#or like that time i was invited to come sing in the choir at a church where both my voice teacher and my choir director were involved

[queenlucythevaliant]

Why can't the churches with choirs and pipe organs and stained glass windows have a bit more theological rigor??

[wndaswife]

(fic request) pls write this w nun!wanda (if you want) 😵😵😵

to worship and submit | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Being the daughter of the man that leads the church choir means attending the services when you run out of excuses to be anywhere else, but a young woman who's recently joined the parish to become a nun has begun to make your time there worthwhile.

Word count: 7419

Tags: smut, fluff, humour, sacrilege, quite literally fucking in front of a crucifix, even i feel slightly guilty for writing it, strap-ons, rough sex, spanking, slapping, spitting, degradation, praise, daddy kink, mentions of masturbation, sub!wanda maximoff, dom!reader | MINORS DNI

A/N: SO... i did do some research for this fic... but only SOME... meaning some of the info may be incorrect fyi!!!

gif credit to evilly

Every Sunday since your dad joined the church as their choir leader, you’d been making yourself busy in advance just in case he’d ask if you wanted to come to the services. 

You were proud of your dad — really, you were — because he loved music and loved the community the church brought him, and the church was closeby to where your mom worked as an elementary school teacher, so your parents were able to work together when there were community events that involved both the school and the church.

Though, being happy for your dad didn’t mean you also had to be happy when he invited you to the services.

Sometimes you’d attend special occasions like Easter and other holidays and church events wherein your dad prepared his own assortment of music and such for the choir to play, but only because you were there to support him and what he was passionate about — music and community and his family.

Such events were big deals at the church he volunteered at because it was well-known for its large community; the church itself was closely connected to a nearby convent where it had close ties to the nunnery there, as well as having one of if not the most ornate architecture all preserved within a historically-significant religious landmark.

But for the last few weeks, he hadn’t asked you to go with him because he was so busy with the new influx of students joining from the Catholic elementary school your mom worked at; they were all there singing on the weekends for their volunteer hours, but at the very least, your dad said they were still enthusiastic and friendly kids.

So on the morning of one of the very rare occasions in which you hadn’t had anything planned for the Sunday because you weren’t expecting him to invite you as he hadn’t for the last while, your dad invited you to the service.

You could’ve truly made up an excuse and flat-out lied about being busy, but it’d been a while since he asked and you knew he’d been working hard with the new students in his group, so you supposed it wasn’t so much trouble to accept his offer, even if you did groan it out in a superficial fit about having to get out of bed earlier.

It wasn’t that you not being religious had anything major to do with avoiding going to church, because you didn’t entirely mind when your religious parents brought you to the services for special occasions, but rather because you didn’t very much have the patience or sufficient concern for the readings and worship to attend the nearly-two-hour services.

That was truly your most pressing issue with attending the Sunday services with your dad, but today was different, with an unexpected experience to make you dread going even more than you did previously.

“Excuse me?” a timid, unfamiliar voice chirped from behind you.

You turned to see a young woman standing by the doorway of the back hall where the entrance to the choir balcony was. 

Typically, you sat around there when your dad was conducting because you weren’t very involved in the church enough to sit at the pews nor were you part of the choir. 

But from where you were sitting, you weren’t entirely uninvolved as you could still see and hear the services — it was the perfect spot. 

“You aren’t allowed to sit here,” the young woman told you, running the pads of her two fingers along the edge of her sleeve. 

Her dark brown hair was neatly pulled back into a conservative bun and she was wearing a black plain dress with a modest plain scoop neckline to show the buttons and collar of the crisply-ironed long-sleeved white blouse underneath that all of the church’s nuns wore, but the simplicity of her outfit and the uncovering of her hair meant to you that she was presently studying at the church to become a nun. 

“I’m the choir dude’s daughter,” you said with a polite smile and looked away, expecting for your response to be all the elaboration she needed. 

In a way that was subtle with the intention not to be offensive but in that very manner was offensive in itself because of how irritating her caution was, the woman cleared her throat. 

“I-I know,” she pressed, “but this area isn’t open for seating. For anyone.”

When you didn’t answer for a moment as you stared at her, she quickly said, “I’m sorry. They told me to tell you.”

“I’ll find a spot in the pews,” you answered and collected your things. 

From the corner of your eye, it seemed that she wanted to offer a seating alternative just to make up for what she was forced to tell you, but there wasn’t very much else she could offer. 

That Thursday, you were back at the church to pick up an ironed uniform for your dad; it was for a special event set for the upcoming Sunday, and the church pressed it for him and everything. 

It was a nice gesture.

They were nice people.

On Thursdays, there were only morning services and events for children in another spacious room where they could colour and play with the church’s team leaders and nuns. 

But in the afternoon — which it now was — there wasn’t anything going on. 

When you arrived, the church was still and warm with gentle sunlight shining through the stained glass windows and casting a myriad of colours against the pews. 

You looked over your dad’s text again and walked through the directions he told you to take to get to the back halls of the church, just a few turns from the stairway that led up to the choir balcony. 

The room where you were to pick up the uniform was as pretty as the rest of the church; it was a small prayer room with a pedestal and stained windows and red carpeting, but it was much cozier and probably hadn’t been used for prayer for the group size it was designed for in a little while.

You could see through the glass door the folded uniform for your dad on the windowsill behind the pedestal with a name tag placed on top of it ready for pick-up along with a few other clothes for some other church volunteers. 

Upon entry, you closed the door quietly behind you and stepped into the room where you could now see a small table by the window and a familiar young woman sitting with a notebook, jotting a few things down from what looked like a leather-bound book. 

“Can I just get my dad’s uniform from there, or do I need to sign it off or something?” you asked, announcing your presence. 

She looked up from the notebook and at you then to the uniforms on the windowsill. 

“Oh, you’re…” She paused and thought for a moment. “The choir conductor’s daughter?”

“Yeah.”

“I can sign it off for you,” she replied and smiled. 

She stood from the table and walked around it to the uniforms, where a piece of paper was set beside the line of neatly-folded clothes.

You watched as she jotted down a few things onto the paper with a pen before carefully picking up the packaged uniform and turning to hand it to you.

“Thank you,” you answered. 

“Of course. Have a good day,” she replied and bid you a goodbye before heading back to the table by the window. 

You were on the way to leave the room, but you couldn’t, for some odd reason, take your eyes away from the way she lowered herself into her seat and resumed her notetaking. 

She didn’t notice when you changed your direction and walked towards the table she was sitting at until you were perhaps just a metre away from her, when she then looked up from her notes and up at you. 

“Did I give you the wrong uniform?” she asked, worried and now standing up from her chair. 

“No,” you answered quickly and waved your hand.

She stayed standing, curious as to why you walked back. 

“Hard at work?” you asked, pointing at her notebook. 

Confused for a moment, perhaps by your curiosity in speaking with her, she looked over to her notebook and then back at you with a friendly smile, “Yes, a little. They gave me something to study from. I’m just taking notes.”

Carefully, you reached forward and spun her notebook around so you could read it. 

Her curiosity seemed to spike when you leaned forward to read her notes, and she looked at you with a small smile. 

“Um,” she started awkwardly. “I want to apologise for earlier this week. For making you move seats.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you replied and looked up from her notes to smile at her reassuringly. “I know they just made you tell me because you’re new.”

The young woman seemed reassured, her shoulders even relaxing a bit when you said it. 

“You’re still… What do you call it? Like, you’re studying to be a nun here? Not fully one yet?”

She shook her head. 

“Yes, I’m in the study period before becoming a novitiate,” she answered. 

Your fingers ran over her delicate handwriting, feeling the indentations of her pen against the paper.

“To worship and submit,” you read aloud from the notebook. “Fascinating.”

She caught onto your twinge of sarcasm but approached it with humour, laughing a little and conceding, “It is a bit medieval, but an important quality, I’d presume.”

Reflecting suddenly on how young the woman seemed much younger than the other nuns, you asked her, “How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

She was a bit older than you, but still quite young.

Her hair was down now, though still neatly brushed and free of frizz and tucked behind her ears. She was wearing a white long-sleeved shirt and an ankle-length black skirt patterned lightly with gardenias. 

“How did you get into wanting to be a nun, anyhow?” you asked and moved your attention away from the notebook and towards her. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“I-I don’t?” she inquired, almost sounding nervous at the implication that she wasn’t training herself properly. 

“I mean, pious and submissive — sure,” you said, referring to her notes, which made her seem a bit flustered, “but not like a nun.”

She questioned curiously, “More like…?”

After humming aloud in thought, you turned to her with your hip laying against the edge of the table and suggested, “Elementary school teacher. Vet. I don’t know, something like that.”

She was pretty — truly. 

Cute, even. 

“When I was younger, I wanted to be a vet,” she told you, smiling sweetly. 

“Changed your mind?”

“Younger as in quite young, perhaps around ten,” she recalled. “My parents are both rather religious and ever since I turned fourteen it’s always been their intention to have me join a congregation.”

Interest piqued, you asked, “And your intention for yourself was…?”

“For myself?” she repeated as if taken by surprise. 

You nodded once. 

She paused for a moment to hum thoughtfully before saying, “I was happy to follow whichever path my parents intended for me.”

“You find passion in nunnery?” you asked. “Genuine question — not judging.”

“Of course,” she answered. 

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you quickly checked it to see that your dad had messaged asking if you were able to pick up his uniform.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been holding you back from something,” the woman apologised and stepped to the side to allow you to leave.

Sliding your phone back into your pocket and adjusting your dad’s uniform in your hand, you replied, “No, not at all. My dad’s just impatient. I should get going now though, since here’s a few errands I have to run before noon.”

She nodded in understanding. 

“It was nice being able to talk with you,” she then said. “I haven’t been able to talk with very many people since I came here. It’s all just been about studying and the church.”

Before you left, you made sure to ask for her name, to which she replied telling you it was ‘Wanda.’

Cute name.

It’d been quite a while since you ever attended the services two weeks in a row. The last you did was during the last half of August the first year your dad started conducting the church choir, during which you had nothing else to do but wait for classes to start — so you went to the services.

This time, because the church was celebrating something special, your dad asked both you and your mother to attend the service because he’d been working on preparing a set of songs for the occasion.

Under the guise of being a supportive daughter, your parents didn’t second guess why you were so willing to attend the service this week, nor did they ask if there was a certain individual you were perhaps a bit excited to see again.

Truthfully, you couldn’t stop thinking of Wanda since you last saw her a few days ago. There was much to her you felt laid dormant and sleeping, awakened only just in the slightest during the conversation you had with her. She was kind and curious, but also painfully naive. 

She was a few years older than you but knew far less about the truth of her own ambitions and strayed perhaps not even a foot’s distance away from behind her parents’ shadows.

Wanda was interesting, but intrigued you for far too long for her to be only that. Though you couldn’t very well figure out what it was about her that made her bounce around in your head like a pinball until an unassuming evening.

It was sincerely an unrelated act when you first started, travelling your hand down between your legs in the silence of the evening to relieve yourself of the pent-up stress from classes that’d come over you during the last few days.

Truly, it was completely unrelated to Wanda and anything and everything about her when you started, and even during, until you reached your peak of release and found your imagination flashing with curiosities about what she looked like under her garments, how she’d squeal if you spanked her ass and if she’d like it, or how she’d cry out in sheer pleasure if you forced her down and made her take her spankings regardless.

For a moment afterwards there was guilt, but every day onwards there was curiosity, wondering for hours about what you’d seen when you reached that point of pleasure during which Wanda was your only muse.

You’d like to tell yourself it was only that curiosity that guided your willingness to attend the service with your parents, but it was something else entirely too — something completely carnal.

For the first hour of the service, Wanda was still nowhere to be seen. Because of the church’s connections with its convent, the nuns had a large role in some of the day-to-day happenings, but mostly during important church events like what you were presently attending.

Wanda wasn’t a nun yet; she was yet to be even a novitiate as she had mentioned, and so perhaps she just didn’t get to attend events like these. 

Though you personally found that counter-productive, you weren't one to complain about the convent’s decisions, but you did wish you got to see Wanda.

If she wasn’t one to be able to attend such events, when would you see her next?

After coming to the realisation that you probably just weren’t going to see her today or perhaps even for a little while, you excused yourself after having been present for nearly all of your dad’s song arrangements and with enough time to be able to be back from the washroom with well-enough time to catch the rest of his songs.

To your surprise, you saw the very woman who’d been on your mind for the last hour was sitting in the hall by the stairway that led up to the choir balcony. She was wearing the same outfit as she had been the first time you met her, with her hair done up in the same way too.

“Excuse me, but you aren’t allowed to sit here,” you teased, approaching from the right and walking into the hallway.

She quickly swiped at her eyes and began to apologise before she raised her head and saw it was you who had spoken to her, and you who now stood beside the bench she was sitting on.

Though she smiled and seemed relieved and happy to see you, you could tell that she’d just been crying — alone in this hallway away from the service and the nuns and sitting at the far end of the bench so as not to be seen by the people attending the mass.

Wanda stood, running her palms down the sides of her dress with a friendly smile while saying, “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” you answered distractedly as you focused on the slight redness of her eyes and the tip of her nose. 

You then asked once you were sure she’d been crying, “Are you okay?”

Suddenly feeling self-conscious after realising it must've been obvious that she’d been crying, Wanda carefully wiped under her eyes again and even tried making herself seem less dishevelled by tucking her hair behind her ears before you took her hands away from her face and made her stop fidgeting with her appearance.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” you pressed.

Dismissively as to not bring any more attention to herself, she told you, “It’s really nothing. It’s nothing to bother you with.”

“I wanna be bothered,” you answered lightheartedly. “Come on.”

Wanda smiled at your gaiety and you urged her to tell you what was wrong once more before she finally exhaled in surrender though she didn’t sit down before speaking, implying that in spite of the fact of giving in to you, she wasn’t very well planning on delving too deep into what had been bothering her.

“Earlier today, I had accidentally misplaced the leather book I’d been studying from — the one you saw me with a few days prior, if you can remember,” she said. “And I was scolded terribly for it. It was quite deserving as it was an important collection of notes and such, so I do not question from where my scolding had come, but it seems to me that all I’ve done since I started here is get myself in trouble with the other nuns.”

Here, you tried taking her hand and urging her to sit down, but she wouldn’t, and slipped her fingers out of your hold.

“They found the book in one of the small prayer rooms I’d been studying in, so at the very least it was not a mistake of ruining the integrity of the book by losing it completely, but rather the very principle of having been given something so important and misplacing it,” she continued.

Wanda swallowed and seemed to be contemplating whether to go into more detail, and you could tell that there was something else that had been bothering her that didn’t exactly have to do with misplacing the book.

Before she had the chance to make a decision, there was a passerby who came from the service in search of the restrooms, which interrupted Wanda’s train of thought as she and the man exchanged a brief hello.

“We can go somewhere else,” you offered, taking her hand and heading down the hallway with her. She didn’t take her hand away from you this time, but instead told you that she only needed time to be on her own and that she was fine now. 

The only other place you knew was the prayer room you picked your dad’s uniform up in, and fortunately it was unlocked.

You ushered Wanda into the room and she smiled at you from behind and you led her forward to one of the front seats in front of the altar, regarding you with admiration for the effort you put into wanting to express your concern for her and make sure she felt heard. 

The early morning beams of light shone through the stained glass like they had that afternoon you’d come here a few days prior, but the room was far less stuffy now, familiar and almost reminiscent of something nostalgic. 

The feeling could easily be because of the fact that you’d been envisioning what you could remember from it nearly every hour since that past Thursday, with the room in the background of your mental portrait of Wanda. 

She settled down in the seat beside you, feeling encouraged more so because she wanted now to be closer to you rather than solely to sit and talk about what had been bothering her. 

