#Montreal Beat-Making Classes

[musitechnicformation]

Explore the best music production courses in Montreal and take your audio skills to the next level. Whether you're a beginner or an aspiring professional, these programs offer hands-on training in beat-making, sound design, mixing, mastering, and digital audio production. Learn from seasoned experts in Montreal's vibrant music scene and turn your passion for music production into a rewarding career. Enroll today and start creating studio-quality tracks!

[url-is-url]

who wants a snippet of a Venom and Miraculous Ladybug crossover

Turn your airplane mode off, we are off the airplane.

What are you so eager for?

I want to look at the map.

For?

Everybody says the chocolate in Europe is better. I want to look for un chocolatier.

Eddie frowned as he trudged through customs at Charles de Gaulle. Venom’s accent was damn good. Where the fuck did you learn French? 

Remember the roofie chemist we ate last year? He was from Montreal. 

Have you just been casually burning skills off of every bad guy you eat?

The interesting ones, yes. Human languages are interesting because you are terrible at using them.

You as in me or you as in humanity?

Yes.

Attitude problems aside, that was helpful, actually. Eddie did damn well in his high school French classes, but, well, high school wasn’t exactly last week. Unfortunately, that still made him the best French speaker in the office, so his boss threw him on a plane to Paris to cover a science conference. Apparently there were some rumors about one of the sponsors of the conference funding less-than-ethical research and after the Life Foundation, mad scientists were Eddie’s beat. 

A customs agent noticed Eddie making faces at himself and decided he needed closer inspection. Eddie rifled through his pockets for his wallet and passport and other things that proved he was allowed to be there and hoped that the agent wouldn’t Google him; he was pretty sure the Lobster Tank Video had made its way to international waters. “You are here for work?” he asked in a light, disappointingly un-cartoonish accent. 

“Yeah.”

“And what sort of work is that?”

“I’m a journalist, I’m supposed-”

“A journalist?” the customs agent grinned mischievously. “Well, monsieur, you have certainly come to the right city.”

He wasn’t even out of the airport yet. Eddie raised one eyebrow and leaned in slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Paris is very interesting these days, even more than it has always been. You’ll see,” the agent chirped, passing his papers back to him. “Enjoy your visit.” 

Okay. That wasn’t ominous at all.

We should visit Notre Dame.

Why?

Because you would enjoy the blasphemy of making out on top of the most famous church in the world.

Venom certainly wasn’t wrong. Charles de Gaulle was way out at the northeast edge of the city, and Eddie’s assignment was all the way in, inside the perimeter highway, so they hunted down the train station and sat on a bench to wait for one heading downtown. They people-watched together. Eddie liked people-watching, and Venom’s host radar elevated the hobby. Between the two of them, they could get a decent bead on who was in Paris for work and who was there for pleasure, and their general… carnivorousness. A family of five, who had been in the rows behind Eddie on their flight, limped into the platform. The parents looked bedraggled, as one would after herding small children through international travel. As Venom decided to take pity on them and make Eddie stand up, the especially wiggly little girl broke containment and raced towards the tracks, presumably deranged with excitement about seeing a train for the first time. Venom heard the next train approaching and the child had a lot of momentum; Eddie darted after her and scooped her up before she bowled over into the tracks. 

The kid’s father was right behind him a few seconds later, just as the train became audible to humans. He paled as he realized that there wouldn’t have been time to pull her off the tracks, if she had fallen. “Thank you, or merci, uh-” 

“It’s cool, man,” Eddie said, handing the girl off. “I hear it takes a village or something.” They shook hands, and the father walked away. 

Is it just me, or is that kid the twentieth person we’ve seen today wearing black polka dots on red?

Must be some kind of fashion trend. There have also been just as many people wearing things with black cats on them.

Maybe some kind of celebrity who likes cats and polka dots? Eddie mentally suggested, but that didn’t add up. Most of the people around them were just visiting Paris, so why would they be emulating a hypothetical Parisian fashionista? Eh, whatever. It could have been an American trend that he was just now noticing, for all the attention Eddie usually paid to that sort of thing. 

Eddie bought a couple of newspapers, a national and a local, at the train station, which he read on the ride into downtown. Most of the national paper was of little interest to him, but he hoped the city paper would have some juicier stuff, given what the customs agent had said. There was one article that… he wasn’t sure if it was juicy, but it was certainly incomprehensible. “Collège Françoise Dupont Most Frequent Site of Akuma Attacks - Is Mayor Bourgeois’ Daughter A Target?” First of all, the Mayor of Paris was named Bourgeois? Eddie believed it, because it was entirely too on the nose to be made up, but Jesus Christ that was ridiculous. Second of all, they were casually shouting in a headline what school the Mayor’s daughter went to? This was a major city, surely that was a security issue. Third of all, what the fresh fuck was an Akuma, and how did it attack people? 

Akuma means demon in Japanese, Venom pointed out. 

Eddie frowned. Some of the cryptid bloggers back home call us the Demon of San Francisco. You don’t think…

Almost certainly not. The others that came with the Life Foundation are dead, and I doubt Carnage had any time to spawn, and Carnage is also dead. When could others have arrived? 

That was a good point, and Eddie relaxed and read the article. It heavily cited data taken from a website called The Ladyblog, and used that data to speculate that somebody called Hawkmoth wished to use the Mayor’s teen daughter as leverage for some sinister purpose, perhaps to do with a desire to obtain something called a Miraculous? It sounded like comic book nonsense and Eddie was half-convinced that it was some kind of kayfabe art, a la War of the Worlds. So, naturally, he got out his phone and looked up this exalted Ladyblog. 

It was written by a high schooler. A smart high schooler, with a strong, if immature, writing style and a slightly unhinged willingness to tread into danger, camera raised, if their videos were anything to go by. Still definitely a teenager, though Eddie found himself respecting the kid quite a bit as he read their coverage of Paris’ own superheroes, whose villains were quite a lot more… flamboyant than the people that kept Venom fed back home. He still wasn’t completely sure this wasn’t a very elaborate kayfabe, but those videos were either made with a Hollywood special effects budget, or they were real, and Eddie couldn’t decide which was more outlandish. Ladybug and Chat Noir, real or not, certainly explained the increasing amount of polkadotted and black cat themed merchandise he was seeing as the train journeyed closer to the city center. 

My name is cooler, Venom grumbled. 

Eddie grinned. Are you jealous that you don’t have merch? 

…No.

[madisonandmore]

Works for Madison & More are due in FOUR weeks!!

All types of fanworks (fic, podfic, art, etc) are allowed and there are no length restrictions! The only requirement is that you post your work to the Madison & More AO3 collection by Friday, August 18 at 11:59pm EDT.

There were are so many amazing Zimbits prompts submitted to the fest that we figured we'd share a few more!!

Jack and Bitty in Madison for memorial day weekend. You know the Bittles are all about it, BBQ-ing and eating pies and stuff. Jack meets the cousins, the aunts, the family friends. They play lawn games in the grass and Jack gets competitive with the kids. Would love to see Jack feeling really comfortable in that part of Bitty's life.

