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darry-rules · 7 months ago

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creepypasta - the hanging tree. ⚠️Trigger warning: Suicide

The ball streaked towards little Jimmy Hanson, covering the distance uncomfortably fast. The scrawny boy two sizes too small with the aviator glasses, cringed out of the way. It landed directly where he had been standing, and like that the game ended.

“Damnit Jimmy, you’re supposed to catch the ball not hide from it!” a fat kid with a glove on one hand cried.

A skinny boy with glasses turned from the pitcher’s mound to look at Jimmy disdain clearly visible on his face, “This is the third run you’ve allowed, and you wonder why we never let you play with us. You’re dog shit! Actually, I apologize to all loads of shit out there, you’re even more useless. I’d prefer to have Roger Morris on our team and he can’t see a damn thing with those bug eyes.”

An easy-going boy with blonde shaggy hair and a confident smile strolled up to Jimmy, extending his hand to assist, and said, “Here let me help you up. After all, you’re the best player on our team. MVP hands down. Come on boys, give him a cheer!”

The boys chanted Jimmy’s name in a mocking parade of triumph.

“I don’t need your help, David,” said Jimmy.

Dirt smeared and face growing hot, the embarrassed boy attempted to climb to his feet. The hand extended to help, struck lightning-fast, catching the smaller boy squarely in the chest. With a groan of pain, the dirty boy hit the ground for the second time that afternoon.

“Well, if I knew you liked to eat dirt so much, I never would’ve offered to help,” said David, a wolfish smile forming on the landscape of his face.

A chorus of cruel laughter echoed all around.

“I hate you David Baxly,” said the wheezing boy.

David looked at Jimmy with disgust, giving him a savage kick to his left kidney. “Why don’t you do us all a favor and die. I doubt even your family would miss you.”

The rest of the boys walked away leaving the bleeding Jimmy whimpering on the ground.

No longer crying from pain but seething anger, slowly he began to crawl to his feet. “I wish I could go somewhere else. Just pick up and move and never have to see those shitheads ever again,” said Jimmy speaking to no one in particular.

It was thoughts of revenge that occupied his mind, half-baked plans, he didn’t have the courage to act upon. No matter, it wasn’t revenge he truly sought, but a friend. The idea of having people look at him and truly see him. Humiliation for David Baxly was just an added bonus.

The bloody boy was still fantasizing about these things, when he found himself staring at the intersection of Jackson and main street in the sleepy town of Brookhollow, Tennessee. Brookhollow is like many rural towns, so tiny that it doesn’t even appear on the map. There are 876 residents in the tight-knit community, according to the 2008 census. Main street boasts one general store, a gas station, the town hall, and Debbie’s Diner.

It was on the outside of the later building that he saw the missing sign of Jack Dunkin, a 12-year-old boy from a neighboring town a few miles to the west. Jack was from Polk, a slightly larger town and known rival to Brookhollow. Even though Jack was in the same grade as Jimmy, they had never met.

Jimmy looked at the picture and saw that the boy had been missing for nearly 3 months. He wondered how his mom would react if he was missing that long; he reached the conclusion that she probably wouldn’t even notice. Ever since she took that job at Debbie’s to pay for the remainder of her husband’s gambling debts, she was hardly even home.

She was gone when he woke and didn’t come back too well after he was asleep. The only time Jimmy had any communication with Laura Hanson was on Sundays. Even this small exposure was tainted by the bone deep exhaustion. She may have been present, even so, she wasn’t there. Laura wakes, eats, drinks, uses the bathroom; yet she isn’t really living. She reminded the boy of those cheesy horror movies they sometimes play late at night. The walking dead.

As little as his interaction with Laura, at least she still lived in the ramshackle motorhome right off the main highway. His dad, if he even still qualified to be called that, left some time back, draining the joint bank account and leaving the two of them penniless. Jimmy didn’t even know where he stayed, let alone had a phone number for the bastard. A few years back he received a postcard from him. He was shelled up in some two-bit motel in the thriving city of Las Vegas. On the back of the card was a charming little note, it said, “Jimmy, I wish you could see the city. Maybe you could come out and visit. I’d love for you to come and hang with my friends. Ps. Could you have your mom send me some money, I’m in a little bit of trouble here.

This led to his first real fight with his mom. He was adamant on going and meeting his father, thinking that if he got to know him he could change him. Bring him back. His mom wanted nothing to do with the man, nor did she want her son to be hurt again. The argument got heated and words were exchanged. In the end, he stayed, but some things chafe over time. Things were never quite the same.

If the boy was honest with himself, he would have to admit there is no one in his life. He has no friends in school, there is no one waiting for him at home, and he is not a part of any extracurricular activities. He goes to school, comes home, does his homework, makes dinner for his mom, and goes to bed. It has never occurred to him that he is lonely, the fact is he has never known anything else.

Jimmy doesn’t actually live in Brookhollow, his house is about two miles north up highway 29. He lives outside of the school’s jurisdiction, so he is unable to take the bus. He walks to school every day. The walk is peaceful and he actually looks forward to it. The boy possesses an overactive imagination and gets lost in his fantasies. A little less today, his ribs ache with every step. But not even this inconvenience can ruin the solitary 2-mile trek back home. He makes no turns, highway 29 is main street. All he needs to do is walk straight and he will arrive at his house.

But he is not walking in rural Tennessee anymore. He is a pioneer exploring the Great Frontier. Native Americans and wolves stalk him at night, he must be aware of the dangers that lie beyond every turn. He can see his way through any situation with the help of his trusty companion and best friend, One-eyed Pete. Pete used to be an outlaw that robbed and cheated people, but changed his ways when Jimmy saved him from being hung on the hanging tree.

A shutter runs through his body every time he remembers the hanging tree. It’s the largest oak he had ever seen. He loves to climb trees but would never dream of climbing that one. It is twisted, not a single leaf on its branches. If evil was ever a location, it would be at the heart of that gnarled tree. Jimmy doesn’t like to think about it. It always seems to ruin his mood. Poison his mind. His fantasies always turn darker when he thinks of the oak.

Suddenly he is aware of exactly how alone he is. A full mile out from the safety of the town. No one is nearby. It’s just him, the trees, and his own tormented imagination. He wishes he wouldn’t have thought of that tree. He wishes he had a dad to pick him up from school, but there is no rescue for him. In Jimmy’s experience, heroes only exist in the story books.

“The hanging tree is in your mind, Jimmy, it isn’t real,” he tells himself over and over as if to ward away evil. And why not? For that tree is most definitely evil, the hideous villain in an insidious plot.

In the primal portion of his mind, he senses danger. The same skittish feeling the antelope experiences shortly before the concealed lion pounces and feasts on flesh.

“Trees don’t eat little boys,” murmurs the frightened boy.

“Maybe so, yet that oak could hardly be classified in the same league as other trees,” responds his own treasonous thoughts.

The boy’s mind splinters; warring factions jockeying for supremacy. Paranoia seizes him, inky black hands clawing the air out of his lungs. A young boy unaware of the inward mutiny happening amidst his own wits, completely left to his own demented imagination. Yet, the stakes of this adventure are a great deal higher than any he has yet to experience.

His mother was fond of telling him, “What you think, you become.”

A truly awful thought slinks into his mind unbidden. What if the stories his mind conjures could gain reality too? The thought overwhelms the boy. His eyes shift back and forth searching for threats. Jimmy’s senses are keen to his surroundings. Every twig snapping, a creature stalking. Every bush rustling, a hungry beast ready to devour. Yet, the petty fears of a child’s tormented mind pales to the unearthly wrongness of the hanging tree.

“What if mom is right?” says the concerned boy to the emptiness. At this unwelcome thought the boy slams his eyes closed in a futile attempt to banish the horrific idea.

“The hanging tree isn’t real,” says Jimmy, knowing in his heart this isn’t true. In the back of his mind, the boy is certain that the moment he opens his eyes, he will see it. He will see the strands of rope dangling from the gnarled branches. He will smell the smell of decaying bodies. He will hear the creak of rope swaying gently in the cool breeze.

The boy doubles his efforts in a vain attempt to keep his eyes closed. He sees red due to the strain he is putting on his muscles. He hears the steady pulse of his blood rushing in his head. The boy also understands that all this effort is for naught. He must open his eyes at some point. Jealousy creeps into the boy’s heart. Envy for the man born without sight. For the boy understands the moment he sees, there will be no coming back.

The moment has come.

Jimmy can no longer keep his eyes shut. Seconds before his eyes fling open, he feels the gentle touch of someone’s hand on his shoulder. This touch startles him, and the boy throws wide his eyes.

Sure enough a few hundred yards in front of him, stands the abomination. A lone tree on the top of a bald, scarred hill. Not a living thing to be seen. No vegetation growing on the hill, no squirrels scuttling about, just a great oak, standing; an obscene gesture to the god of this world. The only fruit of this tree the decaying flesh of dead men, and likewise, the only cup the curdled blood of those hanging. A final meal set for the boy, an unholy communion.

The hand, whose was it? Was it even human? The little boy left visibly shaking at the touch of the unknown. Is this death? The icy grip of the Reaper himself here to harvest with his scythe. No marriage, no children, not knowing the pleasures of true friendship. Life cut short, a lamentable state of affairs.

It was in this line of thought, where true courage was mustered. A strength measured not by the size of his muscles or the amount one could lift, but the more impressive type, the type quantified in the amount of shit one can wade. Identified in the amount of crap hands dealt without bowing out altogether. Young Jimmy Hanson did the unthinkable, he turned and faced death looking it in the eyes.

Eyes, yes, but death perhaps not. It was no titan of horror, nor was it the poster child of demented evil. Child it was, but this boy was familiar. Not anyone from his class, yet he knew the boy. In a moment of clarity, he recognized him. It was the missing kid, Jack Dunkin.

He looked identical to the poster on the side of Debbie’s Diner. He wore the same black and white Van’s tee shirt, ripped blue jeans, and some tattered Nike tennis shoes. The thoroughly terrified Jimmy stood staring at the missing boy, mouth ajar.

Jack with an easy-going grin plastered on his face, said, “It’s about time, someone comes looking for me. I’ve been waiting for you Jimmy, far too long.”

With an audible click the boy shut his gaping mouth and responded, “Ja- Jack, you’ve been missing for nearly three months. Have you been out here all along? Are you alone? Are you hurt?” Jimmy fired these questions in rapid succession, growing more suspicious with each word.

“I’ve been right here, waiting for you to come and play with me. You see, I am like you. I never had anyone to play with either. Now you are here, and you must stay with me,” said the bigger boy with a smile on his face.

Jimmy’s mind quieted, for the first time in his life he saw himself clearly. A boy with no friends, no father, hardly a mother, bullied every day, and no way of escape. Clarity revealed the harsh truth. A day had not gone by that he wasn’t lonely. There was no one in his life. There was no life for him.

The undersized boy looked at the other with longing in his eyes. He thirsted for a friend, like a man lost at sea. He hungered for companionship, like a man stuck in the wilderness. It wasn’t just a desire; he was desperate for a friend. If the bigger boy would leave, Jimmy felt as if his soul would tear in half. His heart would shatter into a thousand pieces unable to be put back together. The boys’ eyes were a mirror reflecting the same sad truth, they understood each other. Both had lived, and neither had anyone to share it with.