But she could partake in the latter if that was what you asked of her — and it was. 

“I know that I hardly know you, but I’ve been here for nearly a whole month and you are the person I feel closest to,” she confessed.

You felt flattered, though you knew telling you that she felt close to you wasn’t exactly the point of why she said that. 

Wanda further reflected aloud, “I’m getting nowhere I’m supposed to, not finding the call to God like both my parents and the nuns told me about though I have even given it plenty of time. I studied English in college and yet can find not even a little interest in my religious readings.”

While she thought in silence for a moment, you didn’t interrupt her. 

When she found the words to verbalise what she’d been meaning to say, she began with a question: “Do you remember when you asked what my own intentions were for myself? On Thursday?”

You nodded. 

“It’s ridiculous, but I can’t even recall the last time I sincerely asked that to myself, but perhaps in shallower terms, such as wondering where I might be in a few years or what I might do with my time in the convent.

“But never what I wanted — never who I wanted to be.”

After a moment, when you were sure she wasn’t trying to find words to express herself nor contemplating whether to say something, you asked, “And do you know who you want to be?”

For a brief moment — half of one, really — Wanda looked thoughtful, and then she said and gestured to her clothing and the prayer room, “Not this.”

“So then, what?” you inquired further. 

You teased, “A vet?”

Wanda giggled and sat back a bit in her seat. “Perhaps if I were ten,” she said. 

Then more seriously, she added, “But now, I’m not very sure.”

“How did you come to realise what you were interested in?” Wanda asked. “For example, your studies. What are you studying?”

She was talking fast, obviously very invested in your conversation together and also rather curious about you. 

You thought that was cute; you liked Wanda. 

“I’m studying philosophy,” you told her to which she straightened and was eager to hear more about. “But with studies, it’s different, because you’re talking about more personal matters. Academics are far different from personal paths.”

Wanda seemed a bit disappointed because she was looking for a definite answer, but what you explained certainly made sense to her. 

She pondered about something then instead asked, “So about personal matters, then. What about those?”

“What about them?”

“Give me a principle to follow,” she sought. “Something I might be able to apply here. Something as general as you’d like it to be, but applicable.”

Her steadily growing smile made it clear that though she was certainly looking for advice, she also thoroughly enjoyed exchanging quips with you and exploring more about you. 

In a way, she was as eager to learn about you than how to help herself, if not more so. 

You hummed thoughtfully and Wanda watched as you were deep in thought. 

“A principle for you,” you said, “could easily be that it’s okay to be selfish, to think only of yourself when you’ve spent so long doing anything else.”

Wanda asked, slightly amused but far more curious, “You recommend hedonism?” 

“To you?”

She nodded. 

You replied, “Indubitably.”

If you hadn’t already been thinking of Wanda in painfully great amounts before that morning, then you certainly were afterwards. 

The third week came around and by then Wanda was banging against every square inch of your skull like an intruder, necessitating the need to be seen and thought of every other minute in any way you could.

Perhaps the relationship you developed with her thus far was one of friendship and nothing more, yet her persistence that never strayed too far from your mind seemed to you that she had become reminiscent of something greater than a platonic figure. 

In any case, you had to muster the ability to ask your dad in the most nonchalant manner you could if it were possible for you attend Sunday’s service. 

You did it in a way that did not make it seem to him that you were about to become a familiar face in the church, but rather that someone had simply happened to ask you for help during the last service and wondered if you might be able to attend the next — which is quite literally what you told him. 

It wasn’t a lie. 

Not even when you said that it was a young woman who was studying to become a novitiate at the convent that was curious about the choir and the other volunteers and had asked you about it last week, because Wanda did truly ask about the choir and the other people who volunteered at the church once. 

But that wasn’t at all the reason why you wanted to attend the service that Sunday. 

“Y/N,” a voice called in a hushed tone when you passed the hallway leading up to the choir stairway where your dad had already walked up towards. 

You slipped away from the people filing into the pews and quickly came to Wanda’s side. 

“Don’t you have places to be aside from fraternising with the guests?” you teased as she took your wrist and led you towards the room you both seemed to like talking in the most. 

“After last week’s ordeal with the book, I’ve been put on some kind of probation from participating in the services so I have more time to study independently,” she told you, not seeming particularly worried.

She added, “On Sundays, the convent is rather empty, so they wouldn’t notice that I’m off not studying. Though I could very well say I chose to study in one of the extra prayer rooms here.”

“And I’m sure they remember how much you love the prayer rooms here,” you said, wiggling your eyebrows at your reference to her having lost the book in one of them. 

Wanda faked a laugh in the driest manner you’d ever heard and you nudged her arm to which she told you to stop joking around with her so she could tell you something important. 

She closed the prayer room door and sat you down beside her. 

From a small bag on the chair to her left, she pulled out a small dictionary. 

Here, you were tempted to make fun of her and ask why she was carrying around a dictionary so tiny, but you recalled that she had wanted to ask you about something serious. 

She flipped open to a page she had bookmarked. 

“Hedonism,” she read aloud. “In philosophy, the belief that pleasure and the absence of pain is the most important principle in determining the morality of an action.”

Wanda looked up at you from the dictionary. “This is what you meant?” she asked. 

You nodded. 

Curiously, you inquired, “Do you agree with it?”

She looked back down to the page in which had written three definitions of hedonism, the third being the one defined by philosophy. 

The first two you could not quite read upside down. 

“I have never heard of it in such detail before the time you mentioned it last week,” she said, running her eyes over the words in contemplation, “but it’s interesting.”

“What would be your first endeavour to pleasure, if you had to make a guess?” you asked her.

Wanda ran over the words of the definition again with her eyes, perhaps still deep in thought about it or absently doing so while she contemplated an answer to your question. 

“My first?” she repeated. 

You looked down at the dictionary page now that she was holding it at a slightly different angle that oriented the letters better for you. 

The first definition read, ‘Pursuit of pleasure.’

And the second — you had to tip your head to the side a bit to decipher it — read, ‘Sensual self-indulgence.’

During your deep concentration, Wanda had come to an answer to your question, and it wasn’t until she leaned forward and kissed your unsuspecting lips that you realised she had even stopped looking at the page. 

It was the uttering of her muffled words against your lips that triggered something deep within you, perhaps equally as restrained as her own. 

An unfinished sentence, but one on its own nonetheless. 

‘I want…’ she had uttered, breathless and with one hand cupping your cheek and feeling with the pads of her fingers the softness of your skin. 

With that, you hastily reached forward and grasped at her ass, lifting her from her seat and stripping her down so she was in nothing but her undergarments. 

The paths of your nails streaked red against her pale skin while you devoured her every step of the way, your lips following every inch of skin that became exposed to you while your hands made quick work of unzipping her dress and unbuttoning her blouse. 

She sighed when you kissed her breasts and squeezed your hands around her waist and hips, taking her selfishly and finally spreading her legs and sitting her down in your lap. 

“Are you…” you began between breaths, pausing to figure out your wording and sitting back in your seat to look at her. “Have you had sex?”

Wanda giggled, finding your question amusing. “Of course I have,” she replied and took your hands and placed them on her hips again. 

“Cocky,” you jested, hooking your thumb under the clasp of her bra and releasing it so it snapped against her back, causing her to arch her body into you with a soft gasp. “Thought you might’ve been abstinent or something.”

“I don’t mean to be cocky,” she said in a low voice. “But I am certainly not abstinent.”

“Should I be jealous?”

“Only if you choose to be.”

“I choose to be,” you said with conviction. “So for whom should I be jealous, then?”

“College students.”

You gasped superficially.

“You fuck college students? Exclusively?”

“No!” she laughed. “I mean I haven’t been very active since my time in college.”

“Haven’t had sex since college?”

She corrected, “I didn’t mean that either.”

“So what did you mean?”

“This conversation is like pulling teeth.”

“Why? You want me to fuck you hard against this floor right now, baby?” you asked. The very crudeness of your words, albeit teasing, made Wanda’s breath hitch, and so within that reaction you found her first tell. “No foreplay or anything?”

“This isn’t foreplay?”

“Hardly.”

“Then what is?” she asked though sounding slightly pouty about it. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re all turned on and impatient from just that. Teasing gets you off?” you pressed. “Didn’t even have to be told how I wanna see your gorgeous ass bruise when I fuck your cunt from behind like you’re my sick little fucktoy whore?”

Her hips twitched. 

“Y/N…” she muttered, perhaps out of impatience or forewarning for how you were teasing her, either way you could not tell and weren’t very rushed in trying to figure it out. 

You pulled her bra down and released one of her breasts, slapping it lightly with your fingers and causing her to gasp before pinching one of her sensitive pink buds. 

There would be no indulging her past what you were willing to indulge; you were careful not to touch her more than what was intentional. 

You bucked your hips up under the guise of adjusting your seating, grinding your stiff cock against the soaking panties which were now beginning to soak your pants. 

Her cunt was sensitive beyond the thin fabric, causing the strap to rub her perfectly through her soft, swollen folds; you could practically hear how sticky she was without even looking. 

“What is that?” she quickly asked, looking down between her thighs. She tried moving back to get a better look, but you quickly held onto her hip with your other hand and pulled her harshly back to her original position, making her throbbing clit rub directly onto your cock. 

A strangled yelp was breathed past her lips. 

“Don’t move unless I tell you to, you understand?” you told her. 

She nodded.

“Everywhere else in this building, there is only one God, but here in this room, I am yours. You will listen to what I tell you and take what I give you, even if it hurts. You’ll be grateful that I make you hurt as much as you will when I give you pleasure.”

In spite of everything, Wanda repressed a tiny smile and said, “You’re scary when you’re authoritative with me.”

You laughed through your nose and replied, “I can get scarier.”

Her smile widened into a grin and Wanda’s hand came to the back of your neck when you leaned forward and kissed her, one arm circling around her waist and carefully slipping her off your lap as you stood from your seat. 

“We’ll get caught,” she voiced concern against your lips.

“Then be the lookout.” 

You made sure she didn’t trip on her way up to the podium, and soon you had her chest laid flat against the lectern and facing the front doors, the shadow of the large crucifix behind the both of you casted against the red carpet from the morning sun shining from behind the stained glass. 

Wanda listened as you unzipped your pants and when she made an attempt to turn her head and look at what you were doing, you put your other hand against her upper back and pressed her back down, reducing her line of sight to your face and shoulder and nothing else. 

Her clothed cunt was prodded at, the stiff tip of your strap finding her hole through her panties and nudging at it teasingly. She groaned impatiently and reached back to take hold of your hand, to grab onto anything and urge you forward.

In response, you spanked her harshly and made Wanda yelp out in surprise and wince.

“You dirty, impatient slut,” you spat.

She immediately whimpered, “I’m sorry, daddy.”

That satisfied something in you that you hadn’t even known you wanted, and you were more than happy to share in that satisfaction.

You hummed and tucked a finger under the waistband of Wanda’s panties, making her twitch impatiently while also doing her best to listen to her orders. Then you laid your hand flat against her lower back, rubbing her supportively and making a warm flush form across her face.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you, Wanda?” you asked, looking up her bent-over half-naked body to the back of her head.

She nodded.

“Good girl,” she confirmed with a nod.

Gently, you squeezed her ass and danced your fingers up to the waistband of her panties that you finally pulled down, exposing her gorgeous, glistening cunt.

It took just as much resistance from you not to shove your cock right into her as much as it took Wanda to not thrust her hips back and grind her clit against your strap.

“Why don’t you tell me all you’ve been studying about the last little while?” you said, running a hand down her ass and sliding a thumb into her pussy, feeling heaps of pride with the way you slipped inside with no resistance. 

She was incredibly wet and so, so warm.

Distracted by the way your thumb probed shallowly at her hole, giving her just enough pleasure to make her throb but just short of enough to satisfy her entirely, it took Wanda a few moments to regain her focus before she finally asked, “S-Studying? About what?”

“You’re a smart girl, Wanda,” you encouraged, slowly sliding your thumb out and grazing the pad of it lightly over her swollen slit and across the hood of her clit. “Methods on how to be a proper nun. For example, swear yourself to the Lord, abstain from sex, so on and so forth.”

Wanda swallowed and tried her best to focus with the way your thumb began spreading her cunt out, revealing to you the glistening folds of her pussy. She began stuttering and finally squeezed her eyes shut hard enough to be able to recall some of her studies.

“Um, there was…” she uttered and ran her fingers along the edge of the wooden lectern, “living in modesty; not showing off one’s body in any crude manner, not partaking in pleasures of the flesh.”

Three of your fingers began rubbing slow circles against Wanda’s hole, squelching against her dripping cunt and making her tremble and moan shakily.

“And what next?” you asked.

“I-I can’t… Can’t focus…” she told you helplessly.

Your thumb flicked at her clit and Wanda’s body jerked forward. 

“One more,” you urged. “Come on. Give me one more good one and I’ll fuck you with my cock. You want that, don’t you?”

Intentionally, you began to focus on her clit now, having your index finger graze it as your middle and ring finger slowly began delving in and out of her sticky hole, purposefully making it even more difficult for Wanda to find the words for herself.

“I want… I want that,” she shuddered, hanging her head and squeezed her eyes shut again.

“So, then, give me one more.”

Wanda’s breathing deepened as she tried her hardest to focus. 

With every intention to make it more difficult for her, you reached up with your other hand and pulled her bra down, allowing you access to knead her breast and feel her nipple harden against the palm of your hand.

She whimpered into her arm and bit down on her bottom lip.

You stepped forward and removed your fingers from her cunt to rub the length of your strap through her pussy, wet fingers taking hold of its base and running it through her swollen folds.

“A-Ah, Y/N, please…” she mewled, though neither of you were quite sure whether she was begging for you to stop and allow her to think thoroughly or for you to have mercy on her completely and just fuck her.

“One more,” you reiterated and aligned the tip of your cock with her entrance. 

You placed both hands on her hips and began pulling her backwards, fucking her shallowly and watching her pussy take your cock with just as much anticipation as Wanda was struggling to withhold.

She hugged around you beautifully and it was truly only the tip; you couldn’t wait another moment to fuck her until she was begging for you to fuck her until it hurt.

“A-Another,” she finally trembled out, “is to be, by nature, a woman of submission, to worship your God and seek no amount of personal domination over–”

Fully satisfied with her answer and terribly impatient yourself, your fingernails dug into Wanda’s hips and you jerked her ass back against you, forcing her to take your entire cock in one swift movement.

She cried out and you wrapped a hand around her waist, running your nails down her side and feeling an inexplicable need to mark her, to cause her pain, to reduce her to a whimpering trembling, bruised mess so cock-drunk that all she’d feel for the next three days is the aftermath of being rough-fucked like a slut.

“Hit me, please, daddy,” she begged, wrapping her fingers around the edge of the lectern and arching her back.

So you did — repeatedly. 

You spanked Wanda over and over, having the sound of your palm meeting her ass echo through the room and only reiterating to the both of you how she was much less of a nun or a student or any reflection of purity, but a braindead nympho whore good for nothing but getting her pussy fucked raw.

She was a loud fuck, crying out in whimpers and moans and other strings of partially-comprehensible words telling you how good your cock felt and how much she loved getting fucked by you.

The playing organs and belting choir playing during the service muffled Wanda out, but Jesus Christ, if any of them out there had been able to hear her getting fucked down the hallway, they might just think for a moment that it was the calling of an angel or at least something in some way divine.

But none of them would ever know what it looked like to fuck Wanda from behind, pulling her up with their hand around her neck so you had access to slap her face and spit into her mouth like you could, pinching her clit and fucking her through to her third orgasm.

