#so enjoy maybe hearing about her someday since her player has finally started playing the game again :DDD

[leafofkudzu]

What does your commander canon timeline look like? Is it all the same commander (or co-commanders), or is there a point at which they pass the torch?

Teekzi is and has been my canon Commander all the way through! The only other character to officially have the title is Rhenwyr, though she's more of an AU version exclusively for use during streamed story replays and hasn't seen much play time recently.

Unofficially though....I never get to talk about the crazy laps I run all my other characters through to involve them in different parts of the story without bumping them into The Commander™, so let's do that.

Roughly speaking, where it makes sense to do so I have every choice from chapters 1-3 of the personal story playing out at once, just by different characters. Looking back, someone was doing each path, just not necessarily the one who would go on to become The Commander. As characters split off the canon into their own stories, the pool of potential Commanders dwindles until there's just Teekzi left by the time The Battle of Claw Island wraps up. If a character then dips their toes back into the main story, the universe (aka me) conspires to make it so they never directly encounter The Commander™, allowing anyone to theoretically insert their own Commander should they read any of my (nonexistent) fics about it.

It does mean Teekzi is my loneliest character since everyone else gets to freely interact with each other, but nobody else gets to interact with the main cast of NPCs, so it's not all bad I suppose. :3

[universe-friday]

EXCERPT #19:

Hello. I hope somebody is listening.

[…]

Old sport! Ah! I have such a story to tell you!

You must remember that Thalia is a DJ, right? Which is so cool! …Even if I don’t often visit clubs personally.

Well, we were hanging out again recently and she tells me she managed to book a gig as a supporting act!

I was so, so excited. I told her I was going to buy flowers, toss them on the stage as she gives her final bow, cheer the loudest, and be the biggest supporter in that crowd.

But when she told me when it was…Oh, old sport, I felt so bad when I had to tell her I was busy.

I apologised over and over. I reassured her over and over, that I will still be that biggest supporter… I’ll just have to give her the flowers after the show…

Being Thalia, she laughs and tells me not to stress so hard. Which, as she should know by now, is something I have no idea how to do.

I told her she was right. Because there would always be a next show, and maybe someday, even her headliner. It was only until I said that when she told me off…

[…]

When the day of the show came, I made sure to wish Thalia the best of luck when I could, before I set off on my own plans that day… To a concert!

This band that I have been obsessed with from day one, the first ever time they played at this carnival. Since that day, they have grown to be so much popular, so, of course, it gets harder day by day to talk to them.

Let me tell you, old sport, I would just talk their ears off… about how much their music has inspired me, how much it just lifts me up every time I listen to it. Never mind whenever the opportunity to hear them live strikes, I swear, I could ascend to heaven every time.

I’m lucky to get a good spot in the crowd, second or third row, though I remember when it used to be so easy to get barrier… I start to wonder if they ever remembered my face.

The lines dimmed and everyone starts screaming. It’s funny, old sport, how people scream at any small movements at concerts, knowing full well the main act doesn’t come on for another hour.

I’ve always enjoyed the openers for this band, as they choose artists they really enjoy personally, and they have an undoubtedly good taste in music.

Which is why I shouldn’t have been surprised when I saw a very familiar pink head of hair enter the stage…

I scream Thalia’s name in amongst the varied cheers from the crowd, and she looks up right at me. Her face reads of total confusion, as well as mine, yet we were equally as overjoyed as one another.

[…]

After Thalia’s set, I get a message from her. A rare occasion, as we both agree against trusting these forms of communication, since the City monitors it 24/7.

She tells me to meet her at the bar. Despite my good space in the crowd, I decided to head back to talk to her. Really, old sport, I wanted to tell her how good her set was. She really knew how to hype up a crowd.

Instead of talking, however, Thalia nods her head towards a door. Before I get to say anything, she’s already walked through.

As we walk down this hallway, I am asking Thalia so many questions.

‘How did you do this?’ and, ‘You know this is my favourite band, right?’ and, ‘How!?’

Yet, Thalia just stayed silent. The whole time we’re walking, I’m asking and asking, and only do I stop in my tracks when we make our way to the door at the end of the hallway.

The door lies halfway open, and within seconds, I saw them all.

The band I have adored for years, all sitting right in front of me. Even the drummer, my favourite in the group, was laying on the couch with his boyfriend; who himself is an infamous professional rugby player.

Thalia introduces me, but I have no clue what to say. I had so many questions, so many thoughts. Yet, all of them at once leave my head in that very moment.

As I muster up the courage, I eventually got to talk to them. Questions came back to me, and these were truly lovely people; who did recognise me!

I thanked Thalia for hours and hours after the gig. And yes, she did get her flowers.

[…]

If only I could find the right people to meet you again, February. I’d queue for hours to see you again. Wait at the stage door even just to see you in passing, to get a glimpse of you again…

Yet, I also have so many questions for you too, February. But when will we ever have the time to talk? I’m running out of time, even now…

♪ There’s nothing left for us anymore Why aren’t you listening? Why aren’t you listening to me? There’s nothing left. ♪

NOTE: as inspired by the week #4 prompts of february friday events as organised by @februaryfridayevents! this week's themes were minor characters / rarepairs / crossovers! so i decided to feature a certain band in this excerpt.... wonder who...!

thank you for joining and supporting the blog throughout the february friday festivities! and thank you to @februaryfridayevents for hosting! as always, i will be back again next week <3

[primasveraas-writing]

"Kent v Linebacker" -Ted Lasso

Roy's knee is fucked. This is well known.

His fucking monster child, who he loves, accidentally fucks it up more. Such is life.

Part 2 // Accompanying AU

WORDS: 2631

XXX

Their first son is “built like a linebacker,” according to Ted Lasso. Roy shows his usual disdain at the reference to the wrong type of football, but Keeley wearily agrees- she was, after all, the one who carried then delivered their 10-pound baby.

Most people see their son and suggest rugby instead of football, even as they pile tiny Kent jerseys and footballs onto the new parents. Roy insists he doesn’t give a damn if their child wants to play rugby or football or join the damn chess club, but he also tears up the first time Keeley puts him in a tiny (or maybe just small) Richmond jersey.

Because of the way Roy and Keeley are, they balance each other out. Marriage and parenthood come to them relatively smoothly, save for typical growing pains and bumps in the road. But they figure it out, at least for the most part.

One of the more persistent bumps is Roy’s knee. Because, while he was forced to walk away from playing football, Roy is reluctant to accept other limitations. He’ll run or dance or carry around the baby’s new crib, and then swear and pop his knee back into place as needed. Doctors eventually find this out and inform him that this is, in fact, bad. Roy Kent tells them to fuck off. He doesn’t echo this sentiment when Keeley suggests that they’re right.

Because, as usual, she seems to have a point. It doesn’t always take a miles-long Christmas day walk or a rom-com style sprint to Ted Lasso to fuck up Roy’s knee. Somedays, it’s going down the stairs one too many times. Or standing up long enough to make Keeley a fancy dinner. Or jumping around in the coaches’ box after a Richmond win. So Roy concedes this matter, and anyway, he doesn’t particularly enjoy moving his kneecap around or Phoebe’s and Keeley’s face when he does so.

Roy scales back, reluctantly and unhappily. He does modified yoga with the moms and they suggest stretches to help him. Roy doesn’t push himself nearly as much, and so the pain in his daily life decreases.

Then Roy becomes a father, and then his son becomes a toddler.

Oliver is a fucking ray of sunshine. He’s inherited Keeley’s bubbly personality, something evident from his first dazzling smile and the peals of laughter that soon follow. When he starts to talk, he does so incessantly, and he puts every ounce of his energy into babbling and running literal circles around his parents. Even Keeley- even Ted Lasso, occasional babysitter- struggle to keep up. But Roy and Keeley and the Richmond team do their level best to entertain and supervise him, and it works.

Then, because they’re fucking daft, Roy and Keeley decide they want another fucking monster to turn their lives all upside down.

Oliver is three when they tell him he’s going to be a big brother. He’s overjoyed, then he cries, then he’s comforted, then he’s overjoyed again. Roy is the happiest he’s ever fucking been with his son, and Keeley pregnant, and then life comes along and fucks it all up again.

Father and son are just home from preschool, Oliver restarting his long-winded recap of his day when he sees Keeley. Roy hobbles through the door behind him, grinning at Keeley for half a second. She beams back at him, then returns her attention to their child, brows furrowing as she tries to decipher his somewhat senseless story.

Roy’s standing by Keeley’s side, hand on her shoulder as they listen the best they can. Oliver reaches a part of his tale that’s especially exciting- something about cupcakes and a classmate’s birthday, and he gives a shout, then springs up with his arms spread wide, and-

-forty pounds of force collide with Roy’s bad leg. He hears Keely gasp, which is what registers first, then his vision goes white as pain overtakes him, and he feels himself falling.

He opens his eyes a moment later, and Keeley is crouching at his side awkwardly, the swell of her stomach hindering her. Oliver gives a noise that indicates he’s probably about to cry, and Roy shushes him through a groan.

“Fuck,” Roy says, his voice strained. “I’m okay.”

Keeley purses her lips, which indicates she’s well aware of his lie, but she draws Oliver against her side, rubbing circles into his back as she takes Roy’s hand.

“It hasn’t been this bad before, has it?”

Roy shakes his head. “I think I’m fucked,” he confesses, trying to keep the uncertainty and pain out of his words.

“ER fucked?”

“Fuck no.”

“Can you get up, Roy?” Keeley would sound impatient if not for the way her tone wavers. Roy shifts, babying his leg, and Keeley watches as he winces, cringes, and swears again.

Keeley whispers something to Oliver, and he sniffs loudly before scampering off into the kitchen. His wife stands, unsteady and off-balance, and reaches down to help him. Roy uses only his left leg to rise, trying not to knock Keeley over, and he staggers before grabbing the back of the couch to steady himself. Keeley holds onto his elbow and guides him around so he can sit.

“I’m fucked,” Roy reiterates, and this time, Keeley just nods.

-

In the end, there’s no ER visit- just a few pulled strings to get Roy into the doctor the next day. Rebecca stops by to deliver crutches and a few bottles of painkillers once Keeley realizes that Roy can’t get to the bathroom- or anywhere else, for that matter- on his own. More reluctantly, Ted is called, and he promises to give Oliver the “best darn sleepover since the movie Sleepover.” Roy isn’t particularly keen on Ted being privy to this particular moment of weakness, but Ted leaves with Oliver quickly enough, and Keeley’s pretty sure that even just a few minutes of exposure to Ted is enough to force some positivity into Roy’s outlook, and for that, she’s grateful.

Roy sleeps on the couch that night, as stairs are out of the question. Even if he could manage to struggle up them, he can only imagine coming back down via a painful fall. He’s alone, too, because, despite Keeley’s protests, he’s not about to let his pregnant wife sleep anywhere but a proper bed.

He lies awake long after kissing and texting Keeley goodnight, and he contemplates the quiet of the house and the apparent severity of the situation. The doctor had wanted Roy to come in today, but she didn’t throw a fit when he insisted he could wait. Instead, he’ll see her tomorrow, first thing, and Ted will take his son to school, and Keeley and Roy will both miss work for Roy’s least-favorite type of doctor’s appointment.

-

“You dislocated your kneecap again,” Doctor Patel explains, gesturing to an x-ray of a very fucked up knee. “The first time, you twisted it.” She points to a slightly less fucked up x-ray. “But continually dislocating your knee weakened the ligaments. So, when Oliver collided with you, your ACL and meniscus tore completely.”

“That’s why it hurt so damn much.”

Patel nods, then sighs. “You mentioned chronic pain worsening over time- you did everything right, trying to keep it at bay, but this- along with additional trauma- can worsen a knee injury.”

Roy grunts. He expected as much. The first doctor he saw after his final match had warned of this, along with things like arthritis and all sorts of complications. His main worry was that his football career was over, and there was nothing he could do about that, so any accompanying outcomes seemed unimportant.

He was wrong, apparently.

“It’s not unusual for these injuries to get worse over time. Especially when you’re not gentle with yourself. But, your symptoms are indicative of severe tearing. I’m also worried about nerve damage.”

“So what do we do now?”

Keeley is the one who asks, gripping Roy’s hand. He glances at her, then squeezes her hand.

Patel hesitates. Roy likes this doctor- her knowledge and honesty have been extremely comforting to both him and Keeley over the years. She doesn’t take bullshit, not even Roy’s, and he appreciates that about her.

But it’s unusual for her to hesitate.

“I believe our best option is open knee surgery,” she says, and her eyes soften when Roy’s jaw clenches. “There are other routes we can pursue, but we’re at a point where they may not be as effective.

“What are they?”

“We can do more tests and try an arthroscopic surgery or other minimally invasive options, but-”

Roy tunes her out. He’s the last football player of his generation- he’s seen everyone he played with at the beginning of his career retire, and the various injuries that forced this fate upon his fellow footballers. Open knee surgery is a big fucking deal. Especially since he’s not a fucking grandma.

“It’s a long fucking recovery time,” Roy says finally.

A nod.

“We have a baby due in three months.” This time, Keeley squeezes Roy’s hand.

“If all goes well, you’ll be walking unassisted by then. Enough for midnight diaper changes, so long as you don’t sprint into the nursery.”

“And it’ll work best?”

“I can say with reasonable confidence that your case is severe enough to warrant this surgery, and that the other surgeries aren’t typically successful in similar cases.”

“Fuck. Let’s do it.”

-

They schedule surgery for a few days later, which is a quick turnaround, but it’s enough time for two Richmond matches to take place. The first falls on the day after Roy’s doctor visit, and the second one is the day of the surgery. This gives him pause- Roy’s first and longest love is football, and he’s loath to step away, even for a week. But he thinks of Oliver, hesitant to hug his father when they get home, and Keeley, sneaking glances at him as if expecting him to break when she’s not looking.

Roy trudges- or limps- forward. He stays home for the first Richmond match and tries to ignore Keeley scrolling through Twitter with a worried look on her face. They had debated what would be worse- to miss the match with no explanation, or for Roy to show up on crutches and in obvious pain. In the end, the desire for privacy (and maybe easing Roy’s discomfort) won out, and Keeley and Roy and Oliver watch the match from their living room. Roy and Oliver shout at the TV, and Keeley livetweets, and it’s okay until the post-match conference.

“Coach Lasso! Roy Kent was missing from the coaches’ box tonight. Can you explain why? Has there been a professional change or has something personal occurred?”

Ted holds up a hand, stemming the reporter’s flow of questions. He smiles at her easily, but Roy knows that no matter what Ted says, there’ll be speculation. A nonanswer is still an answer, but they decided as a team to keep the public in the dark as long as possible, to maintain any privacy Roy has.

“Roy and his family are jus’ fine, thank you. As far as I know, Roy hasn’t decided to leave our coaching team, so we’re all good there.” Ted clears his throat, and Roy wonders if his mentor is uncomfortable telling half-truths to the press. “Roy needed some personal time away, but I expect you’ll be seeing him back again shortly. Thanks.”

“Well, that wasn’t complete shit,” Roy muses in near-approval. Keeley hums noncommittally.

“No,” she agrees, pleased. “And I livetweeted the whole thing so nobody thinks one of us is dying.”

“Perfect,” Roy says, satisfied. So long as they don’t get hounded on the way to the hospital. He looks down at his lap, where Oliver is curled against him, fast asleep. Roy moves slightly so that he can wrap his arm around his son, and sighs.

Keeley looks up at them and grins as she takes in the sight. “Look at my boys,” she says softly, and Roy’s heart melts just a little.

-

Surgery goes well, and Roy leaves the hospital the same day. His memories of the event and the hours after are fuzzy, but Keeley informs him that he watched the Richmond match while the anesthetic wore off, and proceeded to shout an absolutely incomprehensible mix of words and swears at the TV. Richmond lost, but it was hard fought, and it’s days later when Keeley confesses to Roy that he actually cried once the final result was clear. Roy would be less concerned by this if he could remember it at all, but at the same time, he’s reassured that his plan of being totally unaffected by major surgery and attending the match in person didn’t pan out.

Roy quickly decides he’s utterly useless on crutches, instead letting Oliver expend his energy by fetching things like water and painkillers and phone chargers for his dad. There’s plenty for him to do; Oliver thrives with given purpose, and under the extra attention Roy has to spare. He hates being unable to carry his son, but he can still cuddle with him, and draw with him, and even though Keeley is burdened with bathing and chasing after Oliver, Roy can still fucking help here and there. Like telling Oliver to eat his broccoli or clean up his shit, because vegetables are fucking important and his son isn’t a slob.

His return to Richmond is less smooth. He doesn’t want anybody’s fucking pity, least of all from the boys on the team, or from Ted Fucking Lasso, but instead of the fearful reactions Roy’s used to, Roy’s treated with a gentleness he absolutely fucking despises. Nobody wants to push back against his heightened grumpiness (a side effect of knee surgery is that it fucking hurts and this makes Roy very unhappy), and Ted somehow feels obligated to hang back with him as he limps up to the field each day. His fellow coach also launches into several tirades about his and Beard’s and his great uncle Roger’s various injuries over the years, and Roy ends his first week back feeling, unfortunately, closer to all three men, including the one he’s never fucking met in the first place.

Keeley’s made sure to officially announce that he’s had surgery, explaining away his absence and all the speculation that went with it. The press will likely hound him anyways, but Roy already has his response planned (“Fuck off!”).

The crowd cheers him during their next match. He hobbles slowly behind the rest of the coaches, using one crutch even though he really should be using both, swearing under his breath at the soft terrain and his shit balance and fucking kneecaps for being so fragile in the first place. Keeley would say all this support is sweet, and he catches a glimpse of her beaming at him from the stands, Oliver bouncing on her lap, and the agony and humiliation dulls.

Richmond plays a great fucking game. It’s not their best match ever, but they win and celebrate accordingly. Roy makes his excuses earlier than usual; he knows he’s put Keeley through the wringer in the past week, and Oliver keeps rubbing his eyes, and there’s nothing more that Roy wants than to read his son a fairytale then cuddle with his wife in bed.

So they go home, and do exactly that.

Roy’s last thought before he drifts off that night, having tucked Oliver into bed and kissed Keeley quite thoroughly, is of how fucking perfect his life is. And, although he echoes that thought many more times, one of the more poignant occurrences is when his daughter is born, and he holds her in his arms for the first time.

Yeah. Pretty fucking perfect.

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

Music for the Soul

Summary: Soulmate AU where the song your soulmate is thinking of gets stuck in your head. 

This fic is inspired by and gifted to @yellowpaintpots.

Notes:  canonical, this is S2 E6 and a little beyond but it’s not exactly like the show obviously.

AO3

Kurt Hummel was used to not fitting in. At McKinley High, he was often an odd man out. He did partner projects alone, he held his tongue around bullies and had no one to complain to, and most days, he had an entire lunch table to himself. No one sat with the kid in weird, homemade clothes unless there was no other choice. 

What kept him going was music. He had one earbud in as he walked down the halls. Choosing from playlists his mother used to listen to, Broadway soundtracks sung by people still performing on stage today, and to the thrill of his father, rock classics. If Burt Hummel had passed anything onto his son, it was his music tastes and the fantastical idea of soulmates. 

The image of a white knight coming to save him by serenade was one that haunted him before he fell asleep. A boy, which little eleven-year-old Kurt held close to his heart, picked out by the universe meant just for him. Even when he started to find the fantasy a little too cheesy, it kept Kurt going until he found the glee club.

No one could touch him or change him because there was someone out there who would love him exactly the way he was. 

The New Directions were a hot mess when they started, of course. The 5 of them weren’t winning any competitions when they first found themselves in the choir room but they were five misfits who finally had friends. People who understood the passion of music and an adult who shared that same passion and would hopefully guide them to their dream futures. 

Just months later, they became a mixture of a dozen sophomores and freshmen with a Sectionals win under their belt all ready to face the Dalton Academy Warblers in a few weeks. With Regionals looming over them, glee had become much messier than usual. With plenty of in-fighting about solos and song choices, the choir room was always a jumbled, loud mess. That is until Mr. Schue came up with the idea for a school musical. It was taking their minds off of Regionals for the time being.

Kurt was all too happy to be auditioning for a role instead of sitting in the back row wishing he had a shot at a solo. His voice was too unique for Ohio. But someday, he knew, it would get him to Broadway. He held that thought close to his heart while tuning out Rachel’s insistence bickering.  

Yesterday, Mr. Schue had decided their school musical was going to the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Kurt loved cult classics as much as the next person but he wasn’t sure how Mr. Schue had gotten this approved by Figgins. It seemed too risqué for high schoolers. 

He only hoped whoever his soulmate was enjoying the soundtrack he had stuck in his head this week. 

Kurt planned on auditioning for Riff Raff. Already putting mental outfits from his closet to wear. The wound of Mr. Schue assuming he’d play Frank N. Furter based solely on the fact that he was gay was still fresh but his audition was going to blow everyone away. 