5 NHL offseasons + 1 after jack retires (some ideas, feel free to use or ignore: missing moments the summer after 1st cup win, summer after 2nd cup win, summer they get married, summer jack gets traded to montreal, summer they adopt a kid, summer bitty is on a book tour, etc etc)

Bitty visits Jack over the summer at his family's cottage on a lake outside of Montreal. They get to relax laying out on the dock and Jack teaches Bitty how to canoe/kayak, roast s'mores, etc. What happens at the lake stays at the lake...or does it?

Beach au where bitty is chilling (sunbathing?) and gets hit by an off course volleyball or beach ball and enacts revenge by kicking butt at volleyball and beating everyone else (extra points if it’s stranger!Jack that hit him)

When Bitty’s work schedule prevents them from going to Madison for the 4th of July, Jack does his best to bring Madison to Bitty.

Jack Zimmermann is heading to Scotland to do summer field research on the cultural impact of the Loch Ness Monster. Bitty, after failing a class and needing credits to graduate, gets assigned to be his research assistant.Maybe the real mystery was falling in love all along.

Jack picks up gardening in the off season. Bitty helps Jack make food with his produce!

If you want to claim any of these prompts, head over to AO3!

If you want to participate in the fest, but don't see any prompts that speak to you, that's okay!! There are three "catch-all" prompts you can claim for exactly this purpose!

[the-firebird69]

There's a few more things happening one of them is Garth Myers has been found to be an idiot yeah you look at him in Publix and he's an idiot that's what he is. And he says it's your problem if you trust my judgment and it's true too he is a damned fool and he knows it we have a few things we don't like about him we are going to bring them up shortly we're going to get rid of that guy we don't need his homo references at all:

-also other people are at it Kenneth he's very weak he recovers yeah the creature in him separate and go their separate ways and they're not friends but they're not enemies no they're enemies they have arguments about math all day long the guys like you should be trying to figure out what we do you don't have a class a planet since you don't have any proof either I can hear your thoughts on it says how's he supposed to be strong and steadily thinking what the truth is when he's surrounded by people dumber than you and they insist on him thinking stuff going a certain places sitting there getting sick and he says I thank you for the advice but we have these arguments and they suck and they're horrible and he says he's a very short person sharp person if you guys captured him you probably know to you soon for engineering to use him for engineering and now we do he says back so he can relax for Christ's sake you used to walk well you know what I mean I'm in another argument Kingsley is getting arguments and he's always win because he was in his own body yeah and he had teeth I don't have teeth like that like that I have an idea what you're saying may not go that way fully but he does know that we're rebels and you guys have no choice wrong race you're too big it's just one step away from being like us so the kid is yelling at me saying I'm closer than he is what's up Brothers of ghwp and they can mutate and grow horns and big teeth really big nasty and this guy can mutate more so people think that the devil character might be David and his wife is the other one that's what he was trying to say for everybody kept interrupting him I probably shouldn't say anything cuz it's starting to make sense to me so his advising it and I'm going to listen and that's good and we can have wrestling matches in our dreams boy that's the dumbest idea it's not really it's like morbius and we'll never be able to get that that kind of stuff again boy is that stupid it really probably is he says.

Well that's a little bit of a nightmare but we are getting another report in it is from Montreal Canada regarding Reynolds Bay Rudy::

+he is now turning blue to his elbows and knees and his ears are blue of course and nose lips in his face is changing all his extremities are blue. And he is now not convulsing he had a big huge tremmer session about 3 minutes long it's very bad for them.

The heart rate does increase to about 60 to 70 it beats a minute and it does get things flowing in this case what happens is it flows and tries to get there and it's not bringing enough nutrients and it starts starving the rest of the body and he is turning more blue as blood is not able to return. And it's gross and he's wondering why we were relating this in so much detail and we will tell you other people are having us doing like someone with a big ship.

-more stuff is going on and it's a damn nightmare

-we are hoping that someone brings him to the morgue he's going to just rot and turn black and yeah that's why Garth is mentioned it's always very negative. We do understand that he will probably be sitting there for a while and he's barely breathing in his heart rate is at about 25 beats per minute blood pressure has reduced and most of the extremities are not getting much blood at all if any and they're going cold room temperature not too many people are excited about this we are witnessing someone murder someone publicly and it's because he hypothetically know it's by analogy he's saying you destroyed my body now I'm going to slowly destroy yours. And he is hinting at alluding to that he's not getting food and it is not being processed in another it's information and Intel and he's doing that on purpose and he is suffocating him saying that he is not allowed a moments rest or to accomplish anything meaningful and he'll be in tax for later and that's what he was saying to Billy z 10 or 20 times a day and Trump is saying it to our son and they both don't like him although Billy is he has plans to torture her son a son didn't do anything like this to him he's calling him a big f** and child molester but he is one really showed up looking like women he didn't say much and Billy z says. And we are getting on to stuff but boy is this just getting drawn out it's like watching you guys play golf get in the damn hole and move on.

--we have several people sitting here eyeballing our son for the wrong reason and they are going to be banished.

-we're going to print this is pretty big news

Thor Freya

So my husband is singing that it's gross and that's the word for it it really is

Hera

Olympus

[kworldsportsnews]

Valentina Shevchenko Outlasts Fiorot in Tactical War to Retain Flyweight Title at UFC 315

Montreal, Canada — Valentina Shevchenko proved once again why she’s one of the most enduring champions in UFC history, turning back the challenge of France’s Manon Fiorot in a grueling five-round battle at UFC 315.

Shevchenko, the long-reigning flyweight queen, edged Fiorot via unanimous decision (48-47, 48-47, 48-47) in a fight that was more cerebral than chaotic, more guts than glamor. With the victory, the 37-year-old veteran notched her 10th career title fight win in the UFC, drawing level with Ronda Rousey and inching closer to Amanda Nunes’ all-time mark.

Shevchenko Digs Deep Against Rising Force Fiorot

Coming into the bout, Fiorot had all the momentum—seven straight UFC victories, a relentless style, and a win over former strawweight queen Rose Namajunas. Many believed the French powerhouse would push Shevchenko to her limit, and that’s exactly what she did.

Early on, Fiorot pressed forward with strength and intent, locking Shevchenko into clinches and battering her with knees to the midsection. Shevchenko, though, remained unshaken. She absorbed the pressure, recalibrated, and began picking her moments—landing precise counters and elusive footwork to stay just a step ahead.

“She’s strong, she’s determined,” Shevchenko said afterward. “But I’ve been in these deep waters before. I know how to swim.”

A Fourth-Round Spark That Changed Everything

Through three rounds, it was anyone’s fight. Then, midway through Round 4, the tide turned.

As Fiorot grew more confident, Shevchenko timed a perfect counter punch that caught her opponent clean. Moments later, a spinning backfist snapped Fiorot’s head around. The challenger stumbled, and while she recovered quickly, the momentum was gone.

That brief explosion from Shevchenko didn’t just steal the round—it stole the narrative. From that point forward, Fiorot seemed just half a beat behind, hesitating where she once charged. In a fight this close, that hesitation made all the difference.