How beautiful she looked, sweaty and a mess with her long brown hair fanned out and stuck in strands against her back, crying out in equal parts pain and pleasure and finding herself incredibly pleased by being used like a filthy object.

And you’d make sure no one else could get the chance to see the sight but you.

“I’m gonna come again, Y/N,” she cried, breasts pressed against the cold wood of the lectern and arms pressed against her back. “This is my last, please, I can’t take anymore.”

You let go of her wrists and wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her from the lectern. She was arched at a slight angle so your arm could assist in continuing to fuck her, but she was now much closer, and she was now able to loll her head back against your shoulder.

“This is the closest thing a slut like you will ever get to heaven, angel,” you told her, kissing her temple. “Make your God proud and come on my cock, filthy whore.”

Wanda reached back and held onto you for support while her eyes squeezed shut, her lips parting as a silent cry escaped her, her third and final orgasm coming over her without mercy.

You squeezed at her breast and leaned your head down and bit at her shoulder and up the back of her neck, getting in as many markings of your ownership as you could.

She sighed out and uttered your name, to which you ran your hands up her stomach, one hand moving up to her face and gently tilting her head over so you could kiss her lips.

Her knees buckled out and you carefully set her down on the floor before sitting down beside her. Wanda panted heavily into your chest, one hand on your knee and the other arm wrapped around your shoulder. 

You had your arms around her waist, rubbing her back supportively and whispering in her ear words upon words of how beautiful she looked, how good she’d been for you, then soon confessing how much you’d been thinking of her over the last few weeks, how much of your mind she occupied and how much of your time you spent thinking of her.

Wanda liked hearing that last part most, but she particularly enjoyed when you told her how it felt to masturbate to her, to imagine her looking up at you and choking on your cock at your final point of release, and how really being with her was plenty more enjoyable and, quite frankly, more beautiful than you ever could’ve fantasised about on your own. 

The both of you were on your knees, sweaty with the labour of sex and kneeling in each other’s arms at the foot of the towering crucifix, whispering and giggling to each other all the equally sweet and dirty confessions you could exchange before the service was over.

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

La~La~la 🦇 anon here with a sagau idea!

I don't play genshin with sound on, I always have my headphones on and sing to some songs while I play witch got me thinking.....

What if reader started singing viva la vida/once upon a december or another song really well and it just so happened that they had characters who are really musical like venti Barbra and xinyan in their party?

It would start out really sweet like them complimenting their creators voice and vibing along, then turn into them trying to write songs that are more like our modern ones!

Venti accidentally inventing an acoustic ballad or smthn (I used almost all my spoons for the first half..)

xinyan making an unholy amalgamation of classic and rock

And Barbra trying out new scales while writing songs about the creator who has the voice of an angel and godly pitch

For a good idea of what I'm thinking try listening to, Viva La Vida (orchestral version) from annapantsu!

(Feel free to add )

OHOHOHOHOHO, 🦇 ANON YOU ARE COOKING.

I need to start crawling out of my hole and listen to the song you're recommending to me ASAP—holy cow, I live under a mountain at this rate (I'm like Azhdaha bro this is NOT good 😭 Watch me run with this blindly bc I keep FORGETTING to listen to the recommendations 🦇 Anon is sending me—)

I won't add any other characters, since the selection you have is already good!

Venti, Barbara, and Xinyan Wanna Jam, Too!

(Warning: Might be OOC!)

Venti

WISP BOI SHOOKETH. HE IS WHOOPING AT THE TOP OF HIS LUNGS. MONDSTADT IS GOING CRAZY WITH THIS BARD IN TOWN GOING AROUND ABOUT THE CREATOR—

All jokes aside, he's over the moon to know that about your singing and your song preference. I feel like Venti would try to make his version of the songs you sing :D

By the time you meet in person, man's hands down worshipping your singing like his LIFE depends on it.

"Oh, Your Grace! Please sing your songs for all of Mondstadt to enjoy!" You can hear the literal excitement practically radiating in his voice.

He's very stoked and will sing along if you do decide to sing. Watch him brag this to the other archons (cough Zhongli and Ei mainly cough)

Barbara

The moment she heard the Almighty Creator sing, she thought both you and Barbatos blessed her. I mean, the winds, carrying your voice, to her?!

She's utterly shocked. She doesn't know if she's worthy of hearing your voice—But Barbara loves your voice! Of course the Almighty Creator would have the best voice of all of Teyvat!

She once caught herself humming the song you were singing to previously in the Church of Barbatos. Barbara was so embarrassed because the others managed to catch her humming that strange tune.

When you came around, Barbara was immediately the first one to ask you to sing—albeit a little timidly.

"Y-Your Grace! Uhm...Is it possible if you allow us Nuns at the Church to...hear you sing? Of course, you don't have to agree! We can sing the song ourselves if you wish!" Barbara just really wants to let you know that Mondstadt worships and adores you.

She would definitely make a choir version of the songs you sing. Be prepared to be invited and no, you're insisted to come. By everyone. :)

Xinyan

The first moment she heard you jam, she was loving it! Utterly loves the genre of music she hears from you!

From where she grew up (Liyue), there were some people that were very picky with their taste in music and usually called her rock'n roll a ruckus. To hear you sing something without a care in the world to a song that doesn't really fit to the usual old geezer's standards was utterly refreshing!

Sometimes, when she's given the honor of the stage, she would perform some performances to you and perform a rock'n roll version of the songs you sing. She has a musician's ears after all, she would remember how the riffs go and remix them to fit her style.

When you arrive, you better go out and listen! Xinyan would absolutely credit you and (if your up to it) sing alongside you!

"Haha, Your Grace! You're here—wanna hear my rock'n roll version of your songs?" She's good at remixing, it's almost unfair—

Yeah, none of them realize any of the songs you sang weren't your creation. Good luck explaining to them :)

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: WHY AM I TAKE 3 ETERNITIES TO WRITE EVERYTHING SOBBING. WHERE IS MY MOTIVATION OFF RUNNING TO ISTG—

Ahem, anyways—I hope you guys liked it :D I'm currently facing a bit of a time crunch atm so my response to requests will be even slower than it already is :') Sorry about that. I hope you guys love this post, though!

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[footballfanficwriter]

Prise giving ceremony

Summary:Jude and the reader are invited for their children's prize giving Ceremony

"Jude c'mon we're gonna be late" I say

"Yeah, I'm coming" he says, he takes my hand and we make it out the front door

"I've already spoken to mum she says they'll meet us there, cause they need to get a few things before the Ceremony starts" He says

"Are your parents going to be there?"

"I don't know honestly, but it would be really Nice if they showed up, it would mean so much to the kids if they did"

"Hey don't worry, even if they don't show up, I'm sure it will still be fun"

"Yeah"

" how many awards do you think the kids will get?"

"I don't know, besides, I don't care I'll be proud of them either way"

"Yeah, me too, But you know how they are, they always want to be top achievers in everything they do"

"I think they get that from the both of us to be honest"

"I don't always strive to be a top achiever"

"Yes you do Jude"

"How?"

"What about that time after one of your matches and you didn't play the way you wanted to, were you not having a fit?"

"I did not"

"Babe you did"

"Well you're also like that"

"Oh I already know I strive to be a top achiever, I'm not going to deny who i am"

"Whatever" he says rolling his eyes

"But I'm sure the genes didn't spread to our kids, right?"

"Yeah, no that is a lie, our children are so competitive it worries me sometimes"

"You're overreacting"

"Oh, am I?"

"Yeah you are"

"Remember that time when Julian, lost his football game and he got so upset he wouldn't even eat his dinner?, or what about the time Julia didn't get first prize for her 1200m run, and she nearly fought the girl who did, need I go on?"

"Alright you've made your point"

"Thank you"

We arrive at the school and Jude parks the car, he walks out of the car and comes around my side to open my door

"Thank you"

"It's a pleasure babe"

"You actually look beautiful in that outfit you know"

"Really, you like it?"

"I love it"

Jude has a black turtleneck on, with a suit Jacket, black slacks and dress shoes and a silver Rolex watch, while I have on a black dress that reaches just past my knees, with a criss cross back and a slight low V cut in the front, matched with a pair of black heels a gold necklace, gold earrings and my wedding ring

As we enter the venue we see people taking pictures, no dought that these pictures will be on the internet by the time the ceremony is over

When we enter the venue we find Denise,Mark and Jobe sat in the second row behind all the teachers and principals, we make our way to where they are sitting and greet them

"Mom we're here" Jude says

They turn their heads towards us and stand up

"Hi Darling, you alright" Denise says greeting me and coming in for a hug

"Yeah mom, I'm alright"

"Aren't you proud"

"Very proud"

Mark taps my shoulder getting my attention

"Hey" he says coming in for a hug

"Hi dad, how've you been?"

"I'm alright"

I greet Jobe and give him a brotherly hug while he daps Jude up

We all take our seats with me sandwiched in between Jude and Denise and Mark sitting next to Denise and Jobe

The MC starts the program and the school choir sings the school song, after that the MC starts her opening speech

"Good evening everyone, we're so grateful for your presence here tonight, thank you for coming to celebrate the children who have undoubtably worked hard to achieve these achievements, without further ado let's get started, I would like to call on Mrs. Clinton to come and present the awards"

Mrs. Clinton walks onto the stage and greets everyone

"Good evening everyone, I am here in front of you all to present the special awards to the children, the first award is awarded to the most creative student, Jessica James"

Everyone claps for Jessica as she walks onto the stage to get her award

"Why does she walk like that" Jude asks

"Don't Judge other people's kids Jude"

"Next, this award is for the most kindest and caring student who always puts other's needs before their own, this award is awarded to Ronald Johnson"

People clap for Ronald and  he collects his award

"Those are some big glasses he's got on" he says as he fists his hands making a hole in between each hand and putting each fisted hand on each eye

"Jude, stop" I say tying to hold my laugh in

"Next this award is for the most improved student, who has improved either academically or Socially, having had a hard start when they first arrived in the school and to adapting the school's culture, this award is given to Melissa Hall"

Melissa collects her award and we all clap for her

"Now lastly this award is a prestigious one and is a shared by two students, this award is for the most ambitious and Hardworking students, Julia and Julian Bellingham"

Both Julia and Julian walk onto stage to get their shared award, I turn to my right to see Mark filming Every moment

Jude and I stand up so both of them can see us, they see us and wave and we return the gesture by smiling and waving

Next they announce that they'll be announcing the prizes for the year 1s ( first graders)

Which is Julian and Julia's year (grade)

"We will first start with the year 1s and their achievements" the MC Says

"I would like to call Mrs. Madden to the stage to present the Awards"

Mrs. Madden walks onto the stage, greets the audience, and continues Jude gives me a side eye as if to say "look at her outfit" Mrs. Madden has on an old looking cardigan and a pair of baggy trousers, bright red glasses and Pebbles/stones for Jewelry "Good evening, everyone. It's my pleasure to present the awards for the Year 1 students. These young minds have shown remarkable dedication and enthusiasm throughout the year. First, we'll start with the award for Excellence in Mathematics, which goes to... Julian Bellingham!"

The audience erupts in applause as Julian confidently strides to the stage to accept his award. His smile is radiant, and his eyes gleam with pride.

"That's my boy," Jude whispers to me, his face beaming with pride. I squeeze his hand, sharing in the moment of joy.

Julian accepts his award, posing for a quick photo before returning to his seat.

"Next, the award for Outstanding Performance in English goes to... Julia Bellingham!"

Julia, not to be outdone by her brother, walks gracefully to the stage, her expression one of quiet confidence. The applause is even louder this time, with our family cheering her on.

"I'm so proud of them," I say to Jude, my eyes welling up with tears of happiness.

"I know, me too," Jude replies, his voice full of emotion.

Julia accepts her award and waves at us again before taking her seat beside Julian.

Mrs. Madden continues, "The next award is for Excellence in Sports. This student has shown exceptional talent and dedication in various sports activities. The award goes to... Julian Bellingham!"

Julian gets up again, looking slightly embarrassed but very pleased as he accepts his second award. The applause is thunderous.

"He's going to need a bigger shelf for all these awards," Jude jokes, making me laugh.

"And finally," Mrs. Madden announces, "the award for Leadership and Teamwork goes to a student who has demonstrated exceptional leadership skills and the ability to work well with others. This award goes to... Julia Bellingham!"

Julia stands up for the second time, her face glowing with pride. She walks to the stage, collects her award, and waves once more, her smile brighter than ever.

As the ceremony concludes, the children are invited to take pictures with their families. Jude and I rush to the front to congratulate our kids, enveloping them in big, proud hugs.

"You both did amazing!" I say, kissing each of their foreheads.

"We're so proud of you," Jude adds, ruffling Julian's hair and hugging Julia tightly.

"Thanks, Mom and Dad!" they both say, their faces glowing with happiness.

Denise, Mark, and Jobe join us, offering their congratulations. Denise takes out her phone and suggests, "Let's get a family picture to remember this moment."

We gather together, with Julian and Julia holding their awards proudly. As the camera clicks, I can't help but think about how lucky we are to have such amazing children and a loving, supportive family.

"Alright, let's go celebrate!" Jude announces, lifting Julian onto his shoulders. And me taking Julia into my arms, planting a kiss onto her cheek then her forehead

"Yeah, ice cream for everyone!, Say goodbye to your grandparents and Uncle Jobe" I add, placing Julia back down then holding her hand

"Bye nana" Julia Says as she hugs her grandmother

"Goodbye my Darling, I'm so proud of you, and you as well Julian" Denise says as she hugs the both of them

We continue saying our goodbyes and walk them to their car and we start making way to our car as well

as we make our way out of the venue, hearts full and spirits high.

The evening is a perfect blend of pride, love, and celebration, and as we head to our favorite ice cream parlor, I know that this is a day we will cherish forever.

As we walk to the car, Jude spots another kid and nudges me. "Look at that kid's bowtie. It's bigger than his head."

I laugh, nudging him back. "Jude, be nice!"

"And that one," he whispers, nodding towards a girl with a massive hair bow. "Is she trying to take flight with that thing?"

"Stop it!" I giggle, trying to hold back my laughter.

"Alright, alright," he says, chuckling. "But you have to admit, this is entertaining."

"You're terrible," I say, still laughing. "But I love you anyway."

"I love you too," he replies, pulling me close and kissing my forehead. "Now, let's go get some ice cream."

We pile into the car, the kids chattering excitedly about their awards in the backseat. Jude starts the engine and we head to our favorite ice cream parlor, the mood in the car light and joyful.

As we arrive and park, Jude turns to me with a playful smile. "You know, I was just thinking..."

"Uh-oh, should I be worried?" I tease, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe," he laughs. "But seriously, what if Julian and Julia go into comedy? They seem to have a knack for entertaining, just like their old man."

"Oh, really? So now you're a comedian?" I say, laughing.

"Well, I did make you laugh, didn't I?" he retorts, winking.

We all get out of the car and head into the parlor, the kids rushing ahead to choose their favorite flavors. Jude and I follow more slowly, holding hands and enjoying the moment.

As we enter the ice cream parlor, the sweet aroma of freshly baked waffles and scoops of ice cream fills the air. Julian and Julia rush towards the display of flavors, their eyes wide with anticipation.

"Mom, Dad, look at all the choices!" Julia exclaims, pointing excitedly.

"Yeah, Dad, they even have that weird green one you like," Julian adds with a grin.

Jude chuckles. "Hey, mint chocolate chip is a classic! Don't knock it till you've tried it."

I roll my eyes playfully. "You and your adventurous taste buds."

"Just trying to keep things interesting," he replies with a wink.

We join the kids at the counter, scanning the menu for our own favorites. Julian opts for a towering sundae while Julia goes for a colorful cone with sprinkles.