The boys bound by shared hardships grasped onto each other refusing to let go. The combined burden of loneliness lessened by two backs, instead of one.

With few words exchanged, the two of them created soul ties. Not the ties of lovers, but of lifelong friends. The type one dies for. The rare type of friendship that most people never form in their entire life. It was rich. It was wholesome. Jimmy felt as if his life was complete. The one thing he always desired truly fulfilled.

Jack grabbed the smaller boy’s hand and guided him towards the tree.

Jimmy, not wanting to get anywhere near that monstrosity, tried to pull back.

“Don’t worry. The tree is a good place. It will take us to a new land filled with boys and girls just like you and I. No David’s or bullies like him,” said a smiling Jack.

“How did you know about David? You’ve been missing all this time,” said a concerned looking Jimmy.

“Jimmy, I hear whispers. My friends tell me things. They will tell you secrets too. If you want to be friends with me, that is.” The bigger boy looked down at his ragged shoes. He looked so pitiful and Jimmy was so starved for companionship, how could he not follow the boy.

Jack led the two of them to the scarred trunk of the tree. Here he let go of Jimmy’s hand, telling the boy, “Do exactly what I do.”

Jimmy’s fear bottled up deep in his guts. He felt as if he was going to explode. The tree was sinister and twisted. Evil through and through. Yet, the little boy had never had a friend. He was not willing to throw that away so easily.

Jack walked to the lowest hanging branch. He reached up and grabbed one of the dangling nooses. He wrapped it around his neck and looked at Jimmy. “Don’t worry, no pain is felt. The hanging tree is magic. You’ll close your eyes on this world, and wake up in a better place with me and all of my friends,” said a smiling Jack.

“Ja-Jack, I don’t think I can do this. It seems dangerous. I need to go back home soon. My mom will be waiting for me,” said a terrified Jimmy.

A heartbroken Jack looked at the smaller boy and said, “Jimmy, I can’t believe you would lie to me. Your mom isn’t home and she wouldn’t even notice that you are missing. Come with me. I am the only one who cares for you.”

Tears streaming down the smaller boy’s face, he responded, “Please don’t make me do it! This place frightens me. Can’t you just come home with me?”

“No! This world despises people like you and me. We weren’t made for it. We were made for the hanging tree. This is where you belong,” snarled the bigger boy.

Jimmy, eyes still running, reached with trembling hands for the dangling noose. He seized it. With one final glance at his friend, the little boy placed the loop around his neck. Immediately the noose drew tight. It felt as if the tree was hauling him up by it. The boy kicked and squirmed. Trying to shout for help, but his airflow was cut off. He managed to make a choking noise, then with one final twitch all was still. Still as the glassy surface of a lake on a spring day.

Little Jimmy Hanson had finally made a friend.

The two boys remained dangling together, gently swaying in the stale autumn breeze.

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riverdamien · 1 year ago

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A Surprise of Joy!

"Sloughing Towards Galilee!"

"A Surprise of Joy!"

Humble Lord, while people clamored for a warrior-king, the colt revealed your servanthood: as you face the way of tears, the tearing of the temple veil, take us from the baying mob to place our faith in you, Jesus Christ, our victim and our savior. Amen.

— Steven Shakespeare

Mark 11:1-11

When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two of his disciples and said to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. If anyone says to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.’” They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, some of the bystanders said to them, “What are you doing, untying the colt?” They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it. Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting,

“Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve."

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

Late last night in the Park, standing on the corner of Golden Gate Park, with a group of seven homeless guys, I was pronouncing the words of consecration over the bread and wine, out of nowhere, three guys threw hot coffee in my face, and struck me, knocking me down, and struck me over and over saying: "Fake, f--ing--, priest, you are a fake Christian! I was hurt, bruised, in pain, and afraid, and one of the guys rode with me in an ambulance to Kaiser, where I stayed until early this morning; hurt, in pain, and yet it woke me up to a reminder of God's call over the voices of letting what people say to me and the one thing I can never change is my place is with the homeless, the disenfranchised, and the words of Henri Nouwen rang true, my heart felt them as never before:

"Learn the discipline of being surprised not by suffering, but by joy.. There is suffering ahead of us, immense suffering, a suffering that will tempt us to think that we have suffered the wrong road. .But don't be surprised by the pain. Be surprised by joy, be surprised by the little flower that shows its beauty in the midst of a barren desert, and be surprised by the immense healing power that keeps bursting forth like springs of fresh water from the depths of our pain."

There were two processions today, Pontius Pilate, with all the imperial theology of power, wealth, and comfort for those who support the state, and the procession of Jesus with the clear message he was with the peasants and his message--to love the least of these, to give of ourselves in walking with the poorest of the poor.

These two confrontations continued through the last week of his life and continue every day here and now. The Scriptures of Holy Week are not just words, but the reality of the call of Jesus to each of us to follow him! I see his face in the young fentanyl addict on the corner of Polk and Sutter; I see his face in Junior, sitting on Haight in tears because the police had hauled his bus off and his girlfriend won't talk to him; I see his face Susan, who has failed for the sixth time in her housing program.

I am asked all the time, "How do you know Jesus is real?" and so on, and all I know is that there was a strange warming feeling in my heart that grabbed me at 12 years old, and now grabs me even closer, commanding me to walk to Galilee, to suffer if need be, but to look at him, and walk with the poorest of the poor. I have been grabbed even tighter as I choose to step forward, to do my best, and in the end to say like Dorthy Day: "I tried!" Deo Gratias! Thanks be to God!

=====================

(Temenos and Fr. River seek to remain accessible to everyone. We do not endorse particular causes, political parties, or candidates, or take part in public controversies, whether religious, political or social--Our pastoral ministry is to everyone!

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

Press Release:

"Jesus continues to be crucified in all those who are crucified in history...There are not enough Stations of the Cross to depict all the ways in which the Lord continues to be persecuted, imprisoned, condemned to death and crucified today!"

-Leonardo Boff

What: Non-Violent Witness in the Tenderloin to commemorate Good Friday!

Tenderloin Stations of the Cross

“A Journey With People on the Street!”

“Our Haunted-ness!”

When:

March 29, 2024

Noon-2:00 p.m.

Meet in Front of Polk Street-Side City Hall

Why:

There are approximately 8, 000 people on the street, without housing, or health care, they suffer from prejudice, anger, and hatred; they are shuffled around as if they are "objects" rather than human beings.

As followers of Jesus, and all who care, living in a war-making and uncaring empire we say loudly and clearly with Jesus: "Love one Another," "Love your enemies", "Be merciful as God is merciful," "Put away the sword," and "Thou shalt not kill."

We witness as people of faith who believe in God's reign of justice, love, peace, and restorative justice!

Sponsored by Temenos Catholic Worker

For more information:

Fr. River Sims, D.Min., D.S.T.

415-305-2124

[email protected]

www.temenos.org

www.paypal.com

Day of (No) Silence 2024: Rise Up. Take Action.

History of Day of (No) Silence: Started in the mid 90’s by two college students, Day of Silence has expanded to reach hundreds of thousands of students each year. Every April, students would go through the school day without speaking, ending the day with Breaking the Silence rallies to bring attention to ways their schools and communities can become more inclusive.

2024 Day of (No) Silence: With more than 800 anti-LGBTQ+ bills introduced last year, we must Rise Up and Take Action. GLSEN’s Day of NO Silence is a nationally recognized student-led demonstration where LGBTQ+ students and allies all around the country—and the world— protest the harmful effects of harassment and discrimination of LGBTQ+ people in schools.

====================================

.n----------------------------

The Tenderloin Stations of the Cross is Friday, Noon-2:00 p.m. we need readers, please contact me at 415-305-2124. Otherwise simply come, walk the to Calvary!

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zillennial97 · 4 years ago

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My All-Time Favorites | Larry Fanfic Recs

*these works are the closest to my heart and my best recommendations*

Hiding Place by alivingfire | 365k | Explicit

Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.

From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe. Meanwhile, Harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. All he has to do now is convince Louis to give them a chance.

Or, the canon compliant Harry and Louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

And Then a Bit by infinitelymint | 158k | Explicit

“We’d like to give the fans what they want.” Magee states, placing his hand on the table in front of him and leaning forward. “We want to give them Larry Stylinson.”

Or, take a parallel universe where Louis and Harry were never together, mix in a two year hiatus and an impending comeback, pour in a dash of lost fans, two tablespoons of strong friendship and a Modest! employee with a good idea. Add a squeeze of pretending to be a couple, lots of kisses and a tattoo or two. Stir. Serve: the mother of all publicity stunts.

(aka Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.)

Walk That Mile by purpledaisy | 149k | Explicit

Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I’ve tried to do.”

“Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”

“Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes.- A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry | 136k | Explicit

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

California Sold by isthatyoularry | 123k | Mature

Notoriously closeted boyband member Harry Styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile Louis, as his best friend, is back home in Manchester, living the typical life of a 24 year old. When Harry needs Louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

A fake-relationship AU between two lifelong best friends.

Fucking Animals by pointerbrother | 116k | Explicit

“Just, off the record,” she says, voice lower, eyes sharper, crook of her mouth quirking up a little, “don’t you ever miss it? A good knot? You must.”

Louis blinks and then swallows, thickly. “No,” he exclaims, offended that she’d even ask, “I love my husband. And anyway, how could I miss something I’ve never had?”

---

Louis is the frontman of an equal rights-movement, author of a book about beta-omega marriage and the struggles of being born and boxed into a personality you don't necessarily feel you fit. The notion that an omega must want to be with an alpha or else he or she's just settling for less, is bullshit.

But, fucking hell.

we're not friends, we could be anything by nooelgallagher, yoursongonmyheart | 115k | Explicit

Louis narrows his eyes at Harry. “What that supposed to be a fucking joke?”

Harry narrows his eyes right back. “It was a good joke.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Jokes require laughter, Curls.” Louis glances down at Harry’s thighs again, Christ. “Your pants must be so tight they’re restricting airflow to your brain.”

Harry wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead. “Pretty sure yoga is supposed to increase airflow, blood flow, and all that,” he responds dryly, finally jumpstarting himself and walking away from Louis towards his own bedroom.

Louis can’t help but stare at his broad back, still sheen with drying sweat, and his perky bum in the tight yoga pants.

Louis swallows. Christ.

...Or, the one where Harry and Louis are unlikely uni flatmates who definitely don't like each other and definitely won't fall in love (even if Liam and Niall think otherwise).

Tired Tired Sea by MediaWhore | 113k | Mature

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

Our Lives, Non-Fiction by indiaalphawhiskey | 113k | Explicit

Heralded as the next Neil Gaiman, Louis Tomlinson does not appreciate being told that his very serious novel is in dire need of a PR boost. Even worse, that it comes in the form of a joint book tour with the UK’s #1 online romance-writing sensation Marcel Styles. Already turbulent at best, their partnership takes a drastic turn when, overly stressed about his looming deadline, Marcel accidentally blurts out a secret: though he’s famed for his scorching hot literary love scenes, he is, actually, a virgin.

Convinced that the only way to rid himself of writer’s block is to gain some experience, Marcel asks Louis, author-to-author, to sleep with him – for Science. And of course Louis agrees because, well, what on Earth could possibly go wrong?

