him look like the bad guy and doesn’t actually do the requested job. Now that it’s so clear, he almost feels a little guilty, mostly stupid.

“That’s not what I said,” Dream retorts but your voice is already flooding everyone’s headphones with quotes he never stated in the first place and he eventually has to give up.

Your laugh is so candid as you and Dream bicker, so organic and contagious Corpse can’t help but pinch his lips not to smile too. But he gets it now; you just don’t know how to take no for an answer. It’s what makes you so overly annoying but maybe that’s also why he always ends up obliging to whatever request you have to make.

The conversation drifts on and off. Corpse discovers a bond he would have never expected. It’s deep and oh so pretty and it feels like whatever it is, you and Dream are made of the same thing. There comes a point where Corpse wishes he could stop feeling like the outcast and join a conversation he’s somehow scared to interrupt. How nice could it be to be so close to someone? How nice could it be having someone who is there no matter what? He forbids himself to explore the idea. He used to know and now he only has to look through the mirror to really see how nice it is. It’s an illegitimate sense of envy that pinches his heart and tastes helplessly bittersweet.

“Anyway,” you say as the chuckles fall breathless. “Corpse, did you know it was the full moon tonight?”

“Oh really?” He breathes before wincing. He’s well aware that it’s the full moon; he’s a goddamn sorcerer. One glance around him and he can see its reflection into thousands of pieces across the room.

“See?” Dream triumphs

“Yeah, yeah,” you sigh heavily, throwing a side eye to your screen in which Dream and Corpse’s drawn icons are displayed. “I thought you guys would like … dance naked in circles in a forest or something.”

Dream’s confusion is loud in his tone and Corpse surprises himself to laugh at the theatrical tone you chose to deliver the words How cute. Humans are so naive, believing everything they hear and see on TV.

“So, you guys don’t do anything particular on the full moon,” you conclude, seemingly a little upset.

“I do, but that doesn’t imply … t-that,” Dream answers with a tone that blends discomfort and amusement.

Maybe it is as nice as he thought it would be; being able to share a peaceful night and a glimpse of joy with people who seem to care.

That’s why you’re so dangerous; you’re so spontaneous you make him wish he were too. It’s one thing to play with fire. It’s another to play with your own life; too risky to be worth it. Yet, everybody who has experienced l’appel du vide would recognize that thrilling sensation inside their chest. As much as Corpse wants to keep you as far away as possible, you keep reminding him that you’re the tingling sensation on the back of his shoulder.

“What about you, Corpse?” You ask.

“I-I don’t really actively practice magic anymore,” he stutters as if he wasn’t expecting to be given a voice.

“Oh, why not?”

The question echoes inside his mind. Why not? He knows there’s a good explanation but right now it feels like his mind can’t wrap itself around it. He knows there is one yet it feels as though he has forgotten. It confuses him as he parts his lips with a frown, expecting an answer to come out but the words tangle with each other and won’t leave his tongue.

“Well I gotta go,” Dream interrupts the train of his thoughts and it’s almost comforting for Corpse to know that he doesn’t have to further torture his own mind. “You two be nice to each other," he orders and you’re already whining and complaining about his sudden escape.

“What do you wanna do, Corpse, do you wanna go to bed?” You ask.

Behind the loudness and vulgarity you’re always performing, Corpse understands now that there’s a certain elegance in the way you interact with him. A delicacy that resides in the tone of your voice. As if you cared, really cared about what he has to say. How could you still think of him as a friend when he keeps treating you so poorly? He doesn’t deserve it, deprived of a sense of empathy they took away from him too long ago.

“I’m not really tired,” he lies as if you didn’t already know that fatigue was his trademark. He’s surprised you don’t point out the fact that he keeps lying for obscure reasons.

It’s not like he would complain about it. The silence the night brings along is contemplative. He wishes there would be more night like this, when time would almost stop to let him catch his breath. Somehow, he feels like it could be filled with something good, something worth it.

“What are you thinking about?” Corpse asks in an attempt to explore that peaceful quietness.

“I wonder what magic could look like,” you answer with what you deem to be an useless honesty.

The question is stupid but he doesn’t seem to find it funny, considering it with a gentle seriousness before saying,“Do you want me to show you?”

A grin grows on your lips, heart beating with anticipation, “Would you really do that?”

Corpse hums and you lift your head as requested. You stare at the ceiling where shadows move when headlights are projected on the windows. There’s a long pause -too long for your impatient mind- before multiple sparkles of light spread on your ceiling. They twinkle and crakle like fairylights and multiply in front of your amazed eyes. Soon they gather and turn the dark ceiling into a starry night.

Your breath gets caught in your throat as you admire the stars that seem to be floating above your head as if they have always been here, as if they belonged to you.

“Is it working ?” Corpse asks nervously when you’re too silent for his liking.

“What do you mean ‘is it working’? This is fucking amazing, Corpse,” you choke out as you giggle as frenetically until your belly hurts. There’s no human words fitted to describe this state of perplexity and admiration. There's no such beautiful and clear sky in the city, that's why it's so special.

Corpse laughs with you. It’s nothing new but, somehow, in the quietness of the night, it vibrates differently. It doesn’t sound like the kind of forced chuckle he makes when he feels like people are expecting him to laugh but rather genuine and oh so endearing.

You thought you could never enjoy anything related to magic but now you realize that maybe it’s more likely that you never learned how to grow fond of it. When a shootingstar crosses the crafted sky, you both exclaim a "oh" before faintly chuckling. You let your back rest on the chair, imagining that Corpse is probably doing the same and looking at the same sky you’re looking at.

“It feels like you’re sitting next to me right now,” you murmur and it feels so special to be able to share a moment that seems so intimate that it makes your heart warm from a proximity you never knew could be possible.

“You’re cute,” Corpse breathes before he can realize it and once he does, it’s too late to take it back.

“No I’m not,” you grumble between your teeth.

“Sure, if you say so,” he finally shrugs in a battle he knows he can’t win.

Somehow, it feels like a turning point you can sense in a feeling nested inside your chest; a sense of novelty that makes you a little nervous as you don’t know if it’s for the best or the worst. Yet, this new beginning feels like it’s about honesty.

“Are you happy, y/n?” Corpse whispers and it’s so faint you wonder if it’s meant for you to hear.

“I am,” you still answer with a soft smile. “Are you happy?”

“I try to be,” he says after considering the question for a while. A confirmation that you wish you never had to deal with. It sends you back to every conversation that ended up in half bitten words and a concerning amount of melancholia that almost choked you even though it wasn’t yours.

It clicks. Bitterness is not the only thing Corpse has left in him. It’s a protection.

“Why are you so sad, Corpse?”

When the words linger for too long and he can no longer stare at the stars above his head, his throat gets sore, lips trembling as he bites them firmly. He feels seen in a way he thought he was safe from. It’s discomforting, unnerving and a spike that threats to burst into his heart. He takes a moment to remember that he has to breathe. He always seems to forget.

“Because when you live for so long, you live through everything,” Corpse mutters and that’s as honest as he can be.

“And everyone,” you conclude and he hums dryly.

“Can I give you a piece of advice?” You ask, knowing damn well that the amount of deep conversation has passed a long time ago and that the loan you’re deciding to take will have some sort of consequence. “If you keep hoping for the people who haunt you to come back, you’ll never be able to cherish the ones who are actually in front of you.”

The words tinkle in Corpse’s head in an odd way like a call for an awakening. He remembers that Sykkuno used to tell him the same thing; it’s time to let it go. It rises inside his lung like a sea of anguish he’s not ready for and it’s so overwhelming it’s animating him with emotions that are too violent for him to think.

“So what?” he scoffs, “are you saying that you’re the one in front of me?”

“I’m not the one who should answer that question,” you simply answer. It’s not enough, it’s not enough for him to make up his mind. Is that a yes or a no? He can’t think and the words are crumbling, too eager to get out.

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” he says with an unexpectedly strong voice that spreads shivers on your arm. “There’s no place for a human in my life.”

“Good because I don’t like sorcerers,” you thunder before ending the call abruptly.

You sit on your chair puzzled for a second. What the fuck was that?

☾ A/N : WOOOOOW I can't believe I finally finished this chapter it's surreal. I can't even begin to tell you how much I wrote and rewrote this I just COULDNT DO IT!!! Thank you for your patience it has been the wildest ride (I feel like I say that every time but hehe) Anyway thanks for reading I feel like shit is finally about to get started in here and I'm so damn excited!! As always let me know what you think and Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

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[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

"I have some problems with [Luke] as a character)" was mentioned in your Reylo response post. Very interested in what your thoughts are on Luke! 👀

Do you want me to get murdered?! Well, if I didn’t get lynched for calling Sirius Black a Stephen King villain I can surely do no worse here.

Let’s do this.

Caveat that, as usual, I am wearing a heretic hat and expect no one to agree with what I’m saying.

Luke Skywalker, much like Harry Potter, is not the character the authors and vast majority of the audience seem to think he is. Luke is seen as the true coming of the Jedi, the light side of the Force incarnate, and someone so innately good he was able to redeem his father, restore peace to the galaxy, and restore the Jedi Order.

I disagree with all of this.

I think this is what Luke thinks he did but the truth is far sadder and, well, in general worse.

First, let’s start off with Luke’s hero’s journey throughout the saga.

Luke starts your ordinary guy, he’s not bad by any means, but he’s not particularly good either. He lives in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, part of a relatively well off family, and set to inherit the world’s most boring business: moisture farming. He has dreams of going out, seeing the world, and becoming a great pilot.

Important to remember but what most people gloss over: Luke starts if not pro-empire then neutral towards it. Luke wants to attend flight school, given his desire for glory and adventure, he probably wants to join the empire’s military. He might not like Storm Troopers all that much but the fire of revolution doesn’t burn in his heart the way it does Leia’s.

Now, personally, I like this about Luke. It makes sense to me. Given where and how Luke grows up, given all he’s ever known, I think this makes perfect sense for his viewpoint. He might get hassled by stormtroopers now and then but the empire really doesn’t interfere with his life except in a) propaganda b) offering an escape from his dull existence. What would someone like Luke know about the Rebel Alliance?

The movie however... sort of goes out of its way not to acknowledge this, and this is where I start having problems with Luke. Luke gets Leia’s message about Obi-Wan Kenobi, sees the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen in his life, and gets to embark on this amazing adventure. The story sort of takes it for granted that he then agrees with old hermit, Obi-Wan, that the empire is evil. This is helped because Luke does too.

In other words, Luke’s opinions are very shallow and lack any introspection. Finding himself in the company of Jedi, smugglers, and hot rebel princesses, Luke suddenly goes, “Ah, yeah, I hate the empire!” We never really see him change his mind by reflecting over what the Death Star means/the destruction of Alderaan, the death of his relatives, or his meeting with Darth Vader. Luke seems to be won over... Honestly, it feels like it’s because the Rebel Alliance let him fly a plane before the Empire did.

Then he blows up the Death Star, is a galactic hero/enemy number one of the empire, and he’s full on board resistance man and the next Jedi.

Which brings us to point number two, Luke legitimately thinks he’s a Jedi.

Obi-Wan gives him half a word of advice for maybe half of a day, watching Luke swing a sword around and get shot at by a robot. Yoda trains Luke in a swamp for, generously, maybe a week or so before Luke ditches him (against his advice even) to go save his friends. Luke has 0 training (beat out only by Rey, who wasn’t trained at all). More, he lives in a world where everything he knows of the Jedi is colored by Palpatine’s propaganda and old legends. The Jedi temples have been ransacked and presumably next to nothing of the Jedi culture remains, I can imagine Palpatine as being nothing but thorough in his elimination of the Jedi religion. The Jedi survived in Obi-Wan, Yoda, and in some sense Anakin Skywalker.

They do not survive in Luke. Luke puts on some quasi-Jedi robes, slashes his sword around a few times to save Leia from Jabba, and he says, “Now I am a Jedi!” Luke is that kid, LARPing, yelling “firebolt, firebolt, firebolt!” Only, that is, if the LARPing consisted of him representing a massacred culture thinking he’s it’s sole legitimate heir. So... Luke is playing Cowboy and Indians, and he’s the Indian.

In my opinion, Vader wasn’t so much redeemed as he always had a very high priority in finding his son and keeping him alive. The obvious way to do this would be to take Luke as an apprentice and, eventually, murder Palpatine. Well, that didn’t pan out, and eventually Anakin chooses murder-suicide to save his son’s life. It’s very touching, I’m not knocking the moment, but I do think a lot of that was Anakin vice the inherent goodness of Luke.

Anyways, Luke and pals save the day, they start a new republic and then they learn life is complicated. The new republic fails within decades, worse, it’s feeble and likely torn apart by civil war, strife, and constant infighting. It is utterly powerless, to the point where the First Order easily rises to replace the Empire and take over its vast resources (with Palpatine building a secret sith army on the side no less). That Leia rather than lead an army through the new republic in the sequels is leading her own private resistance army is very telling.

Fitting in with this, Luke starts a Jedi Academy. The prequels, and yes go ahead and slander them all you like but they’re better than many admit, taught us a few things but one of them is that it is hard to be a Jedi. To walk the path of a Jedi is to open yourself up to great temptation to use the dark side, and the dark side isn’t just some strange quirk or sense of duality, it is the equivalent of selling your soul. It is an unnatural action that leads to unnatural abilities. 

You get a bunch of Force Sensitive kids in a room: you better know what you’re doing.

Luke doesn’t. He collects a handful of the remaining Jedi artifacts that Palpatine somehow didn’t destroy, opens up his Jedi School (even teaching his nephew), and within maybe five years the place is burned to the ground, his students murdered by his nephew, and his nephew runs off to join a Sith Lord who appeared out of nowhere (Luke not realizing that this was just immortal cockroach Palpatine). 