He had chosen “Dammit Janet” for his audition despite it being a Brad and Janet duet. Quinn, who was hoping for Magenta, was going to be his partner. They had joked about the main roles already being off the table before auditions; it was clear Mr. Schue had chosen Finn and Rachel for the leads. It was hard to be upset when Quinn had instantly offered to do a joint audition with him. Their voices went so well together and Kurt liked spending time with her. 

Ever since Kurt and Mercedes had their stint as Cheerios, they had gotten closer. The three of them even had a weekend sleepover this past Saturday. Mercedes had dumped the Cheerios but Kurt stayed on and Quinn had just gotten back on the squad after her dismissal last year. Coach Sue had them sing during practice last week and Quinn was waiting for him after their showers with the suggestion of a double audition song. 

They had been having rehearsals in the auditorium during their shared free period and twice after glee club on days when it wasn’t already reserved. As the day came closer, Quinn offered her house to practice in since her parents were rarely home and so Finn wouldn’t become Rachel's spy. Though, Kurt assured her Finn was much too engrossed in video games to bother with their rehearsals. 

Since they increased their run-throughs, Kurt’s had one song in his head all morning. In case the lyrics weren’t already ingrained into his head, he had his own little concert in his head. Just after lunch, that changed. A mere 3 hours until his audition after school his soulmate’s music had taken root. As much as Kurt was willing to bow down to the queens of pop, what he wouldn’t give for 5 minutes of something other than Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream”. This bubble gum pop song had gone from ‘oh, that’s a good song to scream in the car’ to ‘if I hear it one more time, I’ll rip my ears off’ fairly quickly. 

It hadn’t helped that his brain went from one song on repeat to another. 

As he sits in geometry, he tries to hear Mr. Finnegan’s explanation of arcs but his brain has other plans. 

Let you put your hands on me in my skin tight jeans. 

Kurt knows it’s just a song but the image is so clear in his head. 

Smooth, soft skin. Obviously, someone who used lotions regularly, Kurt expected nothing less from his soulmate. Neatly trimmed fingernails so they wouldn’t catch on Kurt’s pants when fingers trailed up to cup his knee. The grip would be teasingly light. He never let his fantasies get too far. Especially outside the privacy of his bedroom. In all honesty, even when he was alone in his bed at night envisioning the same kind of scenario, Kurt didn’t really know what came next. He wasn’t even sure what kissing really entailed. 

What if his soulmate is ready for...certain things...Kurt’s not even to verbalize yet. What if he’s imagining their first meeting very differently then Kurt, who’s hopeful they’ll have coffee or a meal together before they do anything besides maybe hand-holding. The touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets, unless you ask Katy Perry it seems. 

He spends the rest of math wondering what the boy with Katy Perry in his head must look like. Kurt wonders if his soulmate wears bright colors like his idol or maybe Katy is a secret shame that he’ll only share with Kurt. 

…

Blaine liked fitting in. He enjoyed the uniform for many reasons. One, he thought the blazer looked stylish. It was also nice knowing what you had to wear every day, one less thing to worry about people judging you for. Plenty of people at his old school picked on him for his bow ties but at Dalton, everyone had neckwear. The standard blue and red striped tie. He liked how neat it was; there was a certain way to wear said uniform. 

Everyone was the same here. No typical hierarchy of jocks and cheerleaders. Only the Warblers stood out simply because everyone knew them. 

How could you forget a group of boys singing acapella at all hours of the day?

 Blaine might joke that they’re teenage rockstars but really they are just a group of talented guys who liked to sing. 

The Warblers were the first real friends he ever had. 

When he was still attending public school he held tightly to the idea of his soulmate since it seemed hopeless to wish for friendship. Not when he was being harassed for a sexuality he wasn’t sure of yet and being pushed to the ground in the parking lot for it. 

But a soulmate was a guarantee. Everyone had one. By the time Blaine reached eighth grade, he knew. All of those middle school bullies had used words Blaine didn’t quite understand until that moment. 

He was surrounded in the parking lot after school having missed his bus because someone had stuck gum in his curls during last period. That was the day Blaine started to seriously consider investing in some gel. Maybe that would prevent some bullying. Anyway, he was surrounded, being literally kicked around by a group of soccer players and friends. 

Other students had gathered to watch the so-called fight but Blaine thought their chants would only grab the attention of a teacher or so he hoped. No one came quickly. He had enough injuries by the end for his mom to insist on a trip to the ER. A big black eye and sprained his wrist along with plenty of bruising on his limbs. 

But he honestly didn’t remember getting hurt beyond the initial pushing to the ground. When the bullying got bad like this he pulled out those daydreams. This time around it wasn’t this blurry image of hand holding, there was a boy. Blaine hadn’t seen his face but his voice was soft and comforting, inviting Blaine in. There was an outstretched hand just out of reach for Blaine to take. Blaine knew then. His soulmate was a boy. 

When everything was over and he was being released by the doctor, all he knew was there was some boy built perfectly for Blaine just waiting to be found. Waiting for him. 

He hadn’t even been upset by his injuries because he was sitting with these thoughts of ‘how do I come out to my parents?’ 

Instead of deciding that day, he kept those daydreams close to his heart for the next year and a half. Until the issue of high school came out and Blaine didn’t want to go back to public school. To his surprise, both of his parents took it well. They were more concerned for his safety than his sexuality. Together, they decided on Dalton. A private school with a zero tolerance policy for bullies. That was that. 

He still had his doubts at Dalton. Was he really good enough to be a lead soloist let alone go onto Broadway someday? Could he make it out of Ohio? In those moments, Blaine still came back to his soulmate. Someone, no matter what came, Blaine would have by his side. 

When he imagined his soulmate, Blaine could never truly figure out what he’d look like. All he saw was that outstretched hand. Usually, people could draw up a picture in their heads based on the music they heard. 

For Blaine, the genre of music didn’t help. His soulmate was clearly someone with mixed taste. 

Today’s selection was...a musical. Blaine wasn’t familiar with the characters Brad and Janet but he had looked it up at lunch. Some kind of cult classic people went to see in the weeks leading up to Halloween. It was October so it made sense for the soundtrack to be stuck in his soulmate’s head. Blaine wondered if he had gone to see it, wondered who he saw it with. 

The Warblers thought he was crazy. Imagining that his soulmate was off with some other person. It was rare to date seriously before meeting a soulmate but Blaine always told them the same story of his parents. Both of them had been in very serious relationships before they met. Hell, his mother had been engaged. Neither of them thought they’d meet their soulmate, which was also fairly rare but had happened.  

When they met, they didn’t drop everything to be together. The wedding was put on hold but his father hadn’t broken up with his girlfriend right away. His parents wanted to be together only if they agreed with the universe’s choice. 

Blaine knew his dad had been wary of his mother’s music taste. Pam had been deep into her metal phrase in her early twenties. His dad, Robert, was not a fan. He loved classical music. Forever dooming Pam to hum music without lyrics meanwhile Robert was cursed with “nonsense yelling” as he called it. Lucky, both of their music tastes had shifted over the years to have more overlap. Though, Blaine and Cooper had been subjected to dinners with a mixtape of Def Leppard and Bach. 

They got together in the end, which was the important part, but what if they hadn’t chosen each other? What if Blaine’s soulmate was deeply in love with someone else and he’d spend the rest of his days loveless and alone?

When he voiced these thoughts aloud, his friends usually told him what a downer he could be, which tended to shake those fears away. If his parents, different as they were, still fell in love it would happen to him too. It was just a matter of when. 

…

The next day at lunch, Mercedes was fretting over her soulmate. 

“What if he’s super young, Kurt?” 

“What makes you think that?” He asked, stabbing his salad. 

“He’s got The Backyardigans theme song in his head again,” she sighed. “He got to be like 7. I’m just not comfortable with that.” 

“It’s an age gap for sure,” Kurt agreed, but he’s fairly sure Sam Evans was singing that song after PE today, “or maybe he just has younger siblings. Don’t let your only-childness cloud your judgment.”

She hummed in agreement and pushed her tater tots around. 

It was sort of a hard way to figure out your soulmate unless they were obvious about what music they had playing in their heads.

Some people, like Mr. Schue, we’re pretty obvious. He had been singing in the auditorium when Ms. Pillsbury found him. It was a pretty clear-cut match. As far as Mercedes was concerned, Kurt is sure she’ll overhear Sam’s humming soon enough. 

He doesn’t want to spoil anything for his best friend nor does he want to be wrong. Soulmate meetings only come once in a lifetime. 

Well, the first soulmate meeting that is. 

There are plenty of people, like his dad, who lose a soulmate too soon and are gifted another one later in life. Kurt was so happy when he introduced Burt and Carole at parent-teacher conferences. They had just been listening to the Wicked soundtrack in the car ride over and Carole Hudson did not strike Kurt as the type of person who knew “I’m Not That Girl” by heart. 

“Are you nervous about auditions?” Mercedes asked. “The list goes up today after glee.” 

“Not at all like,” he shrugged, “I think Quinn and I did well.” 

“Oh no, Kurt, we crushed it,” Quinn said, sitting down with her lunch. 

He smiled at her. Quinn went on to compliment Mercedes on her audition, having heard part of it from outside the audition. She would’ve been inside with Kurt to watch but Coach Sue wanted to meet with her head Cheerio about their upcoming competition. From what Quinn had told them via text, Sue was going all out at practice today. 

“She doesn’t want us to be late,” Quinn said. “That list better be up right away.” 

“We should change before glee,” Kurt suggested. 

“Good idea.” 

Once Quinn had sat down the rest of the New Directions filed in. With interlocking pinkies, Santana and Brittany wandered over taking the last two seats available. 

“Cheerios practice is gonna be hell, hope you’re up for the challenge Hummel,” Santana said. 

He shot her a short glare. 

“Kurt always understands the assignment, Santana,” Quinn quipped back. 

Brittany nodded in agreement smiling at Kurt from across the table. She gave him a small wave half hidden by her lunch tray. In return, Kurt waved back just as shyly. 

They had an interesting friendship. Kurt had kissed Brittany before. He was sure it hadn’t phrased Brittany as it had him. After all, she had kissed almost every boy in school. Some kind of record, he thought. 

They sort of dated for like a week when Kurt was trying to convince himself he was straight. When he firmly realized he was kidding no one, not even himself, they broke up. Since then, he and Brittany had remained close. They were both Cheerios and in the glee club, it made sense. 

He was happy to have Brittany in his life, even if that meant Santana by extension came with her. Santana was fine outside of the public eye. If the Unholy Trinity incited Kurt to their sleepovers, Santana was a different person. She put up a front at McKinley, extremely similar to the one Kurt attempted when he dated Brittany. 

Few are privy to why she did this, Quinn and Kurt knew and he was fairly certain Mercedes did as well. She was very perceptive that way. Brittany was Santana’s soulmate. It explained so much about their relationship. Always in sync, completing each other perfectly, a literal better half.

Honestly, it gave Kurt so much hope that everyone’s soulmate was like that. A missing puzzle piece. 

He really hoped his soulmate listened to more than just Teenage Dream because the lyrics were slowly creeping into his everyday language. 

Usually, Kurt found himself hyper-focused in glee club. He got an energy boost just from walking into the choir room. Like a light switch turning on. His focus wasn’t always on whatever lecture Mr. Schue was pursuing, sometimes he watched his fellow glee clubbers (catching himself up on drama just by sideways glances), or mentally mapping out his next performance. 

Today, Kurt wasn’t able to do any of those things. With the soundtrack of Teenage Dream (again) in his head, all he was thinking about was the center of a bulletin board with the cast list for The Rocky Horror Show on it. How far down the list was Riff Raff? How many names came before his?

Someone was snapping in front of his face. Kurt shook himself from his daydream to find Mercedes.

“Boy, wake up!” She said, “cast list is about to go up.” 

Either glee club had gotten shorter or Mr. Schue was putting it up early. 

…

Blaine didn’t really understand why the Warblers were concerned. Doing an improv performance was not new to them. In fact, Blaine had done three already this school year and he was only a freshman. 

The first one he did had been way back in September, he hadn’t even been an official Warbler yet. Warbler Tradition said: all potential freshman recruits were required to perform again after their auditions with the whole group. It was a solid way to see if they fit in well with the other established Warblers. Blaine fondly remembers vibing along with the older Warblers and fellow potentials to a medley of Pink songs. None of the freshmen had solos but it was still a fun time. 

At the time it seemed like all of Dalton fit into the choir room and surrounding hallways but in reality it was the entire freshman class. Improv performances weren’t something any middle schooler had seen before but the upperclassmen of Dalton knew the Warblers had plenty of improvs to come for the rest of the school year. The first one was special. Just for the newbies. 

Three days after that performance, Blaine had gotten word that he was to be a new Warbler and two months after that he was granted his first solo. Now, he was slowly becoming their go-to soloist for almost every performance for an audience. Blaine had become a vital part of all rehearsals for the most part. He was honored by their commitment to him honestly and he loved to sing however, a week and half of preparations was a tad excessive. Still, he walked his way to rehearsal positive that the council would have at least five points to discuss before they actually started singing. 

He walked into the choir room shaking his shake fondly and smiling at the Warblers already present. 

The council were always first to arrive. Together. Then it was a mixed bag of who followed. Usually Trent was there, punctual as always, and Blaine took the seat between Trent and Jeff. 

The room was mostly full already. 

Nick came in shortly after Blaine and sat across from him immediately asking if there had been a pop quiz in Stanton’s class earlier and was rather relieved to find out Jeremy was a filthy liar, who liked to start trouble. Before Jeremy could get on Blaine’s case about being overly sincere, the meeting began. 

Wes banged his gavel and welcomed everyone before gesturing for David to read off last meeting’s notes. Once the talking portion of the meeting was over, they pushed the furniture aside to make room. 

...

A week later Kurt was happy to have one musical under his belt but thankful the performance run had been short. If you thought the New Directions were dramatic during competition weeks, it was nothing compared to their musical rehearsals. 

Now, Mr. Schue was having the brilliant idea to host a boys vs girls competition. Of course, Kurt hadn’t wanted to work with the boys. They were sure to exclude his musical talents and he doubted he could get them to agree to any of his costume suggestions. 

This was hardly a challenge. It was bland and they had done it already. 

Kurt was sitting in the back of the choir room pouting. Yes, pouting. Full on arms crossed, head down, and bottom lip puffed out. Until, Mr. Schue had an actual brilliant idea, Kurt’s suggestion of course, to spice things up. 

The boys did not appreciate Kurt’s six hours of work putting two posters together. Even with the assignment to bring more feminine qualities into their performance, the boys ignored his input. So, when Puckerman suggested Kurt spy on the Warblers, he was thankful for a reason to leave. He packed up his projects and headed home to change.

When Mr. Schue found out who their competition was, Rachel and Kurt did some googling. He had seen the all-boys school uniform and was fairly sure he could replicate it with clothes he already had. 

He pulled some looks from his closet. Once satisfied he looked up directions to Westerville. 

Dalton was huge. It looked like a museum. How on earth was Kurt going to find their choir room? He hoped there were signs inside or a map. 

As he walked down a spiral staircase much too pretty to be in a school, he decided to just ask for directions. He was going to get lost if he kept walking without help. 

When the boy he stopped turned around, all Kurt could think was ‘I’d love to put my hands all over you.’ Which was a ridiculous thought to have because he didn’t know this boy and where had that even come from? Oh right, Teenage Dream was still playing in his head. Thanks, Katy. 

If only his soulmate knew he was using this song to fantasize about running off into the sunset with another boy. 

…

Blaine loved being in the spotlight. Wes would say it was because he didn’t get that kind of attention from his parents but that simply wasn’t true. Well, unless Cooper was around; he always pulled focus when it came to their parents. Older sibling privilege, he assumed. 

But he was running late. He stayed behind in class to ask a question which turned into his teacher rambling. Didn’t he know the Warblers had a performance today in the senior commons and Blaine was their lead singer? 

He was checking the time when someone stopped him on the stairs. 

A beautiful boy. Unlike anyone Blaine had ever seen before. He almost missed his name because he was caught up in memorizing his face. 

There was something said about being new, which Blaine doubted since he wasn’t in uniform, and Blaine mentioned a shortcut he knew of. 

It wasn’t really a shortcut. More like the long way to the Senior Commons but less crowded. Everyone was making their way to the Warblers and Blaine wanted as much time alone with Kurt as he could get. 

He wanted Kurt’s full attention. It was no wonder he instantly wanted to show off. Teenage Dream fit his vocals perfectly and Kurt was an excellent audience. In fact, Blaine was set on serenading him. 

He had no way of knowing that exact song had been playing all day long in Kurt Hummel’s mind. 

Afterward, Blaine lost himself in a group hug from the Warblers but Kurt’s beaming smile caught his eye. He pulled Wes and David aside, confirming his own suspicions that Kurt was spying on them first before convincing them to invite Kurt for coffee. 

The four boys sat at a table. Kurt seemed very nervous now. Blaine wasn’t sure if it was because he had been caught or something else was going on. In the end, Blaine thought it best for just him and Kurt to have a conversation. Not at all because he wanted alone time with him. 

This clearly wasn’t the time or place for romance. 

Once they were alone the whole tale seemed to flow out of Kurt: the name calling, locker shoving, his biggest bully. Blaine could relate. 

Sometimes he felt phantom pains in his right leg from Sadie Hawkins. At first, Kurt scoffed when Blaine began sympathizing. If he were Kurt, he might not believe himself. 

Private schoolboy bullied? Blaine sure didn’t look like someone who lacked friends. It was fairly common knowledge that Dalton had a zero tolerance policy for harassment. So, he explained. As brief as he could about his own experience with public school bullies. 

Kurt and he seemed to have more in common than a love for music. 

He doesn't have any plans to see Kurt again though Blaine has plenty of ideas on how they could get together. Coffee at the Lima Bean. Old musicals were playing at the revival theater. Maybe another high school was putting on a play this weekend. All Blaine needed was a good enough message to ask Kurt out. He drafted plenty but none sent. 

After school, Blaine knew Kurt might need an extra push. He was pretty sure classes at McKinley were done for the day. 

He sent a single word. Less second-guessing that way. 

Courage. 

Then, he walked to the library to start writing an essay on Lord of the Flies for English. 

However, he found himself unable to concentrate. Usually after a performance, Blaine had the song stuck in his head for at least a day or two afterward. In addition to humming in the weeks of rehearsals, of course. Instead, Blaine found himself thinking about Start Me Up by the Rolling Stones and oddly Livin’ On a Prayer. Both songs he thought better suited his father or Cooper’s tastes. It was a mashup of the two songs like his soulmate was hearing them simultaneously. 

When he started thinking about his soulmate, there was a clear picture of someone. It didn’t take long for Blaine to bring up those blue eyes and the soft complexion of Kurt Hummel. Which was crazy thinking. He had no idea if Kurt was his soulmate. 

Soulmates tended to be around the same age but just because Kurt was also in high school meant nothing. By that logic anyone at Dalton could be his soulmate too. 

During his brief time with Kurt this week, Blaine heard no music from his mouth. In fact, Blaine had done all the singing. Even with half his brain saying he was nuts to think Kurt was his forever, Blaine couldn’t let the thought go. 

…

Blaine’s text comes in in the midst of the girls’ performance. A wonderful mashup and excellent costumes. Tina had texted Kurt about the leather jacket idea early this week. He was very proud of how they managed to pull the looks together in such a short time. It was impressive. 

Altogether, Kurt was feeling great. The boys had their rehearsal, apparently their performance was turning into an apology. Kurt wasn’t sure what they had done to Coach Beiste but apparently, she was quitting. He and Blaine were texting periodically now. No one knew it but Kurt was surely developing a huge crush on the Warbler boy. 

Then, he confronted Karofsky. He didn’t want to feel the same regret Blaine did—no one messes with the Hummels. 

It seemed like mere hours but in reality, it was days, Kurt was enrolled at Dalton and saying goodbye to the New Directions. 

He was full on having a Vanessa leaving Troy moment here. Kurt Hummel has got to go his own way. 

God was he nervous to start at a new school. In the middle of the school year too. Being the new kid was going to be hard but not as difficult as staying at McKinley would be. 

When Kurt was greeted by Blaine’s smile outside the office on his first day, it made Kurt relax. At least he already had a friend here. 

It isn’t until they’re walking down the hall together—Blaine insisted on escorting Kurt to his first class—that Kurt noticed Blaine was humming.

“Is that High School Musical?” Kurt asked. 

“Oh, um, technically it’s the sequel.” 

“What about us…” Blaine sang, “what about everything we’ve been through?” 

“What about trust…you know I’ve never wanted to hurt you?” 

Blaine chucked. “Cheesy but true. Such a good movie.” 

“We should watch it sometime,” Kurt suggested. 

Instantly, he wanted to take it back. He’s been told he can come on too strong. Especially around cute boys. 

“I’d love too!” Blaine said. “I have it on DVD.” 

Kurt doesn’t see Blaine again until their one shared class of the day right before lunch. He sits across the room from Blaine during history but next to him at the Warbler’s lunch table. 

Most of the group has the same lunch so Kurt is introduced to them before his audition later this afternoon. 