Or, a lesson in romance that proves that sometimes the best love stories aren’t always by the book.

You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by lucythegoosey | 95k | Explicit

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

Or: Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

This Wicked Game by cherrystreet | 70k | Explicit

An AU in which The Bachelor is gay, Louis is a contestant, Harry is the bachelor, everyone drinks a lot of champagne, the entire world gets to watch them fall in love, and no one plays by the rules.

Christmas-ing With You by dolce_piccante | 65k | Mature

Two writers from Loving Heart Television, the premiere network for holiday romance films, find that, sometimes, love is not only in their works of fiction.

Barefoot in Blue Jeans by indiaalphawhiskey | 24k | Explicit

AU. Louis Tomlinson is trying desperately hard not to fall for his son’s au pair, but he can’t, for the life of him, remember why.

475. The hope that this fear is unfounded.

#larry fanfiction recommendations #larry fanfic rec #larry fic #larry fanfiction #larry stylinson #louis tomlinson #harry styles #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic recs #larry fanfiction masterpost

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james-rowan · 4 years ago

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Here’s my (very late, sorry 😓) contribution to the @dualrainbow Pride event. Thank you To_Dragons for helping me edit.

Ships: Montagne/Blitz, Lion/Doc, Valkyrie/Finka and Castle/Maverick

The Pride Festival

The Austin Texas Pride Festival was held on a hot, sunny afternoon, and it smelled of fair food, sunscreen and energy. It was colorful, and bright, mrainbows everywhere, adorning stalls, signs and, of course, people.

To the European operators who had been to Pride events before, it was not only loud, but bold. From the outfits, that ranged from simple rainbow wristbands to full on outrageous outfits (or just a jockstrap), to the signs and stalls and performance stages. Couples were embracing, kissing and making out openly and passionately, without shame or guilt, not only couples but the rare poly groups, finally able to carry on with open affections and taking full advantage. The atmosphere was infectious. It had already claimed Maverick and Castle, who walked very close to each other -despite the heat- hands in each other’s back pockets. They also were very unrestrained with the kissing.

And Montagne thought that he and Blitz could be overly affectionate. But then he was still waiting for his lover to meet them there. He had flown out on his own specifically for this.

Their group included the aforementioned Castle and Maverick, Valkyrie, Finka, himself, Lion and Doc.

They had traveled from Fort Polk, Louisiana, where they, that being the FBI SWAT, SEALs and GIGN, and one tagalong (at her vehement request) Finka, were doing training with the U.S. Army rangers stationed there. After two weeks of a field exercise in muggy swamplands, their Pride group had been excited to go somewhere dry, but unfortunately Houston did not live up to the Texas desert stereotypes; it was almost as humid as Fort Polk. But at least here there was civilization. And Montagne himself was excited to finally see Blitz.

“Schatz!”

Speaking of whom, he was charging at them, looking very much the part of a Pride attendee. He caught his lover in his arms, swinging him around once, despite the soreness from training, then dipped him into a deep kiss. that gained the awe and cheers of not only from some in their own group, but several onlooking strangers as well.

When they finally parted , Lion muttered, “They’re acting like they haven’t seen each other in a year.”

The couple ignored him as Blitz held Monty out in arms length to appraise his outfit. He tutted, “Not to live up to the stereotype, Schatz, but what are you wearing?”

Montagne looked down at himself. He was wearing a lightweight button down with rolled up sleeves, dark trousers and shined shoes, nothing offensive, if a bit formal compared to everyone else, but the reason was important.

Blitz himself was dressed the complete opposite, wearing a loose stringer tanktop that exposed his toned shoulders and even his pecs when he moved just right. Jean cutoff shorts, sneakers with colorful laces, large sunglasses, a backwards ball cap, wristbands: every article of clothing was either rainbow colored, or had an inclusive pride flag adorning it.

“Euh… what’s wrong with it?

“If it were any other day, nothing,” Blitz said. “You look sharp and sexy as ever. But this is Pride, American Pride, ja? Look around.”

Almost everyone was wearing Pride merchandise, had flags draped on their shoulders, or had face paint of various LGBTQ+ symbols, from obvious t more subtle. The bolder were the ones wearing much more and the even bolder much less.

Blitz grabbed his hand, “Come, we’re fixing this.”

“Aren’t we a little old for…”

“Psst, nein. This will be fun, ja? To dress up as we please, get swept up in the atmosphere.”

“We can already dress as we please.”

“I mean colorful, and silly, no fashion rules to hold us back. Come on!”

With that Blitz dragged him off, leaving the rest in their wake.

“Well,” Finka chuckled. “Hi to you too, Elias.”

“Those two are disgusting,” Lion snickered. “How long have they been together? A year?”

“Two,” Finka said. “With no signs of slowing down.”

“Their honeymoon phase is going to last forever at this rate,” Valkyrie said.

“That explains why Gilles is going to…” Lion stopped himself, eyes wide.

“What is Gilles going to do?” Valkyrie was now very interested.

“Olivier, you wanted to show me something?” Doc, the amazing man he was, quickly interjected.

Had it been a few months ago, Lion would have been confused, but now Doc had bailed him out enough times during conversations that he immediately went, “Ah right, this way.”

“We’ll go with you,” Valkyrie smirked.

“Non, non, it's private,” Lion said.

“The good Catholic boy he is, he cannot share,” he said, steering Lion away before he could reveal too much.

Out of earshot, Lion mumbled, “How can you be nice while mocking me at the same time?” Lion was a bit prickly at the Catholic comment. It has always been a point of mockery for people outside the church.

“I could ask you the same. You have quite the talent for it. Far more than I can hope to achieve.”

“Most of the time I don’t mean to.”

“I know.” Doc’s tone softened into a reassuring one, giving his side a squeeze. “Otherwise we wouldn’t have found common ground, mon coeur,” he said. “People also tend not to question when a Catholic needs to do private things, no? With Islam it works quite well.”

Lion took a deep breath, but understood. It was nothing malicious. “Thank you. I didn’t want to be the one to fuck that all up.”

It had taken years to come to a mutual understanding, let alone to find a way to deal with their mutual attraction to one another. It was a rocky, long road, but here they were. Lion hoped one day they would be exactly like Blitz and Montagne, or even just Castle and Maverick.

Lion brushed his forefinger against Doc’s hand, tentatively seeking to hold it. Their relationship was so new, so fragile, like a baby bird or sugar glass, too easy to hurt or shatter. A hundred things, even things gentle or nice, could ruin a relationship, if you looked into it. And considering their history, before they got together… where just one off hand remark would destroy a truce they had established between each other, setting them at each other's throats once again. Lion never wanted to go back to those times. He’d do anything to keep it from degrading back.

Doc immediately took hold of his hand, as if he had been waiting to do so all day, giving a loving squeeze.

Warmth flooded Lion, he felt a giant stupid grin spreading across his face. It was almost too much, as he felt pricks in his eyes, as he squeezed back. He glanced sideways at Doc, finding him gently smiling, mellow as always when he was content. He wanted nothing more than to sweep him up and kiss him fiercely, but maybe then it’d be too much. He’d settle for this for now.

After browsing a couple stalls, he remembered something. What did the relationship advice he found on that one website say? That he should always seek to compliment and let someone know how much their actions mean to him, so he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find the right words.

“You know,” Lion said, barely able to be heard over the crowd. “I’m so glad you’re willing to hold my hand.”

“Willing? I want to,” Doc corrected, bringing it to his lips and kissing his knuckles.

Lion smile only grew wider, and he had to look away as red creeped from his ears to his cheeks now. “J’taime.”

“J’taime.”

The warm fuzzy feeling in his chest threatened to burst, helped along by with the anxiety, the pervasive fear that this was about to be ripped from him at any moment.

They grabbed something to eat and sat down on a bench. If American food was considered greasy, their fair food was simply lard on a plate, with maybe some sugar or ketchup for seasoning. They commented on this to each other, when something caught Lion’s eye. There were older women and a couple of men wearing t-shirts, that said “free mom hugs.” (the men’s shirts said ‘dad’) As implied, they hugged everyone who came up to them. Some hugs were light and quick, and some deep and heartfelt, lasting many minutes. Lion’s eyes followed one of them until he came upon a group of them, holding signs, the same message written on them.

“Is that what I think?”

“Hmm?” Doc looked up. “Ah, probably. Hold on.”

To Lion's horror, his fellow frenchman asked a nearby American who they were; the man explaining with a bright smile that they were a charity organization that helped LGBTQ+ youth, and they gave out hugs - of course -, for any who had been rejected by their families for their sexuality.

Small talk ensued, in which Lion was only half-participating in as he ate, and when the man finally left, Doc nudged his side.

“You’ve been glancing at them this whole time. Go on, go talk to them.”

“I don’t need a hug.”

Doc tsked, “That’s a lie.”

“Huh?”

“If anyone needs a hug from a father figure, it is you, no?”

“I…” Lion paused then shook his head. “No, I’m over it, I put it behind me. It happened over a decade ago, after all.”

Doc raised an eyebrow, one of his infuriatingly knowing smiles tugging at his lips.

“They are for this who were disowned for being homosexual, Gustave. I was not...”

“And your father would have accepted you being with another man? Or is it only teens getting their girlfriends pregnant that he takes moral issue with?”

Lion didn’t have an answer for him. Well he did, just not a verbal one. There were so many reasons his father wanted nothing to do with him.

“I’m over it,” he repeated, but this time with less conviction.

“Then it would be of no consequence,” Doc said, squeezing his hand. “Go on.”

It was an awkward walk to approach them. He had to remind himself he was a soldier, he had faced death multiple times, fought against some of the most dangerous people in the world and this- This was just a civilian man at a pride event. Much older than him, sure, with a kind face and beard. But he realized as his step grew increasing hesitant that it wasn’t the human he was afraid of, but his soul, and what it could do to his own with just a few brash words.

What was he even going to say? “Hey I saw your sign, my dad hates me, can I get a hug?” That was ridiculous. Maybe lean into the role this man was offering to play, “Sorry dad, I was a fuck up, I can't change?" Or… "sorry you were not capable of loving me the way I am?" Both sounded completely rude to say to a stranger.

But as he approached, the older man met his eye, and there was no need for questions, nor words. The dad only smiled at him and opened his arms.

Lion found himself in the other man’s embrace before he even realized, hugging him as if his life depended on it. The older man matched his energy, a hand on the back of his head as if Lion really was his own child. Time seemed to stretch on and on; Lion had been anticipating a quick hug, just a little taste of what he got so envious of every time he saw someone have a loving moment with their parent, but no, his body refused to let go and so did this stranger. This stranger who held onto him with a fatherly patience Lion once thought only existed in fantasy.

The lump growing in his throat ached. He tried swallowing it down, but it only made it worse.

He shouldn’t have done this. He thought he was over it, yet it hurt, it hurt so fucking much…!

He wanted to run, he wanted to stay, he wanted…

“It’s alright to cry,” the man whispered. “I got you.”

“My real father disowned me.” Lion wasn’t proud of how strangled his voice sounded, or how he let some tears escape.

“I’m so sorry, son,” the man replied, rubbing his back gently. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“I did.”

“No, you didn’t. Nobody does.”