Aging in Reverse

At 37, Shevchenko continues to defy the clock in a division dominated by youth and ferocity. Fiorot, 35, is no spring chicken either, but she brings a fresher face to the title picture. Still, it was the older, wiser fighter who made the most of the smallest openings.

“Age doesn’t define how I fight,” Shevchenko said. “Discipline, preparation, and passion—that’s what keeps me here.”

Now standing at 25-4-1, Shevchenko isn’t just adding numbers to her record—she’s crafting a legacy that might go unmatched.

Fiorot Earns Respect, if Not the Belt

For Manon Fiorot, the night ended in defeat, but her stock only rose.

She went toe-to-toe with one of the greatest female fighters in history, absorbed damage, controlled portions of the bout, and never looked out of place. Though the judges didn’t side with her, the MMA world took notice.

“She’s dangerous, very dangerous,” Shevchenko admitted. “But this wasn’t her moment. That’s all.”

A single bounce-back performance—perhaps against another top-five contender—could land Fiorot right back in title contention.

What’s Next for “Bullet”?

Having faced nearly every elite contender in the flyweight division, Shevchenko’s next chapter is unclear. A fourth bout with Alexa Grasso could be in play, especially given their historic trilogy. Erin Blanchfield might also be next in line if she notches another win.

But there’s also the tantalizing possibility of moving up a weight class once again in search of a second belt.

“I go where the challenge is,” Shevchenko said. “If that means going up, so be it. I’m not done. I feel sharper than ever.”

Greatness Through Survival

UFC 315 didn’t showcase Shevchenko at her most dominant, but it did show her at her most resilient. This wasn’t a masterclass—it was a masterstroke in adaptation and mental toughness.

Shevchenko didn’t win through brute strength or highlight finishes. She won by reading the fight, making mid-round changes, and outmaneuvering a younger, hungrier opponent.

This wasn’t just a title defense—it was a statement. A message to the rest of the division: the queen still rules, and she’s not ready to hand over the crown.

Source: Valentina Shevchenko Fends Off Fiorot to Stay Champion at UFC 315

[nosmokesport]

April 10: Dzmitry Asanau Defends Continental Americas Title Against Francesco Patera in Montreal

On April 10, fight fans in Montreal will witness an electrifying night of boxing at the Cabaret du Casino de Montréal, as undefeated Belarusian star Dzmitry Asanau defends his Continental Americas title against experienced European contender Francesco Patera. The high-stakes showdown, organized by Eye of the Tiger Management (EOTTM), promises to deliver action-packed moments, with Patera looking to play the role of spoiler against the unbeaten titleholder.

Asanau Aims to Cement His Status

Asanau (9-0, 4 KOs), a two-time Olympian, has been on a dominant run, showcasing his technical skill and power. His last fight in November saw him dismantle Matias Rueda, securing a stoppage victory in the fifth round to claim the Continental Americas belt. Now, he’s prepared to take another step forward in his quest for world title contention.

“This fight is a major moment in my career. It’s not just about defending my title—it’s about proving I belong at the top,” Asanau stated.

However, his opponent, Patera (30-5, 11 KOs), is no stranger to upsetting the odds. The Belgian fighter has made a career out of silencing home crowds, scoring upset victories over top-tier opponents, including Edis Tatli in Finland and Lewis Ritson in England. With his relentless pressure and experience against elite competition, Patera sees this bout as another opportunity to disrupt expectations.

“I’ve made a habit of beating fighters in their own backyard,” Patera declared. “Asanau hasn’t fought someone like me yet. I’m coming for that title.”

Mary Spencer Defends WBA Title Against Ogleidis Suarez

In the co-main event, WBA women’s welterweight champion Mary Spencer (9-2, 6 KOs) will put her belt on the line against Venezuela’s battle-tested veteran Ogleidis Suarez (31-5-1, 15 KOs). Originally scheduled for March 14, the bout was postponed due to an injury, but Spencer is confident the extra preparation time will work in her favor.

“I’m coming into this fight sharper than ever. I’m ready to show why I’m the champion,” Spencer affirmed.

Suarez, an accomplished former world champion in two divisions, is looking to make history by capturing a title in a third weight class. With her wealth of experience, she poses a serious threat to Spencer’s reign.

Christopher Guerrero Seeks His First Title

The night will also be pivotal for Christopher Guerrero (13-0, 8 KOs), who will fight for his first championship belt as he takes on Mexico’s Oliver Quintana (22-3, 16 KOs) for the WBC Continental Americas title. Quintana, known for his knockout power, has finished 16 of his 22 wins inside the distance, making him a dangerous opponent for the young prospect.

Guerrero, however, is embracing the challenge, seeing this as the next step toward his ultimate goal.

“When I found out I was fighting for my first title, I couldn’t hold back my excitement. This is what I’ve worked for my whole life,” Guerrero said.

A Night of High Stakes in Montreal

With three championship fights lined up, the event at the Cabaret du Casino de Montréal is shaping up to be a must-watch for boxing fans. Asanau looks to defend his title and prove himself against a seasoned warrior, while Patera seeks another upset victory. Meanwhile, Spencer aims to solidify her reign in women’s boxing, and Guerrero is eager to make a statement in his first title shot.

April 10 will be a night where champions are tested, and future stars look to break through.

Source: Asanau vs Patera April 10

[mightyflamethrower]

Cynically running out the clock has been the overarching principle of the entire abbreviated 105-day presidential campaign of Kamala Harris — ever since President Joe Biden, at the 11th-hour, dropped out in July.

Harris seems unwilling or unable to answer any impromptu question that she has not been previously prepped for. Her answers at the debate were memorized and canned. They never addressed the questions asked.

Her single, 11-minute post-debate Philadelphia interview was a shipwreck of dodging and dissimulating — even though the host was sympathetically left-wing.

Even socialist Sen. Bernie Sanders pointed out that for Harris to get elected, she must temporarily disown her lifelong leftist credentials.

As vice president, she must further deny co-ownership of the unpopular record of the Biden-Harris administration.

Left unstated is that whether she wins the presidency — or loses it and continues as vice president for another three months — nonetheless she will inevitably revert back to her hard-core, lifelong leftist beliefs.

In addition, Harris has reconstructed her privileged upbringing as a child of two PhDs, living in a posh Montreal neighborhood, into a struggling, middle-class Oakland childhood.

How can she stage such a complete makeover — and contemptuously count on the voting public to be so easily deceived?

She avoids all news conferences, one-on-one nationally broadcast interviews, and town halls. And like Biden, she will debate only on leftist venues with biased pro-Harris moderators.

When asked to provide the details of her past responsibility for the open border, inflationary economy, spiraling crime, attacks on fossil fuels, and collapsing foreign policy, Harris smiles, makes hand gestures, and dodges. She changes the subject to her empathetic personality, her “joy” campaign, and her iconic profile as a supposedly dynamic black woman.

When pressed, Harris outsources the task of squaring her hypocrisies and subterfuges to the stonewalling campaign, Democratic surrogates — and the media.