“Nervous?” Wes asked, “you shouldn’t be.” 

“Yeah, from what Blaine's told us you're a great singer,” Trent added. 

“He’s barely heard me sing,” Kurt replied, poking Blaine’s arm. 

He only sang one line of a song to the other boy today. 

“Well…” Blaine rubs his neck abashedly. “I might’ve watched some New Directions videos on YouTube.” 

“Oh, I forgot Rachel uploaded those.” Kurt tunes to the other Warblers then, “I hope I don’t disappoint.” 

After lunch, Blaine walks Kurt to class again. “Between you and me, you’re a shoo-in.” 

“Really?” The Warblers were such an esteemed group. Not at all like the disorganized New Directions. They had also been a glee club for far longer. 

“Really.” 

***

Blaine has had High School Musical songs in his head all day. Whoever his soulmate is, at least he’s got good taste in Disney Channel original movies. Then as the Warblers were preparing for Kurt’s audition, the song switched. An Evita song. 

His soulmate sure did love musicals. Blaine was rather happy about that. He could already picture them sitting on the couch cuddled under a fluffy blanket with any number of classic musicals laid out before them. Arguing over if it was too soon to rewatch Moulin Rouge and whose turn it was to make popcorn. 

They’d be in a big city apartment. Somewhere where no one cared if they were gay. All anyone wanted to know was how they discovered they were soulmates. Their origin story. 

From that point, the daydream grew fuzzy. Blaine couldn’t come up with that meet-cute story. It hadn’t happened yet and nothing his brain could come up with would ever match up with his future reality. 

He shook his head, bringing himself back to the choir room. 

The room was buzzing with excitement. It wasn’t every day the Warblers auditioned someone mid-semester. Of course, Kurt had special circumstances but the group was notorious for never breaking tradition. 

Blaine tried to focus but it was difficult without Kurt at his side. Lately, he had been distracted whenever Kurt wasn’t around. All Blaine could hear, despite the loud room, was the song in his head. 

I had to let it happen

I had to change

Then, Kurt walked in and music started to play. For a split second, Blaine thought he was imagining the words from “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” coming from Kurt’s lips. Surely he hadn’t chosen the same song as Blaine’s soulmate had in their head. He knew it couldn’t be his imagination when Trent leaned over and whispered to Blaine how much he loved this song. 

Like lightning striking a tree, Blaine had a realization. Kurt Hummel was his soulmate. 

Oh god, what was he going to do? 

His skin was burning as if it was burned away like bark. He drooped in his seat desperate for water to put himself out with. To put a stop to the tingling sensation bubbling up under his skin. 

All he wanted to do was reach out and touch Kurt. Some part of his brain was able to override that thought. He couldn’t ruin this audition for him. There was plenty of time to spend with Kurt after this, Blaine had all the time in the world to talk with his soulmate.

Soulmate.  

Never did he think he would find his soulmate this soon. Gosh, they were only teenagers. They had so much life to live together. This was rare, special, to find your soulmate so quickly in life. Blaine would cherish it, he’d be thankful for this gift for rest of his days. 

But how in the hell was he going to tell Kurt? It had to be romantic. Blaine always thought it would be when he finally came face to face with his soulmate, his one true love. There was so much work to be done and so little time to do it. Now that Blaine knew, he didn’t want to spend another day without Kurt knowing too. 

He used to dream about running dramatically in slow motion towards each other and embracing just as it started to rain, which of course led to a fabulous first kiss in the sudden storm. But Blaine knew how unlikely that would be. 

He’d just have to build a new fantasy, which he thought would be easy to do if Kurt was his so-called Prince Charming. Whatever happened was going to outweigh everything his imagination had come up with thus far. 

First and foremost, he’d had to sit through a discussion of this audition, which he was barely able to pay attention to. All he wanted to do was walk up to Kurt, cup his face, and kiss him. After Kurt was finished, the council dismissed him. Blaine knew he’d find Kurt just outside the choir room because they had plans afterward but now he had no idea how he was going to sit through coffee with Kurt and not tell him. 

“He’s very good,” Trent said, nudging Blaine. 

He nodded in agreement. It seems most of the group concurred, Kurt was a good fit for them. 

Kurt Hummel was the perfect fit for Blaine too. Even if he didn’t know it yet. 

***

Kurt didn’t consider himself to be a good reader of social cues especially when his own emotions were involved. See, Finn Hudson and Sam Evans. Crushes on straight boys never ended well. With Blaine, he swore things would be different. 

They were friends, classmates, and hopefully, soon they’d be fellow Warblers. Kurt was not going to mess this up. Even if Blaine was really cute and friendly and super kind and understanding. There was so much to love about Blaine, Kurt found it hard to find something he didn’t like. 

He had found focusing on his dislikes of a person kept his feelings at bay. Like how messy Finn could be really shut down any romance fantasy Kurt had drawn up. Except, Blaine didn’t dye his hair like Sam, he was completely organized (Kurt had seen his dorm room; spotless), he was modest and genuine. 

It made sense that everyone at Dalton wanted some of his attention. Blaine embodied Kurt’s idea of a gentleman and then some. 

After his audition, Kurt sat outside the choir room waiting for his results. The council would discuss with the full group, release them, and regroup tomorrow with a vote. Kurt was waiting for Blaine to be dismissed because Blaine had promised to buy him a cup of coffee. 

Some of the Warblers who were leaving had some pretty nice things to say about Kurt’s performance. Just general praise which soothes some of his initial nerves. Mostly, he just wanted Blaine to walk out with a big smile on his face. That boy couldn’t keep a secret. Kurt would know if he was in or not just by looking at his face. 

Kurt was joined on his bench by a boy who introduced himself as Duncan. 

“I was super nervous after my audition. I just got in at the beginning of this year so I know what you’re going through.” 

Kurt felt his shoulders drop in relief. As much as Blaine tried to assure him the audition would be perfect, Kurt felt like he couldn’t relate much as the star of the glee club. Back at McKinley, Kurt rarely had center stage. Here, Blaine always had everyone’s attention. 

“That’s actually great to hear,” Kurt said, with a slight chuckle. 

“Seriously, Kurt, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I’m a little concerned they’ll kick me out just to have your voice,” Duncan teased. 

They keep talking about what it’s like to be a new Warbler since Duncan is positive Kurt will be getting good news shortly. He offers up some pointers to get on the council’s good side. 

“I loved your song choice by the way, so weird because Evita had been in my head all day.” 

It feels like someone’s dropped an ice cube down his back. He sits up quickly. 

Oh, Kurt thought, is this it? 

“You did?” He must’ve heard wrong. There’s just no way. 

“Yeah, I love that musical,” Duncan confirmed. 

Could it be this easy? He wondered. 

“We should hang out again soon,” Duncan told him, “I’d love to get to know you. Newbie Warblers gotta stick together.” 

Kurt gives Duncan his number before the other boy wanders off. Before Kurt can get too deep into any fantasies of his soulmate, wondering if that soulmate has just left him or not, Blaine comes out from the choir room. 

“Hey you,” Blaine greeted with a big smile. 

“Are you allowed to give me any inclination?” 

He shook his head but was still smiling wide which made Kurt feel like good news was in his near future like Duncan had said. Kurt was telling Blaine how long he had practiced the song over the weekend with Rachel and Duncan reassurances when Blaine blurted, “Duncan Samuels?” 

“Yeah, we just met.” 

Should he tell Blaine about them being soulmates or wait until he was sure? 

But Blaine just nodded. Something was clearly bothering his friend. For now, Kurt was going to let it go because he was sure Blaine would come to him if he wanted to talk. He didn’t want to force it out of Blaine. 

Kurt couldn’t even get Finn to talk to him during their warm milk chats at night. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull the information out of Blaine if he tried.

“Anyway,” Kurt said, continuing his previous line of thought, “Rachel has this whole stage setup in her dads’ basement.” 

“I don’t find that hard to believe based on everything you’ve told me about her.” 

After that comment, their coffee date is back on track, Kurt doesn’t bring up his potential soulmate meeting. 

***

Duncan Samuels was his lifelong nemesis. As far as Blaine was considered his life began when he figured out Kurt was his soulmate and if Duncan was going to interfere with that they were now enemies. Since their coffee date yesterday, Blaine hasn’t heard a word about Duncan but he also had yet to see Kurt today. They only had one class together after lunch, which Blaine was on his way to now. 

Kurt saved him a seat and delivered the news. 

“Duncan and I are going for coffee today.” 

Those words were devastating. 

In normal circumstances, Blaine would’ve asked Kurt why he wasn’t going to rehearsal but of course Kurt wasn’t a Warbler…yet. Blaine knew the Warblers were going to announce Kurt’s membership at the end of day, which meant this was the last rehearsal Kurt wouldn’t attend. 

So instead of a calmly said, normal statement, Blaine spent the next minute freaking out. 

Duncan was the worst! He was going to steal Kurt away from him before Blaine ever got the chance. Well okay, the rational side of him thought, Kurt isn’t being stolen he’s going willingly. 

“That’s nice,” he finally said. 

There was no way for Blaine to stop Kurt and honestly no reason to try since Duncan posed no threat to Kurt. He didn’t need a protector. Blaine knew they were soulmates and he’d find a way to tell Kurt later on. At the end of it all, Kurt was his soulmate. He just knew it. 

“Are you free when I get out of rehearsal?” 

“For you?” Kurt asked, “of course, I’ll probably still be in the cafe.” 

“I’ll come find you,” Blaine told him. 

Still, all throughout Warbler rehearsal, Blaine’s attention was elsewhere. He needed to get out of here and meet up with Kurt. Wes knew it too because he pulled him aside at one point while David ushered the guys into a new arrangement.

“What’s up with you?” He asked, “I need you focused for competition.” 

“I will be,” he vowed. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

Blaine looked back at the other boys but they were already harmonizing. 

“It’s Kurt.” 

Wes smiled. “Don’t worry about him. He’s in, I can’t believe we have a countertenor on our team now. We’re going to wipe the floor at regionals.” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Wesley. McKinley already knows what a talent Kurt is, he won’t be a surprise to them,” Blaine reminded him. 

“Ah, but they didn’t utilize his talent,” Wes said, “it’ll shock them to see Kurt in the spotlight.” 

Wes patted Blaine’s back and guided him back to the group to finish up rehearsal. 

Blaine couldn’t help but check his phone again before he tuned back into rehearsal. He knew Kurt was getting coffee and that’s why he wasn’t answering his phone. 

One of the best things about Kurt was when you were with him everything else was put aside. Blaine was sure if things got really serious, Kurt would shut his phone off entirely to prove a point. Right now, it was annoying as hell. Blaine needed to see a reassuring text that Kurt wasn’t running off into the sunset with Duncan Samuels. 

What if his phone was turned off because the two of them were standing at the altar? Everyone turns their phones off in church. 

He really really needed to talk to him. Blaine didn’t want to be the type of soulmate that holds onto that information too long. It’s like he’s lying to himself not being with Kurt. 

Once rehearsal was finally over, Blaine rushed over to the on-campus cafe where he knew Kurt would be. He had to be there. 

When Blaine pushed his way through the door, he saw Kurt was sitting alone nursing what looked to be a cup of tea. When Blaine approached him he could tell it was Chamomile. 

“Can I sit?” 

Kurt nodded but didn’t say a word as Blaine hung his bag across the back of the chair and removed his blazer. 

He expected a question about the Warblers, perhaps an inquiry about his status to become one but nothing came. Kurt wasn’t even drinking his tea. 

“What’s wrong? Did Duncan say something to upset you?”

“I’m fine, Blaine,” Kurt said, “Duncan didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me as usual.” 

Blaine didn’t understand. 

“Am I that unlovable?” 

“What?” 

Kurt was the most kind, sincere person he knew and Blaine had only met him a few weeks ago. He was most certainly lovable considering Blaine fell for him in just under 3 weeks 

“I can’t really blame him,” Kurt continued, “it’s not his fault we aren’t soulmates.” 

“You thought he was your soulmate?” 

Maybe telling Kurt wouldn’t be too difficult after all. 

“It’s just he made this comment yesterday that made me think…but of course I got too ahead of myself again and really I should know by now,” Kurt mumbled the last bit, “nothing ever goes to plan.” 

“You can say that again.” 

This cafe wasn’t a romantic candlelit dinner. He didn’t have rose petals to scatter around. There was no champagne to toast. But he had the most important thing. 

Blaine reached across the table to grab Kurt’s hand. “Think of a song.” 

“Why?” 

“Just do it,” Blaine said. 

Kurt’s face was scrunched up in a “I’m confused but I’ll trust you” kind of way. 

As soon as the song hit him, Blaine opened his mouth to sing, “this could be the start of something new…it feels so right to be here with you.”

“How did you—?” 

Blaine smiled at him. “Pick another song.” 

“Your cares and troubles are gone. They'll be no more from now on.”

His mouth opens slightly. 

“Your turn,” Blaine said, “ I want you to sing what comes to mind.” 

Wasn’t the best way to prove they were soulmates to test each other? 

Blaine wanted Kurt to have his own moment of realization even if he engineered it. He didn’t want their “how-did-you-know” story to be him informing Kurt about their connection. Instead, he wanted to tell people about listening to Kurt’s Warbler audition and thinking how odd it was to know the song he was going to sing before it began. Kurt’s story would start with a laugh because he imagined someone other than Blaine as his soulmate the very same day. 

And wasn’t that just so silly of him? 

Rather than have Kurt just sing to him, Blaine harmonized with him. This was the proof. He’d sing everything Kurt could come up with and vice versa. 

“But baby, can't you see there's nothing else for me to do? I'm hopelessly devoted to you.”

“Blaine,” Kurt said. “We’re….”

He nodded. 

Before Blaine even realized it, Kurt was out of his seat leaning towards him, they’re kissing. Kurt’s fingers are curved around his chin and his other hand is tickling the curls at the back of his neck. The tiny wisps of hair that always escape the gel by the late afternoon. 

Blaine would happily keep his curls loose if it meant Kurt would keep his hands in his hair always. Especially, if it meant they’d never stop kissing. 

Eventually, Kurt has to pull away. They’re still close enough to feel each other’s breath. 

“Soulmates,” Blaine whispered. 

It had been quiet while they kissed like everything else in the world just stopped. All the sounds of Dalton came rushing back all at once. The students in the halls, coffee orders being called out, and the shuffling of chairs as people came and went. 

“When did you know?” Kurt asked, sitting down again. 

Blaine pulled his seat around so they were closer and Kurt immediately reached for his hand. 

***

3 months later. 

Blaine hadn’t been upset to lose to McKinley at Regionals. How could he have been when he got to sing with his soulmate in front of a crowd? Their duet was so in sync and the crowd could tell. He doesn’t think he ever received such a loud applause. 

Blaine had wanted to just be in that moment forever—staring into Kurt’s eyes hearing the words in his head just before they were said aloud, gripping his hand before pushing him into the spotlight to soak up the audience’s love. 

No, Blaine was happy about Regionals. The Warblers had worked hard on the set; their second place trophy sat on the right corner of the council’s table at meetings now. What Blaine was concerned about was Kurt’s leaving. 

His dorm room was empty now, the last suitcase zipped up. Blaine was sitting on his boyfriend’s mattress taking in the last moment that Kurt was a Dalton student. 

“I’ll miss you too, you know, a lot,” Kurt said from the doorway. 

“I know,” Blaine replied, “it’s just sad.” 

Kurt took a seat next to him on the bed. 

“I’ll sing to you.” 

Blaine smiled. “Promise?” 

“Everyday.” Kurt kissed his cheek. 

They were going to be okay. 

[evilmorticiadraws]

Cyran’s Advisory or An Ill Omen

Cyran cracked his knuckles and looked at his friends around the Hexes Over Hoaxes table in their meeting room. Losana met his gaze evenly as he dealt the cards, placed markers on the board. Everyone whistled and clapped in anticipation. He was acting as dealer for the first round, but he would become a player on the second round.

This was the Rainglen Certification College tournament. Winner would actually win a scholarship to the college and a free seat on the highly-venerated debate club. Cyran aimed to win today. A queue of participants had formed around the table, but the existing members were selected first since they had the experience and had won the qualifying round.

To win Hexes Over Hoaxes, you had to play with precision. Sometimes, it was even expedient to aim to lose... loss wasn't confirmed until everyone was dead in a geopolitical landgrab game. It was even possible for characters to come back from the dead, using necromancy. Never say die until the final dice is cast. And he always aimed to win.

With his quick wits and sharp thinking, he was a shoe-in to win. Everyone took their starting positions and discussed invasion and trade strategies. They took the obvious spots. Where could he go, second, that was less obvious? How could he make his play?

Surprisingly, he chose a less-used position in the north, on an island. From this point, he would have to draft many trade treaties and start an armada of boats to get those goods to other countries and players and also start construction a navy.

Games could last hours. Some of the early attendant players left. Only the current boardgamers and judges remained, close friends, families, and fans of the tournament. It was always like this. Popular at first, then whittled down to the hardcore enthusiasts or those that had real reason to be here and participate.

It wasn't about pride. It was about power. It was about control of the board, even when you were at a disadvantage.

Cyran's mind was whirling, calculating the wins and losses he had sustained in battle. It was close. In fact, his closest competition was his girlfriend, Losana. God, he loved her sharp mind. Everything he loved about that woman and in playing this game was the reason why he wanted to marry her someday. Maybe even start a family. No, stop, Cyran! You're getting distracted...

He had a boat send a peace treaty offer with a white flag.

She shot it down before it even got to shore. So much for that.

With his last remaining forces, he made a suicidal charge for her borders. Through careful play and use of his remaining units, he whittled down her military. She might have a fortress, but he would starve her out and he did. Cyran was frequently known for his ruthless final plays.

This time, it won him the game.

Losana cried tears of both happiness and anger that he won and not her. He hugged her, crying, promising to make her proud. When they got outside for a picture to be painted, he erupted his breath of fire into the air to make a column of smoke, he was so happy. The wyvern finally made the dragon proud. So much for not being a "real dragon."

They handed him his plaque for winning the tournament, which he took beaming. A full year of college and he owed nothing, all thanks to what his mother once called "a huge waste of time." The next week, he was on the debate team. By the end of the year, he was the advisor to the debate team.

Cyran thought of all this as he prepared to kill one of his subordinates in the Artifact Guild for thievery. The man had already lost a hand and this was the final cost for disobeying Cyran's directives here. Even the tighter regulations and rules hadn't stopped some from stealing what has rightfully his.

Every dragon has a right to his hoard. No one wants to lose what they've worked for, what they've earned, no matter what the cost or means to get it.

And Losana was dead now. He had only Omen to look after and he was determined to completely own Mistseek by the time she came of age. Here, baby, an entire city just for you. Just like in Hexes Over Hoaxes.

All those lessons served him well now.

Cyran Moonsplit lowered his trident as the handless guild member quivered and cried. His name was pointless. Cyran didn't even remember it. He just remembered the twisting feeling of betrayal in his gut, the darkness. Just like the night he found out Losana died of Devilstongue. Finding out it was possibly genetic in origin. Just like her own father had died of it, so too, she had gone.

The guild member was trying to crawl away. Cyran made a motion and the bodyguards kicked and punched him into submission. Cyran raised the trident and pushed the sharp ends directly into his heart. The guy screamed and cried more, wailing. Musical, almost.

This was what thieves deserved. This was what all thieves deserved.

Cyran made this guild into what it was based on order and clarity: we regulate the unsafe curses. We protect this town. We sell what we make, we buy more supplies, we expand and we keep everything running. Without order, what did you get? Chaos. And he hated disorder and chaos.

Cyran burned the poor stallion alive and ground him beneath his claws. He was nothing but charred embers by the time he was done. Then he pumped his fist over his head, still clutching his trident. It wasn't about just pride... it was about power.

It was about control.

"Clean up this mess!" he told his underlings and they obeyed. He went to the washroom to clean his suit until it was immaculate again and then washed his trident under the taps. Here, the water was filtered from safe groundwell sources and water-trees. By Losus, someday, he would have this town curse free again. Then no one would have to suffer like he had.

Maybe, if they hadn't all been beset by the curse, Losana might still be alive and Omen might still have a mother. Now, he was the mother. He was the mom. It was a heavy burden for him.

Mocha took his coat as he left. The loyal boar was always at his side with a quick quip or funny joke. Today, no joke. He looked extremely serious and coughed.

"Sir, your tie too? Now that we're done?"

"We're never done," Cyran growled. "There's always another traitor out there coming to get what I've build and they'll all get what's coming to them. I hate thieves. I hate thieves more than anything else in the world. They're cowardly and they're scared. They don't want to earn what they have, they just want to take."

Mocha just nodded, a little pale. His older brother was one of Cyran's best fighters in a pinch. Everything here, he made! Not without help, certainly, but he deserved this. He deserved to enjoy the fruits of his labors. He came from nothing and he gave Omen a home, a future.

He still had Losana's boat in the harbor. All that work to become a certified captain and she never really got to sell her own vessel unattended. He hoped someday soon, Omen would show interest in sailing again and she would take the rudder just like Losana had wanted her to someday.