“I never could give him a reason to love me.”

“Children don’t need to give a reason. They’re supposed to be loved by their parents, no matter what mistakes they made, real or imagined. You deserve to be loved.”

Lion was biting the inside of his cheek, trying to will away the need to sob. This was a happy moment, a validating moment, with kind words, and warmth, why did it hurt so much then? His fingers clutched at the man’s shirt, as he gently rocked them. It didn’t feel infantilizing, it felt relieving, needed, like a hole finally being filled.

“You can cry, you know,” the man whispered again. “Emotions are made to be expressed. You don’t have to be strong, not here, not with me. I know you’re hurting, Don’t worry, I’m here.”

A choked sob escaped, and Lion pressed his face into the man's shoulder. “There you go, let it out, I’m proud of you.”

There was no coming back from that. He broke down, and it was ugly.

Lion sobbed into his arms, all rsesemblance of control disappearing, but the father held him through it all. It lasted way longer than Lion thought possible, but they eventually subsided, and he was still being held as he calmed down. When he felt strong enough to break the embrace, he was met with a gentle, fatherly smile.

“Do you feel better?”

“Oui.. yes, thank you,” he wiped his face with his own shirt. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” the manhe said. “I’m just doing what fathers were meant to do.”

“Merci.”

They talked for a little while after. About what happened with his father, his family, himself. The cynical side of him expected them to reveal their ulterior motive, asking him for charity donations, to attend a church service, or even a cult, but they didn’t offer him any flyers or business cards, just warm words... water and tissues. At least he wasn’t the first grown man to cry like this in their arms. They were genuinely good people.

Doc had been waiting patiently for him on the bench, and stood up to embrace him and kiss his cheek upon his return. “How do you feel?”

“Drained,” he said. Then he added, “Relieved. I guess you were…” he caught himself. “No, you were completely right.”

“I’m glad you went then, mon coeur.”

Lion needed a smoke. Before got to know him, Lion would have assumed the doctor was too high and mighty for a nicotine fix, but then found out he was a man in a high stress job like the rest of them, and didn’t judge. Except on the mandatory substance abuse powerpoints they all had to sit through every few months.

He lit up, drawing the smoke in and letting it mellow him out. Every so often he would think back and a few more tears would leak out.

He wiped his eyes with his thumb. “You know why I was so happy that you took my hand?”

“Non,” Doc said, rubbing his back. “But please tell me.”

“I was at the store with my mother and father,” he said. “I was just following along, and I see my mother offer her hand to hold, you know, this gesture…”

He made it. Doc patiently nodded.

“Well I was nearest to her, I think. I was so happy, I remember feeling loved, all warm, because my mama wanted to hold my hand.”

He paused, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Go on, I’m listening.”

Lion took a deep breath. His voice shuddered, “She let go, non.. she threw my hand away from her, in utter disgust. As if I were disgusting. She snapped, ‘I don’t want your hand.’”

Lion ducked his head. “It was a small thing, yes, but it hurt, it hurt so much. Turned out she wanted my father’s hand, not her son’s, not mine.”

It was a few beats later before Doc said, “How old were you?”

“Four, maybe five,” Lion said. “I hate that feeling, those moments where you finally feel happy and loved, and the next second someone shatters it completely. Despair is a good word for it, I think.”

“How often did these types of things happen?”

“Plenty, I was a disgusting child, after all.”

“No,” Doc said. “She was just… cruel.”

Lion huffed, not a wry laugh, just disbelieving. “You’re not going to tell me that she tried her best?”

“Did she?”

“I… I don’t know…”

“Then I think not,” Doc said softly, cupping Lion’s cheek. He leaned into the warmth.

"I still get this horrible… fear when I want to take someone’s hand, or show any affection. So I usually don’t.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, mon cher. And if I ever make you feel the way your mother did, I want you to tell me.”

Lion nodded, looking down, not entirely sure if he would. Doc tilted his head back up. “Hey, I mean it.”

Lion took his hand and almost went for a kiss, but the deep moment was interrupted by Blitz and Monty approaching. Lion quickly turned away so neither of the two could see his red puffy eyes, but he did see Monty was wearing a stringer tanktop, tie dyed rainbow, and adorned with rainbows in body paint and a look of subdued embarrassment any time Elias had his back turned. Blitz was going a bit overboard on this look.

“Have you seen Meghan?” Blitz said, “unless you have a bag?”

Doc pointed them into the right direction, as Lion quickly drank his water.

“Olivier, are you okay?”

“He just needs some alone time with me,” Doc saved him. Again.

The pair offered their sympathies to Lion (much to his annoyance) and wandered off to find the two women.

“Don’t you ever dress me up that garishly,” Lion snickered.

“Please, mon coeur, I have taste,” Doc said, before grabbing his knee and squeezing, voice now whispering in his ear. “Besides, I prefer you out of your clothes.”

He nipped his earlobe before Lion could exasperate out his name, earning a yelp instead.

Any semblance of protocol melted into genuine, unmasked joy just to be in each other’s company, in a welcoming space where they could be open about themselves Gustave himself was intent on kissing his lover better.

Finka and Valkyrie had been watching a stage performance when Blitz appeared at Valkyrie’s side, grinning, as usual, and... now covered in glitter?

“Meghan, can we borrow your purse?”

“Huh?”

“I don’t want to have to carry around Gilles’s shirt all day.”

Valkyrie turned fully to see Montagne, who had trailed in after him, no longer wearing his tasteful, understated ensemble, but had been attacked by rainbows and what looked to be the same shimmer bomb that Blitz must have been caught in.

“No, you’re going to get glitter in it,” Valkyrie frowned.

“Please? I’ll clean it out for you myself.”

“Glitter?” Finka said, turning around. “We have to ride back with your boyfriend, and you wore glitt-”

Finka must have caught sight of Montagne’s giant pecs escaping the too small, flimsy shirt, because she turned bright red and turned back to stare very intently at the performer.

All Valkyrie herself could think was ’damn Montagne is strong and it shows’, but that was it, of course. Her girlfriend however was bi, with a particular weakness for large people with muscles.

“Och, I almost forgot,” Blitz said cheekily. “You have any sunscreen? Gilles wasn’t prepared for this outfit.”

“I don’t think any of us were prepared,” Finka snipped, still keeping Montagne out of her line of sight. She pulled out a sunblock bottle from her cargo pocket and tossed it over.

“You alright there, Lera?” Blitz asked as he caught it.

“I’m fine, it's just hot,” she replied, still avoiding eye contact, “The weather, I mean.”

Blitz grinned, “He is hot, isn’t he?”

“Mon cher…” Montagne groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just…”

Meghan clapped her hands, “Okay, go away, go be gay somewhere else. We have enough that of our own over here.”

Blitz ignored her, looking at Finka with a grin, “What do you think of us getting temporary hair color? I was thinking of dyeing our hair rainbow.”

“Well, you’ve gone this far,” Finka said, pointedly staring at Blitz’s eyes. “Might as well go full golubok.”

“Hah, ja, I like the way you think, I…”

“Here,” Meghan said, grabbing Gilles’s shirt from Blitz’s hands and stuffing it into her purse. “Go dye your hair now. Go on.”

“Alright, all right.” Blitz grinned, holding up his hands and going. Montagne sighed deeply, a twitch working its way through his cheek before following. Odd, but not her problem. She had someone much more important to worry about.

“You’re into muscles, huh?”

“You know I am,” Finka said sheepishly. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Valkyrie laughed, “It’s fine, he got great boobs.” That caused Finka to snort. “You know, for a man.”

Finka laughed longer than she expected, but it was always nice when her girlfriend had one of her genuine laughs.

“It's always nice to see real muscles,” Finka said. “Real ones, from being big and strong, and healthy.”

“Oh, you mean some like mine?” She flexed, tattooed arms positively sexy as the bulged.

Finka’s eyes got a hungry glunt to them, she put her hands on Valkyrie’s arms, feeling the solidness beneath her fingers, “Yes, just like that.”

Finka kissed her girlfriend long and deep, and Valkyrie relished being able to do so in the open, without the anxiety of having some bigot laying eyes on them and causing a scene. It was annoying enough to deal with the old people (and the occasional man similarly aged man) she had never met before tsk at her for daring to have tattoos and being too buff, saying she was too pretty to mark herself up like that and ask how she was ever going to find a man looking like that. She had already broke the glass ceiling for women in something as prestigious and hardcore as the Navy fucking SEALs, but there were still so many in American society that were convinced that women existed to look pleasant to men, regardless of if said women even wanted a pet man or not.

The kiss was broken when Finka’s wristwatch timer went off, and her girlfriend quickly drank from her water bottle. It was such a practiced motion, Valkyrie wasn’t entirely convinced Lera was aware she was doing it, and it made her heart ache. When she was finished, she wrapped her arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Later they were browsing stalls, and Finka gravitated towards one that was selling pride flags and shirts, not only the standard colors for each identity group, but also the ones that represented multiple identities within the same flag. Finka fingered a nonbinary one with a heart in the bisexual colors on its center. Interesting choice.

“I’d love to see you wear one of these, babe.”

Finka smiled, but shook her head, “I don’t know…”

“Come on, I’m not trying to pull a Blitz on you, I’ll wear one with you.”

“And what am I going to do with it afterwards?”

“Keep it? We’re not in Russia, our base is in Greece, basically its own sovereign territory.”

“When you went through SEALs, there were dissenters that tried to prove your were lesbian so they could get you removed from the program, didn’t they?”

Valkyrie shrugged, “Yeah, but they failed.”

“The last thing that the Russian government wants is one of it most elite spetsnaz operatives in an international effort to be homosexual,” Finka explained. “Its not illegal, yet, but my existence could be considered ‘propaganda.’ I might not just be removed from Rainbow, or Spetsnaz, or the Russian military, I could be jailed.

“Ah.”

“You know what Russian prison is like? I might be able to survive the system if I wasn’t sick, but I am diseased. They’d deny me my medication, not let me stay hydrated or fed or exercised and I’ll...”

“Hey, hey,” Meghan said, quickly drawing Lera into a hug. “I’m sorry, it was just a silly idea.”

“I’m…” she took a deep breath then nodded. “Thank you.”

Meghan kissed her forehead, holding her hands. Lera usually had to be stressed, well, more stressed than usual, to go on such a downward spiral so quickly. Being at such a Pride event, probably, if anyone found out. Finka didn’t believe her own Rainbow Spetsnaz brothers to out her, they were too close, but it was still risky.

“The Soviet Union used to accept openly gay people, did you know that?”

Valkyrie shook her head.

“Not a lot of people do, even in Russia. It was the early years, of course, but they gave gays rights they never had before. But then, of course, the Soviets needed more bodies. Bodies for war, and bodies for work, and of course, they believed gays were the reason that their population wasn’t pumping out babies at a fast enough rate.”

“Oh.”

“It all comes down to child production, doesn’t it? You know this.”

“Unfortunately I do,” Valkyrie said. “Not even just governments but families too. When my grandma found out I was lesbian, she sobbed, crying about how she won’t have any grandbabies from my father’s line. Then she blamed my father for raising me too military, while blaming my mother for letting me compete in high level sports.” She adopted a shrill, tottering grandma voice, ‘Sports always turns girls into dykes. I wanted greatgrandbabies from every child! But you made her want to turn into a boy!”