Harris is also certainly not running on her demonstrable experience, vision, or intelligence as much as she is not Trump (or, for that matter, her former partner Joe Biden).

To make that distinction stark, Harris must demonize and bait Trump nonstop and make the country fear him.

So, she paints Trump as a racist and violent insurrectionist, not a former president whose four-year term saw a superior foreign policy, economy, border, and security than during the Biden-Harris term.

Instead, Harris has repeatedly claimed Trump is a dictator and a threat to democracy — as if he had politically weaponized the FBI, CIA, DOJ, or IRS as had Barack Obama and Joe Biden.

Trump as Hitler has become a staple Democrat smear for the past decade.

That vicious caricature is so entrenched that major Democratic figures assume it’s okay to joke about, or seriously call for, Trump’s demise.

So, Harris’ current prominent advisor David Plouffe years ago warned the nation that “it is not enough to simply beat Trump. He must be destroyed thoroughly. His kind must not rise again.”

Just last year, Rep. Dan Goldman, D-N.Y., claimed that Trump “is destructive to our democracy, and he has to be, he has to be eliminated.”

Even after an assassin sought to kill Trump last week, House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries declared, “Extreme MAGA Republicans are the party of a national abortion ban and Trump’s Project 2025. We must stop them.”

Harris’ dehumanizing of Trump, outsourcing the campaign to the media, avoiding all public dialogue, and temporarily reinventing one’s politics and biography have taken a toll on the country.

Harris was coronated the Democratic candidate without ever entering a primary or winning a single delegate by vote. Some 14 million Democrat primary voters were reduced to irrelevancy.

Like the 2020 Biden campaign, Harris has nationalized a new kind of cynical campaign in which leftist candidates seek for a few months to deceive the public into thinking they are centrist and moderate — until elected.

Avoiding all cross-examination and outscoring the campaign to the obsequious media is now the new norm.

Most news stories deemed unhelpful to Harris — the left-wing, pro-Harris politics of the recent would-be Trump assassin, the lie that dozens of bomb threats were called in against Springfield schools due to Trump, or prominent Democrats before and after the recent assassination attempt blaming Trump for being the target of an assassin — are suppressed by the media.

The recent two foiled assassination attempts on Trump logically follow a near-decade pattern of trying to destroy rather than outvote him.

The Russian collusion hoax, the laptop disinformation con, the two impeachments, the effort to remove Trump from some 16 state ballots, and the attempt to jail and bankrupt Trump through five criminal and civil “lawfare” indictments and suits also led to the current hateful climate of Trump assassination attempts.

Harris thinks her delays, deceptions, and vilifications for the next 47 days will ensure her victory.

But if so, it will be because she, her stealth campaign, and her self-proclaimed guardians of democracy have been willing to systematically destroy it.

[neonun-au]

major(ish) canadian cities as nct units

nct vancouver: yuppie concept. they all dress like its both 1970 and 2070. they all own nfts. there is a bear in the group

nct victoria: artsy concept. but rich art kids who got money for their showcase from their parents and clearly dont actually know anything about art history or hard work. they smell like weed (good weed) 

nct calgary: cowboy concept. they all own nfts and get into a scandal literally every second day. buy their way out of it but they are running out of money because people are finally getting tired of their shit

nct edmonton: artsy concept. but working class artsy so its actually kind of cool and people are surprised because they come across so cold and frigid but surprise, surprise they actually make good things. people forget this every time they’re not promoting

nct regina: farmer concept. real farmers, real dirt. they own a collective pig farm and their hair is permanently windswept. 

nct saskatoon: hipster concept. ex-farmers turned hipsters who still smell a little bit like pigs but that’s part of the appeal. they’re awkward and endearing. 

nct winnipeg: futuristic concept. unexpected, but they make the best music. probably because they can never leave the dorms cause its fucking freezing outside. hard times made them creative.

nct toronto: dark concept. but like, mean. mean dark concept because they dont have any time for anything and they need to pay rent. 

nct ottawa: soo man’s favourite. they get every concept and have the biggest budget. there is quality there but it feels a little bitter because of the silver spoon in their mouth 24/7 

nct montreal: sports concept. mostly just as an excuse to beat the shit out of each other. they all cook well though

nct halifax: cute concept. they all smile so much you dont know if its forced or not. (its not its just that the beer and lobster makes ya happy). 

nct moncton: cute concept but it is forced. they’re tired and they want to own nfts but they cant cause they dont get any schedules so theyre broke. 

nct st. johns: fisherman concept. they all wear wellies and dance in the rain and then go and get drunk with nct halifax and fight about territorial disputes (dorm arrangements) 

nct charleottetown: sponsored by cavendish potatoes. they all get their hair artificially dyed red and look longingly into the distance over the sweeping landscape while reading poetry aloud. 

nct iqaluit: its just one guy trying his best

[i-came-back]

Ah yes, most likely to lead a hollow on the most terrifying Scooby Doo chase sequence

October 5th 1990

Light-shaper, can take light into his hands then shape and later solidify it

Born: June 15th 1973

Age: 17

Current age: 49

Parents: Eun and Anika Yoong, one younger sister- not peculiar, born in Montreal Canada

Getting to know Kyrie Yoong!

1. What is your name? Kyrie, but it’s Rie-Rie around here man, you know what I mean?

2. How old are you? Almost fifty, birthday’s on the rise, man.

3. Where were you born? Canada. Montreal but I grew up pretty Haitian, though.

4. What did your father and mother do for a living? Don’t really remember what either of them did now but it did keep them out of the house a while.

5. Were you well off? Middle class? Impoverished? Eh, I don’t know, we were fine I guess. We had enough for essentials but we went without for a bit. Not that bad though, never had any complaints.

6. Do you have siblings? If so, what are their names and ages? Oh for sure- there’s OJ, Charlie, Vinny, Cal, me, Bull and Trav- we the elders here. Then there’s Kat, Penny, Cindy and Lil Cris then Kit, Jude, Lori, Lodie, Ritz, Shocker, Letters and Zad in the middle. Dani, Nati, Maggie, Devi and Sea-Sea are our second youngest, but our little ones, we got Lainie, Ursie, Nab, Birdy, Louie and GG- so that’s all my siblings… what’s their names? I just told you! … Oh you mean their government names? Shit, you’re gonna have to ask OJ on that, we have nicknames for a reason… it’s me, I’m the reason.

7. Where do you fall in the birth order? The oldest, youngest? Fourth oldest.

8. Which one of you is your mother’s favorite? I am Cass’s favourite, obviously. It’s impossible for me to not be everybody’s favourite. I’m a classic bro.

9. Why? I keep everyone laughing and make sure nobody’s getting bored doing stuff, anyone I’m doing activities with knows that they about to have the best fuckin time. I am Cassie Scoter’s Favourite, fact.