"I think I'll go for something simple today," I say, eyeing a scoop of strawberry cheesecake.

Jude nudges me. "Oh, come on, live a little! How about a triple scoop with all the works?"

I laugh. "I'll leave that to you, Mr. Mint Chocolate Chip."

As we wait for our treats, Jude leans closer to me, his voice low. "Did you see that kid's hair over there? It looks like a bird's nest."

I stifle a laugh. "Jude! Be nice."

"I'm just observing," he insists, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You know I can't resist a good hairstyle critique."

"Well, keep your critiques to yourself," I tease, trying not to giggle too loudly.

Our ice cream arrives, and we settle into a cozy booth. Julian and Julia dive into their treats with gusto, their faces quickly turning into a sticky mess of smiles and satisfaction.

Jude leans back, savoring his mint chocolate chip. "You know, I have to hand it to them. These kids really know how to enjoy life's simple pleasures."

"Like ice cream," I add, licking a stray drip from my cone.

"Exactly," he says, nodding. "I mean, who needs fancy dinners when you've got a scoop of your favorite flavor?"

"Or a tower of sundaes," I reply, gesturing towards Julian's creation.

We watch our kids laugh and talk between messy bites, their joy infectious. It's moments like these that remind me why I fell in love with Jude—the way he finds humor in everyday moments and brings out the best in our family.

As we finish our ice cream, Jude leans over and whispers, "That kid over there looks like he's trying to break the world record for fastest ice cream eater." He says eyeing the poor child that just seems to be really enjoying his ice cream

I burst out laughing, unable to contain myself. "Jude, stop, what's wrong with you today and making fun of kids!" I manage to say between giggles.

He grins mischievously. "What? I'm just stating the obvious, and it's not like I'm saying it to their faces, how will they know I'm talking about them ?"

"You're terrible," I say, shaking my head, still laughing.

He chuckles softly. "But you love me anyway, right?"

"Of course," I reply, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. "Even when you're making fun of kids' hairstyles."

He squeezes my hand back, his eyes warm with affection. "I love you too, always."

We sit together in comfortable silence, watching our children and soaking in the happiness of this simple, perfect moment. As we prepare to leave, Jude leans over once more.

"Ready to head home, or should we challenge the kids to a rematch in mini golf?"

I laugh, shaking my head. "Let's save that for another day. Right now, I think we've had enough excitement for one evening."

"Fair enough," he says, rising from the booth. "But don't think I won't take you up on that challenge someday."

I smile, knowing that whatever adventures lie ahead, we'll face them together—as partners, parents, and best friends.

"I love that idea," I say, kissing him on the cheek. "It's perfect."

As we sit there, enjoying our ice cream and each other's company, I realize that moments like these are what life is all about—love, laughter, and the simple joy of being together.

Jude takes a spoon of his ice cream  and leans back, content. "This is the life," he says, smiling at me and the kids. "I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"Me neither," I reply, squeezing his hand. "Me neither."

The evening winds down with more laughter, stories, and plans for the future. As we drive home, the kids eventually fall asleep in the backseat, clutching their awards.

Jude looks over at me and smiles. "We did good, didn't we?"

"We did great," I reply, feeling a warm glow of happiness. "Our little achievers."

We pull into the driveway, and Jude gently carries Julian inside while I take Julia. We tuck them into bed, kissing their foreheads and whispering words of love and pride.

Back in our bedroom, Jude wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. "Thank you for being my partner in this crazy, wonderful life," he says softly.

"Thank you for being mine," I reply, resting my head on his chest.

As we drift off to sleep, I can't help but feel incredibly grateful for this beautiful family we've built together—a family filled with love, humor, and endless possibilities.

[crguang]

at a wedding and it got me thinking about kafka because im mentally ill but imagine getting invited to a family member’s wedding and she happens to be free that day so she comes with you as your plus one, dressed in a slick backless dress with a jacket over her shoulders and an elegant choker around her neck, her nails are done and her hair is up. she’s not one for ceremonies and would likely be bored during the actual wedding because it’s in a church. she sits next to you on a pew, behaving herself like you told her to and you get a bit misty eyed during the ceremony so you lay your head on her shoulder and lace your fingers with yours, your palm under hers. around you there’s a choir singing and the couple of the hour are pronouncing their vows. kafka looks at your joined hands, your bare fingers loosely gripping hers. she can smell the scent of your shampoo and the perfume you applied to your skin a few hours earlier. she doesn’t care much for what’s happening around her, just the anticipation in the air as a lifelong commitment is made out of selfless love. she leans her head on too of yours.

during the reception, your family flock around her due to her charms and composure, bombarding her with questions she navigates gracefully. at some point you leave her among the wolves and slip away to spend some time with the rest of your family, congratulating the newlyweds and keeping up with your closed ones’ lives. kafka’s surrounded, a champagne glass in hand, and gazes at you from across the room. she takes advantage of pauses in the conversation to look at you laughing and hugging family members, mind empty. she tells herself she just likes how you look in that outfit. when the married couple have their first dance, she takes in the softness in your eyes while you watch them.

she’s the one who finds you some time later while you’re seated at one of the round tables with your cousin’s six month old in arms, kissing the baby’s face to get him to smile. it works, and a warm expression takes over your features as you coo at him, pinching his chubby cheeks. kafka lays a wine glass on the table that she fetched for you just now.

“having fun?” she asks, taking a seat next to you. her eyes keep darting back to the baby in your hands and the smile on your face.

“yeah. my aunties finally left you alone?”

“i had to slip away while they were talking amongst themselves. they’d make great bait on a mission.”

“please dont call my family bait.”

the baby babbles unintelligibly and your attention diverts back to him. he stares at kafka, a new addition to his environment, and she stares back.

“wanna hold him?” you lift him towards her and kafka lifts her hands in refusal.

“no, thanks.”

“but he wants you!”

she’s forced to take hold of him by his little waist when you put him on her lap. she sits straighter, holding him away from her chest like he’ll pounce on her any second. you hide a smile behind your hand.

“he’s not a grenade. you can hug him.”

“i’d handle a grenade better.”

kafka and the baby stare at each other for a while. he brings a fist to his mouth, then loses interest a minute later. she looks more uncomfortable than you’ve ever seen her, if only by her posture, and you bite back another amused smile before relieving her. you gently take the six month-old back in your arms. he likes you better anyway, pawing at your cheeks with his tiny hands. kafka takes a sip of her glass. her eyes are on you the entire night, and she relaxes somewhat when the baby’s mother comes to whisk him away.

you dance together for some time, her hands at your waist and yours around her neck, talking lowly amongst yourselves and staring into each other’s eyes. by the time you get home, you’re exhausted by the social event. you take off your shoes and jewelry and kafka watches you for a few minutes before finally speaking the words that have been rotating in her mind for five hours.

“do you want to get married?”

you pause, a confused smile on your lips. you start to undress and she stands near the large dresser on one side of the room, a strangely uncertain look on her face. She doesn’t fidget or fiddle with her hands, just leans on the furniture and awaits your reply.

“where’s that coming from?”

“you seemed really happy today.”

“yeah. someone i love just took a huge leap in her life and is very happy for it. the ceremony was beautiful, too, and i had a great time.”

kafka looks away for a moment to take off her earrings. she shrugs nonchalantly but your eyes narrow in suspicion a bit.

“you’re great with kids.”

you stand in your underwear for a moment, observing her body language, then the reason for her sudden attitude hits you and you chuckle.

“did you get freaked out seeing me with that baby?”

“no. i guess you just…belonged.”

“is that what you think i want? marriage and a baby?”

kafka looks at you. “well, is it?”

you walk to her with a barely concealed smile, loosely wrapping your arms around her waist. “would you give it to me?”

she doesn’t respond to that and that is an answer in itself.

“pfft,” you shake your head good naturally, “you’re an idiot. you let today get to your head, baby.”

kafka pouts and returns your embrace. you kiss it off her lips.

“that’s not what i need from you. you’re enough… for now <3”

[devilfic]

GMMMMM!!!!! I was hoping you could write a battinson x reader about their wedding? Maybe something just super soft and fluffy, WE LACK BATTINSON WEDDING CONTENT

❝wedding headcanons with bruce wayne❞

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: fluff, established relationship, marriage, mention of alcohol. words: 2k.

oh ABSOLUTELY

alright, walk with me

I’m imagining that bruce is a bit older if he’s getting married because. let’s be honest. getting this man to settle down right now would be like wrangling a hellhound

not because he doesn’t fantasize about it. trust me, he has, but you really are in a polygamous relationship with gotham during your first few years together LMAO

I think bruce had an idea of what his wedding would be like when he was younger

probably a small, traditional wedding. something that his parents had

but at some point, when bruce becomes conscious of his position in society (and just how many people are gonna wanna come to this thing), he figures out it’s probably gonna be a big deal

bruce... does not like that

I don’t think that he has a problem with a big wedding, but he does know if he has one, he’s going to have to adhere to the social rules of the upper echelon

and that means inviting people he doesn’t particularly Like

again, he does not like that

but the thing abt these social rules is that if you tell him you’re not comfortable, if you tell him you don’t like someone, if you tell him you don’t want someone there, he won’t give a FUCK about their feelings

bruce does not care about the fanfare. this day is for you and him as far as he’s concerned

this is also why I think during the planning stage he’d be the kind of husband to just hand you his wallet and tell you to go ape shit

but he’s not that kind of guy. he isn’t some disinterested husband just pawning off all the hard work onto you because he doesn’t want to do anything

it’s like I said, he only cares about you

if you want to go great gatsby and throw the party of the year? go crazy!

if you want something on an island beach? he’ll bring sunglasses!

if you want to walk up to the courthouse, pay for your marriage license, and take him to bed right after? do you, babey. or him. in this case

I think the only thing bruce would have any strong feelings about is the color scheme

I’m sorry, you know he’s going to want a lot of dark, gothic elements

he will feel so out of place if you guys did anything outside of his color palette LMAO

he’s not afraid of getting fancy, he just needs things to be on Brand

that being said, I think he would really like if you had the wedding in a cathedral

I mean the acoustics with a choir singing as you walk down the aisle would just be heavenly

I’m just picturing the cathedral in the movie with white roses and ivy everywhere!! the sun streaming in through the windows!!! the choir on either side of the altar singing so beautifully while bruce watches you approach that he can’t help but start crying!!! ahhhhH!!!

I also saw a couple do this and thought it was really sweet

so instead of doing the whole not seeing each other before the wedding thing, the couple dressed each other the day of

just imagining the intimacy of slowly waking up the morning of the wedding in bed with bruce, letting him stroke your back as you lay on his chest

you’re both a little nervous but all that comes out in giggles and silly jokes to calm each other down

then taking a shower together, washing bruce’s hair for him, getting distracted because he starts kissing down your back and oh how time flies

sharing breakfast that you both made in your underwear because alfred took dick and left you two the house for the weekend because I’d also like to imagine that at this point, robin is part of the family

(and is enjoying his weekend with grandpa alfred. and definitely hasn’t learned any alarming offensive tactics since he’s been away)

bruce putting on a record and dancing with you in the living room to “practice” for later

helping each other into your clothes, brushing hair out of the way and reminding the other where they left their shoes/earrings/cologne

bruce driving you to the cathedral and only parting ways so that you can hurry in the back door because the front is PACKED with paparazzi

alfred is bruce’s best man and is just smug as a bastard when he notices bruce’s little ticks that he’s starting to get nervous

dick is the ringbearer because of COURSE he is

I just love the idea of little dick grayson whispering “I got your six, batman 😎” when he comes up to the altar and bruce has to cough over him because there are like. several people in the vicinity that do not! know that!

he’s got his hair gelled back to high heaven with a cute little suit on that he definitely wasn’t bribed to wear by alfred that morning

I also don’t think dressing you before the wedding diminishes the impact of seeing you walk down the aisle

I think that your morning together would only solidify just how many mornings you two would have from now on, and it would make him emotional knowing that this is just the beginning?? that he can actually call you his in a whole new way???

bruce’s vows... he’s so emotional about them.

he’s asked for help from literally everyone he knows, especially selina because she has such a way with words

vows are kinda tricky for bruce because to him, he wants to just be saying this to you. he doesn’t want to entertain anyone else

how is he supposed to summarize how deeply you move him—how eternally bound he is to you in body and soul—in a way that doesn’t feel like he’s putting on a show for the audience? he doesn’t care about any of that. all he cares about is you

he keeps falling into the trap of “they know how much I love them, don’t they?”

but one thing selina tells him to do is just try writing for you, then

just sit down and word vomit. even if it’s silly, even if you already know it, even if it’s embarrassing

and one night he finds you asleep in bed with a book on your chest, clearly having fallen asleep on accident with just the lamplight illuminating you

at first, he drops into the chair beside the bed and just sits and watches you for a few moments. your book rising and falling with every breath, your body half snuggled into the sheets, the little noises you make as you dream

but then his eyes start welling up and it’s like. all those words just come flowing out of him

he grabs his journal and is frantically writing everything down, not worried about making sense. he just wants to say what he’s thinking before it escapes him

maybe at some point, you wake up to find him furiously jotting everything down and you ask what he’s writing about

and he kinda panics because he doesn’t want you to see exactly what he’s writing

it’s all a mess! it’s ugly! not pretty or articulate or clean at all

and it’s not like he’s never a mess before you. you’ve seen every part of him: the good, the bad, the ugly. you’ve never turned away before

it’s just that sometimes... he hesitates

but before he can think of an excuse, you smile and slip out of bed

lean over him and kiss his forehead

“must be important, I’ll leave you to it. how ‘bout I make us something warm to drink?”

and the hesitation melts away

he doesn’t end up telling you. he closes his journal and tucks it on the nightstand and knows that you would never look, never break his trust like that, but if you saw what he said... he wouldn’t mind

when you come back, you two crawl into bed with warm tea and fall asleep together this time

I like to think that he once met up with selina on a rooftop so he could run his draft by her askjsdkjf

selina is a BRUTAL editor but she’s really good at it

and eventually she approves of his last draft and he’s like. yippee!! I’m free!! worst fucking experience of my life!!!

he’s fiiiiiine selina’s not that mean

but it was hard!!

and when you’re both at that altar and he admits his vows aren’t very long, it’s not a surprise to anyone that bruce “man of few words” wayne struggled with what to say

but that’s not it

because if they really knew bruce, they’d know that no matter how little he says, he means every word.

and there’s this one line that sort of encompasses a promise he’d made to himself long ago and now is making to you. out loud

“you’re a good thing that I don’t think I deserve, but I want to. so I am and will continue to make sure that I am a man that does. for the rest of our life.”

and all those years of never letting himself enjoy a good thing are unspoken between the two of you, your wedding a testament to his change of heart

it’s also just kind of cemented when he says “our life”. you really aren’t getting rid of him, now

NOW THE RECEPTION

I saw this on pinterest and I just. I think it would be so beautiful

a reception in a greenhouse!! surrounded by plants and candlelight!!

at night!!

this would be the more intimate gathering with just family and friends

if I may. be a Twihard for like TWO seconds

consider: flightless bird, american mouth for your first dance

I think it would be so nice... it’s a really pretty song.... ok moving on

I don’t think bruce would be very interested in. um. certain reception traditions but again, man will do whatever you ask him to

if you happen to be wearing garters and want to do a garter toss. I suppose he will participate.

right after sending out a signal that bricks every phone within a 200 mile radius

BUT TOASTS

man is all red in the face from laughing so hard, you’ve never seen him have this much fun with more than two people in the room

the toast is a lot less put together when it’s his turn, I think bruce is just so full of love and comfort being surrounded by people he knows well that he has an easier go of it

he doesn’t drink since he’s not a fan of alcohol, but you know he’s fuckin up a bottle of sparkling cider

if you choose to drink, he will be happy to escort you throughout the night

can see drunk you asking him to help you into a bathroom stall and he’s just standing there in the doorway making sure you don’t slip and fall into the toilet

at some point though, he WILL replace ur drinks with shirley temples

he’s not trying to cramp ur style but like. alfred will take a picture if you vomit and he will put it in the family photo album and show it every year on your anniversary and if you try to destroy it you will find he has made an infinite number of copies

by the end of the night, you’re both back at home helping each other out of your clothes in the same lazy way as you did the morning of the wedding

brushing your teeth together in the sink, washing each other’s faces, slipping into more comfortable clothes

by the time you both collapse into bed, bruce is so full of. love! and light. he’s still got a smile on his face that he’s had since the beginning of the night and it’s so different

you’ll crawl onto his chest and ask him if he’s happy, if he got everything he could have wanted out of today

he’ll press a kiss to your minty lips, still smiling like a fool, “I got to marry you, didn’t I?”

