#Embodied

[hlficlibrary]

HL Fic Library 🥀 Exes Fic Rec

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

🥀 Mine Would Be You by @crinkle-eyed-boo {E, 114k}

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

🥀 And What If I Were You by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom {E, 109k}

For Louis, will losing his sight give him the clarity to realise what is right in front of him?

For Harry, will losing the love of his life give him the strength to finally open his heart?

And can they find their way back, before they lose each other forever?

A story of love. A story of loss. A story of fighting for each other, no matter the odds.

🥀 somewhere in between lightning  by jassy117, @nauticalleeds, shiningdistractionwrites / @shiningdistraction {E, 99k}

As Louis took another bite, he thought back to how he had once believed that the hardest thing about being on Love Island would be Liam handling his social media.  He had been wrong. It was Harry Styles, peeking over at Louis as he forked a pancake into his mouth, and gauging his reaction. It was having to quench the swelling of his heart, which felt simultaneously like hope and the breaking of a thousand pieces.

A summer gone wrong (or very right) when, under Liam’s persuasion, Louis finds himself drunkenly applying for Love Island, and getting accepted. Oh, well. A summer spent on an island paradise couldn’t be all that bad, right?

Imagine his surprise when Louis arrives in sunny Majorca to find that his first love and ex-boyfriend, Harry, is another contestant, about to capture the hearts of everyone in the villa. Most normal people don’t have to face their ex on an otherwise straight TV show. Most normal people don’t fall for their ex again in front of the whole nation, either. Too bad this whole situation isn’t normal.

🥀 Emperor’s New Clothes by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships {E, 92k}

The fact that Louis’s most precious belonging was a cat with a face like thunder and an uncanny ability to cover every single inch of Louis’s clothing with cat hair was something that Louis chose not to think about too much.

or: Harry’s a pop star and Louis isn’t, and there’s a non-disclosure agreement where there used to be a relationship.

🥀 Consequences by @allwaswell16 {E, 78k}

Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

An amnesia au

🥀 your memory over me by @shimmeringevil {E, 64k}

Three years have passed since Louis last saw him, but all it took was a few minutes in Harry’s presence for him to be relegated to the desperate twenty-one year old that was practically begging his boyfriend for an ounce of reassurance that he still cared about him.

Harry shouldn’t be here. He’s brought too many unresolved feelings with him, that Louis thought he’d never have to face.

It’s Harry’s apparent apathy that’s the most difficult to come to terms with. Anger, he could handle. Regret, he would welcome. But Harry’s amiability, and carefree demeanor can only be born from indifference.

He’s moved on. He doesn’t care. And that is something Louis doesn’t think he’ll ever be strong enough to face.

OR - The worst heartbreak of Louis’ life walks right back into it when his parents invite their family friends on an all-expenses-paid trip for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Facing a past that he tried to bury long ago, Louis learns that some people have a way of sticking with you even when they’re gone.

🥀 Feels Like Coming Home by @phdmama {E, 60k}

The last thing Harry Styles expects when he's hanging out at the Someday Cafe in Somerville one rainy October day is for his ex, Louis Tomlinson to walk through the door, but that's exactly what happens. After a spectacularly ugly break-up three years prior, Harry hasn't heard one word from Louis, and he's moved on. Gotten over him. But having Louis back in his life, not to mention working at the restaurant where he's a chef, isn't easy, and the feelings that Harry thought he'd left turn out to be not so easily forgotten.

This is a story about love and the power of forgiveness, and how the hard choices we make define us, and change our lives.

🥀 The Second Hand Unwinds by @kingsofeverything {E, 51k}

Louis Tomlinson is one of the first members of NASA's top secret Chrono Exploration Program. When things go wrong and he's sent further back in time than planned, he has no other option than to show up on his ex-boyfriend's doorstep.

🥀 The End Should Be A Good One by bananasandboots / @anylessreal {M, 43k}

It doesn't feel like falling in love, the way it had felt the first time around, easy, simple, almost like floating, wrapped up in a whirlwind of touches and kisses, late nights spent laughing breathlessly into each other's skin. This feels broken, complicated, like every move carries the weight of their past. Like the floorboards beneath them could collapse at any moment. This doesn't feel good.

Or, the one where Harry loses the love of his life on New Years Eve and finds him again, six months later, ready to open some poorly-stitched wounds.

🥀 Sometimes You Just Know by @2tiedships2 {M, 33k}

“Dear diary. Today is going to be a good day, and here’s why...”

“What are you doing?” Louis mumbled as he bit into a piece of toast.

“It’s been almost two years and today Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson reunite. Louis is very excited about…”

Louis’ chair screeched along the kitchen floor as he flew up out of his seat, quickly grabbing the paper from Niall’s grasp. As he scanned the page he found it amounted to lines of nothing.