Luke then becomes a grumpy old man who just can’t deal, sits on a rock drinking blue milk, and whines that for how shitty of a teach he was that Obi-Wan guy was worse for messing up with his father. Which, frankly, is very in character for Luke.

Luke has never really failed in his life, or at least, never had to recognize his own failure. So, when he does, he a) doesn’t realize what went wrong b) blames everyone but himself c) sits on a rock and waits to die.

So yeah, that’s Luke for you.

A whiney, shallow, stupid, somewhat narcissistic, hero. I... don’t dislike the concept of his character, played more straight I’d love his character, but I dislike that people talk about him like he’s the most noble creature to ever grace the planet and has this inherent understanding of a murdered people that the murdered people themselves never had. 

(All the Jedi were doing it wrong! Luke made the real Jedi Order! Is something I see a lot and... well... say what you will about their philosophies, but this kid who was not a part of that culture “doing it better”... That’s real problematic folks, real problematic.)

[michaelbogild]

Lines by Leonard Cohen

As someone long prepared for the occasion In full command of every plan you wrecked – Do not choose a coward’s explanation that hides behind the cause and the effect

And it's stronger than drink And it's deeper than sorrow This darkness she's left in my heart.

And I'll dance with you in Vienna I'll be wearing a river's disguise The hyacinth wild on my shoulder, My mouth on the dew of your thighs

He wants to write a love song An anthem of forgiving A manual for living With defeat

The birds they sang At the break of day Start again I heard them say Don't dwell on what Has passed away Or what is yet to be.

You never liked to get The letters that I sent. But now you've got the gist Of what my letters meant. You're reading them again, The ones you didn't burn. You press them to your lips, My pages of concern.

I caught the darkness It was drinking from your cup. I said: Is this contagious? You said: Just drink it up

Everybody talking to their pockets Everybody wants a box of chocolates And a long stem rose Everybody knows

A cross on every hill A star, a minaret So many graves to fill O love, aren't you tired yet?

And everybody knows that the Plague is coming Everybody knows that it's moving fast Everybody knows that the naked man and woman Are just a shining artifact of the past

Yeah I missed you since the place got wrecked By the winds of change and the weeds of sex looks like freedom but it feels like death it's something in between, I guess

I walked into this empty church I had no place else to go When the sweetest voice I ever heard, whispered to my soul

I heard the snake was baffled by his sin He shed his scales to find the snake within But born again is born without a skin The poison enters into everything

And summoned now to deal With your invincible defeat, You live your life as if it’s real, A Thousand Kisses Deep.

I’m slowing down the tune I never liked it fast You want to get there soon I want to get there last

When they said REPENT REPENT I wonder what they meant

Her thighs they slipped away from me Like schools of startled fish Though I've forgotten half my life I still remember this

And if no leaves were on the tree And no water in the sea And the break of day had nothing to reveal That's how broken I would be What my life would seem to me If I didn't have your love to make it real

And yes she lied about it all Her children and her husband You were born to judge the world Forgive me but I wasn't

O troubled dust concealing An undivided love The Heart beneath is teaching To the broken Heart above

The pull of the moon, the thrust of the sun And thus the ocean is crossed The waters are blessed while a shadowy guest Kindles a light for the lost

How come you called me here tonight? How come you bother With my heart at all? You raise me up in grace, Then you put me in a place, Where I must fall.

And everybody knows that it's now or never Everybody knows that it's me or you And everybody knows that you live forever Ah when you've done a line or two

It's coming like the tidal flood beneath the lunar sway, imperial, mysterious, in amorous array:

The lights went out behind us The fireflies undressed The broken sidewalk ended I touched her sleeping breasts They opened to me urgently Likelilies from the dead Behind a fine embroidery Her nipples rose like bread Then I took off my necktie And she took off her dress My belt and pistol set aside We tore away the rest

The Maestro says it's Mozart but it sounds like bubble gum when you're waiting for the miracle, for the miracle to come.

The sea so deep and blind The sun, the wild regret The club, the wheel, the mind, O love, aren't you tired yet?

The wounded forms appear: The loss, the full extent; And simple kindness here, The solitude of strength.

If the sun would lose its light And we lived in an endless night And there was nothing left that you could feel If the sea were sand alone And the flowers made of stone And no one that you hurt could ever heal Well that's how broken I would be What my life would seem to me If I didn't have your love to make it real

But you'll be hearing from me baby, long after I'm gone I'll be speaking to you sweetly From a window in the Tower of Song

I said I’d be your lover. You laughed at what I said. I lost my job forever. I was counted with the dead.

It failed my little fire But it's bright the dying spark Go tell the young messiah What happens to the heart

Good night, good night, my fallen star I guess you're right, you always are I know you're right about the blues You live some life you'd never choose

looks like freedom but it feels like death it's something in between, I guess

I've seen you change the water into wine I've seen you change it back to water, too I sit at your table every night I try but I just don't get high with you

The present's not that pleasant Just a lot of things to do I thought the past would last me But the darkness got that too

The splinters that you carry The cross you left behind Come healing of the body Come healing of the mind

I wish there was a treaty we could sign I do not care who takes this bloody hill I'm angry and I'm tired all the time I wish there was a treaty, I wish there was a treaty Between your love and mine

I’m lacing up my shoe But I don’t want to run I’ll get here when I do Don’t need no starting gun

Thanks For The Dance

Ah, they're dancing in the street — it's Jubilee We sold ourselves for love but now we're free I'm so sorry for that ghost I made you be Only one of us was real and that was me

And I'm still working with the wine, still dancing cheek to cheek, the band is playing Auld Lang Syne, but the heart will not retreat.

And maybe I had miles to drive, And promises to keep: You ditch it all to stay alive, A Thousand Kisses Deep.

Baby don’t ignore me We were smokers we were friends Forget that tired story Of betrayal and revenge

So you can stick your little pins in that voodoo doll I'm very sorry, baby, doesn't look like me at all I'm standing by the window where the light is strong Ah they don't let a woman kill you Not in the Tower of Song

Show me the place, help me roll away the stone Show me the place, I can't move this thing alone Show me the place where the word became a man Show me the place where the suffering began

And you're weak and you're harmless and you're sleeping in your harness and the wind going wild in the trees, and it ain't exactly prison but you'll never be forgiven for whatever you've done with the keys.

Steer your heart past the Truth that you believed in yesterday Such as Fundamental Goodness and the Wisdom of the Way Steer your heart, precious heart, past the women whom you bought Year by year, month by month, day by day Thought by thought

Word of words and measure of all measures Blessed is the name, the name be blessed Written on my heart in burning letters That’s all I know, I cannot read the rest

And O my love, I still recall The pleasures that we knew; The rivers and the waterfall, Wherein I bathed with you.

You said how could this happen You said how can this be The chains are gone from heaven The storms are wild and free

I cried for you this morning And I’ll cry for you again But I’m not in charge of sorrow So please don’t ask me when

Both of us say there are laws to obey But frankly I don’t like your tone You want to change the way I make love I want to leave it alone

Behold the gates of mercy In arbitrary space And none of us deserving The cruelty or the grace

Then I came back from where I’d been. My room, it looked the same – But there was nothing left between The Nameless and the Name.

O longing of the branches To lift the little bud O longing of the arteries To purify the blood

I to my side call the meek and the mild You to your side call the Word By virtue of suffering I claim to have won You claim to have never been heard

I know I said I’d meet you, I’d meet you at the store, But I can’t buy it, baby. I can’t buy it anymore.

I was idle with my soul, when I heard that you could use me I followed very closely, but my life remained the same But then you showed me where you had been wounded In every atom broken is the Name

I fled to the edge of the mighty sea of sorrow Pursued by the riders of a cruel and dark regime But the waters parted and my soul crossed over Out of Egypt, out of Pharaoh’s dream

They whisper still, the injured stones The blunted mountains weep As he died to make men holy Let us die to make things cheap

Sounded like the truth Seemed the better way Sounded like the truth But it's not the truth today

Hurt once and for all into silence. A long pain ending without a song to prove it. Who could stand beside you so close to Eden, When you glinted in every eye the held-high razor, shivering every ram and son?

Sleep baby sleep The day’s on the run The wind in the trees Is talking in tongues

And I loved you when our love was blessed and I love you now there's nothing left

There's silt on your ankles and sand on your feet The river too shallow, the ocean too deep You smile at your suffering, the sweetest reprieve Why did you leave us, why did you leave

I saw some people starving There was murder, there was rape Their villages were burning They were trying to escape I couldn't meet their glances I was staring at my shoes It was acid, it was tragic It was almost like the blues

If you want a partner Take my hand Or if you want to strike me down in anger Here I stand, I'm your man

Ah I don't believe you'd like it, You wouldn't like it here. There ain't no entertainment and the judgements are severe.

The opposites falter, the spirals reverse And Eve must re-enter the sleep of her birth

I don't need to be forgiven for loving you so much It's written in the scriptures It's written there in blood I even heard the angels declare it from above

Sometimes I’d head for the highway I’m old and the mirrors don’t lie But crazy has places to hide in That are deeper than any goodbye

If you want a boxer I will step into the ring for you And if you want a doctor I'll examine every inch of you

Yeah we're drinking and we're dancing but there's nothing really happening and the place is dead as Heaven on a Saturday night And my very close companion gets me fumbling gets me laughing she's a hundred but she's wearing something tight and I lift my glass to the Awful Truth which you can't reveal to the Ears of Youth except to say it isn't worth a dime And the whole damn place goes crazy twice and it's once for the devil and once for Christ but the Boss don't like these dizzy heights we're busted in the blinding lights, busted in the blinding lights of CLOSING TIME

I want him to be certain That he doesn't have a burden That he doesn't need a vision That he only has permission To do my instant bidding which is to Say what I have told him to repeat

Though I take my song From a withered limb, Both song and tree, They sing for him.

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking Everybody knows that the captain lied Everybody got this broken feeling Like their father or their dog just died

Ditched on a beach Where the sea hates to go With a child in my arms And a chill in my soul And my heart the shape Of a begging bowl

And she says, Drink deeply, pilgrim but don't forget there's still a woman beneath this resplendent chemise.

You don't need a lawyer I'm not making a claim You don't need to surrender I'm not taking aim I don't need a lover, no, no The wretched beast is tame I don't need a lover So blow out the flame

O gather up the brokenness And bring it to me now The fragrance of those promises You never dared to vow

And I don’t really know who sent me, To raise my voice and say: May the lights in The Land of Plenty Shine on the truth some day.

There's a bar where the boys have stopped talking They've been sentenced to death by the blues

I know the burden’s heavy As you wheel it through the night Some people say it’s empty But that don’t mean it’s light

Ten New Songs

I better hold my tongue I better take my place Lift this glass of blood Try to say the grace

You came to me this morning and you handled me like meat. You’d have to be a man to know how good that feels, how sweet.

A sip of wine, a cigarette, And then it’s time to go. I tidied up the kitchenette; I tuned the old banjo. I’m wanted at the traffic-jam. They’re saving me a seat. I’m what I am, and what I am, Is back on Boogie Street.

Down in the valley the famine goes on The famine up on the hill I say that you shouldn’t, you couldn’t, you can’t You say that you must and you will

So we struggle and we stagger down the snakes and up the ladder to the tower where the blessed hours chime and I swear it happened just like this: a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss the Gates of Love they budged an inch I can't say much has happened since

And I'll bury my soul in a scrapbook, With the photographs there, and the moss And I'll yield to the flood of your beauty My cheap violin and my cross

Then she dances so graceful and your heart's hard and hateful and she's naked but that's just a tease. And you turn in disgust from your hatred and from your love and comes to you light as the breeze.

I see the Ghost of Culture With numbers on his wrist Salute some new conclusion Which all of us have missed

I tried to love you my way, But I couldn’t make it hold. So I closed the Book of Longing And I do what I am told.

And up through the system the worlds are withdrawn From every dominion the mind stood upon And now that it's over and now that it's done The name has no number, not even the one

You got me singing Like a prisoner in a jail You got me singing Like my pardon's in the mail

You can add up the parts But you won't have the sum You can strike up the march, There is no drum Every heart, every heart To love will come But like a refugee.

Everybody knows you've been discreet But there were so many people you just had to meet Without your clothes And everybody knows

It's coming from the sorrow in the street, the holy places where the races meet; from the homicidal bitchin' that goes down in every kitchen to determine who will serve and who will eat. From the wells of disappointment where the women kneel to pray for the grace of God in the desert here and the desert far away:

Even though she sleeps upon your satin Even though she wakes you with a kiss Do not say the moment was imagined Do not stoop to strategies like this

I smile when I'm angry I cheat and I lie I do what I have to do To get by But I know what is wrong And I know what is right And I'd die for the truth In My Secret Life

I loved you for your beauty but that doesn't make a fool of me: you were in it for your beauty too and I loved you for your body there's a voice that sounds like God to me declaring, declaring, declaring that your body's really you

O baby I waited so long for your kiss for something to happen, oh something like this.

O let the heavens falter And let the earth proclaim: Come healing of the Altar Come healing of the Name

If you're squeezed for information, that's when you've got to play it dumb: You just say you're out there waiting for the miracle, for the miracle to come.

You put on a uniform To fight the Civil War You looked so good I didn’t care What side you’re fighting for

Did you confuse the Messiah in a mirror and rest because he had finally come? Let me cry Help beside you, Teacher.