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @moonlightreader649 @geekyfer @thescarletfang

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter forty seven

close to home | chapter forty seven

plot: the reader arrives at the Kingdom

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 1,502 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd A/N: thank you for reading!!! I'm going to Boston this weekend to see 5sos and won't be home till Monday, so I won't be updating again until early next week--sorry lovelies!! Gonna try and update twice today if I can

When the horse led you through the gates of the Kingdom, you truly did feel like you were entering one. You felt more level-headed when they’d given you food and water on the ride back. 

There were people around, and you tried to take in as much as possible. Gardens and schoolchildren were sitting outside. There was a choir singing somewhere. And there was laughter. So much laughter. 

When you saw Morgan standing with a blond haired boy, you wanted to cry at the familiar sight. You climbed off the horse and set Tora down before running to Morgan. 

“(Y/N),” Morgan laughed when you crushed him into a hug. You were never particularly close to him, but he was a part of your group and your family. 

“Dianne said Daryl was here and supposed to stay here. Where is he?” You asked desperately as you pulled away from the hug. 

But the look on his face was enough to tell you he wasn’t here. “He left this morning. I’m sorry. “

You laughed, though, for the first time in a while. “It’s okay. It’s okay. He got out. He went to Hilltop, right?”

Morgan nodded and smiled at you. “Yes. Come on, we need to have the doctor look at you. And you will need to meet the King.” 

You looked at Morgan in confusion as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “The who?”

***

After getting an all-clear from the Kingdom’s doctor, and scarfing down as much food as you and Tora possibly could, Morgan led you to where the King was. You learned his name was Ezekiel, and he was a bit out there. 

But Morgan vouched for him, so you followed him into the ‘throne room’ with Tora by your side. When you walked into the room, your eyes widened, and you grabbed Morgan’s arm at the sight of a tiger. 

“What the fuck?” You breathed out. 

“Fair maiden,” King Ezekiel shouted, “I am honored to have you a guest in our fair Kingdom. I welcome you. And your furry beast.” 

You glanced at Tora, and started jogging up to catch her before she ventured too close to an animal that could kill her in a second. “I uh, um, thank you, sir. Your honor. King.” You stumbled over your words. 

“Our dear friends from the great Alexandria told me of your situation, and what happened. Although the Kingdom did not play a part in your troubles, you have its sorrow and thought.” King Ezekiel said. 

“Thank you,” You said, running your hand through Tora’s fur and trying to keep her settled. “I like your tiger.”

King Ezekiel smiled, “Her name is Shiva. And yours?”

“This is Tora; she’s been with me since before. Shiva?”

“The same as you,” The king said. He stood up and quietly told the man to his right something. You assumed it was to put Shiva somewhere because the man took the chains and led the big cat out of the room. 

Then he gracefully jumped from the stage and approached you. You got a better look at his face and admired it for a moment as he scratched Tora behind the ear. “I invite you and Tora to spend the eve with us here at the Kingdom. I can imagine you must want to get to the Hilltop as quick as you can. But I insist you take the night to recover.”

You glanced at Morgan, and he nodded, so you did as well. You were almost friends. You knew it. You knew in your bones that you didn’t have anything to fear from the Kingdom or its people. Morgan was here; he obviously liked it here. You were with friends. And that made you smile the biggest smile. “We can stay.”

***

King Ezekiel requested your presence after Morgan settled you in a room across from his. You opted to leave Tora in the room for a little while because you weren’t sure where the tiger was and didn’t want to risk it. 

Dianne came by with the message from the King, and she also brought you a fresh set of clothes. You’d never been more thankful when she told you to wash up first and brought you to the showers. 

So now, twenty minutes later, you were dressed in a black tank top and a flannel, leggings, and a near pair boots.They were used, but it made it better, because they were already worn in. 

The King sat across from you, and Morgan and a guy named Jerry sat with you. 

“Tell me, miss (Y/N), how you came to be with your group? I would love to know your tale.” 

You didn’t have any hesitation about telling him. Aside from the fact that you already considered him a friend, you felt like you could trust him and this place. So you told him about your life before and after the world's end. You told him about the prison after it ended and watched their horrified expression as you told them about Terminus. 

You didn’t tell them about the people you lost because even though it’s been some time, all the wounds reopened when discussed. 

And then, finally, you told them about Alexandria, how you got there, and what happened afterward. 

Your story took you through dinner, an assortment of chicken, and the freshest vegetables you’ve had in a long time. It was mouth-watering. You made sure to fold plenty of the chicken into a napkin, so you could take it to Tora. 

“Your journey is of greatness, and I am honored to have such a warrior amongst us,” The King said. 

“Do you like cobbler?” Jerry asked you. 

“Jerry,” The King said. 

Their exchange made you laugh, and you looked at Jerry, “Yes, I do.”

***

You sat with the King, Morgan, and Jerry for quite some time before the King suggested he give you a tour. You weren’t sure there was a point to it because you would be leaving in the morning, but you accepted because he made you feel like a friend. And with Sherry gone and not seeing your family in weeks, you desperately needed it. 

King Ezekiel showed you around the Kingdom, with Jerry and Morgan following closely behind. He pointed out the gardens, the apartments where most everyone resided. He should you the wells for water, in case you needed some, and the training ground for their ‘royal army’. You could see how proud he was. You believed him to be an accomplished leader. 

The sun was nearly set when the tour ended outside the building you would be staying in. You thanked both Jerry and the King profusely. 

“In the morn, I will have Dianne pack your supplies for the road and give you a weapon. I cannot, in good conscience, let you go out without one.” King Ezekiel said. “And, of course, my people know the way to the Hilltop. I will have a map provided and see if they can get you a car.”

“I don’t know how to repay you for this, but thank you, King Ezekiel.” You told him. 

He and Jerry bid their goodnights, and you and Morgan entered the building. 

“I feel like I’m in a fairytale here,” You playfully joked. “But I actually like it. It’s fun.”

“Many people do, I think that’s why they go along with it,” Morgan told you as you walked. 

When you got to the doors, you looked at Morgan. “Rick was here to get them to fight, wasn’t he? And the King said no?”

Morgan nodded, and you could see the contemplation on his face. “The Hilltop stands with Alexandria. Rick asked me to talk to the King about joining, but…”

You nodded, knowing how he felt about killing. “I think he will. He just needs to be pushed. Goodnight, Morgan. I’ll see you in the morning.”

***

Dianne brought you a bag with more than enough supplies in the morning. Enough to last you for at least a week. You made her take a decent amount of it back. You couldn’t take advantage of their hospitality like that. 

You met with the King for one last meal together, and while he tried to persuade him to stay, you wouldn’t budge. So he led you to the front gate, where a few guards were waiting. They succeeded in bringing you a car. 

“Thank you, King Ezekiel. Really.” You said. “I don’t think I’ve met someone like you for a long while. I really hope I get to see you again.” You told him. 

The King smiled and bid his goodbye, and you gave Morgan and even Jerry a hug. Then you and Tora climbed into the car. With one last look in the rearview mirror, you left the Kingdom, and headed towards home.

[afictionaladventure16]

I'm a sucker for angst 😭 I saw ur Quinceañera post and I wa wondering if you could do another part of "Taking it all in" where Pedro and Daughter!reader are planning for it or Daughter!reader is having the most fun she'd had in a while and then estranged mother comes in and things get angsty (with fluff in the end of it)

Taking It All In (Pedro Pascal x Daughter!Reader)

Pt. IV

Word Count: 3,404

A/N: Some of this I got the idea from One Day At a Time, but I was writing this already when I saw your request! Thank you for requesting it!! Hope you enjoy!!

Previously

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Song: De Nina A Mujer by Janet Dacal

Warnings: Mentions of abandonment and mildly edited fic...

A Quinceanera, it was the last thing you wanted to think about, but it was one of the main things you were looking forward to this year. For years you had imagined your quinceanera, what kind of dress you would have, and the theme too. For years, you were excited for this day, the day you get to begin planning. Yet, it all came crumbling down. Instead of the excitement of the event, it felt more like a distraction from the real situation. 

Over the past three months, your mother had been on a rampage, determined to take your dad to court over custody. After your little run-in, your dad mentioned how he had run into her as well. He never kept anything from you and with the threat she had made that day, he wasn’t going to start. He let you in on everything that was going on and you appreciated him being honest with you, even if sometimes you didn’t want to hear it. 

You didn’t understand your mother's motive, why she suddenly had an interest in your life after all these years. You thought that if it were to ever happen if your mom ever came back into your life, you would be happy. Now, knowing what you know now, you couldn’t help but feel angry. 

Somehow, your mother managed to get supervised visits on the weekends. They were couple-hour visits on Saturdays and Sundays, your dad wasn’t allowed to be in the area during that time, so you opted to have your aunt join. It was either her or the lawyers and you wanted someone you knew to be around. 

At first, the visits were spent in silence, your mother asking questions and you responding in as few words as possible. Then she began to make luxurious promises. A nice vacation with the family as a whole on a cruise, Disneyworld vacation as a family, or even Cancun as a family. It was always ‘as a family’ and you didn’t know if she was including or excluding your dad in the phrase. 

“I liked singing as a kid, did you like singing?” Your mother asked. You glanced at your phone for the fifth time in ten minutes. Only an hour left and you can go home. 

You shrugged, “I was in the school choir in middle school,” you responded. 

She cleared her throat, “So, you’re fourteen, that means we should be planning your quince soon,” she said with a big smile. 

“Already am,” you stated. “Dad began planning a little before I turned fourteen, sometimes I think he’s a bit more excited than I am.” 

Your mother’s face fell for a second, but she was quick to put a smile on her face, “Well, quince planning is no place for a dad. Maybe it should be our thing,” she began. “You know, to try and reconnect?” 

Your tia could sense your uneasiness, “well, it’d be difficult to do, since it’s only a month away,” she commented. 

“Only a month away? It can’t be that soon already,” your mother said as she pondered about it. She looked at her phone, “wow, I guess it is,” she commented. “So, um, that means you probably already sent your invitations out.” 

You gave her a nod, “Sent them out last week.” 

She nods, “That’s great.” 

You sighed, you knew what she was trying to get at. Was it the right thing to invite her? Would that mean you would have to invite her family too? You hadn’t even met your siblings yet, let alone her husband. “Um, did you want to go?” 

She smiled, “What mother wouldn’t want to go?” 

You shrugged, “I mean, I’d have to talk to Dad about it.” 

“Of course,” she smiled, “I just would hate to miss another big event in your life.” 

You gave her another nod, “Honesty, I just don’t know how comfortable I’d be with… you know, your kids being there since I’ve never even met them.”

She scoffed, “But they’re your brother and sister.” 

“Yeah, but, I’ve never met them and I don’t think I’m ready to meet them.” 

She let out a dry chuckle, “They’ve been dying to meet you, Y/N, they’re your brother and sister after all.” 

You sighed, “I know they’re my brother and sister,” you snapped. “I’m just not ready, okay?” You looked over at Javiera, who just gave you a nod. 

She glanced at her watch, “We should get going,” she began. “Y/N, you have a big essay that you need to work on, remember?” You nodded, understanding what she meant. There was no essay, but your mother didn’t need to know that. 

Your mother cleared her throat, “I’ll see you next week?” She said with a smile. 

“Yeah,” you said as you got up from the picnic bench and walked over to the car. 

Your mother looked over at Javiera with pleading eyes. Javiera, even though she didn’t like Gabriela, felt a little sorry for her, “Give her time,” she suggested. 

Gabriela sighed, “How much more time does she need?” 

“More than you can give her,” Javiera muttered. 

“I know you don’t like me.” 

“No shit,” Javiera stopped herself, “I can’t deal with this right now, I’ll see you next week.” Javiera got into the car, she was half expecting you to say something to her but wasn’t surprised when you remained quiet. 

You continued to remain quiet for the duration of the drive, your mind wandering into an abyss that Javiera didn’t want to interrupt. Maybe you needed time to think about everything that had just happened and you were thankful for that time. For some odd reason, car rides were just the best time to just think. But, like all car rides, they come to an end. 

Walking into the apartment, your dad engulfed you in a hug, it was routine at this point. He would bombard you with hugs as soon as you got home from a visit as if you had been deprived of it for the past few hours. 

“How’d it go?” your dad asked as soon as Javiera walked into the apartment.

You gave him a shrug as you tossed your things onto the couch, “Gabriela wants to be invited to the Quince,” your aunt answered for you. 

“What?” Pedro looked over at his sister in disbelief, “What did you tell her?” he looked over at you. 

“I told her I’d talk to you,” you finally responded, taking a seat on the couch.

“Well, what do you think?” Pedro asked as he sat beside you, “Do you want to invite her?” 

You shrugged, “I feel obligated to.” 

He shook his head, “you’re not obligated to invite anyone you’re not comfortable inviting.” 

You sighed, “I know, I just… I don’t know. If I invite her then I feel like she’d be upset because I wouldn’t want her… family to come along.” 

Pedro took in a deep breath, “It’s up to you, Mija. You call the shots when it comes to your Quince.” 

“What do you think?” 

Pedro looked over at his sister, who stood nearby, she gave him a shrug. He then looked back over at you, “I think if she really wants to be a part of your life, she’d be fine with any decision you make. Whether that’s not inviting her or inviting her but not her… family. Whatever you decide to do, I support you.” 

“Even if it’s a dumb decision?” 

He kissed your forehead, “Even if it’s a dumb decision.” 

You didn’t make your decision right away, as a matter of fact, you didn’t make a decision until two weeks before the event. Deciding was hard, but you decided that if she was really wanting to make the effort then she’d respect your decisions. 

“You can come,” you said as you got up from the same picnic bench you had been meeting at over the past few months. 

Her eyes lit up like a kid at a candy store, “Really?” She took a step forward, and you took a step back. 

“But only you,” you continued. 

“W-what?” 

“I’m just not comfortable with the idea of them being there… It’s an important day for me-” 

“And you should want to share it with them,” she pleaded. 

You were beginning to think it was a mistake, “I should if I had known them for a longer period of time… but I don’t. I only know their names and whatever stories you told me about them. I need you to respect my decision.” 

She sighed, “Alright.” 

You dug through your bag, pulling out an invitation. “Here’s the invitation,” you said handing her the invitation. 

She took the invitation, giving you a small smile. “See you next week?” You nodded, before walking back to the car. 

The day of your Quinceñera was everything you could imagine. Your dress was Y/F/C, it wasn’t as big as most girls’ Quinceñera dresses, mostly because you felt like you wouldn’t be able to do anything if it were. You wore a tiara that your dad had specifically picked out. 