“What is this?” Louis asked again. “We’ve discussed how Harry Styles will never be spoken of in this flat. I don’t care how long it’s been.”

Niall snatched the paper from Louis and proceeded to draw a line across the page before writing.

“Today is the day that he-who-shall-not-be-named is coming to dinner.”

Or the one where Harry and Louis don’t believe in soulmates… until they do.

🥀 like a timebomb ticking by @infinitelymint {M, 31k}

Louis loses everything. Harry's still there.

🥀 Cowboy Like Me by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings {M, 29k}

Going legit and starting over in a small town was supposed to solve all of Harry’s problems. That was until a string of robberies in wealthy towns brings him face-to-face with his rouge ex-partner and their dicey, unresolved past.

🥀 Get Out Of My Head (and I'll get out of yours) by Imogenlee / @imogenleewriter {E, 29k}

“You really that desperate, are you?” Despite it being a shitty thing to say, Harry didn’t mind too much, as the bitterness in Louis’ tone sounded like music to Harry’s ears. Harry was winning tonight. “Can’t find anyone new to be interested in you, so you try to hit on Zayn.”

“I can’t find someone interested in me?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re having a laugh, mate.”

“Yeah, well, where are they, then? Because from what I’ve heard, you’re here alone.”

“As if I’d bring anyone to somewhere I knew you’d be. I wouldn’t wish your presence on my worst enemy.”

“Aw,” Louis cooed in a way that made Harry want to slap him. “You’re saying I’m not your worst enemy?”

“For someone to be an enemy, you have to give a shit about them. So, no. You’re not even on the list.”

“Oh–kay. Well, it’s been lovely as always, gents,” Zayn said before knocking back the rest of his drink.

Or the one for the Bottom Harry Fic Fest where Harry bottoming is more of a side plot, because angst got in the way--but it doesn't really matter because the fest stopped existing when I was halfthrough.

🥀 some things fade (some never do) by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed {T, 25k}

Matching tattoos. He’d never thought he’d be the type for tattoos to begin with, let alone matching or magical ones, but once Harry had put the idea in his mind it had never quite managed to disappear. And it had made sense. With their relationship a long distance one, this was simply another way of feeling close to one another. Of knowing where the other was, how they felt. It had made so much sense.

Back then.

Three years after their break up, Harry calls.

🥀 Might've Took The Long Way by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove {M, 21k}

It's been two years since Harry and Louis broke up. They were that couple in high school -- you know the one; been together forever, hopelessly in love, all over each other, the whole nine yards. Even when Louis went off to university, they found a way to make the distance work.

Until they broke up.

Now Harry is back in town, and no matter how many times Louis tells himself they can't be together, they keep falling right back into each other.

“They got a name?” Bebe asks.

“What?”

“Your ghosts,” she says, her voice suddenly soft. “If you want to tell me, I mean. I know I said I wouldn’t ask, but. Sometimes it can help to exorcise them.” She pauses, and chuckles. “Other times, vodka works better than sage.”

Louis holds his breath for a moment, building the courage, before he finally murmurs, “Harry.”

“Sorry?”

“Harry,” Louis says again. The name feels like a time bomb in his mouth, but it hasn’t blown up yet. “His name was -- is -- Harry.”

🥀 lost in my head by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf {E, 12k}

Louis had been, until about a year prior, the love of Harry’s life.

🥀 Fuck You For Ruining New York City For Me by galactic_larry / @galacticlarry {T, 11k}

Harry met Louis in college and fell in love with him in record time. Louis broke up with him in their New York apartment, so Harry left the city for good. Except now he’s back, visiting with his new boyfriend.

What happens when they run into each other at a bar three years after breaking up?

🥀 give me things to stay awake by embodied {E, 10k}

It’s shitty and it’s counterproductive and it’s self-indulgent, but he lets it become a thing. On Saturday nights Harry goes out and gets so pissed he can’t stand, and when the bartender cuts him off he rings Louis and is in his car within an hour. It’s not a cycle he’s proud of, but it’s also something he can’t resist, and he keeps doing it as long as Louis keeps showing up.   AU. It's been a year since Louis broke up with Harry.

🥀 Now That It's Over by @lululawrence {NR, 8k}

“What are the odds we would both be at Mariano’s on a Thursday night?”

Louis’ shoulders tensed. What the hell was he doing here?

“Harry? Hi? The odds are pretty crazy, yeah.”