In fact, he let his feet take him outside the Artifact Guild building (a massive white square edifice dominating the center of the city.) His wings took him further, out to the harbor beside the hollow burned-out church to Losus. Against the pier, it bobbed quietly. It was a massive craft and would have made any dragon proud. Harmonywood, still polished. He kept it painted. About once a week, he would take it on the sea and fish and look for fresh sources of new cursewater for the deadglass artifactory. Her name was Losana now.

Once, Losana had named her boat after him.

Now, he had named in after her, in memory of her. The years weighed down on him, like a stone. Times like this, facing the salty air and the open skies, he wondered if it was worth it. His daughter was showing a worrying interest in thievery and had taken to common burglery herself in the guild. He was trying to crack down on it, restricting her hobby time, increasing chore time, giving her time-outs and restricted quarters to her room but it just didn't seem to be working.

She was smart and resourceful, just like him. His favorite artifacts kept going missing and he pretended not to notice, but he knew. In his own way, he was proud of her. She was fighting what she saw as an unfair system and taking what belonged to her. In her own way, just like him. Truly his daughter.

Everything he did, he did for her. His precious Omen.

He still remembered picking out a name for her. His precious blue hatchling in his arms, with her big red eyes looking up at her. He picked out Omen... a religious name that Losana had suggested. In Losan literature, there would be an omen of hope born that meant that the tree would eternally return, over and over, to the coast of Pendalosa and always grow anew every year.

Even though they lost their Losan god, people still believed in their hearts that the stump would begin growing again, when faith was strong enough.

In his heart, Cyran believed it too. And that's why she was called Omen.

He paced up and down the pier for close to an hour, just thinking. How to handle his unruly child? The thieves, the traitors, the spies? They all wanted to bring down what he built but he couldn't allow that, obviously.

At that time, he began work on the Tear.

It started as a coin with a single frozen curse imbued in it: the power to see and hear for long distances. Then a quadruplicate curse was overlain.

In time, the coin would carry seven curses in all and become The Tear In Reality. It would never leave Cyran’s side.

Omen always was a word with more than one meaning.

[ryqoshay]

How did u think of the username ryqoshay?

The tl;dr version is that I was tired of Ricochet typically being taken in the games I was playing years ago and decided to rework it into something a bit more unique. And she grew into something more.

The full story will be under the cut as my trips down nostalgia lane tend to run long.

Ricochet started off as a character I created for a story I was writing years ago based on games I played as a child. The games were not electronic, rather based around physical toys and the characters and events were made up on the spot by my friend and I.

While our games generally focused on battles and conflict between two established groups, the story I decided to write focused more on the characters of the protagonist group and their interactions. Worth mentioning here that the focus group was a crew of mercenaries as it will come into play later. I realized that the current cast was comprised mainly of front line fighters and wanted to flesh out the team with some back line and support members; medical, recon, intel, etc.

Enter Ricochet. I liked the idea of taking a stereotypical stoic and battle-hardened sniper character and turning it on its head by making a hyperactive, adorable little girl. A character whose slightly warped idea of cute included heavy weaponry and thus treated her gun like a teddy bear, even going so far as bringing it to bed with her.

The name itself had a dual meaning as it referred both to how she was always “bouncing off the walls” and an intentionally ironic reference to a typically undesirable outcome for a sniper. Her given name at the time was Rebecca; Becky is fine, but don’t call her Becca or Reba.

I don’t recall if I addressed her parents in this iteration, but Rico entered the team under the care of Tackleberry. Yes, that Tackleberry; he was my friend’s favorite character from Police Academy, though I believe what I’ve turned him into maintains only the name and obsession with weapons. I already had him as the former legal guardian of another character, so I figured giving him someone new to oversee would be fine.

Then I stopped writing that story. And it remains on indefinite hiatus to this day.

City of Heroes was released and a friend convinced me to join. I was drawing a blank in character development when I stumbled across the Assault Rifle/Devices build and Rico jumped up out of my memories. The name Ricochet was taken so I tacked on -chan to the end as I was quite addicted to anime by this point in my life. This also gave me the excuse to weeb out and insert random Japanese words into her speech patterns as her linage was now half Japanese and half U.S. born Caucasian.

I designed a diminutive, blonde girl sporting high twintails and a dark purple flak jacket  outfit with black accents. Her short backstory described a her as having two heroes for parents and wanting to live up to her family legacy. And as said parents were still around, Tack dropped out of the picture.

I liked Rico so much I started translating her over to other games as well as using her name in my overall online presence, as small as it was then. Ricochet itself was pretty much always taken, so I often had to modify the name in some way, be it by adding -chan or shortening it to Rico or whatever.

Then came the game changer; City of Villains. It came as no surprise that Ricochet was taken, but I was getting tired of using -chan and my other methods, so I decided to create something new. This would be the first time I used Ryqoshay, an intentional misspelling of Ricochet for a character.

Since CoV allowed a short backstory like its predecessor, I knew I had to come up with an in-universe reason for the name change; I also still fancied myself a writer, even though I hadn’t really written much in a while. I figured a villain might do well with a more tragic backstory than a hero, so I offed her parents. The character limit didn’t allow for specifics on the where, when, why and how, but I made sure to mention that she took the first letter of their names - Yuri and Quentin - to rename herself Ryqoshay.

It was at this point, Ryqo also finally received a family name, Bouteillevoix, and with it, a change in linage to half Japanese and half French. I don’t recall the specifics of how I settled on Bouteillevoix iteself, but I do remember liking the dissonance of an outspoken character bearing a name meaning “bottle voice” as if it were to be contained in some way.

For her aestetic design, I swapped out the black for white in her outfit to use the Dark Is Not Evil and Light Is Not Good tropes; dark purple remained, however. This also meant her hair went from blonde to black. And her twintails went from high to low in an attempt to appear a bit more mature, though she maintained her high energy personality.

Also, while not mentioned in her in-game bio, Tack was able to reenter the picture as a Commando, the highest level Summon of Ryqo’s Mastermind power set.

While I wasn’t actively writing stories about her, I was certainly fleshing her out as a character with notes and whatnot. Quentin and Yuri also got some attention as I ended up designing alternate dimension versions of them for me to play. And as the alt-oholic I am in MMORPGs, I also came up with some alternate dimension versions of Ryqo herself; Ryqoshot, a lonewolf gunslinger using the Corrupter’s Assault Rifle power set and Ryqoaraignée, an Arachnos Crab Spider build who was more closely aligned with Arachnos than her other versions.

With all of the alts I was creating, I decided to use the game’s guild mechanics to pass stuff among them. Thus, Ryqo’s Roughnecks was born, named after Rico’s Roughnecks of Starship Troopers fame. Joining members included L4t3ncy_0, a mechanical Mastermind; Recipere, -  Rx for short - a thug Mastermind who kept her crew alive with healing powers; Yozakura, a ninja Stalker serving as Ryqo’s bodyguard and Vivian Sexon, a dual-wielding Brute and villainous translation of a dual-wielding Scrapper from my CoH days.

Not long after, a friend invited me to join a game of D&D. The team needed a door kicker so I brought in Vivian as a brutish barbarian with a split personality, Sanguine, taking control when she raged. My intended two paragraph introduction quickly turned into two pages, which eventually turned into twenty and started translating over other Roughnecks; Ryqo included.

Ryqo dropped her sniper rifles in favor of a more theme appropriate bow and arrow. L4t3ncy_0′s call sign was changed to Nullsiver Luna and she became an artificer who struggled against the world’s tech limits. Recipere, not surprisingly, took on the role of a cleric. Yozakura kept her ninja trappings, but started playing by the Bodyguard Crush trope as I was deep into yuri shipping at that point thanks to the likes of Lucky Star and others.

Even after the game stalled out, I continued to work with the DM to build their world in which all of their games took place. The Roughnecks gained a permanent place in the timeline, extending both before and after Ryqo’s time as their leader, as well as a permanent base of operations, which eventually grows into a full fledged township later at the behest of Ryqo (spoilers should I ever get around to posting these stories.)

My online presence was growing and with it, Ryqo. She became my main when I returned to WoW, a Blood Elf Hunter running around with a giant Devilsaur as a pet; yes, she would think it was cute. (She was changed to Human when I followed by guild to another server that needed more Alliance players.) My Demon Hunter main in Diablo 3 was named Ryqoshay, as a surprise to absolutely none of my friends at the time.

Aion was a strange exception insofar as I wasn’t fond of the Ranger class for my primarily solo playstyle. I still made said ranger and of course named her Ryqoshay, but my main in that game was a Chanter known as Ameliorator, a more fanciful version of MedKit, the character for whom Tack was a legal guardian in the story mentioned above. However, I still played out the Ryqo persona on the forums because I enjoyed it and I’d long forgotten Med/Ame’s personality from that old story.

When Love Live started to take over my life and I found Sukutomo, I went with Ryqoshay as my screen name for reasons I don’t fully recall. I started this tumblr account as a way to post some “Idolsona” stuff where I translated Ryqo into a LL style idol, along with Yoza, Luna and a newer Roughneck, Flash Pyre. And when I started writing my fics, it was easy to use the account I already had here and then keep the name when I went over to AO3.

Hindsight being 20/20, I probably should have chosen Nico as my primary icon, as her appearance is closer to Ryqo’s than Maki’s, even if she wears her twintails high like Rico instead of Ryqo’s low tails. Neither Nico nor Maki have grey eyes as I’ve given Ryqo, so that wouldn’t fit, but none of the LL characters do thus far. That said, Maki prefers purple more than Nico and Ryqo isn’t much a fan of pink, so maybe that played into things? Perhaps someday I will commission one of my favorite artists to draw Ryqo as I envision her and start using her as my avatar, someday… maybe.

Also worth mentioning that NicoMaki has had a heavy influence on how I envision Ryqo and Yoza, and vice versa. Heck I’ve directly translated some NicoMaki doujin into scenes for my D&D story and sprinkled some RyqoYoza stuff into HtHaN. With HtHaM being a more D&D’ish setting, I may very well steal some stuff from my D&D story for it. Perhaps Luna or Vivian might make an appearance? I’ve already referenced Ryqo when Maki remembers hearing stories of an 11 year old girl taking over a mercenary guild. As always, I shall follow where my µ’s muse leads.

In conclusion, while Maki - with Nico very close behind - may hold a position as my favorite fictional character not created by me, Ryqo easily tops that position as my favorite overall; yes, the fact that I created her absolutely factors into this bias. There are reasons I don’t bring her up often - beyond using her as a screen name, posting through her persona on a few forums and the Idolsona thing - not the least of which include a fear of her being labeled a self-insert or Mary Sue or whatever, as I’ve seen some decidedly distasteful reactions to such characters online. But there is also the fact that the bulk of her development has been within a world not designed by me, but by one of my DMs, and I would want to ensure they would be fine with me posting stuff about said world; I’m sure they would be fine, but I haven’t gotten around to asking. Perhaps someday, I might post more about Ryqo. Perhaps writing more of HtHaM will inspire me to take my D&D story off hiatus, dust it off and have a talk with my DM about posting it. In the meantime, I will continue to use her namesake for my online and in-game presence because she is a character I hold very dear.

If you’ve read this far, thank you for joining me in my journey through nostalgia. And I hope this sufficiently addresses Anon’s question.

[hockeylvr59]

Promises part 5 || Auston Matthews/Morgan Rielly

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Here’s the long-awaited part five, let me know you’re thoughts. Don’t hate me I have a plan.  **** designate a short third person pov. 

Warnings: a few curse words

Word Count: 2703

Owen was now almost three months and watching him had gotten harder for sure. It wasn’t the actual taking care of Owen though that was the problem, it was that things with Auston. You knew the leafs were starting to make their final playoff push and you understood that it would cause Auston to focus more attention and time to the rink. It wasn’t that he wasn’t being a good dad, because he was nothing but doting on Owen when he was home, it was more the fact that he was snippier and more distant with you.

Lately, it had been hard to feel appreciated when Auston barely acknowledged you besides asking about Owen. Gone were the lighter conversations, the nights spent watching movies together, Auston spilling whatever was on his mind and asking for your thoughts. Instead, when you knew Auston was going to be home, you made yourself scarce, usually going back to your own apartment. It was hard to blame him, he was under a lot of pressure as a player and with the fans and trying to be a good dad on top of that.

____

Today Owen was turning three months old. Knowing that the team had had a particularly long week on the latest road trip, you wanted to do something special for Auston since besides a three am feeding after getting in the night before he hadn’t gotten to spend time with Owen in close to a week. Plus Owen was getting to the point where when you were watching the game he was able to follow along a little and he clearly recognized his daddy when the tv cameras zoomed in on Auston. It was already clear that the baby boy loved watching hockey over anything else you put on tv.

By the time you woke up, Auston had already headed off to the rink to view films before morning practice. Feeding Owen his breakfast you got him cleaned up and dressed. Deciding to take the three-month pictures before you forgot, you moved to Auston’s closet and snuck a jersey out of it, bringing it to the living room where Owen was laying on a mat playing. After spreading the jersey out on the floor, you laid Owen down so that his back was covering the four on the back, leaving the three exposed as well as the name Matthews along the top.

It took a few minutes to get Owen to smile up at you, his face crinkling as he laughed when you made farm animal noises. As he was smiling you snapped a few pictures before quickly scanning through them to find the best one. You’d send it out later, first, you had to make sure that a certain someone would be alright with your surprise plans.

____

Forty minutes later you had cleaned everything up, reloaded Owen’s diaper bag and made your way to the Leafs practice facility. You’d spoken with Babcock who confirmed that it was a closed practice this morning and who’d agreed that maybe it would be good for all the guys to have a little distraction at practice. Leaving Owen’s car seat in your car, you cuddled the infant on your hip before making your way inside, following Babcock’s directions on how to get to the bench.

Security just nodded at you as you passed and it wasn’t long before the chill of the ice reached your body. You’d dressed Owen in extra layers and he currently had a blanket draped over him as well, so you weren’t worried about him being cold. The boys were all on the ice running drills as you slid onto the bench and Owen started babbling at the familiar noise of sticks on pucks. You’d brought earmuffs in case it was too loud for him but right now he seemed okay, leaning away from your body a bit to try and get closer to the boys on the ice.

Babcock, of course, was the first to spot you and he simply nodded before yelling another direction. After that, it only took another minute before some of the other guys noticed you and immediately started nudging Auston. Auston’s eyes went wide seeing you but he didn’t approach until Babs called for a hydration break.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, voice low and slightly accusatory as he approached, drinking out of a Gatorade bottle. “You know you can’t be at practices…”

His reaction kind of threw you off and you tried not to look hurt at his words. You had thought he’d be happy to see his son, just to be in the same building even if he had things he needed to do. He always talked about Owen getting to see him play someday and so you had thought he might enjoy this.

“We’re here because I thought it might be a nice surprise, for you and for the guys. It’s been a rough week and I thought Owen might bring some smiles.” The way Auston was looking at you made your stomach drop and you quickly swallowed before kissing Owen’s head as he stared up at his daddy. “And I called and checked to make sure it was okay with your coach before we even left the apartment and he seemed to think it was a pretty good idea too…”

At this point, you certainly had a bit of an audience and you hoped that Auston didn’t make a big deal over it.

“We’re just here to watch, Owen likes watching his dad, we’ll stay out of your way if that’s what you want.” Taking another drink, Auston didn’t say anything else, though he did lean in to kiss Owen’s head before he skated off to the other side of the rink. A few of the other guys gave you pitying looks as they skated by, reaching to touch Owen’s head affectionately or to tickle his belly.

As they resumed drills, Mitch seemed thrilled with at least Owen’s presence, turning and making silly faces at the infant. You’d adjusted Owen so that he was bouncing on his chubby legs, feet pressed onto the top of the boards. It was something to help him build leg strength and parenting forums and books all suggested giving him the opportunity when you could. Since the guys were working on a skating drill you didn’t have to worry about flying pucks coming your way and so there was no harm in letting the little boy show off his newfound strength.

Morgan also had a smile on his face as he talked with a few of the other guys, his gaze drifting back to you every so often. When babs had paused to instruct the forwards for a few minutes he skated over and started talking to Owen, telling him all about what they were doing and causing the baby to babble back at him. Then he looked up at you.

“Thanks for bringing this little guy by, everyone seems pretty excited to see him even if Auston is being a grump about it all. He’s getting big.” There was that nagging pit at the back of your mind that again pointed out that Morgan was thanking you for something that Auston hadn’t even acknowledged.

“Three months old today.” You responded kissing the infant’s head before pulling him back to your body as the team started working with pucks again. Nodding and smiling, Morgan sent you a wink before jumping back into practice.

_____

Practice ended after Morgan hit Auston into the boards, harder than he needed to for sure and Auston retaliated by shoving him before storming past you to the locker room. At that point, you’d thought about taking Owen home before you caused any more trouble but a few of the guys, namely Mitch and Patrick insisted that they wanted to see Owen after they changed. Agreeing to wait, you took Owen back to the hallway outside the locker room where you pulled a mat for Owen out before laying him on his stomach to get some time exercising those muscles as well.

Soon after there was shouting from the locker room and though you couldn’t hear what was being said, one of the voices was definitely Auston’s.

***

Inside the locker room, Auston was sitting in his stall trying to get out of his gear while Morgan stood in front of him.

“Just so you know, you were a real jackass this morning.” Morgan declared shaking his head. “She was just trying to do something to make you happy, you didn’t need to go off on her.”

“Butt out of it, it’s none of your business.” Auston snapped as he chucked his elbow pads into his stall. The rest of the room was trying not to eavesdrop but was also curious as to why their top defenseman was going after Auston.

“God, you really don’t see what is right in front of you do you?” Morgan asked though it was clearly a rhetorical question. “That woman has stepped up to take care of your child, of you, when she didn’t have to and she hasn’t asked for anything in return. She’s put her entire social life on hold for you, doing nothing but going to school and taking care of your son. She is always thinking about you over everything else. And you don’t see it...you don’t see how incredible and gorgeous she is.” Shaking his head in disbelief, Morgan turned to head back to his own stall, tugging his jersey and pads off of his body.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Auston yelled, getting up this time himself and storming across the room to Morgan. Shrugging his shoulders, Morgan ran his fingers through his hair before looking up.

“It means sure, you’re right that today was none of my business, and maybe you don’t see that y/n is prime wife and mother material but I do. So since you’re obviously not going to make a move, I will.” Stripping out of the rest of his gear he turned to head to the showers. “That woman deserves someone who tells her each and every day how appreciated she is and that she’s beautiful and wanted. That’s something I can definitely do.”

****

You were reading a story to Owen as he played with a set of plastic keys when Mitch and Patrick came out of the room, smiles on their faces but a perplexed look in their eyes.

“What was all the yelling about?” You asked, setting the book aside because there was no way Owen was going to be able to pay any attention to it with the two other men in front of him. Quickly Mitch sat down on the ground in front of Owen, engaging with the baby and therefore avoiding your question.

“Nothing you need to worry about, just airing some grievances.” Patrick declared before also squatting down next to the baby who was smiling and babbling away. He was going to crash hard when you got him home, which was good because you could use some time alone to think.

The three of you looked up when the door slammed open, just in time to see Auston’s familiar form dressed in a t-shirt, sweats, and tennis shoes walking away from you toward the weight room. Both men in front of you cringed and you raised an eyebrow even more skeptical that they hadn’t told you the truth. Neither would meet your eyes and you let out a frustrated sigh.

“I’m going for a walk, I’m putting the two of you in charge of Owen. Only because I’m sure Patrick can supervise you, Mitch.” Pushing yourself from the ground, you grabbed your phone from the diaper bag before heading in the direction opposite of where Auston had gone, needing some air.

You’d known from the start that you were in a situation that would seriously fuck up your emotional state but you’d done everything anyway because you’d had feelings for Auston, feelings that were obviously never going to be returned despite his mother’s assurances that someday he’d see. You loved Owen like he was your own, and so there was no way you could ever walk away unless it reached a point that Auston told you to. At this point, it seemed like you were destined to be alone forever.

Sitting on the steps outside the rink, you tried to fight back tears with little success. Eventually, you could feel the presence of another person, as they lowered themselves to the ground next to you.

“Shit...y/n…” The voice muttered after a moment, a thumb reaching out to brush against your cheek. A glance to your periphery revealed Morgan and for some unknown reason, your pulse jumped.  “He’s a fucking idiot.” He added. “You’re out here crying over him and he doesn’t even see you, doesn’t realize what’s right in front of him.” You didn’t want to cry in front of Morgan, didn’t want anyone to see how much all of this with Auston had affected you, you were supposed to be stronger than this.

“Please stop crying.’ He whispered pleadingly, cupping your cheek to force you to meet his gaze. “You deserve so much better than crying over him.” After a moment he wrapped you in a solid hug, immediately flooding your body with warmth. Morgan only pulled away when your breathing had settled, signaling the end of your tears.

“There we go.” He declared, bright smile once again directed at you. “Now what are you doing out here besides crying?” He asked. “And who did you leave the little dude with?”