“Blin.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“My own parents alway knew I would like girls,” she said. “Enough to be surprised and confused when I brought home boyfriends that I was genuinely happy with. They cited my, uh, how you call it, boyishness? Well, I never felt comfortable in the woman’s role and they, knowing what my siblings and I had…, they didn’t really feel a need to pressure us to do anything but stay as healthy and active as possible.”

Meghan slowly began to realize this was turning into much more than a simple sharing of stories, and squeezed her hands in support.

“I never liked being…. I don’t know how to put this. I didn’t like the gendered language used for me. And I never felt when people were talking about women, they were talking about to me as well. Just as I thought the rules and expectations boys are taught growing up applied to me as well. You know, don’t cry, be tough, treat women with respect, fight those who try to push you around. Then I learned of this new concept a couple years ago, someone could be neither. I laughed at it at first but...”

“Lera…” Valkyrie said softly, with a loving smile. “Do you want me to use they/them for you?”

Her… their eyes lit up. “Would you? I mean, I’m not sure just yet, but I would like to try them out. “Non pun intended?”

“Hmm? Oh yes,” they were positively beaming. They were so beautiful.

“Just to see. I mean, I still have to use she and her at work but, just in private.”

“Of course, babe.”

Valkyrie cupped their face and kissed them deeply.

She ended up buying Finka something, a silver bracelet in the colored stones in the nonbinary colors as the setting. Something simple and discreet yet powerful where it mattered.

Montagne had texted the couples to be on their way back to the group when Blitz finally realized he wasn’t just looking like a rainbow, but rather a discontented victim of a rainbow being sick.

“What’s wrong, Schatz?”

The giant man sighed, folding his arms over his chest.

“So… there is something wrong…?”

“If it were any other day, I wouldn’t have minded, but today…”

“Where else could you do this…?”

“It is not the location, it is the look!” he gestured down at himself. “The timing of it!”

“I don’t understand… ok, ja, I can see why I might have gotten a little carried away.”

Montagne raised a glitter encrusted eyebrow.

“Ok, completely carried away.”

“Mmm.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It is not the fun you were having that I have a problem with, I am used to your antics.”

Blitz went pink, and bashful. Like a puppy being scolded.

“And you know I love your antics, ge added quickly. But why of all days,” Gilles trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose, and very nearly getting glitter in his eyes.

“Because… its Pride…”

“Yes, you’ve been saying this the whole time.”

“We can go wash it all off, I’m sorry,” Elias said, crestfallen as he moved past him towards the bathrooms.

Montagne caught him around the chest with his arm just as the rest of the group returned, “Non, it's fine… its fine. Perfection is not needed.”

He saw Doc and Loon quickly fumble for their phones, thankfully behind Blitz’s back. Once they nodded, he guided Blitz back to in front of him. “These past few years I’ve known you, you’ve done nothing but make me happy. Your antics, your jokes, your dedication, your downright sweetness, even the way you tap your helmet during exercises. Even before we started seeing each other, your smile would light up my heart and I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Gilles…”

Gilles sank to one knee, pulling out a shining wedding ring from his pocket.

“Will you marry me?”

Elias had clapped his hands over his mouth, unable to process this. Their group, except for the GIGN of course, were surprised and estatic. Valkyrie even exclaimed “So that’s what you French bastards were hiding.”

Blitz still hadn’t answered, his eyes shining.

“Elias?”

“Ja! Natürlich sage ich ja, du großer Dummkopf!”

“I assume that's a…”

Blitz very nearly bowled him over to give him his acceptance kiss. He lifted him up as he stood, Elias straddling his hips and swung them around, a dazzling display as the glitter caught the sunshine.

“I’m sorry I got irritated, I just wanted this to go a certain way,” he breathed when their lips parted.

“Schatz, you could have proposed to me covered in mud and sweat.”

“I know,” he said. “But I still wanted to make an effort. I wanted to do it right.”

“You did,” he said. “Look at you, covered in rainbows, just to make me happy, ja?

“Mmm,” he said as Elias lowered himself back to the ground.

Blitz understood now. Gilles was a traditional romantic after all, wanting the candlelit dinners and picnics at the parks on Sundays. He wanted that to extend to his proposal but Blitz was too excited to have silly fun to notice.

“Hey,” he said. Despite the heat they couldn’t stop embracing. “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too.”

“If you want,” he whispered. “We can still have your perfect proposal night.”

“Two proposals?”

“Ja, why not? I’ll still be excited.”

Gilles gave it a thought. “I’ll have to make things more romantic between us,” he murmured. “Just to throw you off so you don’t know when its coming.”

“Oooh,” Blitz said, draping his arms over Gilles’s shoulders. “I like the sound of that.”

They dazzled them with another sweeping, showstopping dipped kiss, because of course they did.

“I agree with Lion,” Finka laughed with a grin. “You two are disgusting.”

Blitz laughed into Gilles’s mouth, and flipped her off without looking away.

“Great, now those two set the standard for romantic proposals,” Maverick said.

“Does that mean we’re going to be competing now?” Castle said, perking up.

“I’ll win,” Valkyrie declared. “The rest of you might as well quit now..”

“Pfft, nah, man, if anyone’s winning that it's me.”

“You know, we French have romance in our blood,” Lion said. “I wouldn’t even have to try and I’d win.”

While they dissolved into bickering, the silent ones of their pairs all shared a look, realizing at once what their partners had implied.

Blitz and Monty still had yet to look up from their glitter makeout, oblivious to what they had just started.

#rainbow #rainbow 6 seige #rainbow 6 #dualrainbow #montagne #blitz #Valkyrie #finka #lion #doc #lion/doc #finka/Valkyrie #monty/blitz #gay #nonbinary #coming out #pride #lgbtq #lesbian #bi

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northern-writer · 4 years ago

Text

Solid Ground ~ One

A/N: Afternoon all! Here’s the start of Diana and Steve’s journey. As stated before, these won’t be in order - just this one and the last, which are set in Season Six.

“So, you saw her then? Is she alright?”

It was a typical Friday night - for Steve and I, anyway.

After a gruelling day of doing practically nothing, Steve and I found ourselves back at my house. Consuming copious amounts of takeaway. I was slightly tipsy from a bottle of red, whilst Steve was two bottles deep into a pack of six Peroni’s. Both of us curled up on the sofa. Steve always took the left, I the right.

Taking a rather elongated sip, Steve just seemed to huff in response, “She’s fine. Who wouldn’t be? Over at Polk, away from the likes of us.”

“Don’t be bitter Steven.”

“Believe me, I’ve tried not to be but-“ Steve couldn’t finish. Instead, taking another drink of beer. He focused his attention back on the television, where a crappy, and rather uninteresting talk show played.

But I wasn’t done, “Kate wanted a change. There’s nothing wrong with that. We should be thankful that for once, she’s happy.”

It took him a moment, then Steve shifted, his gaze meeting mine. I raised a brow, causing him to chuckle softly and return to watching the television.

On the other hand, I found myself just staring at Steve, unable to tear my eyes away. There were a number of things occurring in my brain. Maybe it was the wine? Surely that wasn’t causing the flutterings. No, that had been there for quite some time.

He’s my best friend. There’s not much more to it than that. Steve Arnott was the waist coated light of my life, and when I say that I couldn’t live without him, that wouldn’t be an exaggeration. He liked beer and football. A hot curry after work. I hated beer, had zero interest in football and couldn’t stand curry. But that didn’t matter. Not to us. That’s what made our friendship so special. If Steve could handle the odd episode of Married at First Sight (the Australian version, not the British,) then I could withstand attending a football match or two. We’re different, but so alike. That’s what made us. I knew that, regardless of if he had a relationship, I was his rock - his one constant, as he had been mine for so long.

But now he wanted to transfer, leaving AC-12 behind, just as Kate had done eighteen months before.

The thought of Steve relocating made my chest hurt. It was selfish of me, but I didn’t want him to go. There was still time. He hadn’t made up his mind just yet. Work had been kicking his arse recently. This was due to unsolved murder of journalist, Gail Vella. It was an incredibly tragic murder and naturally, the handling by DCI. Davidson was starting to botch. Over the last two years, I’d had a few dealings with the DCI in question, majority of them ending with the biting of tongues and keeping my mouth shut. I wasn’t Steve. I couldn’t get myself in trouble, not again. Rather than get caught up in my thoughts, I found myself reaching for my glass of Merlot and settling into Steve’s side. He was warm and luckily, didn’t mind the intrusion; his arm going around me like it was supposed to be there. After all these years he was used to it.

Steve tried to focus on the tv. He tried his hardest, his very hardest, but no matter what - he couldn’t. Not with Diana nestled to close to his side. After six years, he’d grown accustomed to seeing her, at AC-12, socially on the weekends and one thing was for certain, that without her, he’d be lost. Unable to properly function. It never mattered what he did - Almost ruined the cases; ended up in hospital after being thrown down stairs (he still hadn’t lived that one down, physically and with Diana); the many failed relationships and after all that happened with Dot, she was there. Still by his side.

Then there was the medication. Diana wasn’t aware of that, Steve had made certain that his friend wouldn’t find out. There would be hell to pay if she did, and would only fuss him, then maybe tell on him to his mother. Not the ideal situation, if he was being honest with himself. No, secrets were better for now.

Things weren’t looking good at AC-12 either. Everybody was consumed with the suspicious murder of Gail Vella. Hastings, Bishop, even Diana, who’s role at AC-12 had been elevated to be the only Forensic Consultant. Seeing Diana everyday made Steve feel warm. To see her smile whenever he managed to crack a stupid joke, or when Hastings quipped something incredibly Irish. It seemed to brighten the room and for that, Steve was glad. As the television grew less interesting, Steve found his mind going to other places, to the secret meeting he’d had with Kate. What a failure that had subsequently been…

—

Steve hated Polk Avenue. He could never quite place why, but he did. Kate leaving had affected him more than he cared to admit. She was his ‘mate.’ Aside from Diana, she was the only other person who he could trust. They both knew everything about him. An unnerving thought indeed. As he parked up and flashed the lights - four times, just to be sure - Steve waited patiently for Kate to approach the car. He spotted her as she began to walk away from the building and near his car, hidden subtly by the front gates. Once she was inside, it was clear Kate wasn’t all that pleased to see him.

Turning to face him, her face incredulous, “What kind of knobby signal was that?”

Typical Kate, he thought.

“First thing that came to mind.”

“Go round the block in case anyone’s watching.” Kate instructed. Pulling her seatbelt over and on, settling into the passenger seat.

Inhaling sharply, Steve simply nodded, putting the car into drive, “No worries.”

Together, they pulled away from the station, turning onto the street and driving away. For a moment, an awkward, unfamiliar silence filled the vehicle. It was Kate who spoke up first. Breaking the peace.

“There’s a nice little balti up the road. But, I’m guessing that’s not why you’re here, though.” She was calm about it all, but Steve could sense the tension in her voice.

“I wish,” He sighed, “Sorry mate.”

Again, Kate fell silent and chewed on her lip, letting out a quiet, “Right.”

“I can’t share any details, but we might be looking into Vella.” Steve started carefully.

Kate couldn’t believe it.