Harry smiled down at Louis the way he used to, but there was also a glint in his eye that Louis absolutely did not like. Harry was also dressed in his favorite black and white striped women’s jeans and a printed shirt only he would ever be able to pull off. It was quite rude of him to come and interrupt Louis, particularly while looking so good. Louis hadn’t seen him since he’d finished moving his shit out of what was once their shared flat, so this being the first time seeing him wasn’t exactly providence in Louis’ mind.

Or the one where Harry and Louis broke up two months ago, and Harry just might be sabotaging Louis' dates.

🥀 Unspoken by Speechless / @smokingluckiesalltheway {E, 5k}

Harry and Louis broke up when they were nineteen. They see each other after six years.

"I'm not going to be the guy you fuck on the side while you settle down with your blonde wife." Maybe it's the way he phrased it, something about what Louis has just said tears a small laugh out of him. "I don't want that." Harry says, serious again. There is no reason for him to keep on holding onto Louis' scarf like this, but he does. "The last time I saw you I thought we would fix it." Louis' the one laughing this time, his vision blurry. "The last time you saw me was right before you got on a train and fucked off." "And I thought we would fix it." Harry repeats, his voice shot. "I thought you'd come."

🥀 Not yet a breach, but an expansion by theweightofmywords / @lil0 {NR, 2k}

“I don’t understand why we keep running into each other,” he says as his hands grip his hair in frustration.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he scoffs. “You know why, Harry."

Fate, it seems, still holds their lives in her ceaseless orbit.

[thetendertongue]

embodiment — to internalize an idea so deeply that your very existence exudes the spirit of this idea. requires a deep unwavering commitment to a truth that you hold so near and dear to your heart that you believe you must become it. so, you do. sometimes, this idea, this truth, is life itself, is living.

[etrevil]

dazai stop lying you know there ain't a single chance it's just a "friendship" between you two disasters of human beings

[marejadilla]

Yannick Freitas, "Embodied" & "Cloudscape" "Embodied: In thy orisons be all my sins remembered" "Cloudscape: Orange, averse, glorie"

[random-xpressions]

I never relied on efforts but on divine grace...

Random Xpressions

[hlsficart]

Book cover made by me for the fic ‘Rivers 'till I reach you’ by embodied ( @crossnecklace )

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10931499?view_adult=true

[loveandthepsyche]

Eclipse portal ⚡️ Be Who You Are ⚡️

[embodiedbook]

Something has just taken form…

On the desolate planet Isarix, a consciousness awakens—one that has wandered the cosmos for ages.

Time bends. Rules break. Reality shifts.

[mosscollector]

A purely mental life may be destructive if it leads us to substitute thought for life and ideas for actions. The activity proper to man is not purely mental because man is not just a disembodied mind. Our destiny is to live out what we think, because unless we live what we know, we do not even know it. It is only by making our knowledge part of ourselves, through action, that we enter into the reality that is signified by our concepts.

Thomas Merton, Thoughts in Solitude

[keepitsupple]

This is me. & I'm not settling for less.

[kinesthetic-aesthetics]

Chapter 2

As Stevie walked through the threshold of Ella’s house, Lou ran over to her, his tail wagging. She knelt down and buried her face in his neck, kissing him. He smelled like bubblegum and puppy. His coat was freshly washed and soft. She kissed the bridge of his snout then rubbed behind his ears.

“He got his stitches taken out yesterday,” said Nora. Nora was Ella’s aunt, and by extension, Stevie’s aunt.

Stevie and Ella spent much of their childhood spring and summers within Nora’s flower-filled, clover-carpeted farm house, bordered by willows, poplars, and a river.

When May arrived, Nora would plant sweet pea flower seeds beside a tall and wide bamboo tent structure. As the vines began to grow she wound them around the structure. The vines would completely fill out the polls and the pastel pedals would burst open, releasing their heady, sweet scent. Nora would then lay out a thick quilt inside the flower tent. She placed fluffy square pillows along the edges, then brought in her duvet. Draped in the cool, green shade, Nora read to them her favorite novels.

When the warm winds of June swept through the county, the two sisters would slowly slip into their fae selves in their fae attire. Nora would sew for them linen shorts and linen tank tops so they could run comfortably about under the tender yet bright spring sun. They then collected flowers from the garden — petunias and pansies, chrysanthemums and zinnias — to dye their new shorts and tank tops with. Ella enjoyed covering almost the entirety of her shorts and tank in the heads of the flowers, pounding steadily their thin, fragile petals onto the thick, coarse cloth. Stevie would leave white space between the flowers, and arrange a dispersed diverse arrangement of flower species. No purple pansy was next to another purple pansy, but rather neighbored by the bright yellow or red of a zinnia head. As they worked, Nora would dye her own linen pants, or color napkins or a table cloth commissioned by a friend.