10. What keeps you awake at night? ‘Tell them. Go on, come on. Tell them how terrified you are that put against everyone else, you’re nothing special. There are nine year olds that have you beat, in terms of power, in terms of control. Go on and tell them how you’re just a dumbass with stupid jokes making people laugh because it’s all you really know how to do right-‘ Oh it’s Bull. He sleeps in his cow form because he gets cold easy but he snores like a revving truck engine. And he is right next to me man! Cal is sometimes willing to switch with me but Trav and Vin don’t give a damn. Assholes.

[musitechnicformation]

Explore the best music production courses in Montreal and take your audio skills to the next level. Whether you're a beginner or an aspiring professional, these programs offer hands-on training in beat-making, sound design, mixing, mastering, and digital audio production. Learn from seasoned experts in Montreal's vibrant music scene and turn your passion for music production into a rewarding career. Enroll today and start creating studio-quality tracks!

[thepermanentrainpress]

WALKER & WYLDE: SECONDHAND EXISTENTIAL CRISIS

Secondhand Existential Crisis – Walker & Wylde Release Date: February 2nd, 2022

Track Listing:

1. Life of the Cursed (Intro) 2. Have a Good Time 3. Paradise 4. The Calisthenic Dirge 5. Babylon 6. Here I Am 7. Little Bit of Blood 8. I’ve Earned Everything I’ve Got 9. Wage Slave Hymnal 10. Bottle Street 11. Keep On Walking 12. Life of the Cursed (Outro) 13. End of the World

Walker & Wylde bridge soulful, feel-good folk-punk with dark realities in new album, Secondhand Existential Crisis. A working-class mantra of an age marked by violence, anxiety, and radical optimism. Warm, comforting lyrics resonate with collective concerns. Dynamic melodies make it a nuanced listen that will leave you feeling energized and understood.

The album carries an endearing, grassroots sound, drawing comparisons to AJJ and Violent Femmes. The Montreal-based band wrote the album on a west-to-east coast journey to find the “answer to life.”

“My feet caught the walking need when I was but a twig / So I take only what I need and I need nothing big / Except for the keys to everything, the answers to our life”

Blue Jay Walker and Ixc Wylde deliver catchy and charismatic vocal melodies in “Paradise.” Joyful stomping drums support lightly layered strums. A playful and lively beat jumps and jigs while lyrics describe the bliss and blues in the pursuit of happiness.

“Babylon” shifts into reluctant power. Walker and Wylde’s voices remain strong and clear, pleading for climate justice: “The weeping willow trees have been cut down by disease / To build a thousand towers where they fell / The river’s on its knees / Begging mercy, please.” Rich backup vocals from Sky Coombs strengthen the somber and spirited message.

“Build your towers tall / Never will Babylon fall”

Wylde’s harmonica melodies shine beautifully in the slow burner, “Here I Am.” Strings rise and fall in delicate and dynamic waves. Tender tavern music – with a smart lyrical edge.

“Here I stand, old and bitter / My wicked fingers ache and creak to pull the old strings taught / How could I beat a higher bidder / I gave to you my best years and you told me they were naught”

“Little Bit of Blood” strikes with funky bass, bouncing drums, and snapping strums. Fun, boisterous con man vocals perform stellar satire: “I’ve got everything / I just need you to believe / Buy in, eat it up / I’ll fix it all with a smile / And a little bit of blood.” The tune soaks in its villainy, revealing populist power dynamics with wicked appeal.

This message is further reaffirmed by the “I’ve Earned Everything I’ve Got” interlude featuring a soundbite of Richard Nixon.

A stand-out track from the album, “Bottle Street,” follows the plight of the unhoused: “What do you mean that it ain’t our home / Take our tents, our tarps, our hope / Make up signs so the tourists know.” Injustice interweaves with Arya Nasr’s vibrant saxophone. Walker and Wyldes’ vocals deepen with determination.

“A beacon shining hope for more than / A brief respite, just a moment / We all wondered could it last then / I saw by-law roll through heaven”

Secondhand Existential Crisis is an ambitious and exciting adventure. Walker & Wylde pair potent societal commentary with heartfelt, energized folk-punk. Persistence, honesty, and vulnerability pay off for diamonds exploited in the rough.

Written by: Jenna Keeble

[iamtheblondestblonde]

Last Christmas

AN: Listening to Christmas songs in September is totally normal, right? I was inspired by a couple of songs and I’m procrastinating even though I should really study for some upcoming exams but I had to finish this first. Please enjoy this angsty fluff (is that even a thing?) with one of our favorite Hockey Hunks™.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: There might be a swear word or two and one mention of sex but that’s it

My other writing can be found here

For the first time since the move you finally felt at home and not out of place. To anyone it might only be a regular Wednesday but to you it was more than that. Today marked the day you’d finally managed to clear out the last few boxes, ridding yourself of the only remaining evidence that proved you were alone in a new city, a new country.

You wouldn’t stay alone for long though, your new job was set to start on Monday and you’d always made friends fairly fast so you weren’t worried in the slightest, instead enjoying the quiet that was your apartment for now.

With Christmas less than a month away you’d finally managed to decorate the apartment accordingly and to say you were proud would be an understatement. Picking out a Christmas tree by yourself had been an adult awakening, something you’d always dreamt about. 

When you were younger you had imagined a certain someone with you so you could decorate side by side but that hadn’t been an option in years. Although with the move it could be, but you quickly pushed that thought out of your head.

Locating the box with the decorations - some you’d stolen from home - had taken quite a while but as you held the hand-painted angel that had once belonged to your great-grandmother in your hands all trouble was forgotten. You’d have to climb on a stool or something to get it on top of the tree but for now you carefully set it aside, taking a look at your surroundings instead. 

The string lights made your apartment glow in warm light that only added to the appeal of the city lights shining in through the big windows. The new job had come with a very attractive signing bonus and while the place wasn’t huge, the modern finishes had made you fall in love instantly.

You hadn’t even realized how much time had passed because you’d been so immersed in decorating and cleaning but the sun had long set and your supper had been quite a while ago. The TV was still on from when you’d turned it on for some background noise, not really paying attention but instead focusing on humming along to your Christmas playlist.

You put on some water and quickly changed into a pair of comfortable leggings and your favorite sweatshirt from your time at Dalhousie University so you could spend the rest of your evening cuddled up on the couch with a mug of tea and continue the series you’d started to binge watch a couple of weeks ago. You’d only just pulled the hem of the sweatshirt down your body when you heard your doorbell ring.

Who would show up at your apartment unannounced at this time?

You quickly made your way back into the living space and over to the door so you could check the peep-hole, your heart skipping a beat once you realized who was on the other side of the door. For a second you contemplated simply not opening, but while you were many things in your life, a coward wasn’t one of them. 

You knew he could tell that you were home from the music still playing over the speakers and the lights probably escaping your apartment through the slit below the door so you didn’t hesitate long before unlocking the door with shaky hands and swinging it open.

Seeing him again, leaning against the wall opposite your apartment door, was like someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water at your face. As soon as he realized that you’d actually opened the door he practically jumped from his spot and took two big steps until he was standing a lot closer to you. 

You looked up at him, really looked up at him and with him standing there, looking so much like the Pierre you knew but so differently at the same time you felt yourself being catapulted to the day that changed your life all these years ago.