You made your grand entrance right after your Quince court did, you had a good friend from school to be your chambelan. Your Tia had teased you about it, but he was only a friend. Shortly after the entrance, some of your family members, including your padrinos (Godparents) which were Oscar and his wife, took the opportunity to say a few words. 

Your dad announced that he would say something after the father-daughter dance, mentioning how he didn’t want to get emotional too early in the night. Even though he had been emotional throughout the day. 

After your tia said a few words, it was time for dinner. You frantically looked around for your mom, you felt horrible that she wasn’t included for a good amount of the reception.

You spotted her at a table off to the side, “You look so beautiful!” she greeted you with a hug. 

“Thank you!” you smiled. “I was thinking, I feel bad you’re being left out of-” 

“Don’t worry about that, Y/N,” she smiled, “I get it, I wasn’t part of the planning committee, so doing things last minute would make things difficult.” 

“Well, not all things are that difficult, I was gonna ask you if you wanted to do like a mother-daughter dance? Dad said he’s willing to give up the spotlight for a few minutes,” you looked over at your dad who was, in his terms, killing it on the dance floor. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his moves. 

She sighed, “That’s sweet,” she wanted to feel happy about it, she really did. “Alright.” 

“Great!” you grinned from ear to ear. “Also, I was thinking, maybe next week we can talk about maybe… um…” you let out a dry chuckle, “Maybe taking the kids to the park or something?” 

Gabriela looked at you in disbelief, “really?” 

“Let’s talk about it next week?” She gave you a nod before you walked off. Why couldn’t she feel happy about this? It was what she wanted, what she begged for, but now it was in her hands and she was having trouble feeling happy with all the guilt she felt. 

“Fuck,” she muttered to herself. 

Pedro, on the other hand, was slowly coming to terms with the situation. He saw how happy you were today and he allowed himself to be happy too. He walked away from the dance floor, looking over at Gabriela, she paced around by the exit. He wondered what she was doing, she had to be on the dance floor in a few minutes. 

He looked around for you, easily spotting you at one of the tables talking to a family member. He let out a sigh, walking over to Gabriela, “Gabriela?” She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. 

“Fuck,” she muttered again, as she made her way out of the banquet hall. 

“Gabriela!” Pedro exclaimed, following her out. “Que te pasa?” 

She couldn’t help but chuckle, “You remember the night I told you I was pregnant?” Pedro nodded, “you asked me the same thing.” 

“What’s going on?” 

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered. 

He shook his head, “No,” he hissed. “Don’t do this to her.” 

“I’m sorry, Pedro, I really am.” 

“Don’t do this, Gabriela!” He said louder, “Do you have any idea how happy she is right now and you’re just gonna tear that down!” 

“I know, I know!” 

“No, you don’t, because you won’t be the one picking up the pieces!” Gabriela let out a sob, “If you leave, don’t expect a welcoming party.” 

“Pedro, please.” 

“Don’t ‘Pedro, please’ me! You’re tearing my daughter apart, Gabriela. No puedo mirar la asi, (I can’t see her like that) you don’t know how bad she got because of you. You don’t know what I had to do just to see her smile again! I told you I didn’t want to see you do more damage to my little girl and I was naive to think you could have changed.” 

“I deserve a chance to get to know her-” 

“You had your chance Fifteen years ago and you gave it up.” Gabriela wiped away her tears, “Why did you even come back, huh?” 

Gabriela crossed her arms in front of her chest, “My husband, he’s um, he’s running for Governor-” 

“Stop.” 

“But I swear, that wasn’t the only reas-” 

“But it’s the main reason!” Pedro looked at Gabriela with disgust, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“I really wanted to get to know her and to-” 

Pedro shook his head, “It’s a little hard to believe that right now, Gabriela.” Pedro could hear the announcement of the Mother-Daughter dance, “If you want to prove me wrong, you’d walk inside right now and dance with our daughter.” 

“Pedro,” she pleaded. 

“Demostrar que estoy equivocado, Gabriela.” (Prove me wrong). 

She shook her head, “No puedo, Pedro. Necesito tiempo.” (I need time). 

“Gabriela, has tenido tiempo.” (You’ve had time) Pedro watched as Gabriela turned around, pulling out keys from her purse, “Gabriela,” he called out, but she didn’t stop. “Gabriela, Don’t do this!” She got in her car and drove off. 

The announcement had been made five minutes ago, and everyone had gotten off the dance floor so you could have the spotlight. The DJ announced the dance again, and you smiled as you looked around. Your heart dropped when you couldn’t spot her. Was it too good to be true? to think she would ever want to stay a part of your life. The intro of the song slowly began to fade in, and tears began to well up in your eyes. All you wanted was for your mother to finally step up and be a part of your life, but just when you thought you could forgive her she leaves you. 

You spotted your dad walking back into the banquet hall, his heart ached as he saw you standing alone on the dance floor. You looked at him with hopeful eyes, but he shook his head walking over to where you stood in the middle of the dance floor. He noticed tears begin to well up in your eyes, “Hey, hey, hey, I got you,” he whispered as he took your hand and began slowly leading you into the dance. 

He led the dance, slowly swaying from side to side, “Papi, she-” 

“I know, Mija, I know,” he whispered, you leaned your head on his chest as he settled his gently on top of yours. “Don’t worry, Cariño, I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said softly. “Let’s just forget about it for the night,” he said in a hopeful manner. 

It was hard to just forget about it, it was your mother. The woman who was so desperate to have you in her life threatened to take full custody of you, and now she was nowhere in sight. You let out a shaky sigh, “You know, you used to dance to this song when you were little,” your dad began to say. The song was close to an end, “telling me about how you wanted to dance with me to this song at your quince,” he let out a dry chuckle. “Now here we are,” he pulled away, taking your hand to give you a twirl, “De Nina a Mujer,” he commented. 

For a moment, you forgot what had just happened, all of the anger and sadness vanished. You remembered the memories you had with your father and even though something was always missing, it was always filled with his efforts in trying to be both parents for you. The song slowly faded to an end and everyone began to clap, your dad pulled you in for an embrace, “Ya no eres un nina,” (You're no longer a little girl) his voice shook, “pero siempre seras mi bebe.” (but you'll always be my baby)He placed a kiss on your forehead. 

The night continued on as planned, your court did an amazing surprise dance and your dad cried a handful of times throughout the other planned events. Finally, your dad took a hold of the mic, and the music slowly faded out as people made their way off the dance floor. 

“I just want to come on here and say a few words,” he began to say. “I’ve been avoiding it because my baby girl is no longer a baby,” his voice shook. “I am extremely proud of everything she has accomplished in her life so far and I am proud to say that I am her father. She makes me proud every single day,” He looked over at you. “Mija, you’re gonna do wonderful things in life, you are my biggest blessing in life and I a grateful for you every single day.” Tears welling up in your eyes, “Soon enough you’ll think you won’t need your old dad anymore, but just know I will be here no matter what. I can’t wait to see what you’ll do in life. Feliz Cumpleaños, Cariño.” 

You let the tears fall from your cheeks, you walked up to your dad and wrapped your arms around him. People began clapping and the music slowly began to fade in again. 

“Bailamos!” your dad yelled into the mic. The Dj played Cupid Shuffle, which made your dad grin from ear to ear, “Come on, Mija! This is our time to show our moves!” you rolled your eyes, “Come on!” he groaned. 

You laughed as you followed your dad's steps throughout the song, other people had joined in too. Soon enough it was a full dance floor, you danced with your friends and danced a few songs with your dad.

"What kind of dance moves are those?" You questioned your dad, as he did a little jump with his butt in the air.

"Am I not twerking?" You and those surrounding you laughed at his attempt, "Am I not doing it right?"

You shook your head, "No! God please, just stop!" And just for a night, you felt at peace. Everything that had happened was in the past or it was tomorrow's problem. Today, you are fifteen and enjoying your day with the people you loved. 

Your Quince didn’t end until past midnight and you knew it was a successful Quince when it went past midnight. You said your goodbyes to your guests and friends. 

You didn’t see your mother over the weekend, nor did you pick up her phone calls. Your dad told you what had happened and what had been said. Part of you felt stupid for even thinking that starting a relationship with your mom was a good idea. 

When Monday arrived, you wanted to just forget about everything, and act like the past few months never existed. Your dad had enough to win the custody battle, the lawyers were confident in the win. 

“Don’t forget tomorrow we’re doing a study group at the library after school,” One of your friends mentioned as you all walked out of the building. 

“I know,” you muttered. “See you guys tomorrow!” you said as you began walking down the sidewalk. 

“Y/N?” You heard a familiar voice call out.

You stopped in your tracks, your heart beating fast as you turned around, “What are you doing here?” you asked your mother. 

“Can we talk?” 

Pedro Pascal Taglist:   @cilliansangel  @change-the-world-someday  @graciegoeskrazy @oggystine93 @t-stark35 @twkobii @picklehat3r @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @white-wolf-buckaroo @steadydragongalaxy @rooting4theantihero @soupinasock @tracysnook @Ilovehotdadsandshit @dzaga890 @marantha @emmasauger @marysucks-blog @pcotato @scrappybear89 @dlwrish @what-ever-man213

[blaineshq]

I don't know if it's all the partying this weekend, or maybe this is just my body going into full protest mode after Mr Schue yelled at us for singing songs that were "too explicit" after he quite literally told us to sing about our sexuality, but my doctor has just officially confirmed that I've got laryngitis. Great timing, isn't it? I'm currently on vocal rest and doing everything I can to make sure I can sing at Invitationals (and when I say everything I mean everything — I've even given up on coffee, and you all know how much I love my daily dose of caffeine), but I think it goes without saying that I will not be able to sing in glee club this week.

I've already handed over my setlist ideas to Mr Schue (including, but not limited to: Vampire, Good Luck Babe, As It Was, Seventeen and What Was I Made For) as he needs as many ideas as possible to make sure he doesn't come up with any songs himself, and I will of course be keeping an extra close eye on the show choir blogs this week.

Oh, and if someone needs a pianist who isn't Brad, or a guitarist, please let me know. I'd still love to perform in some way this week because I'm already starting to feel like I'm slowly losing my mind.

[lbright90]

From the start

So the last few days I've tried to reflect on where my relationship began with Jesus and God. As I was reflecting I realized that despite me knowing WHO God and Jesus were from a very early age I didn't have a personal relationship with God until 2018. So I'm gonna recap on why this is. When I was little my family was always going to church. My grandparents and mom went to church and I was there with them. Now when I was little we went to mostly Pentecostal churches and I'm not here to put down any denomination for we are not to be divided but come together to form one and worship as one. However, when I was little I would sit there and listen and watch, and there are a few times I could feel the spirit talk to me, but much like I was immature that I couldn't understand fully what the Spirit wanted. Like much today when we take our children to church, we teach them how to behave and act in churc. When I got to my teenage years and joined a local church's choir I enjoyed singing and praising God. I could feel the spirit tugging at my heart but I still couldn't understand what it wanted. It wasn't until 2018 that I found myself in a world where I felt trapped raising a child (he will always be my baby) by myself with a little help of my mother and the father of my son not being as reliable. It was then that a woman I barely knew asked me, "Are you okay?" At that moment I realized that no matter what I did, no matter how much I tried, I wasn't okay because I was pulling the old fake it to you make it. I was physically, mentally, and spiritually drained. That day was when I realized that I can't get no where in this life without asking help from a higher power because everyone else is only human, they make errors, and are not going to be 100% reliable when I need them. So that's when I started going to church. The lady was nice enough to invite me to her church and that's where I met some of the most wonderful amazing people ever who will do anything and everything to help you. Even if it's just praying for you, sometimes prayers do more for you then what money or items every could. After a few weeks it was during a sermon about resentment and holding onto grudges that the Lord worked on me and showed me where I had erred all my life. That I was so quick to hold onto grudges from something that someone did over 20+ years ago and until I let go of that hatred I would never find peace or happiness. That day I left everything to God, I prayed for a resolution to an issue with my father that I had been facing for many years and guess what! God answered. I was able to make peace with my father and let go of some of the hatred I had been holding onto. Now I want to recap on why my faith and relationship with God and Jesus didn't start until 2018, despite me feeling him knocking on my heart multiple times before. When I was growing up, you were expected to act a certain way at church, but there wasn't a lot of explaining. Like we were told you raise your hands to praise but nobody could point it out to me in the bible exactly where it said this. Fast forward to 2018 when one of my coworkers who was studying the bible could point it out to me in less than a 5 minute conversation. Now I'm not putting all the blame on the church from my childhood, or my mom, or my grandparents. It wasn't for them to them force me to have a relationship with God. Now that I'm older and more understanding, if I wanted to really know the answer I should have opened my Bible and really tried to read it and let God's word speak to me. So in the end it was because I wasn't ready to accept God and that I couldn't perceive his will. Anyways I just wanted to share this story with you all and I hope everyone has a good day. John 14:6-7

Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me. If ye had known me, ye should have known my Father also: and from henceforth ye know him, and have seen him.

[beautifulpersonpeach]

BPP, can you allow me to confess something here? Sorry in advance for the long ask.

I'm in my mid-thirties and Jimin is my forever bias because I see my story in him. When I was younger I used to love singing. I had a beautiful voice with a very wide range, sang in a choir, was even invited to sing for pay when I was 9 years old. I'd sing everywhere and it was my best hobby. I couldn't imagine not singing. I wrote songs in my diary and would sing them to a few friends. But I didn't train my voice. I didn't even know that was something people did. It just seemed like a natural talent I had. By the time I entered college, I noticed my singing range had shrunk. While in school I didn't have many chances to sing in bands and sharing a room with classmates made it hard to sing. By the time college was over, my voice had nearly completely left me. I'd try to sing, but it wouldn't sound right and it would hurt. I started getting more and more self conscious and my confidence has taken a big hit. I try not to remember what I used to sound like in my teens and have made the best of my singing voice now. I know vocal aging happens to everybody, especially people who overuse their voices too early, but it doesn't lessen the silent inferiority I feel. I still sing as a hobby but can only do so in a smaller range though I still haven't gotten vocal training which is expensive for my lifestyle time-wise.

In 2020 I got into BTS through BE album. The voice on Fly to my Room sounded very unnatural, like a fairy and I gravitated to it immediately. I learned it belonged to Jimin and going back in time through BTS albums, the change in voice was jarring. I know this change was deliberate by him based on what I know about singing style and technique. Jimin has been getting regular voice training for some time now. But changes like that come at a cost. When I see him be a little unsure, I recognize the feeling too.

When you said Jimin is your best vocal in BTS, I fell a little in love with you. The way you explained his voice tells me you might intuitively understand all the changes both he and me have made. I'm assuming a lot of things but I just want to say thank you for loving his beautiful defiant voice. He might not be your bias, but I don't see even Jimin biases talk about his vocals the way you do. Jimin inspires me to keep singing and to love my voice in every way. Can you pls talk about this vocals through the years if possible somehow?

*

Hi Anon,

No worries about the long ask. I'll try to keep my response a bit shorter (though I'm hardly ever successful at that so we'll see lol).

Thank you for sharing what you did, and I doubt you're alone in having that experience.💜 I'm not really sure where I'm going with this reply yet, but I want to start with one fact:

Jimin has always had an unusual tone to his voice.

I'm not a vocal coach or anything so I probably can't explain this properly, but the first time I heard Jimin sometime in 2013, his tone reminded me of a teen rock singer, but not really... like if you combined Pink's voice with Justin Beiber's (say whatever you like about the guy but he's got good tone and knows how to use it), and then added something else. Something... metallic and throaty - just a hint of it.

Like if Brandi Carlile was a teen boy from Busan with a slight lisp and no vocal training.