It's coming to America first, the cradle of the best and of the worst. It's here they got the range and the machinery for change and it's here they got the spiritual thirst. It's here the family's broken and it's here the lonely say that the heart has got to open in a fundamental way:

I said to Hank Williams: how lonely does it get? Hank Williams hasn't answered yet But I hear him coughing all night long A hundred floors above me In the Tower of Song

Sail on, sail on O mighty Ship of State! To the Shores of Need Past the Reefs of Greed Through the Squalls of Hate Sail on, sail on

Ah the wars they will Be fought again The holy dove She will be caught again Bought and sold And bought again The dove is never free.

I should have seen it coming It was right behind your eyes You were young and it was summer I just had to take a dive Winning you was easy But darkness was the prize

The party’s over But I’ve landed on my feet I’ll be standing on this corner Where there used to be a street

I know you had to lie to me, I know you had to cheat, to pose all hot and high behind the veils of shear deceit, our perfect porn aristocrat so elegant and cheap, I’m old but I’m still into that, A thousand kisses deep.

It’s not a trick, your senses all deceiving A fitful dream, the morning will exhaust – Say goodbye to Alexandra leaving Then say goodbye to Alexandra lost

If you want a lover I'll do anything you ask me to And if you want another kind of love I'll wear a mask for you

It's dark now and it's snowing O my love I must be going, The river has started to freeze. And I'm sick of pretending I'm broken from bending I've lived too long on my knees.

Well I don't know about tomorrow but I know what's coming next I've used up all my questions; I have no answers left

As for the world the job the war I ditched them all to love you more

The story's been written the letter's been sealed You gave me a lily but now it's a field

Your story was so long, The plot was so intense, It took you years to cross The lines of self-defense.

And soon there's sand in every kiss And soon the dawn is ready And soon the night surrenders To a daffodil machete

Waiting for the miracle There's nothing left to do. I haven't been this happy since the end of World War II.

The troubles came I saved what I could save A thread of light, a particle, a wave But there were chains, so I hastened to behave There were chains, so I loved you like a slave

his waltz With its very own breath of brandy and Death Dragging its tail in the sea

They sentenced me to twenty years of boredom For trying to change the system from within I'm coming now, I'm coming to reward them First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin

They oughta give my heart a medal For letting go of you When I turned my back on the devil Turned my back on the angel too

Had to go crazy to love you You who were never the one Whom I chased through the souvenir heartache Her braids and her blouse all undone

Well the mouse ate the crumb Then the cat ate the crust Now they’ve fallen in love They’re talking in tongues

There’s other ways to answer That certainly is true Me, I’m blind with death and anger And that’s no place for you

I'm guided by a signal in the heavens I'm guided by this birthmark on my skin I'm guided by the beauty of our weapons

I was fighting with temptation But I didn't want to win A man like me don't like to see Temptation caving in

I know that I’m forgiven, But I don’t know how I know I don’t trust my inner feelings – Inner feelings come and go.

And sometimes when the night is slow, The wretched and the meek, We gather up our hearts and go, A Thousand Kisses Deep.

I dreamed about you, baby. It was just the other night. Most of you was naked Ah but some of you was light.

I don’t know why I come here, knowing as I do, what you really think of me, what I really think of you.

Had to go crazy to love you Had to let everything fall Had to be people I hated Had to be no one at all

I used to love the rainbow And I used to love the view I loved the early morning I'd pretend that it was new But I caught the darkness baby And I got it worse than you

Traveling light It's au revoir My once so bright, my fallen star I'm running late, they'll close the bar I used to play one mean guitar

I dreamed about you baby You were wearing half your dress I know you have to hate me But could you hate me less?

The night of Santiago And I was passing through So I took her to the river As any man would do

Let's keep it on the level When I walked away from you I turned my back on the devil Turned my back on the angel too

I’m turning tricks, I’m getting fixed, I’m back on Boogie Street. You lose your grip, and then you slip Into the Masterpiece.

So we'll go no more a-roving So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving, And the moon be still as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul outwears the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And love itself have rest.

You got me singing Even tho' it all looks grim You got me singing The Hallelujah hymn

I'm aching for you baby I can't pretend I'm not I need to see you naked In your body and your thought

If your heart is torn I don’t wonder why If the night is long Here’s my lullaby

I'm sentimental, if you know what I mean I love the country but I can't stand the scene. And I'm neither left or right I'm just staying home tonight, getting lost in that hopeless little screen.

Now in Vienna there's ten pretty women There's a shoulder where Death comes to cry There's a lobby with nine hundred windows There's a tree where the doves go to die There's a piece that was torn from the morning And it hangs in the Gallery of Frost

Oh I want you, I want you, I want you On a chair with a dead magazine In the cave at the tip of the lily In some hallways where love's never been On a bed where the moon has been sweating In a cry filled with footsteps and sand

And everybody knows that you're in trouble Everybody knows what you've been through From the bloody cross on top of Calvary To the beach of Malibu

Ah you drift into my dreams as if you had the right And you show me how you broke me doing all the little things I really like

I gave her something pretty And I waited till she laughed I wasn't born a gypsy To make a woman sad

There is no God in Heaven And there is no Hell below So says the great professor Of all there is to know But I've had the invitation That a sinner can't refuse And it's almost like salvation It's almost like the blues

The war was lost The treaty signed I was not caught I crossed the line, I had to leave My life behind I dug some graves You'll never findI was not caught Though many tried I live among you Well disguised

Now I'm living in this temple Where they tell you what to do I'm old and I've had to settle On a different point of view

Too late to fix another drink – The lights are going out – I’ll listen to the darkness sing – I know what that’s about.

I loved you when you opened like a lily to the heat, you see I’m just another snowman standing in the rain and sleet, who loved you with his frozen love, his second hand physique, with all he is, and all he was, A thousand kisses deep.

And death is old But it's always new I freeze with fear And I'm there for you

I don't smoke no cigarette I don't drink no alcohol I ain't had much loving yet But that's always been your call Hey I don't miss it baby I got no taste for anything at all

I’ll try to say a little more: Love went on and on Until it reached an open door – Then Love Itself Love Itself was gone.

I said there'd been a flood. I said there's nothing left. I hoped that you would come. I gave you my address.

So I let my heart get frozen To keep away the rot My father says I'm chosen My mother says I'm not

O Crown of Light, O Darkened One, I never thought we’d meet. You kiss my lips, and then it’s done: I’m back on Boogie Street.

Ah, the moon's too bright The chain's too tight The beast won't go to sleep

And he cut my lip And he cut my heart. So I could not drink From the river dark.

O solitude of longing Where love has been confined Come healing of the body Come healing of the mind

My mirrored twin, my next of kin, I’d know you in my sleep and who but you would take me in, a thousand kisses deep.

Suddenly the night has grown colder The god of love preparing to depart Alexandra hoisted on his shoulder They slip between the sentries of the heart

But I'm stubborn as those garbage bags that Time cannot decay, I'm junk but I'm still holding up this little wild bouquet

The autumn moved across your skin, got something in my eye, a light that doesn’t need to live, and doesn’t need to die. A riddle in the book of love, obscure and obsolete, till witnessed here in time and blood, A thousand kisses deep.

There's nobody missing There is no reward Little by little We're cutting the cord We're spending the treasure, oh, no, no That love cannot afford I know you can feel it The sweetness restored

The ponies run, the girls are young, The odds are there to beat. You win a while, and then it’s done – Your little winning streak.

I like to take my time I like to linger as it flies A weekend on your lips A lifetime in your eyes

Then he struck my heart With a deadly force, And he said, ‘This heart: It is not yours.’

Everybody knows that you love me baby Everybody knows that you really do Everybody knows that you've been faithful Ah give or take a night or two

Steer your way past the ruins of the Altar and the Mall Steer your way through the fables of Creation and The Fall Steer your way past the Palaces that rise above the rot Year by year, month by month, day by day Thought by thought

Your crazy fragrance all around Your secrets in my view My lost, my lost was saying found My don't was saying do

Ring the bells that still can ring Forget your perfect offering There is a crack a crack in everything That's how the light gets in.

Steer your way through the pain that is far more real than you That's smashed the Cosmic Model, that blinded every view And please don't make me go there, though there be a God or not Year by year, month by month, day by day Thought by thought

You sent me here You sent me there Breaking things I can't repair Making objects Out of thoughts Making more By thinking not

And you who were bewildered by a meaning Whose code was broken, crucifix uncrossed – Say goodbye to Alexandra leaving Then say goodbye to Alexandra lost

I see you standing on the other side I don't know how the river got so wide I loved you baby, way back when And all the bridges are burning that we might have crossed But I feel so close to everything that we lost We'll never, we'll never have to lose it again

If you are the dealer, I'm out of the game If you are the healer, it means I'm broken and lame If thine is the glory then mine must be the shame You want it darker We kill the flame

I used to be your favorite drunk Good for one more laugh Then we both ran out of luck Luck was all we ever had

There'll be the breaking of the ancient Western code Your private life will suddenly explode There'll be phantoms There'll be fires on the road And the white man dancing You'll see your woman Hanging upside down Her features covered by her fallen gown And all the lousy little poets Coming round Tryin' to sound like Charlie Manson

Confined to sex, we pressed against The limits of the sea: I saw there were no oceans left For scavengers like me.

I was born like this, I had no choice I was born with the gift of a golden voice And twenty-seven angels from the Great Beyond They tied me to this table right here In the Tower of Song

I’m naked and I’m filthy And both of us are guilty

the fiddler fiddles something so sublime all the women tear their blouses off and the men they dance on the polka-dots and it's partner found, it's partner lost and it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops

I've seen the future, brother: It is murder

Who broke the heart and made it new? Who's moving on, who's kiddin' who?

So I knelt there at the delta, at the alpha and the omega, at the cradle of the river and the seas. And like a blessing come from heaven for something like a second I was healed and my heart was at ease.

And there's a mighty judgment coming, but I may be wrong You see, you hear these funny voices In the Tower of Song

Upheld by the simplicities of pleasure They gain the light, they formlessly entwine And radiant beyond your widest measure They fall among the voices and the wine

When you've fallen on the highway and you're lying in the rain, and they ask you how you're doing of course you'll say you can't complain

You always said we’re equal So let me march with you Just an extra in the sequel To the old red white and blue

She stands before you naked you can see it, you can taste it, and she comes to you light as the breeze. Now you can drink it or you can nurse it, it don't matter how you worship as long as you're down on your knees.

By the rivers dark I wandered on. I lived my life in Babylon. And I did forget My holy song: And I had no strength In Babylon.

All your moves are swift All your turns are tight Let me catch my breath I thought we had all night

Democracy is coming to the U.S.A. It's coming through a crack in the wall; on a visionary flood of alcohol; from the staggering account of the Sermon on the Mount which I don't pretend to understand at all. It's coming from the silence on the dock of the bay, from the brave, the bold, the battered heart of Chevrolet: Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.

And let the heavens hear it The penitential hymn Come healing of the spirit Come healing of the limb

There's a lover in the story But the story's still the same There's a lullaby for suffering And a paradox to blame But it's written in the scriptures And it's not some idle claim You want it darker We kill the flame

I was alone on the road, your love was so confusing And all my teachers told me that I had myself to blame But in the grip of sensual illusion A sweet unknowing unified the name

Magnified, sanctified, be thy holy name Vilified, crucified, in the human frame A million candles burning for the help that never came

They're lining up the prisoners And the guards are taking aim I struggled with some demons They were middle class and tame I didn't know I had permission to murder and to maim

So come, my friends, be not afraid. We are so lightly here. It is in love that we are made; In love we disappear.

I see my life In full review It was never me It was always you

We'll be going down so deep the river's going to weep, and the mountain's going to shout Amen!

Show me the place where my head is bendin' low Show me the place where you want your slave to go

I’m tired of choosing desire I been saved by a blessed fatigue The gates of commitment unwired And nobody trying to leave

Yeah my friends are gone and my hair is grey I ache in the places where I used to play And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on I'm just paying my rent every day Oh in the Tower of Song

There's an attic where children are playing Where I've got to lie down with you soon In a dream of Hungarian lanterns In the mist of some sweet afternoon And I'll see what you've chained to your sorrow All your sheep and your lilies of snow

We find ourselves on different sides Of a line nobody drew Though it all may be one in the higher eye Down here where we live it is two

I've seen the nations rise and fall I've heard their stories, heard them all But love's the only engine of survival Your servant here, he has been told To say it clear, to say it cold: It's over, it ain't going Any further And now the wheels of heaven stop You feel the devil's riding crop Get ready for the future: It is murder

I've heard the soul unfolds in the chambers of its longing And the bitter liquor sweetens in the hammered cup Ah but all the ladders of the night have fallen Just darkness now, to lift the longing up

Why don’t you come on back to the war, that’s right, get in it, why don’t you come on back to the war, it’s just beginning.

If your life is a leaf that the seasons tear off and condemn they will bind you with love that is graceful and green as a stem.

An Eskimo showed me a movie he’d recently taken of you: the poor man could hardly stop shivering, his lips and his fingers were blue. I suppose that he froze when the wind took your clothes and I guess he just never got warm. But you stand there so nice, in your blizzard of ice, oh please let me come into the storm.

I loved your master perfectly I taught him all that he knew. He was starving in some deep mystery like a man who is sure what is true.

I have begun to long for you, I who have no greed; I have begun to ask for you, I who have no need. You say you’ve gone away from me, but I can feel you when you breathe.

Hungry as an archway through which the troops have passed, I stand in ruins behind you, with your winter clothes, your broken sandal straps.

Well, you tell me that your lover has a broken limb, you say you’re kind of restless now and it’s on account of him.

Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon Show me slowly what I only know the limits of Dance me to the end of love

I tried to leave you, I don’t deny I closed the book on us, at least a hundred times.