NHL Entry Draft Day back in 2016.

You weren’t religious by any means and you only ever went to church on Christmas out of a feeling of obligation towards your parents but God had you prayed for Pierre to stay close to you. It hadn’t been fair to him, you were well aware of that but for one day you allowed yourself to be selfish. You knew that he was living his dream, finally getting to play in the NHL like he’d always said he would but you were also thinking about your dreams. Dreams that involved him by your side.

Perhaps you were to blame for this mess. It was you who had fallen for the funny hockey player almost two years ago after all, knowing full well that he had big dreams that didn’t really mesh well with yours to go to university in Halifax, a place your family had gone to for ages.

You’d secretly hoped that perhaps Ottawa or Montreal would select him, even if he deserved to be picked long before it was their turn. But at least he’d be at least somewhat close to you then. When he’d been picked third by Columbus you’d been so shocked that you barely remembered kissing him on live television. You’d watched him get on that stage and put on the jersey but instead of crying happy tears at the sight of his dream coming true, you were crying because you knew that this was most likely the beginning of the end of your relationship. 

There’d be well over 2.000 kilometers between the two of you sometime soon and although you’d prepared yourself for this for weeks it still hurt more than you could ever imagine. But you still smiled at him all these hours later when you finally got to see him again, telling him how incredibly proud you were.

You tried your best to enjoy that summer, knowing full well that it might be your last one with him. With fall approaching he helped you move your stuff to Halifax while preparing for his own departure to Columbus. 

A departure that didn’t come though, because he hadn’t made the roster for the 2016-2017 season and had instead been sent back to play in Sydney, something that had devastated him.

To say that it was hard would put it mildly. You were over four hours away from him and your home and with your new life picking up keeping in touch kept getting more and more difficult. With his travels for the team and your classes you barely saw each other, a series of missed calls and late responses really the only thing that connected you to him. Christmas was the first time you’d seen him in three weeks but you still made the best of it, spending time with him every day and for a little while things were like they used to be.

When he told you that he’d been traded to Boisbriand afterwards you knew that this was it. Pierre had known as well, the defeated look in his eyes mirroring your own and giving him away. 

So you’d said your goodbyes, wanting to end things on a good note instead of going through another string of ‘Sorry I couldn’t pick up the phone earlier but call me back when you get this’ and constantly feeling left out. You’d cried, as did Pierre when you hugged him one last time, him desperately wiping your tears away and pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before leaving.

He’d ruined hockey for you then, the sport you once loved and spent so much time watching. No more time spent at the rink cuddled under your blanket and gossiping with the other girlfriends but you didn’t miss it as much as you missed him. 

You couldn’t even bear to watch him on TV so you’d missed when he scored his first NHL goal during his very first game in the league and all the other ones that followed. It was only when the Blue Jackets had their playoff run earlier this year that you’d finally managed to look at his face on your screen, over two years after you’d last seen him in person.

But now he was here, standing in front of you again.

“I-“, he began before stopping himself, rubbing his hand over his face before dropping it back down to his side and continuing, “I’m sorry for just barging in like this but my mom told me you moved here and I didn’t see it until after the game but I just had to come see for myself. Apparently our families still talk..”

You finally allowed yourself to properly looking at him, trailing your eyes over the features that were once so familiar. He’d grown a bit since you’d last seen him, not just in height but he was also a lot bulkier and more muscular than he used to be, filling out the suit jacket that sat snugly around his shoulders. He must have come straight from the game, hair still a bit wet and curlier than ever, a black pea coat folded over his arm and a duffel bag slung around his torso. You felt a bit out of place in your comfortable clothes compared to his suit that was probably designer but then you scolded yourself because this was Pierre and he’d seen you a lot worse.

“Yeah I know. I ran into your mom this summer when she was in our kitchen for a wine night they apparently have regularly.” You didn’t tell him how hard it had been to not ask about how he was doing and instead make bland small talk before you could finally disappear to your old room.

How could your parents not be friends anymore after your mothers had once joked about wanting a wine bar exclusively for them at your wedding? You didn’t blame your mom for telling his mother either, you knew that she only had good intentions and she’d always wanted the two of you to get back together.

In fact you weren’t completely innocent in the situation either. It was you who had applied for a position in Columbus after graduating this year after all, thoughts of what could be in the back of your mind even if you were adamant about denying it.

“You look good Y/N. I didn’t think it was possible but you’re somehow even more beautiful than you were the last time I saw you.”

You were about to remind him that the last time he’d seen you your eyes had been all red and puffy from crying – which was anything but beautiful – but before you could even get one word out the vintage kettle you had put on the stove to make tea let out its loud screeching noise, indicating that the water was done. You weren’t about to be rude and just Leave Pierre in the hallway just like that so without a second thought you invited him inside before turning around to take the kettle off the stove.

“Do you want some tea as well?”, you asked on a whim, not really knowing what else to do with the stranger that wasn’t really a stranger standing in the middle of your living room. He’d taken his shoes off by the door, apparently still remembering how you much you hated it when people wore shoes indoors and you watched him carefully drape his coat over the back of a chair.

“Sure, thanks.”

You took out a second mug and carefully poured the tea over the tea bags, the scent soon filling the apartment. It was the same tea you always drank during the winter months, ever since you were a little kid. Pierre grabbed the second mug off the counter from next to you and quickly took a peak at the label before giving you a knowing smile. You’d made that tea for the both of you so many times that this felt almost normal, even if your current situation was anything but.

“I’m sorry that you guys lost tonight”, you said to fill the silence that was now falling over the apartment. He looked over with a surprised look, raising his eyebrows.

“You watched the game?”

“Not all of it. I was busy decorating and doing other stuff around the apartment but I turned it on and checked the score from time to time”, you admitted sheepishly, raising the mug to your face in pretense of blowing to battle the boiling hot water but actually hiding away from his attentive stare. He’d looked at you all kinds of ways over your years with him but you had never been nervous because of it, except for that one night with him where he’d seen you naked for the first time and you’d lost your virginities to each other.

Thinking about sex with him wasn’t helping your cause either though because while the first few times had been a little awkward but still fun, the two of you quickly improved and the images of him above you or his head between your legs were only turning your cheeks even more red.

He seemed to drop the subject, thankfully, and instead moved over towards the Christmas tree, admiring your work. You slowly followed him, mug closely clutched to your chest and sat down on the sofa, admiring the way he looked in your apartment instead. The time apart had treated him well and while it was a bit weird to see him with a beard outside of playoffs there was no denying that he looked better than ever.

“I see you still like to live in an environment that resembles hell temperature wise”, he chuckled before he put down his own mug on the couch table and shrugged off his suit jacket. You tried your best not to stare as he popped open the first two bottoms of his shirt before moving on to roll up his sleeves while sitting down a respectable distance away but you were unsuccessful. For the first time you saw his tattoos, as his skin had been innocent and bare up until your breakup but you couldn’t ignore how good he looked with them. Your hands were itching to trace the patterns and because you didn’t entirely trust yourself to be able to control yourself you sat on them to avoid any embarrassment.