At the time I didn't take much note of it, but over the years, his vocal tone and the way he's deliberately manipulated it into what's evolved to today - distinctly Jimin but akin to a merger of Taka, Mitch, and Tyler Joseph's voices, has cemented Jimin as one of my favourite singers.

Jimin's voice has always been unusual for k-pop. It was true in 2013, 2015, 2018, 2020, and it's true today, and all you need to confirm this is listen to any record from that time and compare it with anything else. For example, you can compare his vocals in his cover of Perfect Man with the vocals in the original (SM-trained vocalists).

[BTS devoured, but Jimin is a completely different beast here. You can listen to other covers as well. Nobody sounds like Jimin.]

I believe you're right about how his initial lack of training combined with the stylistic choices he pursues (which are difficult to execute sometimes as main dancer), has impacted his confidence over the years. But I don't think Jimin is insecure about his vocals the way he used to be years back. BigHit failed to provide support in 2012/13, but he's been steadily getting training at his request since at least 2017. You put Jimin on a song and that man will sing. He might not have the best technical proficiency, and there’s always room for improvement of course, but he's more than good enough.

Criticism of vocals, both fair and unfounded, is something that has always been thrown at Jimin. Like I've said before, his voice tone is already unusual in k-pop, and so people raised on/used to the k-pop way of singing (usually defined by coaches at SM who have saturated the industry for decades), have never really known how to think of him as a vocalist within the k-pop paradigm. I mean, even back then when his tone wasn't as stylized as it is now, people couldn't really place his voice, and now I often hear some complain about how oddly piercing he sounds sometimes.

But that's exactly one of many things I find addictive in Jimin's vocals. He is very much a rock vocalist, and likely will always be, so I hope he gets more opportunities to flaunt and obliterate the expectations of what a male vocalist from Korea should sound like.

Basically, I want more of Set Me Free Pt 2.

On Set Me Free Pt 2, he ratchets up that metallic quality to sound completely unhuman. It's like all the criticisms about vocals completely lose meaning when the voice isn't even trying to sound human-like. It's perverse and subversive.

A decade’s worth of criticism on his vocals, on that song he said fuck it all.

Like... Jesus.

I inject that song into my veins every. single. day.

I need Jimin to fuck it all to hell, one more time in 2023, for my sanity.

I need him to be his full inhuman self, to render me speechless and senseless with his vocals and I'm not even fronting. In fact, thank you for telling me you like how I talk about his vocals, because most times I'm toning down how I feel, what his voice does to me.

Anyway, I occasionally see people concerned for his voice, k-pop stans who think he can't sing, and I could not give a shit if you paid me to. Like, please give me the voice cracks, give me the tight high notes, give me that shit. I listen to Aretha Franklin, Rod Stewart, Beck, Stevie Nicks, Pink, Taka, Nina the goddess, Ray Charles, Brandi... like please, Jimin has great company. He's beyond the precise, predictable, and formulaic singing done in k-pop and mainstream pop. In my fucking opinion.

Anyway, I hear what you're saying about the difference in voice between Fly to my Room and say, Jump. I hear the fear in your ask. But Jimin is still more than capable of creating the voice from their earlier years. His voice has changed, yes, but it's matured too. For example, the way he sounds in that Perfect Man cover, is very similar to how he sounds in Face Off, IMO. The only difference is his tone is somehow more delicate, expressive, and intentional.

Lol oh lord I've rambled.

Okay, some clips of my faves from him, for kicks.

One of my all time favourite Jimin vocals, what I consider to be the epitome of pop/rock vocals by BTS, is his voice in Danger.

(MMA 2019 gave us so many gems)

*

Then there's Jimin in Magic Shop. His brightness and clarity of voice is really heard at 1:17.

*

And because this post is kinda long already, here's Alone.

*

Anon, please keep singing. Your voice is the one thing you should never surrender. Jimin will keep singing too.

Thanks for stopping by. :)

[grntaire]

Yoooo I really love the choral music you’ve recently shared. I’m not really that familiar with it as a genre of music and don’t normally seek it out? but occasionally a piece will find its way to me (like at a funeral or now your blog), and I find it arrestingly beautiful. maybe partly because it’s a strange and unfamiliar medium to me. Do you have any favorites you would recommend for further exploration? 🩷

hi this is maybe the most hyped i've been for an ask ever bc i go fucking crazy for choral music so YES i do have recs for you. i will try to limit my little thoughts however i am very annoying so it will not go well

gibbons' hosanna to the son of david goes insanely hard. so jovial and fun and i had a blast singing this in undergrad! i love renaissance polyphony and this is a prime example of it!

poulenc's o magnum mysterium is truthfully wacky in the best most french way ever. and imo poulenc's queerness is so clear and present in his music so anything by him i love. my beautiful fruity catholic with a disorder <3

chesnokov's spaseniye sodelal is russian orthodox perfection fr. when my choir in undergrad read thru this i was stood between two low basses and at THAT part (1:32) i felt like i was being punched from the inside out. also the text means "salvation is created in the midst of the earth" and i think that's like. so fucking sick

stacey gibbs' arrangement of ezekiel is THE american spiritual arrangement to me. i once sang this in an italian church under a mexican conductor and then later we all sang it drunkenly for the owner at the hotel we were all staying at it was wild and so so so fun. such a beautiful and massive example of a joyful american spiritual also it's straight up a banger honestly. could talk ad nauseum abt how badass black choral scholars are and how grateful i am for all of the work that they've done and for inviting ppl to learn abt and experience it <3

holst's i love my love is one of my favs of all time. unfortunately england fucking devours when it comes to their choral tradition and this piece does one of my fav things where the way the composer sets the text changes its meaning! it's abt a woman named nancy who is in bedlam bc her love died at sea and it effectively broke her. while there, he comes to her, alive, breaks her out and they get married. while the poem itself shows a happy ending, the way holst plays w tempo and texture makes me go hmmm. 90% sure he did not show up and she's experiencing a delusion of sorts to cope w her grief (the i love my love's in the sopranos & altos at 1:24 kind of emulate a rocking motif, almost as if she's rocking herself back and forth in a soothing gesture, or the rocking of the ship he died on) and that tenor entrance in the melody after almost emulates her love coming to rescue her. god this whole piece makes me feel like my skin is on fire and i think it's a devastating portrayal of mental illness and you can rip it from my cold dead hands

stanford's beati quorum via is literally just gorgeous front to back. again unfortunately the english stay slaying

jake runestad's a silence haunts me literally does fucking haunt me and it changed the way i think about choral music. it's a setting of an unsent letter of beethoven's where he talks about losing his hearing and how afraid he is of losing it. this one you def have to watch bc there's a visual element to it! no spoilers but holy shit it shuts my brain down it's brutal and beautiful. i saw its premiere in 2019 and the entire hall was sobbing. like i have the words "be well" tattooed on me bc of it. the way the piano quotes moonlight sonata and his 9th symphony and the tensions emulating his tinnitus. OUGH

[the-lincyclopedia]

Winter holiday fics by lincyclopedia

Thanks for the tags, @cricketnationrise and @doggernaut! When you tagged me, I wasn't sure if I had any winter holiday fics. I have 12, across four fandoms. In my defense, I have over 200 fics total, so I lose track of what I've written sometimes. (Also, looking back through my AO3 account, it's like, man, I used to write. Unfortunately I've been too depressed to do much of that for a while now.) Anyway. Here's what I've got, organized by fandom:

Check Please

Deck the Halls with Balls of Holly

Ransom misunderstood the lyrics to "Deck the Halls," and he and Holster wind up making some interesting Christmas decorations for the Haus.

This is a super short one-shot featuring platonic Ransom & Holster friendship from Bitty's POV. (It's part of my series of fics based on misheard song lyrics.) The relevant holiday is Christmas.

Palentine's Day Karaoke

This fic is inspired by @softfloralbro's story "Shitty Knight's Palentine's Day Spectacular" and is basically a karaoke playlist wrapped in narration. The basic idea is that SMH has a karaoke party on Valentine's Day, and everyone serenades their friends. Set in February of Year 2.

This fic is full of SMH friendship, music, and not much else. The relevant holiday is Valentine's Day.

In Your Warmth I Forget How Cold It Can Be

In a world where the graduation kiss never happened, it's winter break of Bitty's senior year, and Bitty and Jack are both out and single. The plan is for Bitty to spend New Year's Eve with Jack at Jack's condo, but that plan goes awry when Bitty and Jack return from the airport to find a homophobic slur painted on Jack's parking space. TW for homophobia.

Basically, this is canon-divergent Zimbits getting together. The relevant holiday is New Year's Eve.

too long i've been afraid (of losing love i guess i've lost)

Dex gets disowned after coming out as gay. SMH is there for him.

Basically, angst, hurt/comfort, and platonic Frogs content, plus some platonic Dex & Bitty. The relevant holiday is Christmas.

Five Times Lukas Was Homesick Plus One Time He Didn’t Have to Be

It can be hard to go to school in another country where everyone speaks a different language and no one celebrates your holidays. Luckily, Lukas has friends to help when he’s homesick.

Okay, this is a 5+1 and only one of the scenes is actually about a winter holiday, but I like that scene, so I'm including this fic on the list. The relevant holiday is St. Lucia Day.

When Lucia Day Dawns

For Lukas's senior project as a music major, he has to plan/lead a public music performance. He decides to form a choir to sing Swedish Lucia/Advent/Christmas songs on St. Lucia Day (December 13). This is the Friday before finals and everything is stressful—until the concert starts and suddenly it’s perfect.

This is another Lukas-centric fic about being Swedish. The relevant holiday is St. Lucia Day.

Carry On

Right Now

A one-shot set during Christmas break of Simon and Agatha's fifth year at Watford. Even though they're not ultimately meant to be, they made sense as a couple once.

This is very jossed by Any Way the Wind Blows, but I still kind of like it. It's pre-canon Simon/Agatha. The relevant holiday is Christmas.

Stranded

After leaving Baz's house and dropping Penny off in London, Simon and Agatha get stranded in a ditch in the middle of a snowstorm. Ex awkwardness ensues.

Unlike "Right Now," this fic features Simon and Agatha as exes. The relevant holiday is Christmas.

Sounds Like a Date

Baz is a barista stuck working on Christmas Eve. Simon is a handsome customer.

This is a coffee shop AU featuring a Snowbaz meet-cute. The relevant holiday is Christmas.

Yuri on Ice

Ice Quality

One of Yuuri's college friends invites him to spend Christmas with her family, and Celestino approves as long as Yuuri promises to skate while he's there. Trouble is, the town's indoor rink is closed for renovations. A one-shot set during Yuuri's time in college in Detroit.

This is a pre-canon platonic Yuri & OFC fic. The relevant holiday is Christmas.

Happy New Year, Otabek!

Yuri and Otabek have been best friends for four years, and Yuri's had a crush on Otabek for a while, but he never expected Otabek to like him back. Until, that is, Otabek gets drunk at the Grand Prix Final banquet and says some things Yuri doesn't expect. It's going to be a very interesting New Year's celebration in Almaty . . .

This is a post-canon Yuri Plisetsky/Otabek, and it's the only multi-chapter fic on this list (though it's still pretty short). The relevant holiday is New Year's Eve.

Sherlock

Over the Table and through the Giggles

John has insisted on hosting a Christmas party. Again. Everyone but Sherlock is drinking, and John is telling stories about Sherlock, and suddenly Sherlock decides to kiss John. Plotless fluff.

This is a canon-divergent Johnlock getting-together scene based more heavily than you might guess on my sober-but-sleep-deprived friends and me being ridiculous in high school. The relevant holiday is Christmas.

I'm guessing a lot of people have been tagged, especially from the Check Please fandom, but I'm going to try to pull in some Queen's Thief folks. I tag @worldsentwined, @newtsoftheworldunite, @hoeratius, @eponymiad, and anyone else who wants to play!

[twstfanblog]

Twist OC Fankid Info 2

Ashengrotto Twins

**Charysa Ashengrotto-Crewel**

Age: 17 (Feb 22, Eldest twin)

School: Sophmore at NCR. Member of the Tennis Club and Co-Housewarden of Heartslabyul.

Height: 5'5"

Hair: Mid-back length lilac hair, normally in twin tails

Eyes: Dark blue

Likes: 'Plushies', romance novels, making colored sand art, poetry, word puzzles, accessories of all kinds

Dislikes: 'Stuffed Animals', being broken up with, rumors (That she didn't start), horror movies, losing

Pets?: A bloom of Jellyfish. She and Scylar cried until Azul bought sea real estate to keep them safe.

Fav Food: Spicy Seafood Alfredo

Who's their Best Friend?: Scylar ♡

Dating/Crush?: A revolving door of shitty boyfriends and a very sweet secret admirer

Part one of the fast-talking con-artist Ashengrotto twins. They will talk you into a verbal contract to do their homework for months. But you can pay them to drop it.

Charysa is a hopeless romantic who misses every red flag when she falls in love. Luckily, her family is so intense about finances that Azul scares off every last one that makes it to meeting him. (If you plan on dating either of Azul's direct daughters, you better have excellent credit, a hand balanced checkbook, and be prepared to set up your 401K. Legal documentation is mandatory). If Azul doesn't scare them off, Scylar will.

She has a secret admirer who lifts her spirit with thoughtful gifts after every failed relationship and is lowkey keeping her love of romance alive.

Pretty laidback but is weirdly intense about her tennis record. The only person she's lost to in a match is Finley and she's keeping it that way. (Tennis ball coming at you going Mach 14)

Kind of a crybaby, but has actually broken people's bones for making fun of her siblings. (She snapped one child's finger in kindergarten for saying her twin looked gross)

Sadly, gets periods along with Yuu and Malgona.

Unique Magic: Siren Song. No one is really sure if it is a unique spell since it's a shared spell between the twins. When they both sing in harmony, it makes for a hypnotic effect that briefly brings people under their command. Not used very often as they don't have much control over whoever hears their song since they need to sing the commands in perfect harmony.

Any time they HAVE used it, it was clearly premeditated and they were grounded afterwards.

**Scylar Ashengrotto-Crewel**

Age: 17 (Feb 22, Youngest twin)

School: Sophmore at NCR. Member of the NRC Choir and Co-Housewarden of Heartslabyul.

Height: 5'5"

Hair: Mid-back length lilac hair, normally in a ponytail

Eyes: Dark blue

Likes: 'Stuffed Animals', concerts, social media, economics, fashion, gaudy jewelry, singing.

Dislikes: 'Plushies', frogs, her sister getting a new boyfriend, spicy food, Men.

Pets?: A bloom of jellyfish. She and Charysa insist that Azul call them by their names properly.

Fav Food: Seafood Alfredo

Who's their Best Friend?: Charysa ♡

Dating/Crush?: Looking for a cute girlfriend

Distinguished lesbian, threw a fit when she was picked by the mirror as an NRC scholarship student when she was set to go to an all-girls school instead. While more fem-presenting people have been accepted and invited to attend NRC in the recent years, Scylar is still mad because no one has caught her eye yet and is CONVINCED if she had gone to an all-girls school she'd be engaged by now.

The more violent of the twins but also the most logical. She is the one planning on how to jump someone at a later date if anyone DARES fuck over she and her sister. The twins do not fight fair and will ambush you together.

She is fully aware of who her sister's secret admirer is and is TRYING to get him to confess so she can stop dealing with her sister's terrible boyfriends. He keeps refusing and claiming things are best the way they are. Scylar just assumes he doesn't have the proper legal documents he needs to meet Azul.

The 'tired gay' of the family, though JJ disagrees.

Unique Magic: Siren Song. No one is really sure if it is a unique spell since it's a shared spell between the twins. When they both sing in harmony, it makes for a hypnotic effect that briefly brings people under their command. Not used very often as they don't have much control over whoever hears their song since they need to sing the commands in perfect harmony.