When the July sun was too oppressive, they would swing on the swing hanging from the rafts of the barn in which Nora often worked on her oil paintings. The scent of terpintine and the sulfur from the indigo would hang heavily in the cool, dim light.

As the summer progressed, so did Stevie and Ella’s sense of wild exultance. Daisy crowns draped over their strawberry blond and red hair, they would clamber up their oak tree that grew beside the river. They had named their tree “the pee tree” because they would stand squarely on a branch over the river, and press out the water in their bladders. They found satisfaction in watching their pee splatter into the rushing waters below.

With Nora, Stevie had always felt like she could be herself. Whatever emotion she was feeling, Nora gave her the unlimited space to express herself.

Nora knelt down beside Stevie and asked Lou to roll on his back. As he rolled over, Stevie noticed the long jagged, white line where the barb wire had caught and tore.

“The neighbor helped pay the bill. Felt bad for leaving it laying about like that in the weeds.”

They sat there with Lou, lightly rubbing his belly.

“I have a friend who believes dogs are still beings of heaven,” said Nora.

Stevie bent down and kissed Lou on the snout. “If I believed in heaven, I would believe that too,” she said, then pushed herself to her feet.

When Stevie entered the kitchen, she found Ella’s parent’s Tom and Jodie, and Nora’s fiance André sitting at the kitchen table playing the board game Carcassonne.

“Hi Stevie,” called Jodie, standing up and walking over to her to give her a hug. “You smell like you had a hard practice in the sun,” she said, kissing her forehead.

“She’s saying you stink,” said Tom with a wink.

“I’ll wash up,” said Stevie, then poked her tongue out at Tom.

“Stinky girls are working girls,” said André.

“Women. They’re women now dearest,” said Nora as she and Lou entered the kitchen. She went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine.

Ella then walked in, also still in her sweats and swim suit. Stevie smiled, realizing she had waited to shower with her. It was something they still liked to do together.

“They say we stink,” said Stevie.

“I don’t stink,” said Ella with a laugh.

“Yes you do, you smell like chemicals,” said Nora, pouring herself a glass of wine.

“Fine then. We will both go get clean,” said Ella, pushing Stevie lightly on the center of her back and out of the kitchen.

When entering the bathroom they began to pull off their clothes. It was just Ella’s bathroom, and clearly stocked and decorated exactly how she needed and wanted. On the pale pink counter tile she had placed a ceramic shell and pearl light, the pearl glowing softly in the dim room. The pearl illuminated a painting of a mermaid on the wall. The mermaid stretched out over a rock and stared up at a full moon. She had woven cowrie shells in her red hair. Though clearly intended to be a romantic scene of solitude, Stevie found the boniness of the mermaid’s torso strange, her long hands almost like talons. She was strangely pale too — perhaps she only submersed during the night and stayed in the dark depths of the ocean during the day? All Stevie was certain was that this mermaid was nothing like the mermaid she had grown up with. Next to the shell light rested a small gold mirror trey on which Ella placed her gold rings, small gold hoops, and her gold watch when she wasn’t wearing them.

As a sprinter, Stevie needed only Cetaphil to moisturize her legs after her workouts. As a swimmer, Ella was always lotioning — her skin, her hair, her lips, her cuticles and even her eyelashes. She refused to dry and shrivel up from her constant immersion in chlorinated pools. Tom and her had, through research and trial and error, developed her a soap and lotion routine to maintain her bodies’ moisture barrier. Yet, even with their careful experimentation, there were times in the winter when the sides of her mouth began to crack, and she had to layer on a gob of petroleum over her hands, nipples, and face.

As Ella switched on the shower, Stevie opened the glass cabinate above the sink. The many colored and different sized moisturizers and balms were nestled neatly next to each other on the top two shelves. On the bottom shelf rested the gentle face wash that Stevie kept there for when she slept over, along with a lighter shampoo for her hair (it was much finer than Ella’s).

When Stevie stepped into the shower, Ella had already got to work washing her hair. Stevie told her to turn around then began to scrub her scalp. Ella bent her head down, eyes tightly closed. Even though she constantly douse herself in the pool, she had always been fearful of getting soap in her eyes. Stevie gently pressed Ella under the shower head, rinsing out the suds. When all the soap had been rinsed out, Stevie pulled her out of the water stream, and wrung out her hair. She then grabbed Ella’s deep conditioner and took a large scope from the container. She ran her fingers through Ella’s hair, the orange and vanilla scent filling the now steam filled bathroom.

Then they switched roles.

After they were both soaped, rinsed, conditioned, rinsed, Stevie left the shower. Ella wanted to shave her legs, and such things can be tricky with two in the shower (especially since Ella liked to shave sitting). So Stevie wrapped herself in the fluffiest of fluffy baby blue towels, and left the orange scented cloud to dress and make the bed in Ella’s room.