And I can’t wait to tell you to your face And I can’t wait for you to take my place You are The Naked Angel In My Heart You are The Woman With Her Legs Apart It’s written on the walls of this hotel You go to heaven once you’ve been to hell

Then let the other selves be wrong, yeah, let them manifest and come till every taste is on the tongue, till love is pierced and love is hung, and every kind of freedom done

O come with me my little one, we will find that farm and grow us grass and apples there and keep all the animals warm. And if by chance I wake at night and I ask you who I am, O take me to the slaughterhouse, I will wait there with the lamb.

Ah they’re shutting down the factory now Just when all the bills are due And the fields they’re under lock and key Tho’ the rain and the sun come through And springtime starts but then it stops In the name of something new And all the senses rise against this Coming back to you

Like a baby, stillborn, like a beast with his horn I have torn everyone who reached out for me.

We met when we were almost young deep in the green lilac park. You held on to me like I was a crucifix, as we went kneeling through the dark.

And there are no letters in the mailbox, and there are no grapes upon the vine, and there are no chocolates in the boxes anymore, and there are no diamonds in the mine.

I cried, “Oh, Lady Midnight, I fear that you grow old, the stars eat your body and the wind makes you cold

So daily I renew my idle duty I touch her here and there – I know my place I kiss her open mouth and I praise her beauty and people call me traitor to my face

But my darling says “Leonard, just let it go by That old silhouette on the great western sky” So I pick out a tune and they move right along and they’re gone like the smoke and they’re gone like this song

And why are you so quiet now standing there in the doorway? You chose your journey long before you came upon this highway.

But I swear by this song and by all that I have done wrong I will make it all up to thee.

It was deep into his fiery heart he took the dust of Joan of Arc, and then she clearly understood if he was fire, oh then she must be wood.

And Jesus was a sailor When he walked upon the water And he spent a long time watching From his lonely wooden tower And when he knew for certain Only drowning men could see him He said “All men will be sailors then Until the sea shall free them” But he himself was broken Long before the sky would open Forsaken, almost human He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone And you want to travel with him And you want to travel blind And you think maybe you’ll trust him For he’s touched your perfect body with his mind.

Your master took you travelling, well at least that’s what you said. And now do you come back to bring your prisoner wine and bread?

Your pain is no credential here, it’s just the shadow, shadow of my wound.

And here where there is no description Oh here in the moment at hand No sinner need rise up forgiven No victim need limp to the stand

I met a woman long ago her hair the black that black can go, Are you a teacher of the heart? Soft she answered no. I met a girl across the sea, her hair the gold that gold can be, Are you a teacher of the heart? Yes, but not for thee.

Oh bless thee continuous stutter Of the word being made into flesh

The cripple here that you clothe and feed is neither starved nor cold; he does not ask for your company, not at the centre, the centre of the world.

Yes, you who are broken by power, you who are absent all day, you who are kings for the sake of your children’s story, the hand of your beggar is burdened down with money, the hand of your lover is clay.

the patron Saint of envy and the grocer of despair

She used to wear her hair like you except when she was sleeping, and then she’d weave it on a loom of smoke and gold and breathing.

And may the spirit of this song, may it rise up pure and free. May it be a shield for you, a shield against the enemy.

And deep into his fiery heart he took the dust of Joan of Arc, and high above the wedding guests he hung the ashes of her wedding dress.

to wear upon my swollen appetite.“ Well, I’m glad to hear you talk this way, you know I’ve watched you riding every day and something in me yearns to win such a cold and lonesome heroine.

Come over to the window, my little darling, I’d like to try to read your palm. I used to think I was some kind of Gypsy boy before I let you take me home.

Then I took the dust of a long sleepless night and I put it in your little shoe. And then I confess that I tortured the dress that you wore for the world to look through.

And the light came from her body And the night went through her grace All summer long she touched me And I knew her, I knew her Face to face

Let’s meet tomorrow if you choose Upon the shore, beneath the bridge That they are building on some endless river

And I’ve read the Bill of Human Rights And some of it was true But there wasn’t any burden left So I’m laying it on you.”

I listened to your kisses at the door I never heard the world so clear before You ran your bath and you began to sing I felt so good I couldn’t feel a thing

Like a worm on a hook, like a knight from some old fashioned book I have saved all my ribbons for thee.

Now the flames they followed Joan of Arc as she came riding through the dark; no moon to keep her armour bright, no man to get her through this very smoky night.

And we read from pleasant Bibles that are bound in blood and skin That the wilderness is gathering All its children back again

And now this woman by your side, well, she’s asleep And there’s nothing you can give her and there’s nothing you want to keep

Just take this longing from my tongue all the lonely things my hands have done. Let me see your beauty broken down like you would do for one your love.

And she shows you where to look Among the garbage and the flowers There are heroes in the seaweed There are children in the morning They are leaning out for love And they will lean that way forever While Suzanne holds the mirror

Ah but if you cannot raise your love To a very high degree, Then you’re just the man I’ve been thinking of – So come and stand with me.

You who wish to conquer pain, you must learn, learn to serve me well.

Why don’t you try to do without him? Why don’t you try to live alone? Do you really need his hands for your passion? Do you really need his heart for your throne?

I left a wife in Tennessee And a baby in Saigon – I risked my life, but not to hear Some country-western song.

I did my best, it wasn’t much I couldn’t feel, so I tried to touch I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you And even though it all went wrong I’ll stand before the Lord of Song With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Oh take this longing from my tongue, all the useless things my hands have done, untie for me your hired blue gown, like you would do for one that you love.

I heard of a saint who had loved you, so I studied all night in his school. He taught that the duty of lovers is to tarnish the golden rule. And just when I was sure that his teachings were pure he drowned himself in the pool. His body is gone but back here on the lawn his spirit continues to drool.

It’s like our visit to the moon or to that other star I guess you go for nothing if you really want to go that far.

Well I’ve been where you’re hanging, I think I can see how you’re pinned: When you’re not feeling holy, your loneliness says that you’ve sinned.

I lit a thin green candle, to make you jealous of me. But the room just filled up with mosquitos, they heard that my body was free.

Too early for the rainbow, too early for the dove These are the final days, this is the darkness, this is the flood And there is no man or woman can be touched But you who come between them will be judged

He tried to make a final stand beside the railway track She said, “The art of longing’s over and it’s never coming back.”

The judges said you missed it by a fraction rise up and brace your troops for the attack Ah the dreamers ride against the men of action Oh see the men of action falling back

Now the crickets are singing The vesper bells ringing The cat’s curled asleep in his chair I’ll go down to Bill’s Bar I can make it that far And I’ll see if my friends are still there Yes, and here’s to the few Who forgive what you do And the fewer who don’t even care And the night comes on It’s very calm I want to cross over, I want to go home But she says, Go back, go back to the World

Those who dance, begin to dance Those who weep begin Those who earnestly are lost Are lost and lost again

I asked my father, I said, “Father change my name.” The one I’m using now it’s covered up with fear and filth and cowardice and shame.

Even in your arms I know I’ll never get it right Even when you bend to give me Comfort in the night

And the last time that I saw her she was living with some boy who gives her soul an empty room and gives her body joy.

Your faith was strong but you needed proof You saw her bathing on the roof Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you She tied you to a kitchen chair She broke your throne, and she cut your hair And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Ah, there is no comfort in the covens of the witch, some very clever doctor went and sterilized the bitch, and the only man of energy, yes the revolution’s pride, he trained a hundred women just to kill an unborn child.

Oh, your chains are too dark For the seas you must swim You are smiling at the seaweed But your smile is too grim

And I thank you, I thank you for doing your duty, you keepers of truth, you guardians of beauty. Your vision is right, my vision is wrong, I’m sorry for smudging the air with my song.

But here, right here, between the birthmark and the stain, between the ocean and your open vein, between the snowman and the rain, once again, once again, love calls you by your name.

For now I need your hidden love. I’m cold as a new razor blade. You left when I told you I was curious, I never said that I was brave.

Your letters they all say that you’re beside me now. Then why do I feel alone? I’m standing on a ledge and your fine spider web is fastening my ankle to a stone.

I leave the lady meditating on the very love which I, I do not wish to claim, I journey down the hundred steps, but the street is still the very same.

And I sing this for the captain Whose ship has not been built For the mother in confusion Her cradle still unfilled

Well, I argued all night like so many have before, saying, “Whatever you give me, I seem to need so much more.” Then she pointed at me where I kneeled on her floor, she said, “Don’t try to use me or slyly refuse me, just win me or lose me, it is this that the darkness is for.”

Some girls wander by mistake into the mess that scalpels make. Are you the teachers of my heart? We teach old hearts to break.

And now the infant with his cord is hauled in like a kite, and one eye filled with blueprints, one eye filled with night.

I believe that you heard your master sing when I was sick in bed. I suppose that he told you everything that I keep locked away in my head.

Do you remember all of those pledges That we pledged in the passionate night Ah they’re soiled now, they’re torn at the edges Like moths on a still yellow light No penance serves to renew them No massive transfusions of trust Why not even revenge can undo them So twisted these vows and so crushed

I am the distance you put between all of the moments that we will be.

I choose the rooms that I live in with care, the windows are small and the walls almost bare, there’s only one bed and there’s only one prayer; I listen all night for your step on the stair.

And now I hear your master sing, you kneel for him to come. His body is a golden string that your body is hanging from.

Through windows in the dark The children come, the children go Like arrows with no targets Like shackles made of snow

Like any dealer he was watching for the card That is so high and wild He’ll never need to deal another He was just some Joseph looking for a manger

Where are you, Judy, where are you, Anne? Where are the paths your heroes came? Wondering out loud as the bandage pulls away, was I, was I only limping, was I really lame?

And it’s time for the burden it’s time for the whip Will she walk through the flame Can he shoot from the hip

Now I’ve heard there was a secret chord That David played, and it pleased the Lord But you don’t really care for music, do you? It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth The minor fall, the major lift The baffled king composing Hallelujah

But you’ve used up all your coupons except the one that seems to be written on your wrist along with several thousand dreams.

Maybe I’m still hurting I can’t turn the other cheek But you know that I still love you It’s just that I can’t speak I looked for you in everyone And they called me on that too I lived alone but I was only Coming back to you

And they’re handing down my sentence now And I know what I must do Another mile of silence while I’m Coming back to you

The door is open, you can’t close your shelter You try the handle of the road It opens, do not be afraid It’s you my love, you who are the stranger

I’m on the side that’s always lost Against the side of Heaven I’m on the side of Snake-eyes tossed Against the side of Seven.

But you lost them in your freedom And you need him now, you’re wild Blessed is the memory Of everybody’s child

Then fire, make your body cold, I’m going to give you mine to hold,“ saying this she climbed inside to be his one, to be his only bride.

Now the clasp of this union who fastens it tight? Who snaps it asunder the very next night Some say the rider Some say the mare Or that love’s like the smoke beyond all repair

With one hand on the hexagram and one hand on the girl I balance on a wishing well that all men call the world.

As a falling leaf may rest A moment on the air So your head upon my breast So my hand upon your hair

I’m not asking for mercy Not from the man You just don’t ask for mercy While you’re still on the stand

And many nights endure Without a moon or star So we will endure When one is gone and far

And then leaning on your window sill He’ll say one day you caused his will To weaken with your love and warmth and shelter

The rain falls down on last year’s man An hour has gone by And he has not moved his hand But everything will happen if he only gives the word The lovers will rise up And the mountains touch the ground But the skylight is like skin for a drum I’ll never mend And all the rain falls down amen On the works of last year’s man

You’re faithful to the better man, I’m afraid that he left. So let me judge your love affair in this very room where I have sentenced mine to death.

If I, if I have been untrue I hope you know it was never to you.

Then I saw you naked in the early dawn, oh, I hoped you would be someone new. I reached for you but you were gone, so lady I’m going too.

And there’s nothing to follow There’s nowhere to go She’s gone like the summer gone like the snow

That’s all I can say, baby That’s all I can say It wasn’t for nothing That they put me away I fell with my angel Down the chain of command There’s a Law, there’s an Arm, there’s a Hand

Lost in the rages of fragrance Lost in the rags of remorse Lost in the waves of a sickness That loosens the high silver nerves

When I am on a pedestal, you did not raise me there. Your laws do not compel me to kneel grotesque and bare. I myself am the pedestal for this ugly hump at which you stare

We are so small between the stars, so large against the sky, and lost among the subway crowds I try to catch your eye.

You met him at some temple, where they take your clothes at the door. He was just a numberless man in a chair who’d just come back from the war.

And when we fell together all our flesh was like a veil That I had to draw aside to see The serpent eat its tail

Some women wait for Jesus, and some women wait for Cain So I hang upon my altar And I hoist my axe again And I take the one who finds me back to where it all began When Jesus was the honeymoon And Cain was just the man

But I lingered on her thighs a fatal moment I kissed her lips as though I thirsted still My falsity had stung me like a hornet The poison sank and it paralysed my will

in city and in forest they smiled like me and you, but now it’s come to distances and both of us must try, your eyes are soft with sorrow, Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye.

Now my heart’s like a blister From doing what I do If the moon has a sister It’s got to be you

And where, where, where is my Gypsy wife tonight I’ve heard all the wild reports, they can’t be right But whose head is this she’s dancing with on the threshing floor Whose darkness deepens in her arms a little more

Do you want to be the ditch around a tower? Do you want to be the moonlight in his cave? Do you want to give your blessing to his power as he goes whistling past his daddy, past his daddy’s grave

If it be your will That a voice be true From this broken hill I will sing to you From this broken hill All your praises they shall ring If it be your will To let me sing

The age of lust is giving birth, and both the parents ask the nurse to tell them fairy tales on both sides of the glass.

But let me ask you one more time, O children of the dusk, All these hunters who are shrieking now oh do they speak for us?

And the vow of compassion That you swore through your teeth When the war began to end And the photographs weep

Goodnight, my darling, I hope you’re satisfied, the bed is kind of narrow, but my arms are open wide. And here’s a man still working for your smile.