She's more talented than her sister in the singing department, but the skill seems to split evenly during the spell. So, Scylar works hard to improve her singing to make their spell stronger.

And that's the twins! Onto the Eldest Vipers!

[amorest-viesse]

[Composing a Joyous Melody] - Rustica SSR Card Story Translation

Ft. Akira (Chloe in chapter 1, Western wizards mentioned)

The Orchestrina’s Melody ~A Moment of Serenity with Rustica~ - Chapter 1

[Hallway]

Having finished with lunch, I headed up to Rustica’s room with the Serene Orchestrina in hand.

This peculiar magical device is said to grant its users with a perfect moment of serenity.

Although it seems like an ordinary little box, by wishing upon it, it’ll transport you and a guest into a space of rest and relaxation.

Akira: (I’ve been inviting each wizard to join me on their birthday, but now it’s Rustica’s turn. He’s the one that lent me the box, so it feels strange to ask him.)

Akira: (It wouldn’t be fair to leave him out though, so I’ll just have to do my best.)

Akira: (Wait, now that I think about it… Where is Rustica today? I feel like I haven’t seen him. It’s way past lunch, but maybe he’s still asleep… Huh?)

Akira: What was that noise…!? It came from Rustica’s room!

Akira: Rustica! Are you alright in there!?

Rustica: La~ lala~ ♪ Be~ my guest~ ♪

Hearing Rustica’s voice, I pushed open the door to find…

[Rustica’s Room]

Female Wall Portrait: Lalala~ Oh~ my songs are so love~ly~~ ♪ Bow down to my glo~ry~~ ♪

Chloe: The sun shines so bright~ And the stars gleam at night~ All thanks to the sound of your songs~~ ♪

Rustica: Break.

Rustica: What is it that makes the world so beautiful?

Akira: (More like what in the world is going on!?)

Standing in the middle of the room were Chloe and Rustica surrounded by a colorful choir of singing birds and paintings backed by an ensemble of dancing clothes.

However, as soon as I made eye contact with the portrait of the diva, she immediately shut her mouth. Her cheeks flushed bright red, and she hurried back to her usual pose.

Rustica: Oh? …Ah, I see now. Still feeling shy in front of strangers are we?

Rustica: We’ll simply have to continue our concert another time then.

At the sound of Rustica’s voice, order began to restore itself to the room. The clothes fell gently back to the floor as the birds took off into the blue sky.

Then, as if nothing strange had occurred, Rustica smiled at me. Chloe too, was smiling as always.

Rustica: Good morning, Master Sage.

Chloe: Rustica! It’s well into the afternoon!

Akira: G- Good morning? What was going on here…?

Chloe: Right, right, we should explain that. Rustica started up a concert as soon as he woke up.

Rustica: While I was still half-asleep, I crashed right into the closet, and to console me, the clothes hopped out and began to dance.

Chloe: That’s not what happened! You were the one that enchanted the clothes, remember?

Rustica: Was I really? In that case, was I responsible for your singing too?

Chloe: Nope! You just seemed like you were having so much fun, I wanted to join in too…

Rustica: If you’re having fun, then I’m having fun as well. To wrap up this delightful morning, shall we have some tea?

Chloe: Yes please!

Akira: (S- Shouldn’t he be getting ready for the day?)

Yet, despite my apprehensions, I was swept up by the atmosphere as Chloe and Rustica happily prepared for tea.

Akira: (...Well, maybe this is fine. Both of them seem like they’re having a good time.)

Rustica: Come join us, Master Sage.

Akira: Oh! Thank you very much!

Caught in their leisurely pace, I completely forgot why I came to Rustica’s room in the first place.

The Orchestrina’s Melody ~A Moment of Serenity with Rustica~ - Chapter 2

[Courtyard]

Akira: (Alright, so my first attempt to invite Rustica out with the Serene Orchestrina failed…)

Akira: (But I’ll definitely get it this time—Oh!)

Rustica: Good afternoon, Master Sage.

Akira: Good afternoon to you too, Rustica. That’s a lovely tea set you’ve got there. Are you waiting for someone?

Rustica: Why, you, of course.

Akira: M- Me?

Rustica: Indeed. I saw that you were out on a walk and thought it’d be nice to prepare some refreshments as a break.

Akira: Oh wow! Thank you so much! But, um, Rustica… Why are all the dessert plates empty?

Rustica: Ah, that’s because you’ll be filling them.

Akira: I’m… not sure I follow.

Rustica: It appears Nero is out today, but please don’t fret. I’ll be by your side to cheer you on.

Radiating with charm, Rustica innocently smiled at me, and my willpower crumbled. I found myself nodding before I realized it.

Akira: Ahaha, alright then. If the recipe is simple enough, I’d be happy to try it.

Rustica: Thank you so much, Master Sage. I’m looking forward to it.

Akira: Let’s head over to the kitchen then—Whoa!?

As I turned to leave, I suddenly stumbled and toppled forward. However, Rustica reached out and caught me before I could fall.

Rustica: Are you alright, Master Sage?

I looked up at him and our eyes met.

His long, beautiful eyelashes—reminiscent of a bird’s wing—fluttered against his smooth, porcelain skin.

Akira: (This feels like a scene right out of a fairy-tale, lovely and fleeting… W- Wait, now’s not the time for this.)

Akira: S- Sorry about that, Rustica, but I’m alright. You really saved me there.

Rustica: Why, I ought to be the one apologizing for my thoughtlessness. Please, allow me to make it up to you by personally escorting you to the kitchen.

Akira: Thank you so much. Let’s get to it then.

Akira: Things have really changed since we first came here, haven’t they? It used to be me guiding you around whenever you got lost.

Rustica: Haha, then consider this my thank you for all those times. I’ll make sure you reach the kitchen safe and sound.

Akira: (It makes me happy how tightly he’s holding my hand while we walk…)

Akira: (He’s usually so gentle, but his kindness is really shining through…Oh!)

Akira: Before I forget again, I actually have something I want to talk to you about.

Rustica: I’m glad you brought it up then. I’m quite forgetful as well, so I ought to learn from your example.

Akira: Since your birthday is coming up, I wanted to use the Serene Orchestrina with you.

Rustica: Oh? Why, thank you for your consideration, Master Sage.

Rustica: Since you’ve gone out of your way to ask me, I’ll make sure to remember my birthday this year.

The Orchestrina’s Melody ~A Moment of Serenity with Rustica~ - Chapter 3

[Rustica’s Room]

On the morning of Rustica’s birthday, I headed to his room where he was waiting for me in a special new outfit.

Akira: That outfit looks great! It’s got a nice balance between elegance and extravagance which is just perfect for you.

Rustica: Why, thank you, Master Sage. As soon as the clock struck twelve, Chloe came by to give it to me.

Rustica: He knows me so well, doesn’t he?

Akira: Yeah! Chloe really is your apprentice.

Rustica: Indeed he is.

Leaving the box on the table, I closed my eyes. In order to use the Orchestrina, I had to recall everything I loved most about Rustica.

Akira: (I hope to grant a moment of serenity to Rustica, the perfect gentleman who brings peace to everyone around him, who always cares for others while marching to his own beat…)

The box opened with a creak, and a little doll resembling Rustica emerged and began to spin round and round.

Music began to play out of nowhere and the whole room dissolved into light…

[Orchestrina Interior]

When I opened my eyes, a calm, inviting space stretched out before us.

A sweet and joyful, yet slightly heart-wrenching song was playing. It sounded like afternoon sunlight, the warmth of a lover as you danced in their arms.

Rustica: What a gorgeous melody. It makes me want to put a kettle on. One should always add plenty of sugar into a bitter tea.

Akira: (It seems the Orchestrina is working… It plays a unique song just for the person who’s brought here after all.)

I watched his face as he listened, waiting until he seemed fully satisfied by the music before speaking.

Akira: Um… Since you already know this place better than any of the other wizards, I couldn’t decide what we should do here.

Akira: I brought some tea and cake, but is there anything you want to do?

Rustica: Why, that’s already plenty for me. However, I do have one selfish request if you’re willing to hear me out.

Rustica: Would you play a duet with me on that piano there?

Akira: If that’s what you want, then of course I will! Although… I’m hardly an expert, so I wouldn’t want to get in your way…

Rustica: What matters most is that you’re the one playing. A song filled with memories of you would be the greatest present of all.

Rustica: And any moment spent with you is sure to be the most beautiful in the entire world.

Akira: …Thank you so much, Rustica! In that case, I’ll do my best!

Rustica and I sat down at the piano and placed our hands on the keys.

Akira: (I’m a little nervous, but I’ve got this!)

Akira: …Let’s start!

[Music playing]

Rustica: What a warm and lovely melody. It reminds me of yourself. Now, shall I?

[Music playing]

Akira: Wow, you’re amazing…!

Akira: (Thanks to Rustica, my terrible playing sounds like it’s being accompanied by a whole orchestra…!)

Akira: (All I’m doing is pressing the keys, but Rustica’s managed to turn it into such a fun and lively song…)

Rustica: Oh? Has the tempo increased? This song is so bright and lively, it makes me feel as if my heart will fly from my chest and start dancing any minute now.

Akira: Oops, I was having so much fun that I accidentally started playing faster.

Rustica: Ahaha, and now, not only do I have the honor of listening to your song, but I get to see your lovely smile as well.

Akira: I could say the same about you. Even though it’s your birthday, I’m having so much fun. Thank you.

Akira: (That’s right. Since we’re here…)

Rustica: Oh, now the song has such an exciting atmosphere like a secret rose garden tea party.

Akira: Yep! I’m no musician, but I wanted to try conveying a message to you through the song.

Rustica: Well now I’m curious. What was the message?

Akira: Once again, happy birthday Rustica!

A Wacky Waltz - Card Episode

[Corridor]

Rustica: ~~♪

Akira: Good afternoon, Rustica. That song you’re humming… It’s the one you improvised on your birthday, right?

Akira: It was incredible how you created it based on a story Murr made up on the fly!

Rustica: I’m honored to hear that. It was quite the enriching experience to compose a song for a tale spun by the Great Philosopher of the Ages himself.

Akira: It started out as a tale about toy soldiers saving a human princess from distress, right? That sounds perfect for a waltz.

Akira: Although, it seems both the song and story changed halfway through… I believe it ended up with a rather strange title in the end…

Rustica: Yes, I believe it was “That Time Mithra Was Reincarnated As A Swan Without His Powers But Still Retained All His Memories ~What Will He Do Next?~”.

Rustica: Shylock stubbornly refuses to call it by its proper name, but I’m not terribly surprised.

Akira: (What a long and literal title… I wonder if the previous Sage ever told Murr about light novels…?)

Rustica: “Swanthra” for short presented quite the challenge for me as a harpsichord player.

Rustica: The sudden encounter between the white swan Mithra and the black swan Lord Oz had my fingers all tied up for the first time in a while.

Akira: That was an incredible scene…! I remember everyone’s dancing was amazing too.

Rustica: You were quite captivated by it, weren’t you?

Akira: Ahaha, I was just watching though. I doubt I could keep up with that kind of tempo…

Rustica: There’s no need to worry about that. It’s perfectly fine to dance to your own rhythm. That’s the kind of song “Swanthra” is after all.

Rustica: Ah, that’s right. Since you’re here, how do you feel about playing one more song? I’ll make sure to put my all into accompanying you.

Home Screen Voice Line

"Did you compose a song for me, Master Sage? Why thank you very much. This might be a bit selfish of me but... could you hold off the performance until after the party? While I would love for everyone to hear it eventually... I'd like to keep it all to myself for today."

[shinakazami1]

Nobody is gonna read this prob but I today wrote some The Beginner's Guide snippets to kinda try to see if I like this style for a fanfic I plan

Short one here, more under the cut:

In a way, he knew what he was doing. Deep down, not even he could hide that his intentions were not just a pure concern and worry. But, just like the Coda he made in his mind, he himself had nobody to look for help for.

Maybe that's why, in the room full of people he knew and kept saying he loved and cared for, he couldn't bring himself to say a single word. Because the moment the eyes looked at him again, he knew he had to keep the act going.

'But there is no act. It's just me.'

It's just me and my depressed friend's games.

And I'll get him out.

Because nobody else will do that for him.

---

Davey stared at the wall and listened to the clock ticking. It seemed the mechanism was not a typical one - there seemed to be a small delay, making the rhytm uneven. Pam, pampam, pam... it did match his breathing pattern. In, hold for a second, out and quickly in again. Or maybe, he matched the mechanism.

It was hard to tell what inspired what at this point. Everything blended into one shape, no matter what creator of either intended.

Everything had a purpose in a way that maybe nobody even desired.

But that would be sad, wouldn't it be? For your work to grow up from the idea into a grotesque fleshened out monster of what it was supposed to be?

Was it what it was to be a creator? A loving embrace of a child you'd never be able to look at, that will never grow up to an image of itself that it was never supposed to really reach.

He didn't notice that he stopped breathing until he coughed out.

It was four pm. He still had three hours left.

And it felt like waiting for the guillotine to fall. For the choir to stop singing, for the last scene, when the director would say, cut.

Was he cut out for all this? He didn't know and he didn't dare to question it. He knew that from some spirals, he couldn't get out.

So how did Coda do it? How did he just, leave his creations, to die, to never be appreciated and seen? To be able to tell others of what it was supposed to be?

Why couldn't he consider the feelings of his creation?

Why couldn't he appreciate the code?

And why did he invite Davey over, for the first time?

---

20092311_230320.mp4

"I still don't get it. It's supposed to be a self expression but why would you self insert in a way that's supposed to be accessible, supposed to be PLAYED if you don't give it to others? Video games show a story in many ways. Sound, sight and most importantly - interactibility. So what's the point of a language when you keep it to yourself? We would not go far enough if-"

Hearing some knocking on the door make him pause the recording. He hated that - he typically picked an hour when others were away just so he could have a moment of peace to write everything down with his voice.

Davey sighed and turned around, asking his brother to come on in.

Whatever was the topic of the conversation was probably not important, as Davey didn't mention it in the recording at all.

The last time he mentioned anything beside game making was around a year before.

The game jam wasn't a start - it was only an aftereffect.

Just as what was going to come next.

---

"(...) It's Friday already. And I still have 23 more games to check. He had to hide an easter egg somewhere, right? It's not just a hundred of copies of the same room. He always shows some nuiance in routine, in the whole madness.

It's... 2:33 now. I have to wake up in 4 hours.

But I won't be able to fall asleep until I find the key.

The puzzle IS here. It's in here, somewhere, and I am probably not seeing it correctly.

Ok. Just, maybe five more games. And I'll try to look through the code.

Davey, out."

20091301_052330.mp4

"It's me again. I don't know what I am missing. Probably some coffee. Just two games left, it's probably in there.

I'll take my laptop with me to work. They shouldn't mind, I did stuff like this before, I'll just pretend it's work related.

I'll crack the code until midnight. And I'll show him I've done my job correctly.

Now, I have to pack and hope the vending machine works.

Davey, out."

---

"Consumption is for consumers, not for the actual food enjoyers. But the enjoyers only are up their own theories of what the flavours really represent."

"But we're talking about game develo-"

"Which one are you? Do you enjoy food?"

Davey was not prepared to be put on a spot. Coda rarely asked him anything, or even said hi back - so, such forward question was not typical.

He wasn't dumb - he knew it was all a metaphor. And he wanted to just start his point showing that it isn't a perfect one. Now, he only had one true option to choose from because there would be no resets.

Or so he thought.

He heard a sigh and looked up at Coda as the man already turned his back.

"It was an illusions of a choice."

One that Davey once again couldn't make.

---