You hadn’t even realized that your Christmas playlist had continued playing over the speakers until the familiar opening tunes of “Last Christmas” filled the apartment. You quickly jumped up, reaching for your phone so you could stop the music from playing. It reminded you too much of the last Christmas you’d had with Pierre, now almost three years ago. You’d given him your heart and while he hadn’t exactly given it away he’d still broken it when he’d left.

When you turned back around you noticed the slight blush that painted his cheeks, he’d apparently come to the same realization as you. For a moment the silence was uncomfortable and you were reminded of the time right before the breakup when you didn’t know what to say or do around him, always walking on eggshells for fear of losing him. You’d lost him either way but that was beside the point.

Pierre cleared his throat before speaking up, ripping you out of your spiraling thoughts.

“Y/N I- I have to ask. Why are you here?”

You knew that you should just be honest and tell him that you were in a way here because of him but you weren’t ready to take that kind of leap just yet. You hadn’t kept up with his personal life for fear of finding something you couldn’t bear and for all you knew he could have a girlfriend right now.

“Well why are you?”, you simply responded instead, leaning back on the couch so you could properly gauge his reaction. You weren’t the one who had knocked on his door late at night.

“Fair enough, I guess”, he huffed before running his hand over his face in the way that had once been so familiar to you.

“When I read that text from my mom, telling me that you lived in Columbus now – that you weren’t thousands of kilometers away anymore I just had to see you. I called my mom to ask if she had your address and you have no idea how smug she sounded when she said she’d text it to me.”

You chuckled at his exasperated expression, knowing full well how his mother could be but stayed quiet to let him continue.

“The team knows about you as well and if I even told you half the shit I had to listen to when I practically sprinted out of the locker room you wouldn’t believe me.”

This made you laugh out loud and when you saw him smile at you fondly your heart skipped a beat for the second time that night.

“What I’m actually trying to say – but failing miserably at – is that I never really got over you and seeing you know only confirmed that. I can’t believe I let you go all these years ago, I was an idiot for thinking I could do it without you because I was absolutely miserable after leaving you”, he finished and you hadn’t even realized that you’d started crying until he reached up to gently wipe your tears away.

“Look I know that we can’t just continue like nothing happened but please bébé, please give me a second chance. I won’t leave you again, I promise.” The fact that he’d used the pet name he’d given you when you first started dating was all it took for you to leap towards him. He wrapped his arms around you as well, creating that perfect cocoon of Pierre that you’d missed so much. When he kissed your forehead this time you couldn’t feel your heart breaking, instead the warmth that flooded your body only glued all those pieces back together.

You knew that there was still a chance that he’d get traded again and that because of his job he’d have to spend quite some time on the road but you’d been miserable after he’d left as well. At least this time you’d know that he’d always come back for you.

“I’m so glad that our mothers love their wine nights and gossip, otherwise you never would’ve knocked at my door and I never would’ve gotten you back.”

“So we’re really doing this? We’re trying again?”, he asked, pulling you back at arm’s length so he could properly take a look at you. You nodded, not being able to stop the big smile spreading on your face.

“Would it be completely out of place if I kissed you right now?”

“Not at all”, you responded before crawling closer towards him until you straddled his lap. His hands reached up to cup your face, thumbs wiping the last of your tears away – happy tears this time – and then he finally pulled you in for a kiss.

Nothing felt more like coming home than kissing Pierre.

The way his lips moved against yours was so familiar that you couldn’t help but sigh into the kiss, reaching up for his shoulders so you could ground yourself in him while simultaneously getting lost in the way his body felt against yours. He buried his hands in your hair and his beard was scratching your skin but you didn’t care, instead letting him pull you closer and deepening the kiss until the only thought you could form was IloveyouIloveyouIloveyoustill.

Eventually you had to pull away though, both of you panting at the lack of air and the closeness of your bodies. It had been so long since you’d last felt his breath fan across your face like this, seen the look in his eyes as he looked at you with absolute wonder but it was as if nothing had changed, the two of you easily picking up where you left off.

“You know that our moms are gonna take credit for that, right? We’re never gonna hear the end of it”, he suddenly groaned and you giggled at his exasperated tone.

“I can live with that as long as it means that I get to have you with me again.”

He pulled you in for another sweet kiss before letting you go again, smiling up at you. You watched his gaze shift to something behind you, twisting your body in his lap so you could see what had caught his attention.

“Is that the Y/L/N Christmas angel? Did you steal it?” He stood up with you still in his lap, slowly putting you down before walking over to where you’d set the decoration earlier.

“It is but I didn’t steal it. Mom gave it to me so I’d have a piece of home with me. I’m not tall enough to put it on the top though and I haven’t gotten around to finding something to climb yet.”

“Need some help with putting it up? Here’s another piece of home ready to be climbed”, Pierre said, extending his arms to the sides and taking a step backwards so he was standing by the tree, angel still in one hand. You shook your head at him while laughing but you still moved closer, ready to climb him like a tree like you’d done hundreds of times before.

Still laughing you jumped on his back and he handed you the angel before wrapping his arms around your legs to support you. With combined forces you were able to complete the tree and Pierre let you down so you could both properly admire your work. 

Your dream had come true after all. 

You felt him move away from you before he was standing right behind you again, the famous tune of Wham! playing again over the speakers. He wrapped his arms around you from behind and you placed your hands on his forearms, slowly tracing your fingers over the black ink under his skin.

“You’re mon ange Y/N, you know that right? My angel. My someone special.”

Standing on your tippy toes you placed a soft kiss on his jaw before leaning your head back against him, not really knowing how to put your feelings in words right now but you knew he understood by the way he squeezed you tightly, resting his head on top of yours.

This year you’d given your heart to someone truly special.. again.

Feedback is always appreciated 🥰🥰

[randomoranges]

just some canon things about thoughts and things. :)

title from Miss you from The Rolling Stones

Been Holding Out so Long [Been Sleeping All Alone]

September 2021

Edward waits impatiently for the video call to connect. He holds his breath as the beeping ends and the screen fades in to reveal Étienne, sitting on his living room couch, with Mercury by his side. He lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding in and just the sight of his boyfriend is enough to ground him.

 “Hey, hey,” The video image of Étienne says and Edward desperately wants to reach out for him and hold him close. It feels like a lifetime since he’s last seen him and the end of summer has been a roller coaster on him. Étienne, on the other hand, seems more like himself than he had at this point last year. He looks absolutely charming in his short sleeved shirt and sun kissed skin. Edward can tell that the weather has already cooled some, if only by the absence of Étienne’s proverbial tank tops and the fact that he’s let his hair down. It’s gotten longer still, now well beyond his shoulders and Edward would love nothing more but to run his fingers through it and feel the soft strands slither between his hands.

 “It’s good to see you,” He says and he does mean it, even if it sounds like a platitude. He would rather have Étienne seated next to him on the sofa, doing nothing and just – sharing the space together, but he’ll take what he can. At least, now, they have this. They can actually see one another instead of the simple phone calls and letters of before. It helps with the solitude – a bit.