Closing her eyes and sighing deeply, “Oh shit,” Opening them again, she found herself getting angry with the man sat beside her, “Great, so when Buckells and Davidson find out, they’re going to think-“

“They’ll think either you’re our CHIS or you’ve been embedded as a UCO.” He intercepted. Turning, he tried to smile at his friend, “That’s why I’m giving you a heads-up, Kate.”

Kate still wasn’t having it, “Steve, you know what it’s like being ex-anti corruption. I’ve had to work my bollocks off with them lot.”

Of course Steve knew this. Kate was one of the hardest workers in the force, and yet, it all boiled down to loyalty - as it always seemed to do these days.

“Is this the gaffer’s way of getting his own back?” She continued.

Frowning, Steve simply shook his head, “No, of course not.”

“Why am I still calling him “gaffer?”

Steve tried to think of something in kind. He knew why she’d moved, as did Hastings. There was no doubt about that. Sighing, Kate moved onto other subjects, ready to stop talking about her new Bosses.

“How’s Di?” She asked softly, her voice lowering for the first time since getting in.

Kate missed her friends, even though she wouldn’t admit to that out loud. Seeing them both everyday was something she’d missed. The laughter in those off moments. A coffee when it was calm. Her weekly glass of wine with Diana - that was what she missed the most. Sure, they messaged from time to time, but now Diana was a consultant, rather than just an investigator, and with her position at Polk Avenue, time was scarce. Kate observed Steve closely. Noting how the tops of his ears turned a little pink, or how his cheeks had blushed. Internally, she smirked.

Steve let out a harsh cough and nodded, “She’s good, yeah, she’s- Alright.”

“I do miss her,” Then, “You’re so obvious you know.”

“What?” He was confused.

Kate let out a snort, shaking her head amusedly, “Never mind. Forget I said anything about it.”

Steve wanted to enquire about her statement, but left it alone. Not wanting to upset the moment between them. Their conversation about Vella and Hastings continued until they reached Polk Avenue again. Then, as Steve was left alone, his thoughts returned back to Kate and her statement. What was he so obvious about?

Shaking his head, he tried to push the thoughts back and started to make his way back into the city.

—

Collectively, the pair were silent, watching the television. Steve’s fingers brushed over Diana’s shoulder, whilst Diana made his shoulder her pillow. Separately however, their thoughts were racing.

Both recalling the moments that had led them to this.

#steve arnott fanfiction #steve arnott #line of duty fanfiction #line of duty #kate fleming #oc: diana jackson #fanfiction #jo davidson #ac 12

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 4 years ago

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reading update

last time I posted a reading update, I had no idea what I was supposed to be reading next, since none of my holds were showing up at the library. fear not, gentle readers - I figured it out.

what have I been reading?

The Kiss Quotient (Helen Hoang) - that’s right, babey, it’s a romance! and thank god Hoang has written a few more, because sometimes I need some straight up fluff to cleanse my brain palate. sure, there’s a lot I could nitpick and object to here - not least of all the epilogue asserting that our MC has someone opened multiple physical stores within a few months of starting his own fashion line??? bro I don’t think that’s how business works - but why would I do that when the sex scenes are good and I’m having fun? like yes, Michael seems like kind of a mess to actually date, but that doesn’t matter because Michael’s a hot made up fiction man. I’m way more invested in Stella, who’s an absolute delight and joy, and I’m so glad she got the good things she deserved. Helen Hoang, autistic romance queen.

Soft Science (Franny Choi) - god knows I still don’t fully Get poetry, but this was one of those neat collections that made me really want to. I was particularly struck by “The Price of Rain,” which you can watch/listen to here, and overall really admired the unique concepts and structures behind so many poems in the collection.

Bodies Out of Bounds: Fatness and Transgression (Jana Evans Braziel and Kathleen LeBesco) - sometimes I’m like “wow I mess reading dense theory for class” and then I borrow a dense theory reader from a friend and I’m like wow thank GOD I’m not being graded on how well I understand all of this, because by the final few essays I was picking up maybe 50% of what any particular author was putting down. what I did pick up was extremely interesting though, particularly some observations about Paleolithic Venus statuettes from an early chapter.

Come as You Are: The Surprising New Science That Will Transform Your Sex Life (Emily Nagoski) - first off, most people who have sent me anonymous sex questions could probably benefit from reading this book. secondly, if I were a more petty man I would resent Emily Nagoski a lot for writing the same kind of sex ed book I want to write, but why would I do that? the more accessible, understandable advice in the world, the better! thank god someone else is out there reassuring people that their bodies are normal and that orgasms don’t have to be the focal point of every single sexual encounter. and it’s not like there’s nothing left for me to do - Nagoski is pretty up front about the book being most useful for cis women, so I still have plenty of ground to cover. publishers, get in touch ;)

Matrimony, Inc.: From Personal Ads to Swiping Right, A Story of America Looking for Love (Francesca Beauman) - a fun and fascinating little nonfiction collection, focused mostly on personal ads from people seeking spouses in the 19th century and earlier. while I mostly checked this book out for the “swiping” part (relegated to a few paragraphs in the last chapter, unfortunately) I can’t say I was disappointed in the slightest, as what I got instead was an extremely niche education and an interesting perspective on evolving social norms and romantic ideals throughout American history.

what am I reading now?

Starsoul (C.L. Polk) - full review to follow, obviously, but god DAMN I love C.L. Polk.

what’s next on the list?

The Body Is Not an Apology: The Power of Radical Self-Love (Sonya Renee Taylor) - as part of my joint endeavors to work through all of the titles that have been on my TBR the longest, and to run an informal study of self help book to see what’s actually, you know, helpful and worth recommending.

Kink (edited by R.O. Kwon and Garth Greenwell) - I’ve had it on hold for so long and I am imploring whoever else has it checked out to quit jerking off to short stories and return it so I can please, please read it.

Skin Folk (Nalo Hopkinson) - I read another of Hopkinson’s short story collections, Falling In Love With Hominids, last year and adored it; I really and truly believe she’s the queen of the short story.

#bookblr #reading updates

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inkabelledesigns · 4 years ago

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How about 15 for your Henry, Sammy and Norman please~ any au of your choosing.

15. Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking?

Oh ho ho, this is a fun one. I'm gonna go with Searching the Depths for this one, and this could technically be at any time, pre or post ink.

Henry: "Well Linda prefers to handle the cooking most of the time, but I can do it decently enough. I like it every once in a while, especially when she lets me make sauce and chicken stock. They're my ma's recipes. We'll make a bunch of it and then freeze it for soup in the winter. 'Liza started helpin' me make it a few years back, it's somethin' special to do it together. What about you too?"

Norman: "Well, I tend to handle the cooking at home. Don't have anybody else tah feed but me most of the time, so I'll make a big ol' pot of somethin' and then bring it in leftover. If my neighbors are around, I'll share with them. We're talkin' big pots of chili with cornbread, Mexican chicken soup from my brother-in-law's family, maybe some gumbo, my Aunt Sally's recipe, just all the good stuff to make you feel warm inside. Just don't come over if ya don't like spice, I like things hot!" -He laughs, holding his stomach.- "What about you, crab apple?"

Sammy: -He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.- "Why do you care?"

Jack: "Eh, Sam's more of a 'if it's edible, it's fine,' kinda guy. We share an apartment, since it's cheaper than livin' alone, so we split the chores. He usually takes cooking while I'll do the cleaning, but I'm always in charge of dessert. It's fine most of the time, he'll put effort in if he knows it's something I like." -He's got a knowing smile on his face as he nudges Sammy.-

Sammy: -He's looking him dead in the eyes and holding his shoulders.- "Jack Fain, you are over there making the best chocolate cinnamon muffins in the universe, for BREAKFAST, and you think I'm not going to reciprocate? Shame on you! Of course I'm going to make you something nice back, what am I, a barbarian?"

Norman: "Aw, are you two adorable.~"

Sammy: "Zip it Polk. It's common courtesy. Someone does something nice for you, you reciprocate."

Henry: "Those must be some amazing muffins then."

Sammy: "You don't know the half of it! Now let me be, I have work to do, no more distractions!"

Norman: -He whispers to Jack.- "So, think you could hook me up with some of that?"

#character asks #askbox #henry stein #norman polk #sammy lawrence #Jack Fain #Thanks for the question Devil!#I couldn't not poke a little fun at my band man. XD #But for real #Jack is an amazing baker and Sammy loves his chocolate cake the best #Jack is also a huge foodie and finds Sammy's cooking adequate #but he can also tell when he's put more effort in #usually on his favorite foods #Henry really appreciates Jack's baklava #Norman and Jack both really love food too so they have a lot of notes to swap #long post #Also Linda is a fiend on the grill

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toenialls · 5 years ago

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hi ! here’s a fic rec i made bc what better time to read fics than a quarantine. i’ve ordered them below from longest to shortest. :)

these are all the fics i’ve read/re-read this quarantine

hiding place by alivingfire @alivingfire (365k)

louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. enter harry styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. with one fateful meeting in a x factor bathroom, louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.

from the x factor house to madison square garden, from the fountain studios stage to stadiums across the world, louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace louis as the center of his universe. meanwhile, harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. all he has to do now is convince louis to give them a chance.

or, the canon compliant harry and louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

relief next to me by dolce_piccante @haydolce (333k)

au- what happens when a baker and a graphic designer meet via a very specific craigslist post? fate, friendship, food, and maybe more.

young & beautiful by velvetoscar @mizzwilde (227k)

louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name zayn malik means something, niall horan doesn’t stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and harry styles, only son o a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes

now in a minute by thealmightyavocado @avocadolouie (150k)

13 feels like yesterday for many people, but for louis it actually was.more than anything in the world, louis tomlinson dreams of growing up. simply skipping over all the awkward embarrassing years of teenage existence and getting on with life, real life.

so when thirteen-year-old louis wakes up in the body of his thirty-year-old self, he expected his adult life to be picture perfect. and maybe it is. he has it all…or so it seems.

except his favorite person and lifelong best mate, harry styles, is totally missing from the equation and louis doesn’t understand why. he has a lot of catching up to do and as adult life turns out to be more than what he bargained for, louis can’t help wondering why a life that seemed so perfect, feel so empty.

or, the 13 going on 30 au that should have been done years ago.

walk that mile by purpledaisy (149k)

harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “i wanted to get the most out of this trip so i planned it carefully.” his voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “so far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything i’ve tried to do.”

"sticky fingers?“ louis repeats. offended. “are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the dotty diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”

"polk-a-dot drive in,“ harry spits before getting out of the car. he slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and louis rolls his eyes.

or, a route 66 au where falling in love was never part of the plan.

own the scars by crinkle-eyed-boo @crinkle-eyed-boo (144k)

“but i don’t belong here,” louis insists.

"why do you say that?“ james asks.