Like her bathroom, Ella’s bedroom was composed of pastel and whimsical objects. Her dresser and beside table were made of of a hazy, greyish pink glass, so that when you set a water cup on the surface is made a soft klinking sound. On top of the dresser rested a rosegold, arched mirror. In front of the mirror stood a light pink, murano mushroom lamp. Its gentle, warm light reflected off the polished mirror and filled the cream painted room. Ella rarely switched on the paper lamp that hung above — only the times she needed to find something quickly in the dim morning before rushing off to swim practice.

Stevie walked to her dresser and opened the top drawer and pulled out a set of boxers and shirt she kept there. She slid into her boxers and shirt.

“You might want to put on sweatpants and a sweatshirt, mom is on an air-conditioning kick,” said Ella as she entered the room, hair wrapped in her dark blue micro towel.

Ella opened her closet doors and pulled from her hanging cloth shelves two sweatpants and two sweatshirts. She threw at Stevie the dark green set, then slipped herself into the light grey set.

They sat on Ella’s bed, and brushed each other’s hair. Since Stevie’s was shorter, Ella always brushed her hair first.

“Tristan asked me out this morning,” said Ella, her voice flat.

Stevie bit her bottom lip, her breath catching in her chest. She knew this moment would eventually arrive. Tristan was a part of their friend group. He was Fieldridge’s star quarterback and president of the math-baking club (yes, they would bake bread and pastries, cakes and biscuits, then settle down to munch and practice equations for their next competition). This last spring, Ella and him walked home together after movie night, or after basketball in the park.

She also knew this was coming because she could sense when Ella reached towards an inflection point. She could sense it because they had shared multitudes of inflection points growing up together. And as she began to braid Ella’s hair, wanting to choose her reply carefully, she remembered a consequential inflection point in Ella’s life two years ago.

It was a rainy autumn evening, and they decided to go to the independent movie theater. They bought two tickets to Todd Haynes Carol,then settled into the small auditorium with with red velvet seats.

Stevie would never forget Ella’s response to the film’s muted, mid-century aesthetics of New England. The long shots inside houses and along snow dusted highways. The soft cashmere sweaters pressed against Therese’s bare skin. The leather gloves Carol slapped lightly against her hand. The red lipstick. Carol slipping into her thick, fur coat. Carol resting her hand’s lightly on Therese’s shoulders. Red nails. The blossoming desire and fulfillment of longing between Carol and Therese. The thrill of their separation and reunion. How she felt the pounding of Ella’s heart when Kate Blanchett gave Rooney Mara that bright, confident, flashing smile of hers that said, I knew you would come back. I knew we were meant to be.

Stevie would never forget how the heat flushed Ella’s face as awe and confusion washed over her when she fully realized an essential truth about herself: she was intensely attracted to women. She witnessed an undeniable truth about herself, and there was no going back.

Whereas her family and friends knew the Ella before Carol and the Ella after Carol, Stevie watched her best-friend’s epiphany in real-time. And because she was there, because she had always been there, nothing about Ella had ever startled her.

And now another inflection point had arrived. And again Stevie wasn’t surprised. But it did matter how she responded. After watching Carol, she had held Ella and told her she loved her. She told her when you’re brought up to only like boys, and only see girls as competition, it’s sometimes hard to notice you like them.

“I think Tristan is really nice and smart,” said Stevie, carefully tying the end of Ella’s braid.

Ella turned around and looked at Stevie, searching her face.

“I also know you want to focus on training and competing,” continued Stevie. “I’m not saying you can’t find the time to date. I just know you have already a full schedule.”

Ella gave out a sigh of relief and nodded. “Thank you, I was needing to hear that.” She got off the bed and stretched up high towards her ceiling. “The truth is, I think he’s pretty hot and kind, but I am pretty fulfilled,” she said, bringing her arms and hands down and walking over to the dresser. “Besides,” she continued, putting on a pair of white socks, “he’s going to Virginia Tech. Would suck to catch feelings then go separate ways.”

Stevie nodded. She tried to mask her sense of relief. She did not know what was best for Ella. But she did know Ella’s academic and athletic goals. And she also knew the long, entrenched history of women choosing men over their personal, long-term aspirations. So yes, she felt relief that Ella had stayed the course she had set out on their freshman year.

***

Stevie and Ella walked through the neighborhood back to Ella’s home barefoot. After they finished dinner and played a round of Carcassonne, they had decided to walk to the corner store and get chocolate milk.

The chocolate milk was really an excuse for them to go out on a walk. They wanted to exit the pizza smelling house, and chattering, drinking adults.