“I needed some air, I could hear Auston yelling about something in the locker room and then Patrick and Mitch wouldn’t give me a straight answer so I left Owen with them for some space.” You could hear Morgan sigh before he spoke again.

“He was yelling about you...with me…” Morgan’s voice was soft as he spoke, urging you silently to just listen. “I called him out on the way he treated you and he was pissed, declaring that it wasn’t my business. I told him he was a fool for not seeing you, really seeing you the way I do and…” At this point, you noticed that Morgan’s knee was bouncing and he was rubbing his hands along his thighs. “I told him that if he wasn’t going to make a move on you then I was.” Your eyes went wide and you looked up at Morgan whose cheeks were flushed as he gazed at you.

“Y/n...can I take you on a date?” He questioned, quickly clearing his throat. Looking up into his blue eyes you saw nothing but sincerity and while it confused you, you found yourself nodding.

“I...I’d like that.” You agreed, your cheeks flushing.

“Great.” Morgan declared enthusiastically. “How’s Tuesday night?” If Morgan was free than it meant that Auston was too and so you once again nodded, smiling softly.

“I think I can make Tuesday work.” You agreed.

“Good... you like Italian right?” He confirmed though since you’d cooked it for them a month prior it should be pretty clear that you did.

“Of course, carbs are my best friend and my worse enemy.” You mused, taking his hand when he stood up and offered it out to pull you to your own feet.

“Me too…” He agreed, his voice now lighter than you’d ever heard it as he opened the rink doors for you and guided you inside. Stopped just before you turned the corner where you’d left Mitch and Patrick with Owen, Morgan brushed his thumb over your cheek once more. “So I’ll pick you up at say 6? You can text me your address. Dress somewhere between casual and fancy?”

“Sure.” You agreed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’m looking forward to it. I promise I won’t let you down.” He declared.

After a somewhat awkward two second hug, he walked away, back toward one of the offices in the building, leaving you standing alone. Holy hell..Morgan Rielly had just asked you out.

[peaceisadirtyword]

Secrets V (Modern!Ivar/Reader)

A/N: Finally! I finished it. I’m sorry it took this long! I’ll try to have the next part soon💞 this chapter is a bit... depressing maybe? idk, I just wasn’t having a very good day when I wrote that part, sorry. If you feel this is going too slow or I'm bringing in things that I shouldn’t, please tell me. 

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, thanks for reading♥️

Warnings: mentions of sex, Ivar is a little shit, Hvitserk is doing things the wrong way, Ubbe is the most kind of them all, anxiety attack and a bit of angst and of course my depression making itself noticed in my writings sorry I can't control it

Words: 3142 someday 

Inspiration: Griffenholm Confessionals by @akamaiden @laketaj24 @ivarsshieldmadien and @ivarswickedqueen 

Catch up here 

gif belongs to @kikuthestrange

"Where were you last night?" You bit your lip, looking at Hvitserk while he lit up his cigarette, sitting next to you. 

He seemed surprised by your question, and looked at you confused. 

"At the party, why?"

You looked away, feeling more and more guilty. Should you tell him you went to the party to talk to him and ended up being fingered by his little brother, the same one you had been dreaming with?

No, probably not.

"I just... Went looking for you and I didn't find you" you shrugged "I saw Ubbe and Sigurd but not you"

Hvitserk turned around to look at you, frowning. 

"You were at the party? When?"

"I.. don't remember, it wasn't that late, but I only was there for an hour or so..."

After the party and the incident with Ivar, you couldn't sleep, so that morning you were late to Math. As Hvitserk rarely attended classes and the teacher didn't let you enter the class, you texted him, hoping you could spend some time with him and maybe ease your mind a bit.

It wasn't working. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

"I called you" you shrugged, biting your lip "But you didn't answer, I supposed you were having fun and I just went back to bed"

"Sorry" he shook his head, looking away "I was drunk and I didn't..."

"It's okay, Hvitserk" you smiled at him, you weren't going to get mad at him when you hooked up with his brother. 

He looked at you while you went back to your notes, trying to focus. 

To say that he felt bad was an understatement. He felt awful. 

When you dragged yourself out of bed and went to the party to see him, he was in one of the rooms upstairs, fucking his brother's girlfriend. 

He really tried to avoid it, and in fact he only did it twice a week now, but that night he had drank alcohol, he smoke a bit of weed and he was feeling horny. As you weren't there and Margrethe was almost as drunk as him, he just fucked her.

Hvitserk really liked you. He could admit that he only wanted you for a fuck at first, but as he got to know you, he found himself wanting to be with you. 

You were nice, funny and hot. Hvitserk's type. 

But a part of him was wary of that relationship. He wasn't Ubbe, the perfect boyfriend, charming, nice and handsome, and he didn't play the guitar and sing like Sigurd. He wasn't as enigmatic and sassy as Ivar, girls never wanted to be in a relationship with him. He was the player, the more-than-one-girl-at-the-same-time.

You probably heard the rumors about him and his... Adventures. Which were actually true (well, most of them). 

No, there was no way you'd want to date him anyway.

You tried to focus on your notes. The first exams were coming and you honestly hadn't started to study seriously. In fact, you spent more time worrying about not having started yet than studying. 

It didn't help the fact that Ivar was always on your mind. 

You were starting to hate him. He was a fucking asshole to you, he threatened you and then fingered you... To kick you out of the room a few minutes later. What kind of person did that? 

The worst part was that he could tell Hvitserk anytime, and of course he would believe his own brother before you. 

"Are you studying, Y/N?" Hvitserk sounded amused, looking at you with a brow raised. 

"Yes, why?" You didn't look at him, pretending to be really focused on the history of Scandinavia.

"Because that page is upside down"

Your eyes widened and your cheeks reddened when you discovered that he was right, you had been pretending to read a page upside down. 

"I... I was trying to memorize it" you said, trying to sound indifferent "So I put it that way so I can't read it and prove that I've learnt this part"

"Of course, amazing technics, Y/N, you'll pass every class with honors" 

"Shut up" you groaned, rubbing your eyes "I didn't get any sleep last night, and I'm so tired..."

"Do you want me to help you relax?" Hvitserk smiled, biting his lip and fixing his eyes on your exposed leg "I have a few methods to get you to sleep"

You raised an eyebrow.

"No, I need to be in class in one hour, Hvitserk"

"Which class?"

"Old norse mythology" you shrugged "It's one of the few interesting classes I have here, so I can't skip it"

"It's not important, and Ivar has a lot of notes, he can give them to you" he moved closer to you with a smirk, making you nervous.

"I don't think Ivar likes me, so I doubt he'll give me any notes" you cleared your throat, trying to act casual and ignore Hvitserk's fingers caressing the exposed skin of your knee. 

"He likes you, actually" Hvitserk moved so his lips were closer to your cheek "If he didn't like you, you wouldn't be around anymore" he chuckled "I think he finds you interesting"

You sighed. If he found you interesting, he had a weird way of showing it.

"Well I find him annoying"

Hvitserk laughed, getting even closer to you.

"You and every single person in this world" he muttered, and you turned your head to look at him. 

Bad choice. 

He kissed you harshly. In behalf of Hvitserk, you had to say he was a really good kisser. Like Ivar. It could be something genetic. You decided you'd investigate it as your final project for Biology.

Hvitserk made you lean on your back. You let him kiss you and caress your body, your hands were on his neck and your eyes closed.

You could have let him undress you, but you were outside, and someone could see you. 

Probably Mrs. Lauridsen wouldn't be too happy if she found both of you making out during classes. 

"Hvitserk..." You giggled, his lips tickling your neck "Hvitserk, no, stop, we're in the middle of the school" 

"Who cares? It's not like they'll dare to expel us"

"Come on, stop"

He sighed, pressing down his forehead against your breasts.

"You'll be the death of me, Y/N"

"Sorry" you shrugged, smiling. 

You were so caught up looking at each other in the eyes, laughing and trying not to feel guilty that you didn't hear the steps coming closer to you until someone cleared his throat.

Ubbe stood there, smiling down at you, dressed on his uniform (it was amazing how the Lothbroks could wear that awful school uniform and look like Hollister models) and with his eyebrow raised.

"Hello, Y/N" he winked at you and you smiled at him.

"Hello Ubbe" you got away from Hvitserk, fixing your skirt and your shirt. 

"I need to talk to you, brother" Ubbe crossed his arms, looking at Hvitserk.

"I'm busy, Ubbe" Hvitserk winked at him playfully, and Ubbe and you rolled your eyes at the same time "It cannot wait?"

"No, come on, you fucker" Ubbe laughed, kicking him "Get your fat ass up and come... Y/N, do you mind?"

"No, it's okay, I wanted to get some study done before going to class and I can't with Hvitserk here"

Hvitserk glared at you, and Ubbe laughed. 

"See? You're bothering the lady"

"Oh, she was loving it" he groaned, rolling his eyes "And remember, princess, if you want to read your notes, do it like this" he took the page you were pretending to read earlier, putting it the right way in front of you.

You smiled, biting your lip as he kissed your cheek and got up. 

"See you later"

"Bye" you waved at the both of them as they walked away. 

___________________________________

"So, what was that important thing that couldn't wait?" asked Hvitserk, walking next to his brother and trying to hide his erection, result of your heated make out session.

"You have to stop doing this" Ubbe was suddenly serious "It's not fair, nor for Y/N nor for Margrethe"

His brother looked away, pressing his lips together.

"Margrethe knows it"

"Yes, she does, but Y/N doesn't, I don't think she deserves that... If you don't want anything serious with her, you should tell her"

"Do you have any problem with Margrethe and me together, Ubbe?"

"You know that I don't" Ubbe answered calmly "I love both of you, and I want you to be happy, that's why I don't care if you sleep together"

"Then what's the problem?"

"That you're dragging an innocent girl in all of this... Do you even like her or you are too obsessed to get into her bed that you don't care if it looks like you want something serious?"

"Ubbe" Hvitserk stopped walking, glaring at his older brother with his jaw clenched "I like Y/N, okay? It's not like I'm in love with her and I'm going to marry her or anything, but I like her, for a change, and maybe I enjoy being with her, even if I would like to be fucking instead"

"If you like her that much... Why do you keep seeing Margrethe?"

"As I said, Y/N won't let me into her bed that easily, Ubbe, I need to unwind a little bit"

"If you liked her that much, you'll wait for her and wouldn't fuck some other people"

Hvitserk rolled his eyes again. Of course his brother would not understand.

"Did you interrupt us just to tell me this?"

"No, actually I need you to go to Copenhagen with mother next week" Ubbe lowered his voice, looking around to make sure no one was eavesdropping "I know I was supposed to be the one to go, while father is in England, but I need to take care of some things around here, especially since he got here"

Hvitserk sighed, but nodded.

"Okay, I'll go with mother"

"Thanks, brother, I didn't feel good leaving Ivar here, you and Sigurd don't know how to control him"

"Try to stop him from killing Sigurd, or Heahmund"

"Shut up, Hvitserk"

_______________________________

You couldn't believe you were late again. 

How could you be late? You were literally next to the classroom! But of course you lost track of time and were now five minutes late. 

Luckily, the Mythology teacher was nice enough to let you in even if the class had already started. Your usual sitting spot next to Elise had been occupied by a dark-haired boy you honestly didn't remember and the class was full. 

Embarrassed, you tried to find some other free seat, feeling everyone's eyes on you. 

There was one at the end of the class... Next to Ivar.

He smirked at you, as if he was daring you to take a sit next to him. 

You have to admit, you considered for a moment the option of turning around and stepping out of the class, but you didn't. Instead, you walked over to him, acting more brave than you actually felt. 

You refused to be intimidated by him.

Sitting next to him wasn't as uncomfortable as you thought it would be. Ivar had a vibe, he irradiated a strange calm that somehow relaxed you. At least when he was silent, looking at his notes without that permanent frown and that threatening glare. 

Even though you were always aware of his presence. He had his own way of making himself noticed; Ivar could be sitting in a room full of people and you would always notice him. 

The first half an hour passed in silence. You tried to listen to the teacher, who was enumerating the Aesir gods and goddesses, which was honestly a very interesting topic, but you were too distracted by Ivar, and kept glancing at him, unable of taking any notes. 

His blue eyes found yours once, when you were scanning his perfect face, taking in how well sculpted his jaw and cheeks were, how his nose had a perfect size and how his dark hair contrasted with...

"Do you like what you see?" His deep voice startled you, and you looked to the front of the class quickly with your cheeks burning.

"I asked you a question, Y/N" he insisted when you didn't answer him.

"No" you replied, whispering and not taking your eyes from the teacher.

Ivar pouted, mocking you. You couldn't see him, but his eyes scanned your body, licking his lips and remembering how you squirmed in his arms and came moaning his name the night before.

"You didn't say that last night" he sighed, and you looked at him with wide eyes.

"Last night nothing happened" you gritted your teeth 

"Are you sure you want to forget the best moment of your life?"

The little shit was grinning, knowing he was getting under your skin. Once again, you felt like a fool for letting him get to you.

"It wasn't, by far, the best moment of my life" you lied, glaring at him.

"Maybe you should come to my room after class" he shrugged "I could refresh some things for you; you say it wasn't the best moment of your life but I have never ever heard you moan that way when you're with my brother in his bed... Why is that?"

You bit your lip. 

"Well, unlike you" you tried to preserve the dignity you still had "Hvitserk is a decent person who would never do anything embarrassing with someone in the same room"

Ivar laughed and shook his head, as if you just told him the best joke he had ever heard. 

"Yeah, Hvitserk is the most decent person in the world" his tone changed, and he clenched his jaw "Do you know what was he doing when you were too busy looking for him? He was on the room next to ours, love" he smiled wickedly "Fucking Margrethe until both of them passed out" he shook his head "You think you're special because he kept chasing you? That's because you haven't spread your legs yet, but when you do he'll forget about you, and you'll go after him crying and whining about loving him, pathetic" his tone was harsh, and he spoke to you like he hated you. 

You couldn't answer him, you couldn't even understand what he was saying. Hvitserk, the same Hvitserk that morning had kissed your cheek lovingly and told you how beautiful you looked even though your face was a mess after sleeping just for an hour couldn't have fucked Margrethe last night.

But, once again, you let his brother finger you... 

Ivar looked proud of the reaction he had gotten out of you. He had the last word, as always. 

Nevertheless, a very small part of him felt bad. It was a strange feeling to which he definitely wasn't used to; he saw you part your lips and gasp, widening your eyes, and understood he had hurt you. Maybe he shouldn't have told you that so harshly... Maybe it was something between you and Hvitserk.

But he couldn't stand the way you looked all happy and in love with Hvitserk that morning; how you laughed and kissed him, sitting on the grass, with the unusual bright sun lightening your face and your hair, making you look almost like a goddess. And he definitely hated the way his heart sank when he saw you. 

Since when Ivar Lothbrok was that obsessed with a girl? Since when his heart raced whenever you looked in his direction? You were normal, a normal girl who treated him different and somehow caught his attention.

He hadn't felt like that since Freydis. And that scared him more than anything.

Ivar thought he could control it. He thought that, while you were with his brother, he wouldn't have a chance with you, so he had time to forget about you... But his blood boiled every time he saw you with Hvitserk. 

And having you straddling him, between his arms, moaning beautifully and clenching your walls around his fingers didn't actually help. He was so overwhelmed that he needed to kick you out of the room, because he knew he would have confessed everything to you... A bad idea, considering he had threatened you a few minutes earlier. 

Ivar was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't realized you were collecting all your things and putting all of them into your backpack until you stood up, making everyone turn to look at you. 

You kept your eyes fixed on the teacher, with your lips pressed together, trying your best not to cry in front of everyone, in front of Ivar.

"Is there any problem, miss Y/N?"

"I need to go out" your voice sounded better than you expected "I need some fresh air"

It was obvious, for your reddened cheeks, your eyes full of tears and your shaking hands, that you were not okay. The teacher looked at you surprised, and after a quick glance to Ivar, who was glaring at you, she understood and nodded, letting you go. 

After muttering a 'thank you' that you were sure no one heard, you walked out of the classroom, closing the door after you and sighing. 

You needed to control yourself. This hadn't happened to you for months... Why did it have to happen again during class?

Oh, yeah, because Ivar was a fucking asshole. 

The pressure into your chest made your breathing erratic and heavy, and you felt like someone put a rock on your chest that pressed down and didn't let you breath. 

The tears were already falling down your cheeks when you finally stepped outside of the building whose walls were drowning you. 

As you tried to calm yourself down, you closed your eyes, sitting down on the grass, trying to remember what your father used to tell you when you had one of your anxiety attacks. 

Breathe, just focus on breathing. 

You didn't know how much time you spent sitting there, trying to control your breathing and not to think about Hvitserk. 

Of course, you shouldn't have trusted him, not when you knew about his reputation. You shouldn't have fallen into a guy's trap again. 

It was always the same, and you felt the most stupid person in the whole world. You felt even worse when you realized you just had an anxiety attack over all of that. Maybe you were feeling more things for Hvitserk than you thought, or maybe it hurt even more because it was Ivar who told you. Who actually thought you were pathetic. 

Or maybe it was because you felt used, replaceable and alone, you had been feeling like that for a while. 

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @cbouvier23 @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @ivarslittlebadgirl @naaladareia @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @thisisparadisemylove @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @memememememe1-blog @dreamtherapy @rravenss @vikingalexthedane @thevikingsheaux @therealcalicali @thehanneloner @fuckthatfeeling @drowninginyoureyes95 @chimera4plums @mrstheorossix3 

idk why some tags aren’t working 😫 @tumblr stop bullying me

I’ll try again later I'm so sorry 💔

Anyway thanks for reading, I hope you liked it!♥️ Next I think it will be an Hvitserk fic bc most of you seem to be more in a Hvitty mood (ivar’s lovers don’t worry bc he will be back soon)

[thelastifntdragonrider]

J’Imagine (I Believe)

A HTTYD fanfic

Summary: Modern Canada AU. Winter in Canada lasts most of the year, the only real comfort that Hiccup has against the cold is his family, Astrid, and hockey.

Link: on Fanfiction.net

New Chapter: Game 7: The Leafs make it to the finals. Hiccup does not. 

Warning: Character death and angst 

3: Game 7

Astrid returned home.

Alone.

Returning to the bedroom, she reached under the bed and pulled out a box. In the box, there was one end of the a splintered hockey stick, the stub from a Roll Up the Rim coffee cup, and a small velvet box. All memories from Hiccup, memories that now were too painful to think of. Maybe some day, she'll be able to look back on the memories with a smile. Now, tears tracked down her face and carefully, she placed the unused tickets on top, adding one more memory to be forgotten for now.

Closing the box, she slid it under the bed, never to see it again.

-xx—xx-

Hiccup opened his eyes slowly.

The room was peaceful, his heartbeat beating steadily with the beeping of the monitor, and the small TV in the corner was on, an announcer excitedly reporting the current Stanley Cup playoffs. As the reporter called out that the Rangers scored against the Leafs, Hiccup looked around the rest of the room, smiling as he saw Astrid was sitting beside his bed, reading a textbook. To him, Astrid looked absolutely lovely. Her blonde hair framed her face, falling out of its braid, as she tapped her pencil against the edge of her textbook. Hiccup watched Astrid for a couple of moments, watching her clear blue eyes flicker over the page as she read the notes. A couple of moments later, Astrid sighed, closing her textbook. Looking up, she smiled as she saw Hiccup awake. "Hey, babe, how are you feeling?"

Hiccup smiled and sighed in happiness as she brushed his thin hair out of his eyes, kissing his forehead. "You look beautiful," he whispered, taking her hand as she sat down next to him on the bed.

She smiled and lifted his hand to gently kiss his fingers. "Thank you," she said with a smile. For a moment, they sat together, just enjoying each other's company and listening to the hockey game on the TV.

"I can't believe that the Leafs actually made it to the playoffs, even if it's the first round," she said softly. "Game 3, and they've only lost two, maybe they have a chance."

Hiccup laughed, though his laughter died off into coughs. Astrid smiled, happy that she managed to make him smile. He rested his head against her shoulder and she wrapped her arms around him, planting a kiss against his forehead.

In silence, they watched the game, the players racing across the ice and the crowd cheering. It was nearly half time when suddenly Hiccup spoke up. "Toothless likes baths, nice warm ones, especially on days he's outside when it's cold. He also loves salmon and maybe an occasional piece of cod or shrimp. Don't forget that he loves to be rubbed under the chin and –"

"Hiccup, why are you telling me this?"

"I just want to make sure you know all of this before..."

Astrid shook her head. "I know everything. So please... just stop talking."

He didn't stay silent for very long. "You need to find someone after I'm gone."

"Hiccup, that makes no sense."

"No. Astrid. This is important. I need you to hear this," Hiccup said, pulling himself out of her arms so that he could look into her eyes directly. "Through all of this, the only thing that has made it bearable is you. You. Someone that I love, would've protected through everything, someone that I wanted to marry someday. There's going to be a day long, long, long time from now when you're going to be... dying as well. I want you to have someone beside you, holding onto you, kissing you, hoping and praying that you won't die. I want so badly that could be me, but it seems like it won't be, so I want you to find someone who can love you and who you can love to. I'm going to be happy for you no matter what. I love you and I want you to be happy and to be loved."