Yes you who must leave everything that you cannot control. It begins with your family, but soon it comes around to your soul.

I’m not looking for another as I wander in my time, walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me, it’s just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea, but let’s not talk of love or chains and things we can’t untie, your eyes are soft with sorrow, Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye.

Do not dress in those rags for me, I know you are not poor; you don’t love me quite so fiercely now when you know that you are not sure, it is your turn, beloved, it is your flesh that I wear.

A war between the odd and the even.

Well I stepped into an avalanche, it covered up my soul; when I am not this hunchback that you see, I sleep beneath the golden hill.

And here, right here, between the dancer and his cane, between the sailboat and the drain, between the newsreel and your tiny pain, once again, once again, love calls you by your name.

I changed my style to silver I changed my clothes to black And where I would surrender Ah now I would attack

She said, "I’m tired of the war, I want the kind of work I had before, a wedding dress or something white to wear upon my swollen appetite.”

Then lay your rose on the fire The fire give up to the sun The sun give over to splendour In the arms of the high holy one

And draw us near And bind us tight All your children here In their rags of light In our rags of light All dressed to kill And end this night If it be your will

I met a man who lost his mind in some lost place I had to find, follow me the wise man said, but he walked behind.

I asked her to hold me, I said, “Lady, unfold me,” but she scorned me and she told me I was dead and I could never return.

Well I lived with a child of snow when I was a soldier, and I fought every man for her until the nights grew colder.

Into this furnace I ask you now to venture…

She took his tavern parliament, his cap, his cocky dance, she mocked his female fashions and his working-class moustache.

Like a bird on the wire, like a drunk in a midnight choir I have tried in my way to be free.

She took his much admired oriental frame of mind and the heart-of-darkness alibi his money hides behind She took his blonde madonna and his monastery wine – “This mental space is occupied and everything is mine.”

Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river You can hear the boats go by You can spend the night beside her And you know that she’s half crazy But that’s why you want to be there And she feeds you tea and oranges That come all the way from China And just when you mean to tell her That you have no love to give her Then she gets you on her wavelength And she lets the river answer That you’ve always been her lover And you want to travel with her And you want to travel blind And you know that she will trust you For you’ve touched her perfect body with your mind.

So, now that you’ve decided To follow the sun Like a shadow of birds Or a king on the run

Well, I’ve been waiting, I was sure We’d meet between the trains we’re waiting for I think it’s time to board another Please understand, I never had a secret chart To get me to the heart of this Or any other matter While he talks like this, you don’t know what he’s after When he speaks like this, you don’t know what he’s after

Or she’ll make a break for the high plateau where there’s nothing above and there’s nothing below

The baby’s crying, so you do not go outside, and all your work it’s right before your eyes.

I met a lady, she was playing with her soldiers in the dark Oh one by one she had to tell them That her name was Joan of Arc

And you wrap up his tired face in your hair and he hands you the apple core. Then he touches your lips now so suddenly bare of all the kisses we put on some time before.

I fought in the old revolution on the side of the ghost and the King. Of course I was very young and I thought that we were winning; I can’t pretend I still feel very much like singing as they carry the bodies away.

Oh, you are really such a pretty one. I see you’ve gone and changed your name again. And just when I climbed this whole mountainside, to wash my eyelids in the rain!

Do you need to hold a leash to be a lady?

And who are you?“ she sternly spoke to the one beneath the smoke. "Why, I’m fire,” he replied, “And I love your solitude, I love your pride.

Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove

Just open up your dainty little hand. You know this life is filled with many sweet companions, many satisfying one-night stands.

And come forth from the cloud of unknowing And kiss the cheek of the moon

But climb on your tears and be silent Like a rose on its ladder of thorns

the crumbs of love that you offer me, they’re the crumbs I’ve left behind.

Yes, and here, right here between the moonlight and the lane, between the tunnel and the train, between the victim and his stain, once again, once again, love calls you by your name.

There’s a blaze of light in every word It doesn’t matter which you heard The holy or the broken Hallelujah

There is a war between the ones who say there is a war and the ones who say there isn’t.

Oh sometimes I see her undressing for me, she’s the soft naked lady love meant her to be and she’s moving her body so brave and so free. If I’ve got to remember that’s a fine memory.

O lady with your legs so fine O stranger at your wheel, You are locked into your suffering and your pleasures are the seal.

He said, "I locked you in this body, I meant it as a kind of trial. You can use it for a weapon, or to make some woman smile.”

But the Rose I sickened with a scarlet fever and the Swan I tempted with a sense of shame She said at last I was her finest lover and if she withered I would be to blame

You will never see a man this naked I will never hold a woman this close

And you say you’ve been humbled in love Cut down in your love Forced to kneel in the mud next to me Ah but why so bitterly turn from the one Who kneels there as deeply as thee

I went down to the place Where I knew she lay waiting Under the marble and the snow I said, Mother I’m frightened The thunder and the lightning I’ll never come through this alone She said, I’ll be with you My shawl wrapped around you My hand on your head when you go And the night came on It was very calm I wanted the night to go on and on But she said, Go back, Go back to the World

May Christ have mercy on your soul For making such a joke Amid these hearts that burn like coal And the flesh that rose like smoke.

As the mist leaves no scar On the dark green hill So my body leaves no scar On you and never will

I showed my heart to the doctor: he said I just have to quit. Then he wrote himself a prescription, and your name was mentioned in it! Then he locked himself in a library shelf with the details of our honeymoon, and I hear from the nurse that he’s gotten much worse and his practice is all in a ruin.

And though I wear a uniform I was not born to fight All these wounded boys you lie beside Goodnight, my friends, goodnight

One by one, the guests arrive The guests are coming through The open-hearted many The broken-hearted few And no one knows where the night is going And no one knows why the wine is flowing Oh love I need you

I greet you from the other side Of sorrow and despair With a love so vast and shattered It will reach you everywhere

So you moved away the mountain That the sun rose behind And you said yourself a prayer And laid down with the blind

Your body like a searchlight my poverty revealed, I would like to try your charity until you cry, “Now you must try my greed.” And everything depends upon how near you sleep to me

and I lean from my window sill in this old hotel I chose, yes one hand on my suicide, one hand on the rose.

Ah the silver knives are flashing in the tired old cafe A ghost climbs on the table in a bridal negligee She says, My body is the light, my body is the way” I raise my arm against it all and I catch the bride’s bouquet

Children have takes these pledges They have ferried them out of the past Oh beyond all the graves and the hedges Where love must go hiding at last

It’s hard to hold the hand of anyone Who is reaching for the sky just to surrender

The river is swollen up with rusty cans and the trees are burning in your promised land.

Your father’s gone a-hunting Through the silver and the glass Where only greed can enter But spirit, spirit cannot pass

And all the ladies go moist, and the judge has no choice, a singer must die for the lie in his voice.

and there is no space but there’s left and right and there is no time but there’s day and night

Your father’s gone a-hunting And he’s lost his lucky charm And he’s lost the guardian heart That keeps the hunter from the harm

It’s not the news of burning towns that ruins your mind Like a spool you turn and you turn but it won’t unwind No these wars you did not start, they don’t tear your sleep apart It’s just a man taking what he needs from the store room

True love leaves no traces If you and I are one It’s lost in our embraces Like stars against the sun

And the crickets are breaking his heart with their song as the day caves in and the night is all wrong

Now the courtroom is quiet, but who will confess. Is it true you betrayed us? The answer is Yes. Then read me the list of the crimes that are mine, I will ask for the mercy that you love to decline.

I sang my songs, I told my lies, to lie between your matchless thighs.

Why do you stand by the window Abandoned to beauty and pride The thorn of the night in your bosom The spear of the age in your side

And clenching your fist for the ones like us who are oppressed by the figures of beauty, you fixed yourself, you said, “Well never mind, we are ugly but we have the music.”

Trav'ling lady stay awhile until the night is over. I’m just a station on your way, I know I’m not your lover.

Just take this longing from my tongue, all the useless things my hands have done, let me see your beauty broken down, like you would do for one you love.

Let your mercy spill On all these burning hearts in hell If it be your will To make us well

Oh the world is sweet the world is wide and she’s there where the light and the darkness divide and the steam’s coming off her she’s huge and she’s shy and she steps on the moon when she paws at the sky

And while he talks his dreams to sleep You notice there’s a highway That is curling up like smoke above his shoulder

For the heart with no companion For the soul without a king For the prima ballerina Who cannot dance to anything

You kept right on loving, I went on a fast, now I am too thin and your love is too vast.

I saw her wince, I saw her cry, I saw the glory in her eye. Myself I long for love and light, but must it come so cruel, and oh so bright?

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm, your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm, yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new, in city and in forest they smiled like me and you

Well you know that I love to live with you, but you make me forget so very much. I forget to pray for the angels and then the angels forget to pray for us.

I know you need your sleep now, I know your life’s been hard. But many men are falling, where you promised to stand guard.

And she comes to his hand but she’s not really tame She longs to be lost he longs for the same

Now I look for her always I’m lost in this calling I’m tied to the threads of some prayer Saying, When will she summon me When will she come to me What must I do to prepare When she bends to my longing Like a willow, like a fountain She stands in the luminous air And the night comes on And it’s very calm I lie in her arms she says, When I’m gone I’ll be yours, yours for a song

Through the days of shame that are coming Through the nights of wild distress Tho’ your promise count for nothing You must keep it nonetheless

Oh the sisters of mercy, they are not departed or gone. They were waiting for me when I thought that I just can’t go on. And they brought me their comfort and later they brought me this song. Oh I hope you run into them, you who’ve been travelling so long.

Dance me to the children who are asking to be born Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn Dance me to the end of love

The walls of this hotel are paper-thin Last night I heard you making love to him The struggle mouth to mouth and limb to limb The grunt of unity when he came in I stood there with my ear against the wall I was not seized by jealousy at all In fact a burden lifted from my soul I heard that love was out of my control

Your standing days are done,“ I cried, “You’ll rally me no more. I don’t even know what side We fought on, or what for.

[arctickat2400]

Shock & Fear <> Dom Toretto & Luke Hobbs

* Note #1: When I say “dads”, it means that my mom in the story had two husbands at different times. She married Dom and had me, then they got divorced; she found Luke, they got married, then she died. I am very close to both of them in the story. They’ve had their differences in the past, Dom and Luke, but after my mom's death, they overcame those to give me a better life. They became best friends. All three of them live together so neither dad has to be apart from me. Sorry, this fic might be a tad bit confusing when it comes to Dom and Luke. Everything should be explained in the story.

* Note #2: I replaced all the “dads” with their names so it’s not confusing for y’all. In my version which I write on Google Docs, I have them as “dad” with their names in parentheses so I know who I’m talking about.

* Note #3: Based on a dream I had (Early Morning of August 18, 2021) made into a story. No joke, Dom, Luke, and Letty were in my dream, it was great, except for the weird dude in my car.

* * *

Driving to our beach house, I look and see my dads working in the shed on Dom's Dodge Charger… again. Him, Tej, Roman, Letty, and Brian went racing again, and of course, he wrecked it again. I wasn’t surprised, it happens a lot. Doesn’t mean I’m any less concerned everytime it happens.

It made me happy, though, seeing them working together, laughing and having a good time. It didn’t used to be this way. Once mom and Dom had me, I was about 8 when they got divorced. I’m glad they lasted that long, but I hate that they didn’t last. But once Dom found out mom married Luke, the universe granted him a second chance. Dom found Letty and dad had never been happier than with her.

Naturally, my dads had their differences in the beginning. But, once mom died, they overcame those differences to make it easier on me. That was almost 10 years ago. Now, at 19 and living with the best dads and the best family I could ask for, it’s not a bad life. Living by the beach, taking online courses, going out with friends, Dom teaching me how to race, which has become my favorite thing ever.

I pull into the driveway, walking over to my dads, exchanging greeting smiles.

“Hey, baby,” Dom says as I walk over to give him a hug, receiving a kiss on my head. “Hey, sweetheart,” Luke adds as he gives me a hug with a kiss on the head as well.

“How long have y’all been working?” I used to live in the south, so the slang and accent sorta stuck.

“Couple of hours. Thought we’d take a break and grab a beer.” Dom commented, leaning forward against his car.

“Speaking of, I know you just got back, but do you mind going out to pick up a few things while we finish up here?” Luke requested hesitantly.

“Yeah, sure. Just text me what you need and I’ll be back soon.” I give my dad's both kisses on the cheek before walking back to my truck after watching them walk inside the house. I fiddle around through my backpack looking for my keys when I get a text from Dad, the grocery list.

I finally find my keys in the mess that’s in my backpack, but as my eye catches something, no, someone, I drop them. I don’t recognize them, never seen them before. He’s walking on the other side of the road, but it seems like he’s changed his mind about where he’s going and he starts to cross the road. I’m curious, but also scared. It looked like he was coming towards me. I pick up my keys and struggle to unlock the door in fear once I see the gun in his waistband. The guy walks faster as I open my door, jumping in. I fumble trying to get my key into the ignition before thinking about locking the car first, but I was too late. The guy opened the door, jumped in next to me and slammed the door, making me flinch.

“Um… sir, I think you have the wrong car,” I said, taking a chance, surprised my voice could create any words.

“Just drive,” He yelled. I immediately started the car, backing out of the driveway and driving towards the grocery store. He didn’t tell me where he wanted to go, but I did as he said and drove, afraid to say anything else in fear of being yelled at again, or worse.

Only a short way left to the grocery store, suddenly, the guy told me to turn around and head back to the house (Don’t ask me why; it’s just what happened).