Stevie also loved evening and night walks, almost as much as she loved running.

The sidewalk had managed to keep the sun’s warmth, even long after her decent. They walked in silence, listening to a dimming night full of all sorts of sounds — a dove, perched in the mesquite tree on the street corner, gently cooed. Behind someone’s house, kids splashed the pool water, laughing and calling out as they were pushed off their plastic rafts and collided against the pool’s surface. A screen metal door squeaked open then closed. A recycling bin full of glass bottles and cans rattled as it was dragged down a driveway to the curbside. The occasional car drew to a stop at the stop sign, almost paused, then continued to glide down the recently re-paved cement street. A window was flung open and a fan switched on. An exasperated voice sighed out, “I don’t remember it ever being this warm in June.”

A hush fell over the delicate tuning of the summer-night orchestra, broken only by the final, delicate adjustments — the mockingbird’s trill. Then suddenly, the rotary sprinklers erupted from the ground in unison, their designated amount of water spurting and sputtering forth over lawns and garden beds.

8:00 pm at Rosenberg Heights had arrived.

Stevie and Ella stopped their walk, exchanged a smile, then raced across the street to the lamplight park whose lilacs, rhododendrons, and thick, perpetually mowed grass was now drenched in a mist. They leapt onto the wet grass.

Stevie laughed out as she darted across the green. The ground felt soft and forgiving with each light bound. Ella followed close behind, then surged forward and began to run small circles around Stevie, her arms held far out and she mimed dipping and rising like a hawk circling on high.

The sprinklers suddenly stopped spurting water and sank beneath the ground. The two slightly out of breath and very wet friends left the grass and continued their silent walk down the block.

But before they left that section of the large city park, Stevie stopped and pointed at the tennis courts. Before them the floodlights illuminated a delicately suspended scene of suburban nightlife — their classmates Daniel, Charles, Lucy, and Nathaniel dashing about the tennis court in a loose but fierce match of doubles tennis.

Ella and Stevie walked to the dark green chain link fence that encased the red court. Stevie’s gaze quickly latched onto Lucy who now stood at the back line, her white shoes, socks, skirt, and salmon pink sports bra illuminated by lights.

Lucy sighed out forcefully, bounced the bright green tennis ball firmly against the court, then snapped it back up with her right hand. In her left hand she tightly gripped her racket, and rested it lightly against her taught thigh.

She then relaxed, seeming to momentarily forget the task at hand. She tilted her head slightly up and closed her eyes. A warm breeze swept through the park — the oak leaves rustled restlessly, Daniels dark curles, wet from sweat, lifted up from his furrowed brow, Lucy’s pleated skirt lifted, revealing her blue tie-die spandex underneath (which her mother still shamed her for wearing by themselves), from across the street an American flag fluttered and wind chimes that hung from a lemon tree gently tinkled in a minor key. The breeze carried with it the suburb’s scent of jasmine, the bodies of almost-ripe lemons, hot and wet cement, wet, fertilized dirt and grass, dry grass, the sweet and salty scent of the tennis player’s sweat, and however one is to describe a night sky dense with the burning bodies of stars. Lucy breathed in deeply the warm breeze. Her head still tilted back, her wide chest and shoulders expanding, Lucy disregarded Nathaniel’s shout, “for fuck’s sake Lucy stop star gazing and serve the ball already.”

“Nathaniel told me that Lucy signed with Chapel Hill,” said Ella.

“I’m sure he’s jealous, but I don’t know why. He’ll do amazing at Azusa Pacific,”said Stevie.

“Sure, but he wants to be at a D1 like her.”

“Well the sooner he accepts his current constraint the sooner he can become a better athlete.”

“That’s easy for us to say. We still have a season to improve our times. Also,” Ella leaned forward and pressed her stomach and face against the fence, “his parents expect so much from him. My parents just think its cool I do well in swimming. They care way more about my grades than what division I compete in.”

“So because he feels pressure he can yell at Lucy.”

“No, but that’s probably why he’s yelling at Lucy.”

Stevie sighed and turned back to the court. Lucy had regained her contained, tight stance. Stevie’s felt her fingers begin to tingle. She knew how it felt when wound tight, almost trembling, almost frozen on a spacetime coordinate, heart a loud thudding.

And then, the most violent and graceful of explosions.

Lucy tossed the tennis ball into the air, as if releasing a dove into the night skies. Her bright gaze tracked the arc of the ball as it reached its zenith, then began its decent. As the ball entered her humming aura, she began to gather her energy — she pressed down onto the hard court, shifted her left hip back, and sharply brought back and up her left arm and racket. Then with a sharp breath in she volted into the air. Like the ball, she reached her zenith, floated, and then began her decent. With a rough gasp out she snapped her flashing racket down on the ball. The collision of hollow ball against the flying, taught racket rung out through the park and neighborhood.