"You loved me. That's all I need," Astrid said, tears brimming in her eyes. "I can't imagine loving anyone as much as I love you."

"Astrid—"

"No!" She reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope. "Look. I bought us tickets to the Stanley Cup," she said her tone angry, but it was weakened by tears in her eyes. "You are coming to this game with me. You are coming to this game!"

Hiccup sighed and dropped his gaze. "But... Astrid... I really love this, but... I'm not going to be able to go to this game, you know that."

Astrid covered her mouth with one hand, trying to stop the tears. "Harold Haddock—"

"Don't tell me to hope. I can't stand this talk of hope any more," Hiccup said quietly, but it was like the loudest shout to her. "I can't find it in me to hope for anything any more. I can't find hope to live any more..."

Tears burned in Astrid's eyes, but she pushed them away. "But you're going to live. You're going to come back home with me to your—our house. Toothless is going to be there, Stormfly is going to be there. You're going to live.

"Someday, we'll have kids! When he's born, you're going to hold him and count all of his little tiny toes and make some bad joke about how you only have five when he as ten. We're going to watch him grow up and you're going to love him to pieces. He's going to grow up so fast that the day when he's off to college is going to here just like that. Then our life together can start. We can travel the world or we can stay at home with each together. We're going to grow old together. We can be together, and that's what matters.

"There's always going to be an Astrid and Hiccup. You're going to live. You... have to live..." Astrid took in a shaky breath and pressed her lips against Hiccup's forehead. "Promise?"

There was a pause as Hiccup worked to swallow the lump in his throat. He felt a flash of regret at his moment of selfishness, which had upset Astrid as now tears slowly fell down her cheeks. Trying to fix his wrong, he reached up to return her kiss. "I can't promise, but I'll try my best."

Astrid smiled, brushing away her tears. "That's all I'm asking for."

-xx—xx-

"Don't let go, Daddy!"

"It'll be fine, Hiccup. Steady on your feet."

"I'm right here, Hiccup, don't worry, I will catch you."

Three year old Hiccup teetered unsteadily across the ice and a big grin spread across his face as he landed safely in his father's arms.

"Good job, Hiccup!" Stoick looks up to the person behind the camera. "Valka, we have our very own hockey star on our hands."

"The best hockey player in Canada."

"In the world, Mummy!"

"Of course, in the world, Hiccup."

Astrid smiled as she watched an old home video of the Haddocks when they lived in Newfoundland. Hiccup was only three years old and his parents were teaching him how to skate on their own rink in their backyard. Little Hiccup was bundled up tightly from his tuque to his snow pants, so even when he fell on his behind, it didn't hurt at all.

As the home video finished, the next video was a recent one, from when Hiccup got his first prosthetic skate. Astrid helped him relearn how to skate, and Stoick got the idea stuck in his head to film the whole thing.

"Ah fuck!"

"Language, Hiccup."

"As if you give two fucks about a strong word," Hiccup retorted as he accepted Astrid's helping hand off the ice.

"And as if you have ever given a strong word because you landed on your ass on the ice."

"Yeah, I know, it's just... this stupid thing," Hiccup said quietly, shaking his left foot with the prosthesis attached. "It's different."

"It's just learning how to balance on the ice again."

"Someday I'll be fast as you again."

"In your dreams, Haddock, you could never beat me in the first place."

Astrid threw down her phone and rubbed her hand across her eyes, willing herself not to cry in the middle of a Tim Hortons. She was waiting in the Tim's around the corner from the hospital for visiting hours to start. She wasn't sure what made her watch the home videos, maybe a little bit of nostalgia mixed too much wistful thinking.

It had only been less than a day since she had last seen Hiccup, but she already missed him. Every single moment apart was filled with anxiety as she worried that Hiccup passed away without her beside him, but every day, she would return and Hiccup would be there for her.

But for how long?

Quickly wiping away the last of the tears, she picked up her things and headed towards the exit. Stopping by a garbage can, she drained the rest of her coffee and rolled up the rim of her cup.

Please play again / Réessayez S.V.P

Angrily, she threw the cup into the trashcan. Taking two steps, she had to stumble to a near by bench to collect herself.

Why was she so angry at loosing at Roll Up the Rim? Why did she miss Hiccup as if she was a love sick teenager? What was she going to do without Hiccup?

Taking deep breaths, she opened her eyes to look at the blue sky. Just one thing at a time. First priority: Hiccup.

There were good days and bad days. Sometimes Hiccup would be in so much pain that he would be high on painkillers and all he could do is lay in bed, resting. The good days were far apart and few in number, but those days, Astrid could nearly imagine it was before Hiccup's relapse. Nearly is the operative word. He was still skinny as a stick, his thin limbs poking out from under his hospital robe as he lay on the too small hospital bed. But still on the good days, Hiccup would smile at Astrid as if nothing was wrong and she would smile back, because she's happy at least in this moment.

This day, it was a good day. As Astrid came into the room, he was sitting up in the bed, slowly picking through a bland hospital meal.

"Astrid!" he said happily, reaching out to hug her.

"Hey, babe," Astrid said, leaning down for the hug and kissed his cheek. Hiccup didn't let go right away, just pressing his nose against her neck, breathing in deeply.

"You went for Tim's?"

"Sorry, is that bothering you?" Previously, Hiccup had reacted badly to some scents, Astrid's coconut shampoo made him feel severely nauseous, enough for Astrid to switch shampoo that very day. She wouldn't be surprised if the strong smell of coffee would upset his stomach. Astrid tried to pull away, but Hiccup just tightened his grip.

"No. It's fine," Hiccup said, burying his nose more deeply into her shoulder. "It's like before..."

"I'm sorry, babe," Astrid said, kissing his forehead as she helped him lay down again. Hiccup groaned and Astrid quickly pressed the morphine pump for him.

"Thank you, milady," Hiccup said as she mopped the sweat of his face.

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Let's watch something before the game starts," she suggested. "What do you want to watch?"

"Anything," Hiccup said, his voice soft, but he was not watching the TV, instead just staring at Astrid as she picked up the remote.

After flicking through channels, she found an rerun of Murdoch Mysteries. She settled down on the bed next to Hiccup, slipping under Hiccup and leaning his head on her shoulder. They watched the episode in silence for a little while until Astrid commented, "I like him," about one of the characters, Constable Crabtree.

"Does he remind you of anyone you know?" Hiccup said, striking a pose the best he could as he was attached to IV lines and was weak as a kitten.

"Hmmm... brown hair... funny... charming Newfoundland accent..." Astrid mused. "Nah. Nobody I know of."

"Hey!" Hiccup shoved Astrid.

She laughed and kissed his hand. "Okay, who do you like?"

"She's hot." Hiccup nodded towards Dr Ogden.

"Oh wow, you definitely have a type," Astrid teased.

"Yes, I do."

"Blonde and tall."

"Nope. Smart, caring, fiercely independent and kick ass."

"Don't you forget the last one," Astrid said, giving him a small squeeze on his shoulder.

"Never, milady."

They settled down against each other until the episode ended and the game started.

"Couple of more weeks until we get to go to the game," Astrid said.

Hiccup smiled. "I can't wait."

But as the Stanley Cup playoffs continued, Hiccup's health continued to slowly decline. The finals started, Hiccup's lungs started to rattle. The Leafs had made it to the finals, playing against the Oilers, while Hiccup fought with alternating periods of alertness and dementia.

It was a new morning in June and this was the day that Death came and told them, "It's time."

Astrid and Hiccup spent the day quietly. Astrid held his hand tightly as if when she would let go, she would be letting go of Hiccup forever. Visiting hours were over hours ago, but the hospital staff let her stay until the end.

The last moment of clarity came and Astrid told Hiccup over and over again that she loved him, but the only thing that Hiccup could think to say was, "The blue line..."

Astrid brushed her hand against his forehead. "What do you mean?"

"On the hockey rink... behind the blue line you're safe..." Hiccup whispered. "Home turf..."

"Yeah."

Tears burned in his eyes and he closed his eyes. "I'm nearly back at the blue line... I'm so tired..."

"I know you are... I know you are," Astrid whispered. "You are my hero, heroes fight so hard. It's okay if you need to... stop fighting now. I understand.

Hiccup nodded shakily and reached out to take Astrid's hand again. "For you, milady, I would've fought everything. I would've protected you from everything."

"I know," Astrid said with a watery smile. "I don't need you to fight for me anymore. I can look after myself."

Closing his eyes, Hiccup whispered, "But I wanted to be there for you."

"And I wanted for you to be there beside me for a long time," Astrid answered, kissing his hand gently. "I wanted to take care of you through happy days, sad days, ugly days and beautiful days, but your mom and dad will take care of you now. You don't need to fight anymore."

Hiccup felt Astrid press a kiss against his lips once more as she said, "I love you so much, Hiccup."

He so badly wanted to open his eyes once more to see Astrid's beautiful face, to look into her eyes and tell her once more with all of his heart, soul, and dying body, that he loved her.

Astrid seemed to know what Hiccup was trying to do as she hugged him closer and whispered, "You'll be able to tell me that you love me many, many, many times when we are together again. It's okay, Hiccup, I'm going to miss you so, so, so much until I see you again, but it's okay. I understand why you have to leave. I love you, Hiccup Haddock, see you on the other side."

The blue line beeped and then steadied before disappearing into a thin line.

-xx—xx-

Fate is too cruel. Leafs would lose to the Oilers in Game 7. The tickets to the game remained unused. Hiccup would pass away after fighting so hard for months and years.

Fate had decided from the very beginning that this is how his story ends.

Just some things were never meant to be.

[meetmeatthecoda]

Waking: Part 3 - Wondering

Okay, y’all, here’s the last installment in the Red angst fest! It’s to do with Red’s actions in the later months of Lizzie’s coma, a few months before she wakes up. This one is important to me but I did struggle with it a little (maybe something to do with the fact that it’s 4am but whatever I mean who cares) so I’m just hoping it can hold it’s own as a fic but it also fit vaguely with the others? Idk, just hoping you guys can enjoy it. I got to let out my reading nerd and actually put my soon-to-be acquired music degree to good use. I fit a lot of dialogue in here (all Red, of course) so I’m hoping it flows well and still stays in character. So the usual stuff, I guess. Anyhoo, I really hope you guys like this 3 part angst parade cause I certainly enjoyed writing it. I’ve loved seeing all your comments and I’m sorry I made some of you cry. :) These two crazy kids are just so tragic, I can’t. :’) Anyway, I should wrap it up here so, per usual, this is also on my FF.net and AO3 accounts. The song for this was “All I Want” by Dawn Golden. Please let me know what you think about this final part of the series! I love your feedback! :) Now that this is completed, I get to start on that fic I posted about last week where Liz is suffering from apraxia and Red is caring for her. Super pumped for that :D So yeah, enjoy peeps! :) Much love! <3

Red wonders if Lizzie can hear him.

He read somewhere that people in comas may be aware of their surroundings. He hopes that’s true. He can’t handle thinking of Lizzie just sleeping for the past seven months, lying there in absolute darkness and silence. The thought just…wrecks him.

So, he tries to provide a stimulating auditory environment for her. He talks to her constantly. It starts as just mundane things like the weather and the color of the paint on the walls in her hospital room. But then he looks at Lizzie’s sleeping face and he can almost hear her scoffing and rolling her eyes.

“Really, Red? I’m stuck in a hospital bed recovering from brain surgery and you think I want to hear about the weather? You can do better than that, come on!”

(The minute he starts imagining Lizzie’s responses to what he says is the minute he starts being genuinely concerned for his sanity. Ah well. He supposes if he’s going to hear a voice in his head, it might as well be Lizzie.)

So, he starts talking to Lizzie, really talking, telling her anything that comes to mind. He tells her about the new coffee creamer he tried this morning, describing the taste and texture with an amount of detail she probably wouldn’t have been able to stand ordinarily but he’d rather be too descriptive than not enough.

He’s living for the both of them now.

When he’s describing the foods he’s eaten and the flavors he loves (“I was initially quite skeptical of calamari, Lizzie, I won’t pretend otherwise, but it was surprisingly pleasant, I must admit.”), the bizarre dishes he describes leads him to telling her about all the places he’s visited.

He knows Lizzie has always wanted to travel and since he’s painfully aware she can’t go anywhere at present, he settles for telling her everything he can think of, from the consistency of the snow in Vienna and the color of the ocean in Haiti.

“I can’t wait until you wake up, Lizzie, and then I can take you whenever you want to go. You’ll like someplace tropical, I know you will, but you should really give Iceland a shot, it is unbelievably beautiful…”

He tries not to get too personal with his ramblings, tries not to share anything that she would have been uncomfortable hearing if she were awake, (like the fact that he’d love to take her to Antarctica and lay with her in the snow and moonlight and see the northern lights reflected in her blue eyes), but it’s quite hard to resist telling her things he’s always wanted to tell her when he knows she won’t sigh exasperatedly and walk away.

(All he wants is to tell her how much he loves her while she’s awake to hear it. It never occurred to him that someday that would be impossible.)

Telling her about the places he’s been reminds Red of the people he’s met and the ridiculous situations he so often seems to find himself in, stories that normally she would be reluctantly amused by. He misses telling her these things over morning coffee or during a car ride, observing her closely, watching as she stifles a grin, pretending not to like his fantastical tales.

He wishes he could see that again.

“…and it was quite a stench, Lizzie, let me tell you, camels are not to be trifled with. And that Bedouin trader could have warned me but I truly don’t think he’s ever forgiven me for the way I insulted his wife. But it was completely unintentional, Lizzie, believe me…”

When Red runs out of stories of his own to tell, he turns to books. Lizzie never seemed to have enough time to read so he makes it his goal to expand her literary world.

(If she can’t venture out into the world, he’ll do his damnedest to bring the world to her.)

He starts with things he knows she’ll like, things Dembe found on her bookshelf when packing up her apartment. He slogs through her silly romances and crime novels, playfully berating her for her lack of variety.

“…and clearly it was the tax collector who murdered the grocer, Lizzie, it’s obvious. Some detective this hero is, really, he’s just pathetic. I mean, I know we’re only on page seventeen but I’m quite sure of myself. At any rate, we’ll see if I’m right in the end…”

They make good progress, usually several chapters in a day, and Red soon makes it through Lizzie’s scant collection. He moves on to things he thinks she’ll like based on her collection. He starts with Jane Austen.

“I have a feeling you’ll like this, Lizzie. Much better than those trashy paper backs you seem to consider ‘romance’. This is sophisticated love, you see. Much more entertaining. Mr. Darcy can be a bit tiresome but I think you’ll like the heroine…”

He tries to stick to her preferred genres but he also occasionally picks an outlier, something he knows she wouldn’t have picked off a shelf for herself.

His biggest gamble was the Lord of the Rings. He’s not sure Lizzie would like them but he so enjoys reading the rich descriptions of such a fantastical land out loud, savoring them, trying to create a vivid mental picture for Lizzie.

It takes him a month and a half to get through them all. He saves them for dreary days when he can hear the rain pitter-pattering on the roof and the light is dim all day and it feels like he and Lizzie are the only two people in the world.

He wonders if she can hear him.

After months of talking and reading, Red starts to think that perhaps Lizzie would like to hear something other than just his voice. So, he asks Dembe to fetch his record player and collection from his Bethesda apartment.

Dembe had raised his eyebrows in question at that. It was a general rule that Red’s Bethesda things stayed in Bethesda, no exceptions. But Red took one look at Lizzie’s soft, pale eyelids, closed and still, and urged Dembe on.

This is all she has.

Red starts to alternate days of reading with days of listening, though he still makes a point to narrate everything they listen to. He tries to vary the selections, changing the genres depending on the weather and his mood, trying to guess what Lizzie would pick.

He wishes he could ask her.

For the first week or so, he opts for jazz.

“This is Dizzy Gillespie on trumpet, Lizzie, he was really something. A legend in the world of jazz, so talented. Did you know that someone knocked over his trumpet and bent the bell? Instead of getting it fixed, he decided he liked the way it sounded and kept it, bent to hell. Can you imagine?”

He buys a special record of “Symphonie Fantastique” just for Lizzie. They spend a whole afternoon listening to all five movements, the sound so crystal clear it’s as if the orchestra is in the room with them.

“This was composed by Hector Berlioz, Lizzie. Interesting man. The poor thing was wildly in love with an actress, obsessed with her. Completely harmless, of course, but still she wanted nothing to do with him. That’s what the symphony is based on, you know. The protagonist is so desperately in love with the woman of his dreams but his feelings go unrequited so he takes opium to drown his sorrows. You’d probably say that’s a little melodramatic of him but…” he reaches up and gently brushes a lock of hair behind Lizzie’s ear. “…I’m not so sure. I think I rather understand him.”

On sunny days, Red plays 80s hits by Billy Joel and Pink Floyd from his iPod, sometimes singing quietly along, his rumbling bass filling the room pleasantly. He imagines that Lizzie has a beautiful singing voice.

He wishes he could hear her.

Red spends months with Lizzie like this, talking, reading, singing, never silent. He never wants her to feel as though she’s alone in the dark. He is here, with her, always. He hopes she knows that. He wishes he could ask if it helps, his constant noise, so desperate to keep her company.

(Or perhaps it is him that needs to feel less alone. He’s not sure anymore.)

And in the dark of night, sitting at her bedside clutching her hand, he tells her things, things he only feels safe telling her when it’s just the two of them, her asleep, him awake, always awake and waiting.

In the dark, he pleads with her.

“Lizzie…Lizzie, please come back. I miss you so much. You’ve been gone so long and…you must come back. We’ve gone through a lot of books and records over the past nine months…I’d love to hear your opinions on Tolkien and Berlioz. Wake up and tell me what long-winded saps they are. Tell me you miss me…Lizzie, tell me you love me. Because I love you, sweetheart. So much. I’m sure you know that by now. So, please wake up so I can tell you in person. I miss you. I miss you, Lizzie…please…come back to me…”

He wonders if Lizzie can hear him.

He wonders if he wants her to.

[hookedonapirate]

So this idea I have can be a one-shot. It's based on something I saw on pinterest. "It's midnight when Emma hears someone playing the piano in the apartment above her. They're playing the song from Titanic 'My heart will go on'. She opens her door and yells 'Jack'. The music stops and she hears someone running down the hall above her shouting 'Rose'." Something like that... Just let me know if this sounds too boring for you.. :P You don't have to write it if you don't want to. Have a nice day

A/N: @eagleeyes460​ sorry it took so long for me to write this but here it is. I hope you don’t mind I reversed their roles. Hope you enjoy!

Every Night 

Every night he hears the piano playing from upstairs. The soft melody, the smooth transition of the keys, the familiar ballads that he’s heard a thousand times now. He hears it when he comes home from a long day at the docks, he hears it when he’s sitting on the fire escape nursing a glass of rum, he hears it when he sleeps.

The music invades his dreams even when he’s unconscious. He can hear it occasionally when he’s in the shower or when he’s reading. He has all of the songs memorized, unable to shake them from his mind. He’s often humming the tunes when he hears the smooth melody echoing off the walls above his ceiling. He’s humming the tunes even when he’s not at home.

Killian’s never met the mysterious neighbor upstairs whose songs taunt him on a daily basis. He imagines his neighbor is a woman, he imagines she’s just as beautiful and lovely as her one of her numbers. He wonders what she looks like and what kind of shapes her lips form when she’s playing the piano. He imagines her getting lost in her music, letting her fingers unconsciously work their own magic on the keyboard. He wonders what she wears or how she does her hair when playing such fine tunes. Is her hair long with curls splayed over one shoulder or straight and pinned up in a bun?

He thinks about his neighbor often, hoping one day he will meet her. Would she even like him or would he scare her off? Would she like his leather jackets or his unruly hair? Would she like his AC/DC t-shirts or his sarcastic humor? Would she mind that he drinks rum on occasion or has a tendency to leave the toilet seat up after he uses the restroom. Would she mind his DVD collection or how tidy he keeps his flat? All of these things plague him constantly, hoping someday he’ll get the chance to find out.

What would they even talk about? Music, he fathoms. He used to play the guitar before he injured his hand. Now he can only appreciate the sound of someone else’s songs. Which is fine by him. He could listen to his neighbor’s music for all of eternity. He would never admit it though. He’d never admit that he enjoys a good, satisfying love ballad.

When his mates come over to visit, he often complains about his neighbor and her annoying music. He’d never let them know that he hums along to songs like Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” or the Aladdin number “A Whole New World”. He’d never fess up to the fact that the famous track from Titanic “My Heart Will Go On” is his all time favorite song played by his neighbor. If he did mention such things to his mates, he’d never hear the end of it. The mocking and teasing would never stop.

He would never be able to explain the effect his neighbor’s piano skills has on him; how the melody captures his attention and livens up his small lonely apartment, the sound enveloping each room in such a way that makes him feel less isolated. His neighbor’s tunes often put a smile upon his face when he comes home from a dreary day. He can relax and put his feet up on the coffee table with a glass of rum, just listening to her play.