Everything was a blur and somehow, we were already in the house. Walking around inside, a knife held to my neck, he brought me out the back door and towards the shed where my dads should be. I didn’t see them anywhere; however, when I looked back at the sudden loss of pressure against my neck, they both stood there across from me, the guy on the ground; dead or just unconscious, I’m not sure.

I ran to Luke, rushing into his embrace as his arms wound safely around me. He held me for what seemed like a long time, but I didn’t mind. I never wanted to leave this safety and comfort. I pulled away soon after and rushed to Dom, his arms wrapping around me, his hand laid on my head, holding me against his chest.

“It all happened so fast,” I cried, everything around me a blur of tears.

“Shh… baby, it’s okay.” Dom told me, brushing his fingers through my hair. “You’re here, we’ve got you.”

I pull away once again and look to see Luke shoving the guy into the back of his LAPV.

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart. I’m gonna take him in and be right back in time for everyone to get here,” Luke mentioned, holding my face in his hands, stroking my cheeks comfortingly.

“But, I didn’t get the groceries,” I was so shaken up that I started crying again over not getting the groceries. Every Friday, we have a cook-out and all our friends and family come and hang out.

“Baby girl, it’s okay. I got it. Stay with your dad and I will be right back. Take it easy.” He placed a kiss on my forehead as he hopped into his car and drove off. Dom took me into his arms and led me inside. He grabbed me some water, checked me over for any injuries and settled us outside on the porch overlooking the ocean.

Time Skip

I walked around outside, seeing all our friends and family, even some of their family. There were so many people, it was all so chaotic. Everyone was talking, catching up. Every now and then my dads would check on me, even if it was just a glance in my direction, just making sure I’m okay.

Suddenly, there was a weird tingling feeling in my throat and my eyes started to sting. My breathing went shallow and next thing I know, I’m falling, hitting the ground, and everything goes black.

I hear my name being called. “Y/N!” Luke calls. I barely open my eyes as I see him and Dom rushing towards me.

“Y/N, baby, can you hear me?” Dom asks, distressed. I feel myself being picked up and I open my heavy eyes once more to see Luke carrying me in his arms, laying me down on a porch chair.

The doctor of the family just said I was in shock and that I needed to rest. So, my dads carried me upstairs, laying me down in bed, covering me in my favorite blanket, and kissing my head. Dom stayed with me while Luke went down to tell everyone what's going on before coming back up to stay with me as well.

After today, they didn’t want to leave me. I didn’t want them to leave me either. Everywhere they were, I was. If they were working in the shed or the office or kitchen or on the porch, I’d be with them, working on my classes or drawing or reading or doing whatever it is I like to do. If I wanted to go down to the beach, they’d come with me. That family bond we always have just got stronger, making me feel safer than ever when I’m with them.

[sweetsubharry]

do have any mpreg fics? (harry gets pregnant ofc)

Yes I do!!  💖 also of course ;) there’s about 54 in this list if I counted correctly!! so it’s a long one! 

Please stay safe and read the tags everyone!!

Worth the Wait by lovelarry10

“Harry, you’re scaring me. Why did you need me to come home? I don’t mind, not if you need me, but… tell me what’s happening, love.” “I…” Harry cleared his throat, but still the words wouldn’t come. His shaking hand reached down and pulled out the picture, his breath coming in shallow pants as he handed it to Louis, who took it from him, frowning down at it.

“Whose is this?”

Louis’ blue eyes met Harry’s green then, and Harry knew he had to tell the truth.

“It’s mine. Ours. I’m pregnant, Louis.”

*****

Louis and Harry had long ago come to terms with the fact they couldn’t have children. Rapidly approaching their forties, they’re settled at work, and more than happily married.

Life, however, has other plans for the Tomlinsons.

Fill My Heart With Sweetness by loopdelouis

Harry's a late bloomer, but since his luck is shit, it's no surprise that he'd be the last to get a heat, but the first to get pregnant. In high school.

Count The Wolves And We'll Sleep Tonight by scribblewrite

Louis's the Alpha of a powerful pack and Harry's his omega.

When Harry's taken by rogue alphas, Louis will do anything to bring him home safely.

yes, you make my life worthwhile by orphan_account

Harry whispers to him that this feels like every dream he’s had for the last three years and Louis kisses his temple, behind his ear, across his cheeks and by the edge of his jaw. He runs the back of his finger across Winnie’s sleep-warm cheeks and sighs, the weight of the world finally off his shoulder.

Louis' a pediatrician, Harry's a preschooler teacher, and they're having a baby.

Weigh Us Down (We're In Love) by orphan_account

Harry’s eyes widen slightly at that. “We’re friends?”

Louis nods eagerly, smiling even wider. “Of course we are! You’re like, my first ever friend here. We just moved in, you see. Did I already tell you about that? Anyway! Maybe you can stay for dinner and I can show you my toys?”

Harry smiles. “You’ll let me play with you?”

Louis nods again, excited. “Of course!” He looks thoughtful for a moment, and then he’s slipping off the couch and crouching in front of Harry. “Oh, and Mum always kisses my wounds after she fixes them up. It makes me feel loads better all the time, so.” He leans forward and puckers his lips, pressing them over the bandage on Harry’s knee.

(harry and louis first meet when they’re eight and ten. this is their story throughout the years.)

love is so good when the love is young by drunkonyou

Louis falls for his pregnant best friend who has a bit of baggage. They make it work though.

fell in love in the morning sun by lumineres

“I'm going to die,” he wails. After about ten minutes of being in the car the discomfort got to be too much and Louis had to pull over so he could get on his hands and knees in the back seat, the only position that seemed to appeal to him. He let's out another pained cry, then grits out, “But not before I fucking kill you. This was your idea, I swear, what the fuck Louis.”

Louis does not correct him this time, he'd made that mistake two contractions ago and nearly lost his head. It had actually been Harry's idea, he'd told Louis that he hadn't forgotten the condoms, he wanted a baby. It really wasn't any trouble at all for Louis to oblige. Within a month of trying (what a wonderful month, honestly), Harry was full of Louis' baby. Like magic.

or, harry's in labor for 30 hours. louis believes in magic.

Vanished by FicNess

Harry loved Louis, Louis loved Harry. It was perfect. But after a small slip-up during some rather poorly planned sexytimes, Harry made the decision to run away. He was pretty good at hiding but Louis was also pretty good at seeking. And when Louis found him he also found a little surprise.

resolutions and lovers in the kitchen by orphan_account

Their dinner’s probably going cold, but this feels monumental. So instead of sitting them down on the table and talking about it face to face over chicken and pasta, Harry just puts his hands over Louis’ where they’re settled on his lower stomach, not letting the moment slip past them. He takes a deep breath, carefully arranging his thoughts. “She looks really lovely, Louis. Positively glowing. Her bump’s so big, and…” he trails off, breath hitching slightly when Louis lifts his hand higher, settling it right over Harry’s stomach, and that’s—

“And what, baby?” Louis asks, voice now dropped to a whisper, and Harry has to take a moment to collect his thoughts.

“She, um. She knows about you, of course, and she asked me when we’re—when we’re having a baby of our own.”

(harry teaches little kids and louis writes sports articles. they're trying for a baby.)

I'll Stand By You by harrystanslouis

Harry and Louis have been hooking up for two years. What happens when an unexpected surprise is thrown into their world?

-An mpreg, A/B/O AU featuring stupid boys in love, lots of pining, and a happy ending.

So Long I've Been Waiting by kikikryslee

Niall held up his glass in a toast. “Cheers.” Harry stared at Louis as he brought the glass up to his lips, unsure of what to do. It wasn’t like he could refuse the drink, but he certainly didn’t want to have any champagne. Louis monitored everyone else, and as soon as they all had their heads tilted back, drinking their mimosa, he reached out and knocked Harry’s glass right out of his hand, sending it crashing to the floor. “Oh, no!” Louis pretended to be shocked at what had just happened. “Harry, you’re so clumsy. You dropped your glass.” “Yes,” Harry said seriously. “I am very clumsy.” --- Or, the one where Harry and Louis are having their first baby, and keeping it a secret until the end of the first trimester is a lot harder than they thought it would be.

We Made These Memories for Ourselves by supernope

Breath held, Harry squints his eyes open and focuses on the first stick. A blue line. Harry breathes out an unsteady breath. He’s pretty sure he read that one blue line is a negative, but he fishes the box from the bottom of the pile just to make sure.

“Negative,” he confirms, voice echoing around the small room. “Next.”

Now that he’s feeling a little less shaky, he scans the rest of the tests at once, is met with a headache-inducing mixture of pink plus signs and blue double lines. His heart rate picks up until it’s pounding triple-time in the base of his throat and the pit of his stomach, thundering in his ears and throbbing in his temples. He flips over the rest of the boxes slowly, but he knows what they’re going to say before he even looks.

[or, Louis is a footballer, Harry owns a bakery, and they're having a baby.]

Nothing I'm Running From by swallowsmateforlife

The odds are one in a million. Chances are it's not going to happen to them.

or

It does happen to them and Harry Styles is pregnant.

deep in my heart i know there's only you by ballsdeepinjesus

"Will you do it?” Harry whispers. Louis has to lean closer just to hear him. He furrows his brows and shakes his head, not knowing what Harry means. “Would you donate for me?”

Louis is dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, I thought you just asked if I’d donate my sperm. Can you repeat yourself?”

[harry and louis are best friends who engage in some platonic baby-making. very platonic.]

hard to confess by hereforlou

One, they only did it without a condom once (and a half) and not during his heat. Never during his heat. Two, he never once forgot to take his birth control (he’s almost sure). Three, his plan is to be married for a year before he even starts trying for a baby, and not only is he very, very single, him and Louis aren’t even sleeping together anymore. Which brings him to reason number four why this can’t be happening: Louis. Louis doesn’t want a baby with Harry.

(Or, the one where Harry knows he messed up and Louis knows nothing.)

Piece by Piece by SadaVeniren

He rubbed his hand over his lower stomach and closed his eyes. Louis was going to lose his fucking mind.

(aka Harry tells Louis he's pregnant and it goes as expected)

Fallen Far From the Tree by SadaVeniren

“I’m so excited.”

“Me too,” Louis said. “Just think, it’s gonna be you and me forever.” He even managed to sing song the end of the sentence.

Harry snorted. “That’s not how the line goes. And besides, it’s not gonna be you and me forever. It’s gonna be you, and me, and this little one.”

He could see the smile stretch across Louis’ face. “Yeah. You’re right.”

(aka Harry and Louis go through the ups and ups of pregnancy)

Right Here Waiting by lovelarry10

Louis and Harry are expecting a baby. Harry's heavily pregnant and nesting madly, determined to make their home ready for their baby.

(i didn't mean to) fall in love tonight by zouisclimax

Harry texts him back a thumbs up emoji before leaning forward and throwing up again. He groans, but stands after he’s done, wiping his mouth with toilet paper, and flushing the toilet.

He washes his mouth out as best as he can before steeling himself and heading back to class, trying his best not to cry. He tells himself that there is no point in worrying when he doesn’t even know if there is anything to worry about yet.

He still feels sick.

[or, the American boarding school AU where Harry's infatuated with Louis and one night flips his whole world upside-down]

you fit me better than my favourite sweater by brightbluelou

Harry didn't mean to fall in love with his best friend, and he definitely didn't mean to get pregnant. Despite that, it’s probably still the best thing that’s ever happened to him. And after that, well. It just kept getting better.

or; the one where Harry and Louis are friends-with-benefits and Harry unexpectedly gets pregnant. Harry never wants to stop getting pregnant after that, but Louis thinks seven kids is probably enough.

Running Down To The Riptide by sweaterpawstyles

"I can't give you your present yet, Lou."

Louis furrowed his brows. "And why is that, my love?"

Harry smiled at his lap. "Because your present is under my sweater," he pulled his free hand that wasn't laced with Louis' and gently laid it on his stomach. "I'm pregnant."

Or

It's New Year's Eve and Harry has a surprise under his sweater

When I'm Lost I feel so very Found by sweaterpawstyles

Louis posted a picture a few minutes later of Harry kissing his cheek and captioned it as "My baby is having our baby :)"

It ended up getting almost a million likes in just a few hours and Louis' phone was blowing up with texts of congratulations from his friends. Harry couldn't stop blushing.

Or, the one where Harry is an average university student who winds up pregnant with rising actor Louis Tomlinson's child

Gasoline Stars by galacticlourry (orphan_account)

It reminded him of stardust, of the history of suns, and he supposed that was what the boy asleep on his shoulder had been created out of. The history of suns.

...

Or, an AU where it's all nice and innocent until someone ends up pregnant. (That would be Harry.) Also known as the Mpreg AU I've doubt you've read before.

Answer All Your Wishes by SadaVeniren

Harry and Louis met when Harry was thirteen and as first impressions go theirs was memorable enough to start a life long romance.

AKA a Tom Fletcher/Giovanna Fletcher AU where Louis is part of One Direction, Harry is the love of his life who blogs, and they have many, many children.

Claire de lune by Neondiamond

"We're having a baby Lou." he heard him say softly.

"We are babe, we are." Louis whispered into his husband's curls. "We're having a baby."

OR: Harry and Louis have wanted a baby for a while now, and now Harry's finally pregnant.

we've got a lifetime to kill by louislovesharry

harry and louis have a three year old daughter, evie, who is their whole world, and another little girl on the way. when harry falls and is put on bedrest for the remainder of the pregnancy, louis and evie must adjust - but it is all worth it for their newest addition to the tomlinson family.

Dirty Little Secret by therogueskimo

“Can’t let Gemma … she can’t find us,” Harry gasped against Louis’ lips, kicking his jeans off.

“Why?” Louis breathed against his mouth, working his lips down along the line of his jaw and onto his neck.