Charles lunged for the ball hurtling towards him, but it was useless. He dashed to meet it. His missed. Nathaniel sighed. Daniel turned back to Lucy and called out, “nice one.”

So it goes playing with the woman who knows she is the best in her state.

“Can we keep walking home,” said Stevie, still watching Lucy as she rummaged in her skirt for another tennis ball and stepped to the back line.

“Yeah,” said Ella, turning away from the group and beginning to walk through the grass back to the sidewalk.

The neighborhood had grown more quiet of human noises, but the crickets had picked up their cricketing and a gentle breeze continued to rustle the oak tree leaves, the tall stocks of the Bermudagrass, and the vertical blinds of someone’s sliding door which had been left open. Yet though silent, the neighborhood had not gone to bed yet. Most upstairs bedroom windows and downstairs living room windows glowed warm, and figures sometimes crossed by, slow in their drowsy state.

When Stevie and Ella arrived at Ella’s house, they heard the soft tones of Ella’s parent’s voices coming from the backyard. “Let’s just go up to my room. Dad will drag you into showing you his new kiln, or his new design of mugs. I’ll let him know we can check it out tomorrow morning before you take me to practice,” said Ella as they walked up the pathway through the neatly trimmed lawn and up the porch steps.

As they walked inside Stevie felt the cool, air conditioned air gently collide against her warm body. The Halloways had always kept their house much colder than Stevie’s father kept their house. The tall oak tree on the right side of Stevie’s house did help keep the house cool, and only when temperatures rose and maintained scorching temperatures did George turn on the air conditioning units in the bedrooms, living room, and kitchen.

The tv was now switched on in the living room. On its screen a crest toothpaste commercial flashed through its narrative. A middle school girl felt conscious about smiling for picture day because of her braces. Yet a fellow classmates smild widely, revealing her own set of braces, which empowered the first girl to also smile with her wired encased teeth. A low, smooth fem voice said over the scene, “smiling first can help someone else to do the same.” The toothpaste commercial then quickly switched to a shot of a red jeep wrangler zooming though a spacious, dessert landscape.

Stevie tore her eyes off the screen, uncomfortable about how she had always wanted a shiny, expensive-to-fix jeep. She brushed the thought away and followed Ella into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of chocolate milk, then went back to Ella’s room.

They stripped down into their underwear and put on loose tshirts, then climbed into bed.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” said Ella, scrolling through her phone and sipping from her glass of milk.

Stevie leaned over to look at Ella’s screen. She was scrolling through Blake’s instagram feed.

“And I don’t see any photos of her with a significant other,” she said with a smile, handing Stevie the phone.

“What, you like her?” asked Stevie, taking the phone.

“No, not like that. But I think you will,” said Ella with a smile.

Stevie snorted. “I thought we just talked about you being busy with sports and school. Why would I be any different?” she said, glaring at Ella who was now taking a long swig of the milk.

“For fuck’s sake Stevie. Just look at her,” said Ella, taking her phone back. “Besides, you’ve always been able to multi-task better than me. You’ve always had a greater emotional bandwidth.”

“Okay, sure. But we don’t know if she likes women, or if she would like me.”

“She for sure likes women, and who couldn’t fall for you,” said Ella.

Ella leaned over and gave Stevie a kiss on the brow. Her lips were wet with the chocolate milk. Stevie knew if she leaned over and kissed her on the mouth, she would taste sweet. But they had decided to stay sisters and not lovers a long time ago, so the desire came and left.

Stevie got out of bed and turned off the light. She clambered back in bed and Ella turned away from her, still on her phone. Stevie smiled and embraced Ella from behind, kissed her neck, then rested her now heavy head on her pillow. Tired from that morning’s workout and the day’s intensive sun, she quickly drifted off to sleep.

[hlficlibrary]

✤ Girl Direction ✤

A series of posts with the top five fics of each category by kudos plus five more hidden gems from that category! Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find our other recs here.

- Top 5 H/L Fics -

1️⃣ Who Run the World? (Girls!) by dolce_piccante {M, 11k}

A femslash take on the beginning of Relief Next To Me, complete with girl!Direction, lots of tongue action, and lots of hints to the original work.

2️⃣ Tell Me This Is Paradise by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird {E, 19k}

Harry Styles has been lucky in love but unlucky in the bedroom with all of her previous boyfriends. When her best friend Niall finds out that she's never had an orgasm, she knows just what Harry needs: Louis Tomlinson. Niall sets Harry up to get sorted out.