Tonight is one of those nights. He’s listening to her music, a low rumble in his throat as he hums along to the tune. He only takes a sip of his drink between numbers. It’s the stroke of midnight when she starts playing “My Heart Will Go On” and he gets goosebumps. He always gets goosebumps when she plays that song, a chill shooting down his spine. And maybe it’s the alcohol in his system or the way he gets caught up in her melody. Or maybe he’s just losing it all together that night, but he starts playing out the scene of Titanic in his head when Jack is handcuffed and trapped in one of the rooms while the floor starts flooding with water. Jack hears Rose calling his name and starts yelling back so she can find him.

It’s been awhile since Killian’s watched the movie, but it activates the waterworks every time.

Thinking about the film, he unexpectedly feels the urge to stand up from the sofa and does just that. Getting up on the coffee table, he extends his hand dramatically, calling out, “Rose!”

Suddenly the music stops and he hears a female voice shouting back at him. “Jack!”

Killian jumps off of the coffee table and goes over to the door, opening it, his voice producing a more powerful noise. “Roooose!”

He then hears footsteps running down the hall above him. “Jaaaack!”

Killian emerges from his flat and he hears a door slam shut as he follows the voice and runs down the corridor, taking the first few steps of the staircase. “Rooooose!”

“Jaaaaaack!”

He hears the voice directly above him now and looks up, seeing a woman staring down at him over the banister. Her beauty takes his breath away. Her hair is cascading over the railing in long, golden curls and her eyes are a glistening green, her lips red and parting softly.

Killian runs the rest of the way up the stairs and he’s panting for more than one reason. He reaches her, his eyes taking in her entire form. She’s barefoot and wearing a long, pale blue nightgown made of silk and lace. Her high cheekbones are flushed with a rosy shade of pink, her pale skin soft and creamy.

She looks like an angel.

Managing to summon a warm smile, he extends his hand, offering it to her. “The name’s Killian,” he breathes out in a shaky voice. “Killian Jones. And you must be the mysterious piano player I presume?”

A coy simile curves her lips and she blushes even more. Eyeing his offered hand, she hesitates ever so briefly before slipping her palm into his. Her touch is gentle and warm, and his heart speeds up in response, pounding erratically against his rib cage. “Yes. Emma Swan. And you're the guy from downstairs who's always humming,” she laughs.

Killian nods, feeling his cheeks growing warm with blush. “Aye, that would be me. Sorry if it's annoying.”

“Please... I'm sorry if my music is too loud,” she apologizes. Her voice is just as soft and delicate as she looks.

“It’s not a problem, lass.” Kilian raises her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss to the back of her fingers, his eyes never breaking away from hers. He hears the small hitch in her breath as he brushes his lips along her skin. He reluctantly tears his mouth away, flashing her a soft smirk and offering a flirty lift of his brow. “In fact I quite fancy your music.”

Emma’s smile overtakes her face, her cheeks the darkest shade of red and her green eyes sparkling with curiosity as he releases her hand. “Thank you,” she murmurs, shyly glancing down at the floor.

Killian scratches behind his ear nervously, peering down at his feet as he tries to speak again, but her beauty overwhelms him and he finds it very difficult to form words. He knows the question is bold but he can’t help but ask. “Do you mind if I watch you play?”

She lifts her eyes to his again, appearing to be intrigued by his offer as she speaks in a soft, delicate voice. “Okay.”

Killian follows Emma to her apartment and she offers him some hot tea before allowing him to join her on the piano bench. Her fingers move easily and naturally, stroking every key with so little effort as her mouth purses into a soft pout. Emma's hair is gathered over one shoulder, exposing the other side of her long, slender neck to him. Her  emerald depths are gentle and focused, and every so often she closes her eyes and bites her bottom lip, which he finds to be very enchanting. The music she produces from her fingertips sounds even more magical up close. The tune is gorgeous but doesn’t hold a candle to her physical beauty as she gets lost in her talent. He's completely captivated by her. He watches her play for what seems like hours and by the end of the night, he wants so badly to kiss her.

Before she finishes the last number, she’s gazing over at him with a smile, her fingers still playing the keys as he somehow finds the courage deep inside of him to act on his desires. He slowly leans in, lifting his hand to her cheek as he kisses her softly on the lips. She hits a few wrong notes before tearing her fingers away and curling her hand around the sleeve of his shirt responding to the kiss with the same tenderness. Tilting his head slightly, his thumb affectionately strokes her cheekbone as her other hand slides through his hair, fingers caressing his sculpt and bringing him closer. Her creamy skin is so silky and smooth, her lips exquisitely soft as he deepens the kiss, getting caught up in her warmth. His heart is skipping beats and his breath is quivering when he finally breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead against hers for balance.

The moment is a bit awkward as they try to catch their breaths, so he flashes her a slanted smile, breaking the silence with a breathy whisper. “Promise me you’ll never let go…” He’s not sure if that’s exactly how the line goes but he’s too far gone from the kiss to care.

A delicate smile crosses her lips as she replies, her voice strangled and wrecked as she nuzzles her nose against his. “I’ll never let go, Jack… I’ll never let go.” No longer able to contain her composure, she lets out an adorable snort and they finally pull away from each other so as not to smack their heads together as they share a laugh.

He goes back to his apartment just after two in the morning, his fingers brushing over his lips, still feeling the tingle from her kiss. If there’s one thing he learned that night, it’s the undeniable truth.

Killian’s neighbor is everything he imagined and more.

[dimensionalewok-blog]

THE LUMOS IN YOUR EYES. [Chapter 1/???]

<p><p>Hi, this is my first fan fiction so it will probably have many gramatical mistakes and maybe the story isn’t so well written :/ Anyways I hope you will enjoy the story: ——————————————————————- Summary: Dan Howell(Slytherin) has been a Hogwarts student for 5 years. After meeting one of his Quidditch heros, Phil Lester (Hufflepuff) his world will turn upside down, experiencing new things and falling in love Author: Lovehearteyeshowlter ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ For the Fifth time in his life he trespassed the magical wall into de Platform 9 ¾. Dan stepped in while he pushed his small carriage full of his luggage. He tried to clean his black clothes and started to play with his curly hair. There were a few people in the station, so he sat in a bench as lonely as always. He didn’t have many friends in his house, Slytherin. Dan was a mudblood and even though the battle of Hogwarts ended 3 years ago, and wizards were supposed to be united, the prejudice persisted. The loneliness didn’t bother him anyway, he liked to be lonely, maybe it was because he hadn’t found the proper person yet. After all no one wanted to talk to a mudblood. He rises his sight and saw the Hogwarts Express, as red as always he decided that it was time to go. He left his luggage and entered to the train. He opened the cabin number 11 and sat there. He was expecting his roommate, Chris, to enter at any moment. As he was his roommate he always hangout with him and a Ravenclaw called PJ, he considered them as his friends, or at least something like that. The door opened. -“Chris…”- said Dan turning his head before noticing Chris wasn’t there. One guy and two girls were standing in front of him. He recognized them. The girl from the right was called Carrie, a Gryffindor, she had messy golden locks with beautiful brown eyes and adorable cheeks,she was in his adivination class with Dan. Then there was Dodie, a Hufflepuff, standing at the back, she had short brown hair and hazel eyes, he always hear her singing in herbology class, she was really talented. And finally, Phil, one of the most popular guys at Hogwarts, by that moment, he played Quidditch, he was a seeker. Dan had lots of classes with Phil, but he didn’t have the courage to open his mouth and speak, he just kept starring at his bright blue eyes or his soft black hair. -Oh, sorry we are not Chris-said Carrie.-Are you waiting for him?- -Um, yes-answered Dan. -So I think we should look for another sit-said Dodie. -There are two sits left in Hazel’s cabin- -I think I can stay here-said Phil. -Are you sure?-asked Dodie. -Yes-answered Phil. -Are you completely sure?-asked Carrie. -Yes Carrie, I am- The two girls left leaving Dan and Phil alone. -Hi-said Phil -Can I sit here?- “-Yes- -I’m sorry for not presenting myself before-said Phil with an smile in his face. Dan immediately notice that he must attract sunshine because of the bright light blue shirt he was wearing, in contrast with Dan. My name is…- -Phil Lester-interrupted Dan -You are one of the best seekers in Hogwarts- -Oh,you know who I am… That’s great!-said Phil -So… do you like Quidditch?- -If I like Quidditch? I love Quidditch!- -Why I haven’t seen you in the field before?- -I’ve been there but just cheering-answered Dan. -Oh, well maybe you are a good player you should give it a try-said Phil smiling. -Maybe-answered Dan. Was he smiling? He felt like if he was smiling, he never smiled, it was weird for him. Maybe it was his empathy for Phil, or maybe it was Quidditch. He has loved Quidditch since he watched his first Quidditch match. Since he watched Phil playing in that match. -You never told me your name-said Phil. -Yes, sorry, I forgot… my name is Dan- -Can I call you Danny- -No- -Well nice to meet you DAN- said Phil extending his hand. Dan slowly extended it too and him him a good handshake. -Nice to meet you too PHIL- said Dan. The smile again. How has he never talked to Phil before? He was the nicest guy ever. Dan always looked at Phil after school. He used to watch him playing Quidditch, he always tried to be noticed by him or to talk to him, but Dan was shy. It was incredible and unpredictable, who would say that in that morning he would finally meet him? In an old train. From a moment to another they were at Hogwarts. They talked for 8 hours about everything. That was a long time. Dan and Phil realized they both had so much in common: They both loved Quidditch, they both loved chocolate frogs, their favourite book was “Quidditch through the Ages”, their favourite band was Weird Sisters, they both loved nifflers… and the most important part of all, they enjoyed being together. -Wow I can’t believe we have arrived-said Dan -It seems like time flies in this train- -Time flies with the right people-said Phil -We should repeat this someday it was nice- -Yes…it was- -You know what? You should apply for Quidditch- -I don’t know… what if I’m not good enough?- -Dan… practice makes the master- said Phil, placing his hand on Dan’s shoulder -For experience, Quidditch is really difficult at first, but if you make an effort, in a short time you will be the best chaser at Hogwarts- -You know what? I should give it a try-said Dan while getting out of the train. Immediately he was interrupted by two guys. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Should I continue?

[shemakesmusic-uk]

INTERVIEW: Katie Von Schleicher.

Katie Von Schleicher’s deeply personal new album, Consummation, is out today via Full Time Hobby. While exploring past trauma, Von Schleicher greatly expands her sonic palette; its 13 shape-shifting songs are at once potent and listenable, strange and familiar, and, perhaps most of all, teeming with life. At its core, Consummation evokes the pain of being unable to bridge that vast psychic distance between oneself and another.  

The follow-up to her 2017 debut Shitty Hits, Consummation is, in part, inspired by an alternate interpretation of Hitchcock’s Vertigo. Von was struck by its largely unanalyzed subtext of abuse. She knew immediately that this hidden narrative, which spoke to her personal experience, would be the basis of her album. Rebecca Solnit’s A Field Guide to Getting Lost also proved to be particularly influential; soon after revisiting Vertigo, Von Schleicher stumbled upon Solnit’s lacerating take on the film, describing the “wandering, , stalking, haunting” of romantic pursuit that it depicts as “consummation,” while “real communion”—understanding and mutual respect between two lovers—is, to the men in the film, “unimaginable.” The consequence is a fundamental failure of communication.

We caught up with Katie and discussed the making of Consummation, what she would change about the music world today and much more. Read the interview below.

Hi Katie! We last spoke with you three years ago around the time that you released Shitty Hits. How has life been since then? And how have you been coping with the current lockdown?

"Lots of touring occurred after that. I’ve been fine, if I had to sum up three years in a sentence. I live in Brooklyn and I’m a little worried about the coming hot weather - the park is packed on any nice day. The lockdown is tough for creativity, surprisingly not terrible for my anxiety, bad for sleeping patterns."

You're gearing up to release your new LP Consummation which is, in part, inspired by an alternate interpretation of Hitchcock’s Vertigo.

"I started writing in late 2018 after watching Vertigo. The Weinstein scandal was everywhere, there were fresh lenses through which to see society and our experiences. I remember earlier that fall having dinner with my sisters and sisters-in-law, the six of us together with age gaps as much as twenty years and wide political differences of opinion. We discussed what was going on, it turned personal, and suddenly everyone was sharing their experiences with men. I’d never had a conversation like that with them before.

"I had anger. I grew up being friendly with a man who’d abused my mom because that’s considered private business, because domestic abusers don’t always get excommunicated and they certainly don’t get called out at the dinner table. It’s her business and she can laugh about it, because she’s strong as hell, and I respect that. We talked about it at the sibling dinner, and not everyone is in agreement that it even happened. That’s a side effect of silence.

"Hitchcock notedly was abusive to his leading women. Maybe that’s why Vertigo, which is so many films in one, felt more like watching A Woman Under The Influence that December than it had the first time, which is to say it felt like a character study of a woman falling apart under duress. It’s almost like Hitchcock inadvertently imbued it with the personal. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, that’s just how I felt, and I used it as a guiding principle. I knew the colors for the album would be blue and green, that I’d talk about heights (the working title was Climbing Mountains With Assholes, citing the movies Force Majeure and 45 Years, and that bell tower from Vertigo).

"The result isn’t transparently as heavy as all that, or as direct. It’s just what filled me up while I made the record."

What were your musical influences for Consummation? Who were you listening to around the time of writing it?

"I made a playlist for mix engineer Eli Crews this time around (he mixed Shitty Hits as well). It has Anne Laplantine, US Girls, Francis Bebey, Shuggie Otis, The Eureka Brass Band, Low, Robyn, Jenny Hval, Julia Holter, Frank Ocean, Cate Le Bon, Prince, Tim Hecker, Mitski, Kevin Ayers, Iceage. There are some people who’ve influenced me endlessly: Cate Le Bon, whose shows last year I legit teared up at. Arthur Russell, Elliott Smith always. Devo was one that surprised me this time around. I’m not sure if you can hear the influences, but on ‘Wheel’ there’s a ring modulator on my lead guitar, and that was directly influenced by Devo."

What was your songwriting/creative process for Consummation? Was it similar to Shitty Hits or did you do things differently this time around?

"I always do one thing, which is write in total solitude. That’s been coming up lately because I have a roommate, and I was explaining that I have a hard time writing with any kind of ‘perceived audibility.’ With Consummation I had a fresh set of intentions and I feel like I forced things to conform to them more than usual. I reached a new place with making music: I realized I’m going to write songs my whole life, no matter what, and that they won’t stop coming, and I stopped being afraid. Being less afraid made me able to work with more guidelines, to steer the songs more tightly, and to have more fun. ‘Messenger,’ ‘Loud,’ ‘Caged Sleep,’ ‘Wheel’, ‘Can You Help?’ and ‘Power’ were all rhythmically led. I worked with drum machines. I thought about tempo and I forced myself to write on guitar, which also has a different harmonic logic than what I do on a keyboard. Shitty Hits was far more keyboard-driven. Touring a lot made me want to play guitar more live, and make music that transported me differently than my previous set of songs."

What do you hope fans will take away from Consummation?

"Even more than allegiances to artists or albums or bodies of work, I love songs. I hope someone finds a magic song on the album, the kind of song you put on late at night, the kind of song that legitimizes how you feel. If the whole record has some of that, even better."

Let's talk about your most recent music video for 'Wheel', directed by V Haddad. How did the collaboration come about and what inspired the concept of the video?

"I’ve admired V’s work for a while, and found out she lives in LA, so imagined we couldn’t do anything together on this record. After quarantine took over I realized that no longer mattered, and I’m glad she wanted to do it. V came up with the concept from the dual inspiration of the music itself and the limitations of our abilities to leave the house."

You donated the budget of the video to Safe Horizon and are also fundraising for the charity via Spotify. What made you decide to do that and what does their cause mean to you?

"I’m still working on it for Spotify! I keep reaching out. We did donate the budget, so far. Donating her fee was also V’s suggestion. I had originally asked V to do a song called ‘Brutality,’ which is directly about domestic abuse, and I’m not sure if that informed part of her suggestion.

"It means a lot to me, only more over time. Abuse is absolutely isolating. I can’t imagine how the current situation compounds or intensifies that."

If you weren’t making music, what would you be doing?

"For the whole of my life? Impossible to say, but I have alternately looked at grad programs while in lockdown and played Mario Kart on Switch against some of my favorite songwriter friends. Maybe we’ll all become professionals at Kart someday."

With having more time to reflect on things these days, if there was one thing you could change about the music world, what would it be?

"There are more than a few things socially wrong with it, representation-wise. But if I had to do one single overhaul, I’d want to see music imbued with value again. Technological progress has changed the way we commodify everything, and as much as I enjoy the accessibility of streaming, I miss an album having value. I rented a car a couple years ago and drove down the coast of California and into the desert. We bought CDs at Amoeba Records in San Francisco because it only had a CD player, and so for a week we had only a few albums to choose from. In college I’d go to Twisted Village in Cambridge, MA, and take a chance on some truly weird shit, and sometimes I’d spent $18 on a CD I didn’t even like. Was it better? I’m going to relent and say not necessarily because I like that artists are thrown together on playlists on a streaming platform, honestly. Small artists get heard, but they get a spin. The psychology is different, it’s not just that as listeners we don’t value ownership of an album enough to make ourselves live with it for weeks at a time. It’s that as a musician I think the product is also devalued. The advice I get, from the business side, is to release music constantly, because that’s the new way to get attention, just never stop. A lockdown occurs, your album’s about to come out, and someone says the solution is to make and release singles into the ether. Avid listeners may relate to this - something you love wasn’t necessarily your favorite thing on the first three to five spins, even. The music that’s really mattered in my life, thanks a lot to finding it pre-streaming, was something I barely understood at first and came to understand through a bit of meeting it halfway. The psychology, as an artist, of making things constantly because you know it won’t be met halfway, is a bummer. The potential outcome is a lot of sonic conformity."

Finally, are you working on anything at the moment during quarantine? And what do you have planned when all of it blows over? I expect you're keen to get out on the road to tour the album?

"My mindset is that this may be a long haul, and I don’t know exactly how to prepare for trying to play an album live for the first time on the year anniversary of its release. I hope to tour again, I hope my lovely booking agents are able to stay in business. Right now I’m working on a collection of songs that will be recorded to tape with strings and woodwinds and orchestration. Beautiful, lush, tranquil, those are the goals - and it’s nice to just let them be what they are. In the meantime I may throw a few singles into the ether."

Consummation is out now.

Photo credit: Shervin Lainez

[mamasquirrelwithacup]

Simetics Simedy Simlit: Chapter 19 “The Promise” Part 3 Author’s note: This chapter may contain sexual content or indications and sensitive subjects.

Squirrel loves playing the Sims forever and Roleplaying. She knows about a site that simmers can go on and talk about their game, write stories and roleplay their sims. She would like to join, but she has several mental disorders, one being social anxiety. It’s not easy for her to make friends and talk to people because of it. She talks to her mom and finally gets the courage to sign up. She has been looking around on the site for a couple of months to try and get familiar with it and the people out there. She notices that there’s a group of people already roleplaying. So, when she signs up, that is the first place she goes. She really enjoys roleplaying with this group of people. Simonymous, a player in the roleplay, comes to Squirrel asking for help with a fellow player. Squirrel, being the kind of person she is, agrees to help. During this time Simonymous begins telling Squirrel things about the other players. Since Squirrel doesn’t know the other players that well, she only has Simonymous’ word. 

Squirrel and Simonymous start messaging more and more. Even MamaSquirrel and Simonymous start messaging back and forth too. Squirrel and Simonymous start spending lots of time together everyday.They move their messaging to another site as well. Simonymous continues to tell Squirrel some very interesting things about the other players. She ask Simonymous why would they still be friends or talk to people that did these horrible things to them or making them so uncomfortable and why didn’t you report them? Simonymous told her that they didn’t want to get them in trouble. Both Squirrel and Mamasquirrel find this interesting that they would continue to be extremely friendly with people that caused them so much hurt. Simonymous tells Squirrel more about themselves too. One day, Simonymous comes to Mamasquirrel and tells her that they have feelings for Squirrel. They also tell Squirrel as well and they start an online relationship. During this time, Simonymous tells Squirrel that they love her and she is the best thing that has ever happened to them. That she is a wonderful person. They are always sweet talking her and telling her how beautiful of a person she is. They spends hours and hours a day messaging. 

Simonymous and Squirrel even talk about their future and possibly a future together. Simonymous continues to tell Squirrel how much they love her and want to be with her in real life. They promise Squirrel that even if their relationship doesn’t work out, that they will always be friends and that will never change. One day Simonymous sends Squirrel a picture. It’s an older picture, but a picture nevertheless. Squirrel sends Simonymous several pictures too. They send another picture of themselves. They did this on their own and both of them had suggested to each other about maybe using skype. A couple of days later Squirrel notices a change in Simonymous. They were messaging less and seem to be having one of their moments. 