“Just … I don’t want to – god, Lou – don’t want to deal with her reaction. Just want it to be us.”

“Our dirty little secret, eh?”

_____________

Or the one where Harry and Louis fall in love, but can’t figure out how to tell Gemma. That is, until Harry gets pregnant, and they don’t have much of a choice.

Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)

He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

Put It Into Words by orphan_account

“It’s a good storm though, our families,” Louis says, flopping down on to the bed and cuddling close to Harry. He tucks his arm around Harry’s waist, kissing his temple. “The Cheshire house is perfect to raise the baby; your mum’s close, and my mum can stay in the guest bedroom when she visits.”

“And until then we have the long weekend to ourselves.”

Or, Harry and Louis go on a babymoon.

I Get To Love You by lovelarry10

A one night stand leaves Harry with a permanent reminder of the night he spent with a stranger.

Louis has no idea who the handsome stranger he took to bed is... until his friends make a shocking discovery.

A baby is on the way, and Louis and Harry have nine months to get to know each other before they become a family...

Dancing Shadows by SadaVeniren

The house was quiet by the time Louis walked up to it. He’d been away for a week and while it wasn’t the longest he’d ever been away from the pack, it was the longest he’d been away from Harry and the kids.

A Perfect Reason by Chelsea Frew (chelseafrew)

During a visit to a charity he'd like to support, Prince Louis--next in line to the throne of the United Kingdom--meets Harry, the man of his dreams. Trouble is, Louis is not out, and the law says his heirs can only be born of a woman. Louis is determined not to let that stop his pursuit of Harry. His determination doubles when Harry accidentally becomes pregnant. He and Harry will have their little family--and change the monarchy while they're at it.

Another Constellation to Trace by screwstyles

Louis wiggles his eyebrows. “I’m winning that bet.”

“What bet?” comes Niall’s excited voice from behind them, followed by footsteps. “I wanna be in on the bet!” he shouts, prompting Harry to quickly roll down his shirt sleeve and straighten his shirt where it’s still crinkly after Louis’ hands.

Niall takes one look at them and purses his lips in a tight line. “Were you guys making out again? Isn’t the fire meant to die down a bit after eight years?”

“Trust me, the fire is still very much alive,” Louis winks at Harry. “One could even say it’s cooking something.”

-

Mpreg AU: Louis and Harry bet on who can keep Harry's pregnancy a secret for longer. Neither of them is particularly good at it, and it doesn't help that their soulmate tattoos make it even harder.

Made From Love by lovelarry10

It's almost Christmas, and amongst the preparations, Louis' realised something about his husband Harry.

Harry, however, seems to be oblivious.

Louis' determined to open Harry's eyes and make him realise the real magic that's happening this Christmas...

years go by, whether you want them to by louislovesharry

A girl. They were having a little girl, and Harry couldn’t be happier. He had dreamed of having a daughter for as long as he could remember. A tiny little angel that he could dress up, have tea parties, pick flowers with. And if that wasn’t her thing, Louis could play footie with her, they could teach her how to play guitar and play with toy trucks. There was nothing Harry wanted more than to have and hold this beautiful creature that they had made together out of pure love, and nurture and cherish her for always.

The 'Oh my God it's twins!" Drabble. by FicNess

The 'Oh my God it's twins!" Drabble.

another pair of feet by honey_beeing

where Harry is pregnant and Louis is an oblivious idiot.

I will Only have these eyes for you by Dysia

Harry's pregnant and Louis' more in love with him than ever.

Don't ever let this day stop by Dysia 

Louis comes back home earlier than he was suppose to and he's surprised with the best present ever. 

i will rearrange the stars (pull 'em down to where you are) by orphan_account

Except-- the antibiotics. They'd fucked to celebrate Harry finally feeling better and not being contagious after his fight with strep-- but the antibiotics had likely still been present. And everyone knew suppressants and birth control didn't work when on antibiotics.

"Lads," Harry repeated once again, blinking slowly as his eyes filled with tears. Liam and Niall were staring at him in bewildered silence. "Lads. I'm, like, ninety-eight point seven percent sure I'm up the duff."

Alternatively, the one where Omega!Harry gets pregnant

To Carry Love by dimpled_halo 

During One Direction's hiatus, Harry becomes unexpectedly pregnant, and Louis does his best at becoming the most supportive husband he can be.

Fists Alongside Hearts by mpregharryqueen

Louis is a superhero protecting New York City. He never planned on having a sidekick and especially never planned on having a baby with said sidekick.

AU based very loosely on the cinematic masterpieces, Sky High and The Incredibles.

On His Way Home by denisemuriel

“Ehm, yeah.” Harry looked down onto his lap, fumbling with his fingers. “It’s Louis’.” He replied quietly. “Oh my god.” A voice that didn’t belong to his sister Gemma replied. When Harry looked up from his lap, he saw Lottie standing across the room in the door frame and his eyes grew as wide as hers. She was Louis’ fucking sister, damn it. And now she knew that he was pregnant with her brother’s baby. “Lottie, your fucking brother got my baby brother pregnant!” Gemma exclaimed.

Or the one where Harry is set up on a blind date with his sister's best friend's brother

We Were Made to Love by supernope

“Everything all sorted? Need help with the buckles? I know they’re a bit tricky in this compartment.”

The voice startles Louis out of his daze, and he turns toward the voice to let him know he figured it out. When he catches sight of the owner of the voice, though, his response dies in his throat. Whatever he had imagined the conductor of a children’s train that rides around the shopping centre in Leeds would look like, this is certainly not it.

Leaning through the window, arms folded across the sill, is a green-eyed angel with cherry red lips stretched wide in a smile and dimples flirting in his cheeks. A black conductor’s hat is the only confirmation that this is not some gorgeous stranger who’s come to flirt with Louis through the window of a children’s train, but is just a man doing his job.

[or, Harry drives a kiddie train in the shopping centre for the summer and is obsessed with babies, and Louis never stood a chance.]

Baby, What a Big Surprise by kiwikero

As Harry settles into his seat, self-consciously adjusting his shirt over his slightly distended stomach, he can’t help but wonder how he got himself into all this. But he knows, of course he knows. It isn’t exactly easy to forget the moment that changed his entire life forever.

It all started with a party.

Or, the one where shy, quiet Harry has no idea he's a carrier, and a one night stand with the most popular boy in school shows him just how wrong he was.

Featuring Lottie as Harry's best friend, Niall as her boyfriend, and, of course, Louis as the popular boy with a soft spot for his little sister's quirky friend.

here comes the sun by orphan_account

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Louis promises, his pink, chapped lips moving slowly in the cold. It matches the beanie on his head—pink, because they found out this morning that they’re having a girl and that’s just.

Harry’s going to be a dad. To a little girl. Five months from now he’ll be holding her in his arms, and she’ll be so lovely and small.

They’re going to have a spring baby and she’s probably going to have Louis’ eyes. What a blessing that would be. Harry crosses his fingers on the hand inside his pocket, hoping that she does. He’ll love her either way—blue or green or even brown eyes, it doesn’t matter—but he’d really like them to be blue, he thinks.

[Harry is a pediatric specialist, Louis is a neurosurgeon. All they want is a baby.]

and the sun shines upon your face by rosegarden

“It's just – it feels weird. To tell her that her twenty year old closeted son got knocked up in the middle of a stadium worldwide tour.” Louis laughs and Harry's heart squeezes at that beautiful sound. “Well it does sound weird when you put it like that.” “I don't 'put it like that'. It's the truth.”

or

the one where Harry really, really likes making plans but plans don't really like him, Louis is an overprotective-future-dad-to-be and Niall, Liam and Zayn race to be the godfather.

everywhere (i wanna be with you) by itiswhatitisbutterfly

Harry and Louis meet because they have terrible friends, they fall in love because something feels right in a world of uncertainty and shifting grounds. Louis is an actor and Harry is a model at the top of his game, the best things in life are the most unexpected ones and the things that hit you when you are least expecting it.

Featuring winter in London, nights in Paris, early mornings in New York, burning heat in Monte Carlo and an enduring love spent transcending four corners of the globe.

kiss full of color, makes me wonder where you've always been by louislovesharry

after a rough day dealing with his three kids and louis being gone, a very pregnant harry is exhausted. louis helps make things better, always.

you make my whole world feel so right when it's wrong by orphan_account

“Curly?” Louis says, stepping into Harry’s sight. “You okay?” Harry looks up from where he has two things in his hands, a thick winter coat sized for a newborn, and a sweatshirt fitting a grown man such as himself. He looks up at Louis, stricken, and holds them out for him to see. “They’re the same price,” he says. “They’re both forty dollars! Forty dollars for such little material.”

(or, Harry is pregnant and stops at the mall to buy cheap baby clothes. Louis has extra money from working a long shift, and he can't think of a better way to spend it than on him.)

i'll be your sunflower by scagnetism

“What do you think’s gonna stop us now?” Harry says cheekily, laughter in his voice as he looks up at Louis. “Something’s gotta get in our way like always, doesn’t it?”

“Ha,” Louis grins, kissing his cheek and holding open the door for him as they make their way toward the car. “Nothing’s gonna interrupt us this time. ‘S gonna be perfect, just like Pumpkin.”

Or, a few interruptions aren't going to stop Harry from having a perfect pregnancy and having the family he and Louis have always dreamed of.

The Original Mpreg!Harry by Chelsea Frew (chelseafrew)

series

i'll put my future in you by louislovesharry

series

Picture Perfect by LittleBubbleStyles

an AU where Louis Tomlinson is a misunderstood football player, and Harry Styles is a misunderstood photographer. Somehow, they're understood together.

*just a note to say this is a wip but it is almost completed and updated regularly!

[stevesharrlngtons]

wherever i’m going -- i’m taking you with me.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: you run through roman’s dreams nightly, but this time it’s different. this time it’s an omen where you dawn a white dress with blood pouring for your mouth, your body ripped to shred. and this time peter sees it too.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: kinda short for me, i hope that’s ok! got a couple of other stories in the works tho. but, i really hope you enjoy! 

“I gotta run,” You said as you stood from the couch in the Godfrey’s sitting room. 

Roman let out a childish groan as he deflated into the stiff cushions, lanky limbs melting across the furniture like a Dali clock. 

“No, you don’t. At least stay for one more episode?” 

“I promised I’d have dinner with my mom before she has to go in to work graveyard tonight.” You reply, gathering your discarded sweater and shoes and redressing in them. 

“Come on,” Roman practically whines, reaching out with his foot to hook you around the back of your knee, “One more episode.” 

You turn to give him a reprimanding look, a look that was utterly ineffective as a smile threatened to form on your lips. 

“Shelley, can you please call him off?” You look over your shoulder toward the younger Godfrey, holed up in an armchair with a grin. 

“He’s not used to hearing no.” She typed out and you snort. 

“Some help you are!” Shelley just giggled. 

“Yeah,” Roman pushed himself up with a grunt, quickly snaking his arms around your waist, “I’m not used to hearing no. Let’s not start today, yeah?” 

You looked down at him, his chin resting against your abdomen while he gazed up at you with his most convincing puppy eyes. 

You move your hands to hold his cheeks, squeezing them together causing his lips to pout, “Everyone’s right, you are a brat.” 

You lean down and peck his pursed mouth, “Walk me to my car?”

Roman gives a heavy sigh in defeat, collapsing back into the couch for a moment before begrudgingly getting up, making the movement seem like a great effort. 

“You owe me,” He responds in a grumble. 

“Oh, of course,” You reply dramatically as you walk over and give Shelley a chaste kiss to the forehead in goodbye. 

Roman waits for you by the door for you to finish your farewells with his sister, then leads you outside. 

At your car, you toss your bag through the open window into the passenger seat, then lean against the door to look up at Roman. 

“I think you should just move in here, you’re over enough.” He comments, placing his hands on your hips. 

“I’m sure our mother’s would love that,” You counter swiftly. 

“Fuck my mom,” Roman says, “And yours, well she could finally travel like she’s always wanted.” 

“So what? I’m just the dead weight holding her back?” 

“Oh c’mon, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” Roman sighs, moving closer to you. 

You stay quiet, letting him squirm a bit. You knew he meant nothing by his comment, nothing more than a desperate search for you to agree to his offer. 

“I would, but I’d only be giving into your spoiled-rich-boy complex. I can’t do that. I have to be the one to teach you hard work and perseverance. I want you to turn out to be a well rounded young man.” 

The scowl that overtook Roman’s face made you burst into giggles. 

“Fuck that, and you for saying it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” You say, giggles dying down as you lean up to give him a kiss. A longer one to appease him, “I’ll call you later, OK?” 

“OK,” Roman says breathlessly to your lips, “Love you.” 

“Love you, too.” And you pulled away from him. 

Parting from Roman was always a five minute process, or longer. Because he would kiss you deeper, and beg for one more, and whisper sweet words and begs for you to stay, trying your resolve each and every time. Tonight was no different. You finally left the Godfrey grounds seven minutes later with swollen lips and the beginning of a love bite on your neck. 

You ran through a field of grass and wildflowers. Looking over your shoulder with a wide smile and echoing giggles. 

“Catch me! Faster! Before I fall! Catch me, Roman!” Your voice carried far and wide. 

The dress you adorned was white, gauzy, and thin. Roman could see the hazy outline of your body beneath the fabric, your soft curves shining through as the sun basked you in it’s buttery glow. The world was saturated in warm tones and smelled like fresh laundry on his skin.

“Please, Ro! Catch me! I’m going to trip!” Your melodic voice begged, as you remained just out of arm's length.

Roman ran as fast as he could, panting and heaving as he tried to keep up with your light feet. His fingers would dust the fabric of your dress, feel the fibers and loose threads on his nails, but he could never get close enough to wrap you his grasp and capture you. He tumbled through the tall grass and felt a distinct tightness in his chest of yearning and fear. He just wanted to reach you. 