"these people are all drug addicts and alcoholics,” louis shrugs. something sparks in james’ eyes. “and you’re not?”

louis has never felt like he was good enough: for his stepdad, for his life-long best friends, for the life he’s supposed to want. after an accident that nearly costs him his life, louis’ parents send him to rehab where he’s forced to make his own decisions. on the long and difficult road to recovery, louis must confront the truths he;s been avoiding about his future, his relationships, and his sense of self-worth. because before he can love anyone else, he’s got to learn how to love himself first.

wear it like a crown by zarah5 @zarahdetand (141k)

au- as a part of a team of fixers hired to handle a gay scandal in buckingham palace, louis expects prince harry to be a lot of things – most notable a royally spoilt brat. never mind that the very same prince harry used to star in quite a number of louis’ teenage fantasies.

unbelievers by isthatyoularry @isthatyoularry (136k)

it’s louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. however, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifying uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life that much worse. mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

or, the one where louis and harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything

empty skies by green_feelings (134k)

for three years, harry has been running from his past. now, he is moving to london and pledges to fulfill only his dream – making it big in the music industry. not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. as is his past catching up to him.

louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there meant a lo to hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. he’s still happy. maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

featuring perrie as harry’s adorable flatmate, niall as his manager, and liam and zayn as louis’ bandmates.

love is a rebellious bird by 100precentsassy @100percentsassy gloria_andrews @gloriaandrews (134k)

au. in which the boys still make music. louis is the concertmaster of the london symphony orchestra, harry is the new! and exciting! interim conductor / ex-cello prodigy who “has made mozart cool again” according to esquire magazine (louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and niall is the best. zayn and liam are around too.

don’t hum Bolero

wild love by purpledaisy (130k)

“good,” julia says, clearly pleased to have them both uncomfortable and unable to look at each other. “now, i only have one more question before you can go. what are you planning to do when this experiment ruins your friendship?“

"we said we’d stay friends no matter what,” harry says smoothly his chin lifting in defense.

"that was our one thing going into it,“ louis agrees. “stay friends no matter what.”

julia raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow, “that’s all fine and good. but i hope you realize your emotions aren’t going to realize this is an experiment in the end. if one of you falls for the other and finds out those feelings are not reciprocated you’re not going to be able to laugh it off as a social experiment. i’m not saying you shouldn’t do this, i’m just hoping you’ve considered all of the possible outcomes.”

or, two friends try to date each other for forty days. it’s supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated

got the sunshine on my shoulders by hattalove @hattalove (124k)

five years ago, harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist, he didn’t have much regard for what he left behind– a life, a family, a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone.

now, harry has everything he could possibly want. he’s rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. but when said boyfriend proposes to him, he’s forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past– and louis, who’s spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers harry sent him.

or, au based on the movie sweet home alabama.

california sold by isthatyoularry (123k)

notoriously closeted boyband member harry styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile louis, as his best friend, is back home in manchester living the typical life of a 24 year old. when harry needs louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

or, a fake-relationship au between two lifelong best friends.

the finish line (is a good place for us to start) by loadedgunn @loaded-gunn (122k)

louis tomlinson, one-time formula i world champion, is looking forward to the 2013 season, he’s got zayn in his garage and liam in his ear, he’s got cowell racing backing him despite former indiscretions, he’s got experience and the best race car out there. not to mention he’s the only racer they have, after oliver dropped out late last year.

it hasn’t occured to him that oliver would have to be replaced by february. that is, until he finds himself at a party celebrating harry styles leaving ferarri for cowell. harry hotshot styles, who broke a record last year and is probably looking to make a big splash. harry styles, who is talented and somewhat intimidating. harry styles, who left ferarri for reasons unknown and seems kind of lonely and harmless in person. lonely, harmless, hot as fuck. whatever.

the first thing louis does is take him under his wing. from there it’s nine months of slow-burning romance, the past catching up to them, turning into the human puppy pile that is ot5 and a lot of feelings until, of course, reaching the finish line.

tired tired sea by mediawhore @mediawhorefics (113k)

as a b&b owner on the most remote of all the british isles, louis tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sol companions. until one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

here in the afterglow by fondleeds @fondleeds (88k)

"if you hadn’t noticed, i don’t have many friends,” louis whispers, the blossom of insecurity in his stomach unfurling and clawing his way into his throat.

harry is silent for a long time, and then he speaks; a soft, slow uncurl that makes louis’ stomach shake. “i’ll be your friend.”

or, 1970’s au. in a tiny town in idaho, louis’ life changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

chasing empty spaces by domesticharry @domestic-harry (79k)

the year is 1934 and harry styles was to inherit the largest tobacco firm in the south. his parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. the problem was, harry hadn’t realized that he didn’t want nay part of the future until he met a mechanic named, louis tomlinson.

don’t want shelter by kingsofeverything @kingsofeverything (76k)

louis and harry have known each other all their lives. friends as children, they danced around each other as teenagers, and have spent the last twenty-five years either screaming at each other or not speaking at all. except for that one time ten years ago...

when hurricane nicole threatens the coast, they end up stuck together in their families' old vacation home that they begrudgingly co-own.

during the storm, and in the months after, they’re both forced to reevaluate their history and what they mean to each other

money moves by mmaree @zqua1d (74k)

"i’ll cut straight to the chase,“ liam announces. he leans forward, and zayn is met with steely eyes and steepled fingers. "i’m willing to offer you fifty grand if you’ll enter into a small…partnership with me. this would be in addition to your salary at payne innovations, of course. think of it as a bonus.”

zayn narrow his eyes. “what kind of partnership?”

"a fake engagement.“

"oh,” zayn says, relived it’s nothing illegal. “wait–what?”

“a fake engagement,” his boss repeats slowly, as if he’s convinced zayn’s comprehension skills are significantly lacking. “for six months. maybe less if i can pull it off sooner but don’t worry– you’ll be paid the full sum regardless of how long it takes.”

zayn’s suspicious, and he doesn’t even know why. there’s nothing to be suspicious of because, clearly, liam’s lost the plot. zayn’s having a conversation with a complete nutter. there’s no other reasonable explanation.

he clears his throat, searches liam’s eyes for a sign he’s taking the piss. “how long what takes?”

a smile plays at liam’s lips. “for me to be hired as the cto at titan technologies.”

to the ends of the earth by stylinsoncity @aliensingucci (68k)

during a yearlong hiatus, louis visits harry at his cabin in idaho, where long-buried feelings ignite like the fire keeping them warm.

lend me your hand by quickedween (63k)

society has long since decided that the soulmarks everyone is born with are entirely unfashionable. they’re just another way for people of a lower class to scam their way into marrying above their station.

lord louis tomlinson viscount loring, on the other hand, has always believed that he will find his soulmate one day. despite preparing for a match his whole life, he is entirely unprepared for the arrival of gemma styles’ younger brother.

harry styles has been travelling and away from society for over a year. coming back, he intends to spend time with his sister, and slowly reacquaint himself with life in town. he doesn’t need to wait around for a soulmark to determine how his life will play out.

small doses (loving you it’s explosive) by quickedween (40k)

louis tomlinson finds himself at vitality fitness to try and turn his life around after having left his cheating boyfriends of four years. the gym’s owner, liam, quickly becomes a good friend but his right hand man is rude and dismissive from the get-go.

louis and harry continue to clash all while harry is trying to move his way up the ranks in manchester’s amateur boxing circuit, but they can’t seem to stay away from each other.

learning to eat by photo41 (28k)

celebrity chef louis tomlinson has a problem, he’s opening his first restaurant in 9 week . and he has yet to hire a pastry chef- apparently people think he’s “standoffish” and “rude” and “quick to temper” . whatever. he ends u saddled with an annoying, happy-go-lucky rookie who also happens to be obnoxiously good looking. his tv presenter and pop star friends only add to the drama, and for fucks sake would everyone please stop quoting julia child?!

these roads we stumble down by onewasturning @onewasturning (18k)

he’s completely drenched, not one milimetre of him covered in rain, and the old sheepskin cover over the seat is probably going to stink afterwards from the damp. but even with what seems to be a constant tremor shaking his body, brown hair plastered to his forehead, and a blue tinge to his skin, he’s still probably the most gorgeous person that harry has ever seen.

or, harry picks up a hitchhiker in oxford, and it’s a long ride to glasgow.

#this took an embarassing amount of time and its not even all of them #anyways hope this was useful to someone !#also i am allergic to capital letters muah #fic rec #mine

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inclineto · 4 years ago

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Books, November - December 2020

The Relentless Moon - Mary Robinette Kowal [I...was not prepared for an eating disorder to drive as much of the plot as it does; maybe you should be]

How to Read Water: Clues and Patterns from Puddles to the Sea - Tristan Gooley

Spoiler Alert - Olivia Dade [This could have gone so wrong; honestly, I expected to ditch it in the first two chapters, because usually I HATE giddy novels about fandom...and yet! it turned out to be wish fulfillment in the best possible way, somehow despite the inclusion of multiple tropes that I also dislike (least spoilery: “I betrayed your trust by not telling you my terrible secret that involves you when I had the opportunity, and now you can never know,” when that will obviously only make the eventual inevitable reveal much worse). Anyway: if you wanted actor RPF/fandom AU for a canon that doesn’t exist, here you go.]

Floating Coast: An Environmental History of the Bering Strait - Bathsheba Demuth

Desire and the Deep Blue Sea - Olivia Dade

The Way Past Winter - Kiran Millwood Hargrave [dnf]

Sisters in Hate: American Women on the Front Lines of White Nationalism - Seyward Darby

Swordspoint - Ellen Kushner

Jeoffry: The Poet’s Cat: A Biography - Oliver Soden

Gaudy Night - Dorothy L. Sayers *

Yes, I’m Hot in This: The Hilarious Truth About Life in a Hijab - Huda Fahmy [I introduced this artist to a former boss, whose reaction was to immediately purchase and lend me every book she’s published; I’m overdue to mail this one back (and if your thought was “that book exchange sounds backwards,” well, ...yes)]

One by One - Ruth Ware [it’s fine, I didn’t have anywhere to go the next morning, I didn’t mind staying up until 2:30 to finish this, it’s fine]

A Deadly Education - Naomi Novik

Solutions and Other Problems - Allie Brosh

The House of the Four Winds - Mercedes Lackey and James Mallory

There Is No Good Card for This: What To Say and Do When Life Is Scary, Awful, and Unfair to People - Emily McDowell and Kelsey Crowe [self-help is not usually my genre, but given that I’ve written so many condolence cards this year that I’ve run out of condolence card-appropriate stationary - archives love using scenes from Hamlet on their exhibition giveaway cards, and they’re absolutely not okay to use for...really any occasion, but especially death - and am utterly unable to tell whether anything I’m writing is any good, and that my standard How To Be A Better Person manual is an etiquette book from the 1930s, what could it hurt?]