Simonymous tells Squirrel that things are not going to work out between them. The distance and that their family would never accept her because of her faith. They just felt that it would be better to move on. Squirrel accepts that although hurt, but she knows that they are still going to be friends. Simonymous wasn’t doing what they had promised. They messaged and roleplayed a couple of times and that was it. They stopped all communication without any explanation at all with her. They never told her to stop communicating with them they just never answered messages back. They however, were still talking to Mamasquirrel some. Then they stopped all communication with Mamasquirrel too without any explanations. 

Mamasquirrel and Squirrel talked things over and really went through everything that was said in messages during that month. They still had a gut feeling about something and things just weren’t adding up too. They decided to go talk to a couple of friends about the situation.

They go see their friends Alexander and Trever and tell them what happened. 

Alexander listens as Squirrel explains everything. How Simonymous treated her. Constantly keeping her in a state of mind that wasn’t healthy. Simonymous knows of Squirrel’s fear of rejection and they used that fear to get at her all the time. They would always bring up their flight response or make some of the wall comment to get her upset or feel rejected. 

How they would say that they loved her and wanted nothing more than to be with her. How they were so glad to have her and that she just got them. 

She told them how Simonymous just stopped all communication with her and wanted nothing to do with her. Squirrel couldn’t understand why. She has been nothing but kind, loving, and accepting to them. Alexander doesn’t seem to happy with Simonymous’ behavior either. 

She told them how Simonymous would talk about other players and certain things they would do or say would upset them. So, believing this was causing issues for Simonymous, she would try and help them through it. Mamasquirrel and Squirrel now doesn’t believe anything that Simonymous told them. If they could lie about them to other people, then the stuff Simonymous told Squirrel probably was a lie too. 

They also found out about a message they sent out to several players about her and Mamasquirrel. They were telling these players that we are really bad people and just spreading lies and rumors everywhere. They tried other tactics too. Now, many people have blocked them or won’t talk to them because they believe the lies they have been told. 

This makes Squirrel very sad, because she was very kind and accepting to Simonymous and doesn’t understand why they would want to hurt her like this. Why do they want to lie about her? She tells Alexander and Trever that there are lots of messages between them. That they are taking just bits and pieces of messages out of context and showing people. Not showing of course the things they said. There is two sides to every story and it’s only fair for both sides to be heard. When she found out what Simonymous did with sending out the message and talking junk about her to other players, she decided to be the better person that she is and not make people choose sides or stoop to their level. She has not once spread rumors and lies about them to anyone. Simonymous has blocked her from contacting them in either location. She is fine with that because she doesn’t want to have communication with someone who’s a liar and said horrible things about her and her mom. 

Alexander is totally disgusted by all of this. If he could, he would give Simonymous a mouthful. He knows what kind of people Mamasquirrel and Squirrel are. Anyone to automatically believe that everything Simonymous said to be true without hearing both sides is not fair. Even if you know someone for a long time, doesn’t mean that you know everything about them. Someone could say they love you right to your face and you turn around and they stab you in the back. 

Alexander and Trever tell her not to let this get her down. She is such a sweet young lady and never let people like that keep you from being kind to others. Don’t let this change who you are. Let this just make you stronger and to be more careful next time. 

Squirrel moves on and just writes on her stories and roleplays with others elsewhere. She tries to reach out to certain players and apologizes for them being brought into the middle of this mess. Every time Squirrel starts talking to someone and joking around on this site, within days they block her for no reason. So, she knows that Simonymous is still telling lies. It’s a shame that they can get away with all of this. She does believe that it’s not allowed what they are doing on this site, yet they continue to do it and don’t get in trouble.She’s sure certain people know about their behavior, yet do nothing. 

Squirrel and Mamasquirrel just keep doing their stories, builds, and sims. They enjoy talking with others and their not going to let this get them down. Everyone has a choice on what they want to believe and whom. They are not going to try and make people choose sides and go around telling lies about them like they do us. They just want to coexist on the site together and just move on from it. 

Simonymous still isn’t done trying to play games with Squirrel. He sends one of his friends to try and talk to her. This person has never said anything to Squirrel until now. Asking questions and making an inappropriate suggestion also. Since that didn’t work, then they try a different tactic to get Squirrel’s attention involving the friend as well. Simonymous then unblocks Squirrel and makes a comment to her on this site in the open. If Squirrel is such a horrible person and did all of these horrible things, why are you trying to get her attention still. Why are you talking to her and why did you unblock her? Not only did they unblock her from this particular site, but the other one too. Squirrel just rolls her eyes at the petty attempts of the foolishness on trying to victimize her again. 

Squirrel will be alright and she knows that her mom is always there for her. Mamasquirrel hates that Squirrel had to go through this, but knows that there are tough lessons to learn in life. Hopefully, this will help Squirrel grow stronger and be more careful with trusting someone so quickly again. No matter how convincing they seem. 

“Please move on from me. I know that I wasn’t the first, nor the last person you have done this too. I hope that someday you will change for the better and do great things to help people. I hope that this helps others to be safe and play safe on the internet and in person.” 

[lightseal]

ON THE GAME’S ENDING.

I waited until the DLC was released to make this post out of fairness, but seeing as it did not take place post-game as many were expecting, my position on the ending has remained the same.

I’ll be blunt: I was NOT pleased with the ending of BOTW. If you liked the ending, then that’s perfectly fine!! I’m really happy you enjoyed it, and I wish I could feel the same. But unfortunately, I felt it was a severe let down after seeing the amazing gameplay and characters that were presented to us. I’ll expand upon my thoughts more under the cut.

There are two parts to this: what I thought of the ending, and what I wish the ending would have been.

LETS TALK ABOUT THOSE PLOT HOLES.

Yes, Zelda games and timelines are often FILLED with plot holes. They have limited time and game opportunities to explain every little thing to us, and I don’t expect them to make a comprehensive world guide for each game explaining how every part of the world works. 

HOWEVER. BOTW gave us questions, and the ending answered maybe one of them. I say one, because you could ask yourself “Is Zelda okay?” but at the end of the day, it’s a LoZ game. There’s never a real sense of ‘oh no! Zelda might die!’ because the games always end the same way -- Link saves the princess and typically, they defeat Ganon together. Sure, she’s in danger; sure, something bad could happen to her. But is she going to die? No. There’s nothing in the previous LoZ formula that would make you think so. So it’s basically a given that she’s going to be okay. 

But BOTW threw out the old formula -- they made the game open world. You could tackle challenges in any order, you never had to wait to do ONE dungeon in order to access something. There was voice acting, and so many new features of gameplay that made it something fresh and new while retaining its familiarity. The game didn’t pull any punches; the fights were HARD unless you did tons of shrines for heart containers, leveled up your armor all the way, and had buff food/potions. But otherwise? You’d get knocked flat on your butt. You’d get very familiar with the game over screen.

It’s a game clearly designed for a more mature audience; it takes you, the player, seriously. 

So when you hear Zelda’s voice for the first time, you might think she’s speaking to you through the Sheikah Slate -- sort of like in Wind Waker. But you learn very quickly that she’s calling out to you from within the castle. That’s VERY important to keep in mind.

Remember the Divine Beasts; the moment you step foot onto one, you hear the respective Champion’s voice. They’re no where to be seen, but they tell you about the map and a basic run down of how to proceed. That’s the same thing Zelda did. Except, the Champions were SPIRITS. So it makes sense that they have some degree of dominion over their beasts.

But what about Zelda? She’s not a spirit. So why is she able to speak to you from such a vast distance? Why is she able to give you a heads up about the Blood Moon every time, no matter where you are in the world? She says she’s been watching over Link, but how could she have done that? The game doesn’t explain. Not a word about it.

The game makes her omnipresent, but that makes no sense within the context of the game. If she could speak to Link, why couldn’t she speak to the Champions? They were able to speak even before their beasts were released from Ganon’s control, so why couldn’t her and her friends chat for those 100 years instead of them all being alone? If it were because of the beasts’ influences for some reason, why couldn’t she speak to her father, who was just hanging around on the Great Plateau? 

The only way this makes sense is if ZELDA HERSELF WERE A SPIRIT. Hyrule Castle has the same map mechanics as the Divine Beasts, and it would make sense that as a spirit she would have power and dominion over the lands of Hyrule, enabling her to speak to Link even across great distances. The Champions retained their abilities for one hundred years and then they passed them down to Link; they never stated they would ever lose them. They never said there was a time limit, or that their powers were fading. So it would fit the storyline if Zelda’s sealing power also remained with her as a spirit, and she was able to use it to keep Ganon at bay for a century. 

This would also explain why Zelda did not age. You may think -- “But in Skyward Sword, Zelda sealed herself away for even longer than a hundred years and she didn’t age either!” And that’s true, but in SS, Zelda sealed herself away within a crystal. She wasn’t conscious, she didn’t speak to anyone. She was in a state of Stasis, as Link was for the hundred years before the game takes place. So it makes sense that neither SS Zelda nor BOTW Link aged, but there’s no reason why BOTW Zelda didn’t. 

When Zelda makes her appearance in the ending, she comes flying out. She levitates, casually descending as if she’s done it a thousand times. She appears cloaked in glowing golden light all around her -- just like the spirits, save their lights were green and hers was gold. But that would make sense, given that she’s the goddess-blooded princess/Hylia reborn/whatever. 

But that light dissipates, and she’s -- just fine? She summons basically a sun, and then is like -- ‘anyway! whatever, moving on.’ Even SS Zelda, who was just asleep, not conscious and actively fighting to keep Ganon at bay, collapses when she awakens. She’s tired. But BOTW Zelda doesn’t even get to have her moment of ‘oh thank goodness it’s finally over now I can rest.’

You’d think of all the characters, it would be BOTW Zelda who got that moment, given her character arc is about her struggling under the weight of her destiny. It’s about her finding herself and her path and having this amazing inner strength despite all the terrible things she went through. But the game doesn’t even give her that. And it keeps her alive, and for what reason? 

Because if Zelda died, she couldn’t continue the Hyrule line. That’s it. Zelda has all the traits of the spirits, but the game gives her plot-armor and magically keeps her alive so she can have children. Because the game team didn’t want to say BOTW was the last game in the ‘timeline,’ even though they don’t make the games in order anyway, so it wouldn’t mean anything if they made it the bookend for the series. 

IMAGINE THE ENDING IF ZELDA WERE A SPIRIT.

You beat down Ganon, and she comes out in that golden light and creates a little orb with the royal crest on it -- almost like when Link got the other Champion’s powers. Instead of giving it to link, she forces it into the weakened Ganon, sealing his existence from within himself. In doing so, she loses the holy powers passed down to her by the goddess, but Ganon is gone forever, hooray!

The skies start to clear and the sun comes through the clouds over the castle -- peace at last! The camera pans to Zelda, and her name pops up as it did with the other Champions -- “PRINCESS ZELDA” and below that, “The Last Princess of Hyrule.”

King Rhoam had “The Last King of Hyrule” beneath his name, so it would be a great callback to that, and put it in a different light. The player thought he was the former king of Hyrule at the beginning of the game, but now with Zelda being a spirit it becomes clear they are the last of their line. There may be a new royal family to lead Hyrule someday, but the kingdom’s rulers will no longer be those who descended from the Goddess herself. 

So Zelda reveals herself to be a spirit, and then the Champions appear in the background ( blurry at first, since the focus is on Zelda. ) She says she’s been watching over him, praying for his safety, but she doesn’t ask “Do you remember me?” she says instead -- “You really are the hero I remembered all this time.” Even if the player didn’t get all the memories, they’ll know it doesn’t matter; because courage is never forgotten. He is still Link, noble and kind and courageous even if he doesn’t remember her. So she doesn’t need to ask.

She turns and walks to stand in the center of the Champions, all of them facing Link. They each give a final parting line, and when they are finished Zelda thanks him for all he’s done, and then smiles and calls him the HERO OF HYRULE. 

She and the Champions turn and walk towards the castle, disappearing in the order you cleared the Divine Beasts until Zelda is alone, but she keeps walking. The camera pans to her feet, and then she stops, and it zooms out to reveal the King’s feet just ahead of her. She turns one last time to look at Link, and she simply nods, then turns back towards her father. Link starts running as fast as he can towards the castle, and you see Zelda and the King go through the front door. Link makes it there, breathing heavily, but when he walks in the room is empty. 

He sighs and looks down, then turns back and looks out towards Hyrule. It pans over the landscape, and shows people coming out of houses and the stables, looking towards the sky and the castle. The white stallion that was a descendent of Zelda’s horse comes up the pathway to the castle, and Link gets on, riding off towards the now free land of Hyrule as the camera zooms out and the logo appears. 

If you got all the memories, then instead of the additional cutscene, there is muted footage of Link, Zelda, and the Champions traveling together pre-calamity that plays during the credits. They’re shown talking and laughing together, cooking at a campfire, etc... Either way, after the credits, Link is shown returning the Master Sword to it’s pedestal while the epilogue track plays softly in the background. 

The loose ends are tied up, and the player is shocked. They saved Zelda from her century long battle, but they didn’t save her life. Her life ended one hundred years ago when they failed to beat Ganon the first time. It’s implied without her goddess-powers, she won’t reincarnate again. But with her sacrifice, Ganon was vanquished for good. Peace reigns in Hyrule, and Link is left to watch over it. It’s a bittersweet ending, and something new. A break from tradition, just as the gameplay had been.

[theshmaylor]

I meant to do real things this evening, but instead I spent 3 hours making a Tegan and Sara primer. Soooo enjoy if you want

Okay so Analise010 asked for a Tegan and Sara primer, but I didn't find any I liked, so I had to make my own. And then well...it became a lot. SORRY FOR THE EXCESSIVE LENGTH.  But also I'm lazy and didn't include photos, that was a step too much effort.

The Basics Tegan and Sara are a band. It feels weird to call them a band when it's just the two of them (plus whoever's in their backing band at the time), but wikipedia calls them an "indie pop singing duo" and that's worse, so let's go with 'a band'. They are both lesbians. No, they're not dating. They're identical twins. Their faces are incredibly similar so I don't know why I even have to say that, but a surprising number of people think they're dating, so. For a while it was very easy to tell them apart, but then Tegan took out her labret piercing, and their hair for the Love You to Death tour is more similar than it's been in years. But I think Tegan cut her hair sometime in the past few weeks, so hopefully it's simpler again. Sara has a narrower face than Tegan. You can also use their tattoos to tell them apart, but honestly we'll be here all day if I continue at this level of detail.  When they're preforming, Tegan always stands on the left side of the stage and Sara on the right (from the perspective of the audience). Both of them write songs, sing, and play instruments. Generally, they don't create together. They each write their own songs and then work together to polish and edit them. Whichever sister wrote the song is the one who sings lead vocals on it. They have EIGHT albums. So many! And as far as anyone knows, they're planning on making even more music.  We're gonna do this shit chronologically. 1. Under Feet Like Ours (1999) Listen, maybe don't start here. There are some gems to be found, but they were babies (only 19 years old!), and it shows. Plus, about half the songs also appear on their second album, so you won't be missing a lot.  It was initially released with the band name "Sara and Tegan" until they decided it sounded better the other way, changed it, and haven't looked back since. My fav tracks Clever Meals This is Everything 2. This Business of Art (2000) Again, about half the tracks come from Under Feet Like Ours and it was only released a year later, so it feels a little young too. But by picking the best bits of their previous album and adding in new material, it definitely feels like a step up. My fav tracks My Number Not With You Hype 3. If It Was You (2002) This is where we start to get a little less folky.  More pop-y, more electronic, and definitely more upbeat. More love and breakup songs, less undirectional teenage angst. My fav tracks Living Room - This is a Tegan and Sara CLASSIC. If they play it at a show, it's usually in the encore, and the entire room ERUPTS when it starts. Underwater I Hear Noises Terrible Storm 4. So Jealous (2004) This is kind of the beginning of their mainstream success. A lot more critical attention and some radio play for their singles. The first time I ever heard of Tegan and Sara was between this album and the next.  I was in high school and fell for them hard, and honestly they've been my favorite band ever since. My fav tracks I Was Walking With a Ghost - The White Stripes covered it, which honestly probably contributed to T+S's popularity a lot, but I think that fucking cover is awful Where Does the Good Go Speak Slow Fix You Up

5. The Con (2007) This is it. This is the album. This is the one that cemented their success and brought in many of their lifelong fans. And it's the reason I'm even writing this fucking thing in the first place. Today they announced The Con X - a tenth anniversary tour where they'll be playing an acoustic arrangement of all songs in album order, and I've been excitedly swooning about it all day, which is why Analise asked for a primer.

My fav tracks The Con Hop a Plane + Soil, Soil - two tracks that appear in that order on the album and you have to listen to them in a row. The mood change is just everything and so perfect.  I'm probably in the minority for putting Soil, Soil on my favorites list though, so do what you want with that... Burn Your Life Down Nineteen - listen, this probably isn't the best track ever, but it's so satisfying to wail along with. Great stuff at live performances Back In Your Head Dark Come Soon

(I know it's a lot, but count yourself lucky that I didn't just list the whole album)

6. Sainthood (2009) Getting even more electronic here! This was probably their most experimental album I think. It's also the first time they co-wrote a song, "Paperback Head".  That's not one of my favorite songs, but I'm glad they tried out something new.

My fav tracks Hell Alligator - which I mostly just love because Sara says it was inspired by Rihanna, which makes no sense to me when you listen to the song The Ocean Sentimental Tune Someday - for this one, I'm just gonna leave you with a quote the Autostraddle review, which imprinted on me very early after I first listened to it and now it's all I can think about every time I hear the song:  "At first listen, this track may sound like an anthem a garage band might   be inclined to write, one of those “fuck you, world! we’re gonna be   famous one day!” tracks – but IT’S NOT, and that’s partly why it’s so   great. This isn’t about how the world has wronged Tegan. It makes me   think of a 17-year old Tegan getting over a first relationship and   putting on a false bravado to prove she’s going to become something,   like she’s trying to convince herself rather than anyone else."

7. Heartthrob (2013) This is where people started throwing around the word 'sellout'. Which, in general, as a concept can just fuck off entirely. Yes, I think they were trying to reach for more mainstream success, but why is that a bad thing? More success = more chances to hear them live and a better likelihood of getting even more music. Plus, there seems to be this idea that musicians at the start of their careers have the most artistic freedom and are the most 'real', and after that they're doing what the record label wants. But that doesn't make any goddamn sense. Do you think 19 year old Tegan and Sara had any clue how to navigate the music industry and ensure that their artistic vision got out there? No. They've said in multiple interviews that they're originally piano players who were basically forced into the indie folk acoustic guitar thing. This album brings those keyboards to the forefront and they don't have to pick up guitars at all if they don't want to.  Plus, no matter the change in sound, the lyrics are pure Tegan and Sara. That's never going to change.

My fav tracks Closer - the music video is an amazing giant queer sleepover party and everyone should watch it I'm Not Your Hero Drove Me Wild How Come You Don't Want Me I Couldn't Be Your Friend

8. Love You To Death (2016) It's just over a year old and they're currently touring in support of it.  This is the album where (in addition to their songs about romantic relationships) they have some distance from some of the rough patches they've had as sisters over the years and can finally write music about that. White Knuckles and 100x are both songs inspired by those times. Plus, they made a video for every single song on the album.

My fav tracks Boyfriend - their queerest song to date, don't let the name fool you U-turn - oh god I love this song but the music video is terrible. Okay so it's not a terrible video in and of itself, but I don't like it at all for this particular song Dying to Know Stop Desire Hang on to the Night

Misc

Yay! You made it to the end of my babbling about each album, so do you know what that means? MORE BABBLING ABOUT OTHER THINGS. I'll try to keep it short though (mostly because I'm lazy and want to eat dinner soon)

- When they recorded The Con, they also filmed the entire thing and turned that into a movie with a 'chapter' (about 10 mins each) for each track. It is DELIGHTFUL and a great entry point for getting a feel for their personalities and learning more about them beyond just liking the music. A wonderful person has collected the chapters here and here

- Banter! A super important part of Appreciating Tegan and Sara is their concert banter. They talk more during shows than any other band I know of and a lot of it is fucking hysterical. It also feels like their way of setting boundaries, you know? They share so much and talk about things from their past very freely, which stops people from poking into their current personal lives more than they might otherwise.  Maybe at some point I will make a curated list of my favorites, but see above re: lazy etc. For now, just search youtube for Tegan and Sara best banters. You'll find plenty.

- Live screw-ups. There is always one song that Tegan can not remember the words to or play all the way through. As soon as she figures it out, it'll happen to another song (Admittedly, this is happening less lately as they play more festivals  and want to look good in front of randos who don't know much about them). Which leads to plenty of fabulous footage of Tegan fucking up a song and swearing. Sara also fucks up occasionally, but less often. Sometimes they power through, sometimes they restart, and sometimes they have the audience sing it.  And I can't explain why it's so adorable and precious but it just IS. Again, not gonna link to vids, but the song "Northshore" has some of the best because it's so fast.

And now I'm done typing for real this time :)