As he continued the chase, Roman’s legs began to feel utterly heavy and stiff. A smattering of pins and needles danced under his skin and began to numb his extremities. It felt like he was pushing through water and running through sand. When he looked down to his feet, suddenly he was. He was encased in thick slimy sand and he could barely move. 

“Roman?” Your voice was far away and trembling. 

Roman snapped his head back up to look at you, still in your field of wildflowers and fragile gown. 

“Roman, please, it’s going to happen…” You were suddenly crying, your face streaked with tears that left unforgiving wet trails over your delicate skin. 

“I won’t! I won’t!” Roman calls, trying to dig himself from the swallowing sand. 

“Baby… it hurts,” You whimper and groan and Roman watches as you reach down to clutch your stomach. Your crisp white dress now swathed with red. 

A long, jagged cut marred your abdomen, blood pouring out of you like rushing water. 

“No!” Roman screams, chanting the word until his throat was thick and hoarse.

You hiccup, and heavy currents of dark crimson drip past your lips. Your sputtering as the blood splatters your once spotless face, freckling your draining cheeks as a new outpour of blood furthers to ruin your dress. 

Roman claws at the sand sucking him under, the little particles cutting into his fingers like shards of glass as he continues his tireless efforts to escape. 

He watches as you stare at the blood in question, trying to push it back into your jutting abdomen wound fruitlessly, only managing to push more out. 

“Stay right there, I’m coming! I’m coming!” Roman shouts, but the sand has sucked him down despite his best efforts and is up to his chin. The sun was so bright now, it was beginning to blinding him. 

“No, you’re not.” You say with blood painted lips, teeth slimy with cardinal colors and sickly browns. 

Roman tries to shout again, only for the sand to begin to enter his mouth and fill his lungs, before it engulfs him completely. 

Roman shot awake, slick with sweat and an intense weighing heat covering every inch of his body. 

His eyes stung with unshed tears as he scrambled to reach his phone on his nightstand. It told him it was just after two in the morning before he dials your number. 

With his trembling hand to his ear, he listens to the incessant ring and waits for you to answer. 

But the phone just rings, and rings and rings. And Roman swallows down the bile that raises in his throat as he gets your voicemail. 

He calls back immediately, listening to the endless tone with shallow breaths. Once more, he gets your voicemail. 

“Fuck!” Roman shouts, his voice carrying in the silent bedroom. 

He starts to kick away his blankets and press your contact once more, when his phone buzzes. He doesn’t hesitate to answer. 

“Hello? Baby?” Roman gasps. 

“No, it’s uh, it’s me.” The voice on the other end isn’t yours, but Peter’s. 

“Peter, dear fucking -- did you have it? Did you see her?” Roman asks, his voice frenzied. 

“Yeah, I… I needed to call and see if she was with you. But I guess not.” 

And Roman starts to hyperventilate. He tries to gulp in as much air as he can, but his lungs are tight and constricted with tears and terror. 

“Peter, she’s next. No, no, no, no, no! Fuck! This isn’t happening, this can’t be happening!” Sobs wracked his body as Peter did his best to calm him. 

“Hey, hey! Calm down, alright? She’s probably just fine.” 

Probably, probably, probably. 

But not definitely. 

Roman’s mind began to churn out pictures of your pretty little face on the news next to Brooke Bluebell and Lisa Willoughby. A newscaster reciting your name mournfully and telling the world that you were the latest victim of this horrific animal prowling after young girls in a sleepy Pennsylvania town. 

“She’s not answering, Peter! She’s not fucking answering her phone. She’s not -- fuck!” Roman could barely get the words out. 

Your face in print, the ink smudging and transferring to the pads of Roman’s fingers from the amount of times he strokes your still features. Perfect and frozen in time. The headline saying something about another teen dead. Another beautiful girl with so much potential… torn from the world and limb from limb.

“Calm down, Roman! We need to find her, OK? I’m sure she’s just asleep and didn’t hear her phone. Let’s find her before we have a fuckin’ melt down, yeah?” 

“Yeah, yeah, Ok, yeah.” Roman nods, running a tense hand through his hair. 

“So, why don’t you sit tight and I’ll go over to her house and bring her to you?” 

“No!” Roman shouts, “No! I’m going, she needs me.” 

Roman stands from his bed and rushes around his room to gather any discarded clothing he could find crumpled on the ground or splayed over the back of a chair. 

“Roman, let’s just think about this for a minute. You’re worried, stressed out of your mind, you’re not thinking straight. You’re gonna fuckin’ crash your car if you drive like this.” Peter tries to reason. 

Roman scoffs, “I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re really not,” Peter lets out a humorless chuckle. 

“Yeah, y’know what? You’re right, I’m fucking not,” Roman spits. 

He’s running down the stairs in a mismatched outfit in a search for his car keys, “I’ll be fine when I see she’s OK.” 

Roman hangs up his phone before Peter can argue anymore.

When Roman gets to your house, he doesn't waste time knocking. He just picks up the trick rock in the front flowerpot to retrieve the spar key from inside it, and storms into your house. He barely remembers to shut the door behind him. 

“(Y/N)! Baby!” Roman calls, searching around for any signs of disturbance or foul play. 

He bounds up your staircase, frantically calling for you all the while. When he reaches your bedroom, he plows his way through the door without ceremony. His grip warping the thin gold plated knob, fingers molding into the cheap tin with worried fury.

You shot up from your mattress when Roman burst in with a shriek, clutching your chest as Roman stood dumbfounded in your doorway. 

“Jesus Christ, Roman! What the hell? You just about gave me a heart attack! Fuck,” You let out a loud breath and fell against your pillows, sucking in calming breaths, “What is wrong with you?” 

Overwhelming relief rushed through Roman’s viens as he watched you, annoyed and disgruntled in a sea of sheets and blankets from his entrance.

“Oh my God,” Tears sprang back to his eyes as Roman quickly closed the short distance between himself and your bed and vined his arms around you. 

He blanketed you in his body, crushing you to the mattress as he sobbed into your neck. 

“Whoa, hey, Ro? Baby? What happened? What’s going on?” You asked, anger turning quickly to worry as you moved to wrap your arms around his shaking shoulders. 

His forearms press into the base of your neck and the hollow of your back uncomfortably, arching you into him in an awkward position. But the pain only served as a reminder to Roman that you were real. You’re here and you’re breathing and your bones clash with his and your breath fogs his brain. He couldn’t speak, all he could do was inhale your clean scent and the pattern of your heartbeat. 

“Roman, you’re scaring me. What the hell is going on?” You tried again. 

“Just stay right here. Be safe,” He hushed, nuzzling closer to you, pressing his cold nose to your clavicle. 

A distinct prick of worry and fear made itself known in your gut, but you tried your best to subdue it.

For now.

“Alright, but please just tell me you’re OK?” You whisper, gripping the back of his shoulders tightly. 

“Yeah. And so are you.” 

You woke the next morning with a stabbing pain in your side and with stiff limbs. The sun had peeked over Roman’s head and cast onto your tired lids. Your hands were still tangled in his hair, resting loosely on the nape of his neck, having stopped combing through brunet strands sometime around dawn when sleep finally took you back under. 

You tried to shift your weight around to alleviate the discomfort, but a small voice stopped you. 

“Don’t get up,” Came Roman’s throaty plea. 

“I wasn’t, just getting comfortable. M’back hurts.” 

Roman doesn’t reply, just moves his arm from where it had been digging into your muscles and moves onto his side so you can too. His other arm stays firmly coiled around your shoulders. 

You sigh in relaxed pleasure as you stretch out the kink in your back and are able to snuggle back into Roman with no pain. 

“Thank you,” You mutter and kiss the hollow of his throat before you begin to drift off again. 

His warmth, his soft pine cologne, the weight of his arms around you, the safety he offered, it was hard to stay awake all while under the thick cloud of blankets and early morning heat. Roman began to drag his fingers gently up and down your spine, helping to lull you back into sleep. That was until you remembered that Roman hadn’t just snuck in the night before to sleep next to you. You two hadn’t fucked and smoked and passed out in each other’s arms. He had come storming into your bedroom last night with crazed glazed eyes, looking like he’d seen a ghost, or something worse. So, you blink away any residual urge for slumber. 

“What happened last night?” You asked, running your nose along his thrumming pulse. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Roman moves his palm up to cup the back of your skull, “We’ll talk about it when you wake up.” 

You wiggle away from his embrace far enough to see his face. He looked pensive and worried. His sweet lips chapped and gnawed raw. 

“I don’t want to wait, Ro. You really freaked me out last night.” You lean further back, “Was it Olivia? Did she do something?” 

“No, no,” Roman sighs, “Not this time. It wasn’t her.” 

“Then what was it?”

Roman ran the tip of his tongue over his cracked lips and sniffs loudly. He makes a scene to look anywhere but your eyes. He looked scared, and Roman never looked scared. Angry? Interested? Annoyed? Curious? Yes, but never scared. 

“Ro? What is it? You're freaking me.” You reach for his hand that is resting on your hip and wrap it in your own.

His jaw flexes and swivels, his bottom teeth jutting out before he finally sighs, “You were in my dream last night…” 

“And?” 

“Peter had the dream, too.” 

It felt like the wind had been knocked from your lungs. You knew Roman could feel your hand tighten around his own, because he pushed your face back to press into his chest. 

“But it’s OK. It’s going to be alright. I have you, I have you, I have you,” He chants, slipping his long calf around your legs to further his point. 

“Peter saw me, too?” You asked, voice quivering with uncertainty. 

“Yeah, baby. He did.” 

“And it was the same dream?” 

Roman took a long pause that told you more than his words ever could. 

“Did you see it, too? Did it get me?” 

You can feel Roman shutter against you. Like someone had poured ice water down his back. 

“No, we didn’t. It wasn’t there. It was just… it wasn’t pretty, I’ll spare you the details but it wasn’t fucking pretty. It freaked us out.” 

“Oh God,” You muttered, your mind moving a mile a minute, “Oh my God. I’m next.” 

“No.” Roman says, an animalistic roar from deep in his chest, his arms working to pull you even closer, “No. Nothing is going to happen to you. I won’t let it.” 

“What if something happens that you can’t stop? Or you’re not there? Or I’m alone? Or, or, fuck! I don’t know!” You gasp, your heart palpating in your chest. 

You had never been faced with your own mortality before. You had never had a near death experience or even anything close to one. You sometimes felt embarrassed when your peers would talk about terrifying advantentures they had embarked on that almost ended fatally but they triphumpanlty survived. Or activities they foolishly starred in and swore they saw their lives flash before their eyes. The stories were likely embellished, but you still felt square. You weren’t an adrenaline junkie, you didn’t even like carnival rides. You liked knowing you’d wake the next day, safe and sound with two feet planted firmly on the ground. This feeling of possible and even probable death by crazed werewolf made your vision blur and bile coat your tongue.

There wasn’t enough air in the world to satisfy your thirsty lungs.

“Hey, hey, stop!” Roman said sternly, his voice working to break through your wave of panic, “Nothing is going to happen, OK? Nothing. I will do whatever possible to keep you safe. I don’t care what it takes.” 

“Ro --” Tears had begun to fall from your eyes without your knowledge, and his name came from your lips weak and whimpered. 

“I have you, I’ve got you. I am going to be with you 24-fucking-7 until we kill this thing. I am not going to leave your side until I have a fucking Vargulf head in the trophy room.” He reassures. 

“How can you be with me when you are going off to kill it?”

“Then I’m gonna lock you in Shelley’s room and make you stay put until I’m back. We aren’t taking any chances with this.”  

You pull back once more to look at him with glazed eyes; his face pink from sleep and tears. 

“You’ll stay at the house until we kill this thing, alright? I don’t care what Olivia or anyone else says, you’ll stay with me.” 

“What if it comes here anyway? What if it hurts my mom? Oh my God, Roman, my mom!” Your blubbering again. 

“Fuck it, she can come, too. We’ll make something up, have Peter forge some documents from the city that say you guys have to get out of this house, then I’ll offer up guest bedrooms. We’ll figure it out.” He replies, smoothing your hair against your head. 

“Do you really think it’ll work?” 

Roman sighs, “I mean if it doesn’t I could, y’know, persuade her.”

“Roman, no.”

You knew Roman would never do anything to hurt your beloved mother, but the thought of him using his eye-thing on her made your stomach twist. 

“I would and I will if I have to. I’ll do what I have to to keep you safe. That’s just how it is.” 

He was your protector. Your warrior. Fuck Peter, fuck his mother and Destiny. Fuck anyone who told him this wasn’t his fight, that he should bow out and let the Rumanecks handle this. Because now it definitely was. Now, he was to be the one who saved the town and you and Peter and Letha and Shelley. He was to be the one who cut off the head of this wolf or ripped it apart with his bare hands to keep his loved ones safe. He was strong, he was the warrior. 

“OK.” You surrendered to his declarations of safety and tried to let his presence lull you. 

You’d have to pack some things in a few hours, help come up with a lie to convince your mother, then move into the Godfrey mansion and hope it’s walls were enough to shuck this black omen from your soul. 

“I got you, I promise I do.” Roman hushes, placing a delicate kiss to your forehead. 

Your burrow deeper into his embrace and refuse to tell him about the dream you’d had the night before. The dream about spitting your teeth into his hands and running your tongue over your coppery gums. You needed to call Destiny or Peter’s mom to get the prognosis on if it meant anything. If it was just unsettling or apart of whatever Roman and Peter were seeing at night. For now, all you could hope was that it was the former, and Roman’s energy was enough to heal your fearful heart.

hi (-: i hope you enjoyed! if you did, i’d love to hear from you <3