Orlando - Virginia Woolf

Around My French Table: 300 Recipes from My Home to Yours - Dorie Greenspan

Return of the Thief - Megan Whalen Turner

Spectred Isle - KJ Charles [still really fond of this one; still really want the lesbian ghost sequel]

Division Bells - Iona Datt Sharma [there’s one scene that threw me out of the world, and I’d kind of love to see whether it got editorial notes and if so, what...but on the other hand, I wasn’t expecting this to make me cry, and it did]

Serpentine - Philip Pullman, illustrated by Tom Duxbury [the story is slight; what you want to read this for are the illustrations, which are delightful]

The Rakess - Scarlet Peckham

The Midnight Bargain - C. L. Polk

The House of Green Turf - Ellis Peters

Beach Read - Emily Henry

Not the End of the World - Kate Atkinson

World of Wonders: In Praise of Fireflies, Whale Sharks, and Other Astonishments - Aimee Nezhukumatathil

Eleventh Hour - Elin Gregory

Ahab’s Rolling Sea: A Natural History of Moby-Dick - Richard J. King [Let’s get this right out there: “Cetology” is my favorite chapter in the entire novel; I think it’s brilliant and fabulously funny and I loathe the lazy “everybody hates ‘Cetology’” trope that shows up everywhere - looking at you, Dave Malloy! - (although my mother tells me that her students did, indeed, universally despise it, which I find incomprehensible), so I’m always a little salty on approaching any Melville criticism: will they disrespect ‘Cetology”??? Sure enough, it’s there, but at least it’s on the way to explaining why you ought to appreciate it.]

Rereadings: Seventeen Writers Revisit Books They Love - ed. Anne Fadiman [the essay to read is Diana Kappel-Smith on the Peterson Field Guide to Wildflowers of Northeastern and North-Central North America]

Why Birds Sing - Nina Berkhout

Books and Islands in Ojibwe Country - Louise Erdrich

Barn 8 - Deb Olin Unferth

Black Sun - Rebecca Roanhorse

Where the Wild Ladies Are - Aoko Matsuda, translated by Polly Barton * [completely won over by this linked collection of present-day yōkai stories]

Ammonite - Nicola Griffith

Or What You Will - Jo Walton

Vesper Flights - Helen Macdonald

La Belle Sauvage - Philip Pullman [I’m fascinated to discover that the sequence I remember from reading this the first time doesn’t start until more than halfway through! He can tell a riveting story, so I wish I trusted Pullman even a tiny bit...but I don’t.]

Written in the Stars - Alexandria Bellefleur

A Libertarian Walks Into a Bear: The Utopian Plot to Liberate an American Town (and Some Bears) - Matthew Hongoltz-Hetling [some of this would never be funny; it’s possible I’d find parts of it funnier if libertarians didn’t make me so damn angry]

The Glass Magician - Caroline Stevermer

#books 2020 #books practical and pleasurable #apparently 2020 in romance novels is the year everyone has a cathartic boundary setting conversation with their parents #the duodecimo whale

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mwolf0epsilon · 5 years ago

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Maybe a story about Norman being a good parent?

Summary: Mindless beast or not, the Projectionist was a Polk, and the Polks did not hurt their young, or whatever they perceived as such.

You all knew it was coming inevitably...

---

[[MORE]]

Norman's and Margarite's marriage had come as a surprise to the entire Polk family. A simple signature on a piece of paper, and a pair of battered rings that had belonged to Nanna and Poppop Polk (gifted to him by the former who always knew he'd be a better fit for them). No fanciful ceremony with pretty dresses or suits, expensive cakes and extensive guest list.

A disappointing waste, his mama had proclaimed over the letter she'd sent as a reply to his own that detailed his status as a married man in a far off city. She'd wanted to witness the event, shed her motherly tears as one of her little ducklings became a real man ready to start a family.

But, to Norman and Maggie, the marriage wasn't a motive of celebration like his mama thought. It was insurance against further discrimination towards them. They were, after all, the black couple that lived in a quaint apartment in New York city.

Already that was a challenge of its own, as said apartment was populated primarily by white hot-blooded tenants, with only one more laying vacant for a (hopefully) friendlier family.

Their downstairs neighbor clearly hated them from sight alone, and the others were unsure how the new additions fit into their "perfect" lives in the Big Apple. If any of them were to discover that they both enjoyed the full spectrum of the gender binary, well... Accidents happened in the big city. Accidents that targeted specific minorities for some "unfathomable" reason.

So yes, as shameful as it may be, their wedding was strictly business. Rings for show, public displays of affection to dispell the gossip, and overall just the usual married life arguments in the grocery store to sell the deal (neither of them could care less about which type of sugar made the best apple pie crust, or what brand of soap was better, but it sure made the couples they passed by smile knowingly at the common domestic disputes). There was just one thing left to do to really make a statement on their relationship status.

"Three of my coworkers are getting maternity leave. It's been a few months, I think it's time."

Children were a sensitive topic. Both Norman and Maggie wanted kids, had a vague idea of how many they planned to raise, and were quite certain they'd make beautiful and healthy younglings with one another. The question was: Was it fair to bring in chidren into a farce of a matrimony? What if one day they found their actual ideal partner?

"Yous better be sure it's the right time darlin'..." He'd urged her to think more on the subject. "Don't want to rush things like that now, do we?"

"I'm ready." She'd stared him in the eye with a certainty and confidence he couldn't begin to imagine. He knew she was, but was he? Was he truly ready to bare such a responsibility?

That night he relented to her wishes and they had finally consummated their marriage. Nine months later, little Nancy was born a small but relatively healthy baby. Upon seeing his firstborn for the first time ever, and then holding her gently in hands that dwarfed her little head greatly, Norman immediately understood he was ready to be a parent. And a loving one at that.

In total, Norman and Maggie had five children. Three boys and two girls. Nancy was their eldest child and the more levelheaded of the bunch. The apple of her mother's eye, and her father's baby girl, she was the perfect balance of their greatest qualities and teachings. A clever and determined young girl with big aspirations for her future. She wanted to be a doctor.

Aaron was the second eldest child and the one most like his father. Clever and with an eye for detail, enough so that he had taken up an interest that fits his perceptive nature: Photography. The walls of the Polk household were filled with his works, at first done with Norman's own old and battered camera, until he'd bought the young lad his very own fancy new model.

Louise was the middle child, and the troublemaker of the bunch. She was a bit of a tomboy, and liked to scrap with the boys in her class, to the point where it wasn't uncommon to see her with several bruises and band-aids, and haphazardly taped wireframed glasses. She kept both Norman and Maggie on their toes.

Albert was the second youngest and the quietest. A little bookworm that appreciated the art of literature over anything else. He wanted to be a novelist, even at a very young age, and often shared ideas for stories at the dinner table. There was no doubt in Norman's heart that his little boy would write a best-seller one day. Maggie fretted for his social life, however, as he was the least sociable of their children. Far too shy.

Finally the youngest child was Willard. An outspoken young toddler that was definitely as confident as his mama. A little tot with a very big personality indeed, that Norman couldn't wait to see grow up into yet another fine young boy. If any of their children was to ever get what he wanted in life, it'd definitely be Will.

Truly there was nothing in this world that Norman loved more than his offsprings, and indulging in their interests was always an adventure. One to be shared with three other members of the family.

The vacant apartment had been occupied by Norman's younger brother, Alfred, and his own two children. By then almost all their neighbors (minus the one that hated them from day one) had warmed up to them. So another set of friendly faces was a good addition to their home life.

Norman absolutely loved watching over his nephew and niece, especially because his children were delighted to have other kids around their age to play with.

It reminded him of being back home in Louisiana, his own brothers and sisters sparring with him and playing whatever games they could come up with on the spot. Watching Louise and Nelson tumbling about fighting as equally dirty as the other, really stirred up some good memories he had of his older sisters.

"Bite her Nelson! Bite her!" Lydia cheered as her older brother pinned their cousin to the ground.

"Louise tug on his ears! Pummel him!" Aaron called out to his little sister, encouraging her to fend off her opponent.

"Lydia and Aaron! What I tell y'all 'bout encouragin' yous's siblings t'fight all nasty?!"

"Not to...?"

"Exactly."

Granted some play-fighting needed to be monitored when most of the audience were enablers, and neither his middle child nor his nephew had any qualms sending each other to the hospital. They were still learning about consequences after all.

Still, there wasn't anything else in the world that built better character than teaching the children that they were equals to one another in all their shared activities. Respect was an important lesson to be learned. One Norman wished every parent taught their child.

The world would be a better place otherwise...

Sometimes the Projectionist would inevitably be unable to fend off sleep. The exhaustion would wear it down and give way to the nightmares of a life it could barely remember. Then it would wake up and scream, trying to rid itself of heinous visions of itself ripping its offsprings apart.

Norman Polk would reawaken inside its brutish body and lash out, hoping to either physically fight away his own broken psyche or perhaps cripple the Projectionist so that it could never fulfil these dreamt up acts of violence.

A Polk was all about family, and the thought of becoming the sort to bring harm upon his own children... Well, Norman had heard the stories. Knew why Poppop was such a taboo topic. He did not want to be the man besides his Nanna in the portrait above the fireplace... One he'd resembled if his eye wasn't wrong and he'd grown out his beard...

The Projectionist didn't have the mental faculties to understand this distress however, but it seemed to recognize that what it saw in dreams was bad. That what it did to the vermin, it should never do to those innocent little youngsters that looked at it with love instead of fear and hatred. So... Why did it do it in dreams? Why did it kill when it wanted to be docile? The children were not a threat, so why...?

It made no sense... But it didn't much care for elaborate existential crisis like that. Norman's consciousness would freak it out, but ultimately loosened its grip and go back to being dormant. The lumbering beast resuming its tiring trek through the endless maze. A cycle that would repeat itself the next time it fell asleep.

It was in the aftermath of yet another nightmare that the Projectionist came across something completely new to it. Something small and living, and very much intruding on its space. Something that very vaguely looked like it...

A living being with a body similar to the ones the horrible botched critters that ran around in packs had, yet with no visible imperfections to it. Its head though... It was kind of like a projector, but not. Square in shape, with a lens, a tube, dial and something very round that kind of looked like a big ear. A camera, like the one Aaron had gotten for his birthday.

It seemed to have gloves, shoes and a belt that sort of looked like the speaker lodged in the Projectionist's torso, but it was hard to tell since the strange being was on the ground flailing about like a dying fish.

The towering amalgam stared at the tiny new thing in dumbfounded silence, unsure how to react to such a strange discovery, until it realized why the thing was flailing about to begin with.

One of its legs was pinned under a crate that appeared to have fallen from a nearby stack, and the Projectionist could tell the limb was broken. Nearby lay a series of Ink Hearts that had been resting on the fallen crate.

On any other occasion it would have simply walked over, raised one heavy foot, and crushed the intruder's skull for daring to try to steal from it. This time however, was completely different... Something primal was urging the Projectionist to do something completely alien to its usually aggressive nature. Something instinctive.

The poor creature grew agitated upon finally noticing the Projectionist's presence as it approached, but its broken limb ensured it stayed put even after the crate was picked up and tossed aside. It shook fearfully once the Projectionist knelt down to pick it up by the torso. It stopped shaking once it was brought to rest against the much larger beast's chest, cradled gently like an infant. The Projectionist rumbling softly so as to reassure it that no harm would befall it.

The little creature, with a head that was not a projector but a distant relative of a sort, stared up with its own dark lens before reaching out to gently pat the Projectionist's "face". It seemed to understand its intention to help it, rather than exterminate it.

The lumbering beast carried on in its path, now carrying a most precious cargo. It would find something to help treat the injury and then it would begin teaching this newly adopted offspring to survive in the studio.

Mindless beast or not, the Projectionist was still a Polk, and the Polks cared for their younglings. This tiny sentient camera was its child now, and the beast would protect it from the horrors of this horrid studio.

#eps writes:#bendy and the ink machine #batim #norman polk #the projectionist #cameraman

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