3️⃣ that good girl faith (and a tight little skirt) by ariadne_odair {E, 43k}

“What the fuck did you do to my shampoo?” Harry shouts, brandishing the offending bottle like it’s a vial of poison. “Is this fucking mud? Did you honestly replace my shampoo with mud?” “Not just your shampoo,” Louis says calmly, then cracks up when Harry visibly pales.  

Harry and Louis are camp counsellors. They hate each other. The amount of sex they have in the camp showers probably contradicts that.

4️⃣ I love your demons (like devils can) by ariadne_odair {E, 60k}

"I am right here," she says loudly, and she can almost hear the crack when Louis' head whips around to stare at her.

"Why?" Louis asks, and Harry feels her insides shrivel up and die.

Harry didn’t plan to join the football team. She didn’t plan to sleep with the captain of the football team. She definitely didn’t plan to sleep with the closeted captain of the football team, who promptly acted as if nothing happened and left Harry a pathetic, pining mess.

5️⃣ the wheel breaks the butterfly by embodied / @crossnecklace {E, 4k}

“Out with it, Styles,” Louis groans. Harry’s suddenly regretting this whole thing, and she’s sure she’s beet red now, so she just blurts it out so fast she’s not sure if Louis even understands her right away.   “I’ve never gotten head before.”

AU. harry and louis are roommates. girls' night ends a little differently than usual.

HIDDEN GEMS:

💎 You Make Lovin' Fun by @homosociallyyours {E, 109k}

Harry is a 28 year old travel writer at a gay magazine who gets the assignment to go a lesbian cruise. She figures it's a nice chance to have some fun in the sun, but she's not expecting much else-- even if her partner and best friend are both encouraging her to hook up with someone while she's there.

When she locks eyes with a gorgeous silver fox from across the room, she starts to think she could've been wrong. There are lots of things standing in the way of anything real happening with her and Louis, but that doesn't stop them from falling for one another. True love isn't always easy, but they do make lovin' fun.

💎 That Smile and That Midnight Laugh by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright {T, 50k}

Harry’s never noticed how lovely Louis really is. Maybe it’s just that she’s usually so guarded – a little tense, a little irritated, a little put out. At least when she’s at school, and also usually when she’s around Nick, which are the only times Harry has really seen her. Until tonight. Tonight Harry’s seen her with her guard completely down. Too busy laughing and enjoying herself to remember to be prickly, maybe. She seems different.

It feels different.

A Ferris Bueller's Day Off AU that picks up right where the movie leaves off, and imagines what might happen if Ferris' girlfriend and sister become friends. And maybe something more, too.

💎 'tis the damn season by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf {E, 17k}

Harry returns to her small hometown over the holiday season and starts to think about the road not taken.

💎 bambi legs by @disgruntledkittenface {NR, 11k}

“Oh my god,” Zayn says, rolling her eyes and standing up. “You do know what this means, right?” 

“Yes?” Harry tries, looking up pathetically and hoping Zayn will take pity on her. 

“This means she doesn’t even need the fabric she buys from you every other week,” Zayn says slowly, as if speaking to a small child. “She doesn’t come here for the fabric. She comes here for you.” 

Harry works at her family’s fabric store sometimes and always sells the most interesting fabrics to Louis. Louis is the wannabe fashion designer who keeps buying fabric she doesn’t necessarily need just to find a way to talk to Harry.

💎 in my head we can love forever by @beardyboyzx {E, 1k}

It's official: this is creepy. She's creepy. It's not like anything is going to happen just because Louis is a lesbian too. Harry's got to stop touching herself while thinking about her roommate.

Except that she can't.

Or: Harry might be a bit in love with her roommate.

[k-core]

Soft Mobility: Embodied (#Girlmoss, #Softlife, Ergonomic Thoughts), 2024-Ongoing by Kai (Kari) Altmann

[wordsoftheheartandsoul]

For so long, you've prayed for peace. You opened your eyes every morning hoping for a better day and closed them every night wondering when that feeling would come. You awaited that feeling of alleviation, clarity, and confidence that you so desperately envisioned but never quite embodied. You ached for that feeling of having some sense of normalcy and safety after being in seasons that felt almost too uncomfortable to bear. Now, seasons and lessons later, the tide has turned. You look back at those times and appreciate the tears because they taught you more than you ever anticipated, and you clearly see the resilience of the person in the mirror. As you stand here - older, wiser, and more understanding than you've ever been - embrace this moment. Embrace what it took to bring you to this point, and release the pain that ultimately positioned you. You are standing in answered prayers. Now, stand tall.

Morgan Richard Olivier - One Still Whisper

[fratresdei]

Had a giddy good time presenting on embodied spirituality at the Body Mind Spirit Celebration Expo