 From across the screen, Étienne beams and Edward drinks in the way his lips curve up as he smiles. He lets himself feast on the fold of his eyes and the way the green of them comes through in this lighting. He doesn’t think he’s given them enough attention recently and stays there for a moment longer, until Étienne frowns slightly and Edward realises he’s been quiet and lost in his own thoughts for a beat too long.

 “Everything okay?”

 “Yeah, yeah,” He says quickly, dismissing Étienne’s fears even if they aren’t completely unfounded. He’s felt off as of late and even though he knows why, he doesn’t want Étienne worrying from his own end of the world, when he has his own issues to deal with. It’s not how it works.

 Étienne gives him a look that clearly means he’s not buying it but that he’ll let pass for now.

 “Calvin doing okay?”

 He hesitates for a moment and then nods, “As good as can be.” He doesn’t mean to sound short, but he does and Étienne clearly notices.

 “You still haven’t spoken to him?”

 “No – I have...” It’s the truth. They have spoken. They’ve exchanged words about certain recent matters, which has been an improvement from the silent treatment he’d been giving Calvin. In his defence, it had been merited. Should they both move on? Maybe, but he’s not there yet.

 “Lemme rephrase that,” Étienne starts with a small sigh, “Have you forgiven him?”

 Edward remains silent. He has not. He’s still mad and in his opinion, he has every right to be.

 “Maybe you should?” Étienne suggests when Edward doesn’t answer. “You didn’t make a big stink about my own social adventures...”

 Edward rolls his eyes. His boyfriend doesn’t get it. He’s not here, living through this hell of a hot mess. “That was different. Yours were – contained.”

 Étienne laughs, “Please; did you see the crowds? Hell, you were there! We had to wait inside the stadium for over an hour before we could get out because of the outdoor crowds. People were just as reckless here as they were there.”

 “Yeah, but at least you weren’t aching for it. You – your people – you weren’t just acting as if it was all back to normal. There were still precautions put in place. To try and be careful. Instead of just – opening the flood gates.” He lets out an irritated groan and scrubs a hand over his face. “Look, just forget it, okay? I don’t want to get in a row with you as well. One boyfriend is enough.”

 Étienne opens his mouth to say something, but then shuts it, as if knowing better and for that, Edward is thankful. He knows it sounds very hypocritical. He is perfectly well aware of it. And he hadn’t exactly been pleased with the videos Étienne had sent him either of the crowds, but – maybe the distance had made it better. Maybe knowing how hard it had been on Montreal had made him look the other way. He doesn’t know. And he doesn’t want to analyse it. Maybe it’s just the way Calvin phrased the whole thing that had set him off. He doesn’t want to talk about it. Doesn’t want to think about it or anything else going on.

 He’s exhausted from everything that keeps happening and is happening and he just wants to shoot the shit with Étienne and talk about literally anything else that will keep his mind from spinning on itself. He looks out his window and tries to center himself on something that won’t make him want to punch a hole in the wall.

 He watches the leaves rustle on his tree in his backyard and follows one that falls to the ground in a lovely yellow spiral. Summer has indeed come and gone and he remembers how just one year ago, Étienne had returned to stay with him, seeking shelter from his own mind. It may not have started as the best of visits, but Edward would give anything to go back to those – somewhat easier moments.

 He looks back at the screen and finds that Étienne is still there, giving him the space he needs and petting Mercury who stands guard besides him, observing him from the screen as well. He remembers first seeing her, a little over a year and a half ago, and how tiny she’d been then. It’s hard to believe that she’s the same dog he’d met then.

 “Any chance of a surprise visit from you sometime soon?” He asks, even though he knows Étienne won’t be coming over. Not now that things are “back to normal”. (They’re not, but that’s what everyone keeps saying. He’s not sure what they’re looking at or in which universe they’re living in.)

 “I wish.” Étienne says with a dejected little pout. “But we’re back in person so I can’t work from home anymore. It’s been a mess and even though I had to get up earlier it was kind of nice. I don’t have any weeks off either before the holidays, so if I did decide to visit it would be early to mid December at the earliest...”

 Étienne could have told him he’d be over in his next lifetime and at that moment, it would have sounded the same. He doesn’t know why he’s disappointed, but he is.

 “Probably for the best, the way things are at the moment over here...”

 “I did think of it though, but I’d need to find a reason for my classes to go online.” Étienne cuts through and Edward gives him a look as though he’s a mad man.

 “You better not, Maisonneuve,” He warns, low and dark. This isn’t how things work. He’s usually the one who goes out of his way for people, not the other way around.

 “I might have to stretch the truth a bit,” Étienne goes on, as if he hasn’t heard him, “Might have to say my partner is going through some stuff and I need to be by his side. Boyfriend would be too – insignificant, but they’d agree for partner and it’s not that big of a deal, right? You are going through some stuff and if we don’t count the near twenty-years we didn’t really talk, we’ve been together for like, over four decades, so it could work.” He says matter-of-factly, rattling off the facts as if it doesn’t mean anything – as if it doesn’t have some momentous weight that moors Edward’s heart.

 “You will do no such thing. Don’t go out of your way for me, really. We’ll see each other when we see each other and that’ll be it. We’ve gotten soft with the consecutive months we spent together. It’s fine – don’t go doing something impulsive on my behalf.” He doesn’t want Étienne to change his schedule for his sake. Doesn’t need to be that person. He’s fine, really, if only a little lonely, but he doesn’t mind the loneliness. He’s never minded it. He just – got used to having Étienne around and is having a scuffle with Calvin, so things are just this side of quiet and with all the other issues going on in the province, he’s just a little unsettled, it’s all. It’ll pass and everything will be fine and he doesn’t need his boyfriend to make arrangements to change his classes to online just to be here with him.

 “Hey,” Étienne cuts through and his voice is steady and firm and commands his attention through the miasma of doubt and fear and anxiety of his mind, “I will go out of my way for you if I want. You’re important to me. You’ve always done it for me. Lemme return the favour.”

 Maybe it’s a good thing they’re not sitting together. Edward would hate for Étienne to see the way his face flushes and read emotions on his face he’d rather keep buried.

 “That’s not the point,” He says, feebly.

 “It really is the point. If I want to come over and look after you, I will come over and look after you unless you specifically tell me you don’t want me over, obviously. I don’t want to impose but I also don’t want you to dismiss the idea just because you think you’re some bother to me. I’d like to spend time with you as well and for the record, I also miss you. So there.”

 It sounds so very childish that Edward can’t help but laugh, “You’re so ridiculous.” He says instead and Étienne sticks out his tongue at him.

 “You could always come crash at mine, if you want and can. That’s an option too, if you don’t want me to change my schedule on a whim just to come and dote on you in person. It’d be like some weird role reversal on a situational point.” Étienne grins at his clever joke, but Edward actually considers it for a moment. He hasn’t thought about the possibility, (mostly, because some part of him still couldn’t believe that Étienne would want to have him over – which is silly, he knows).

 “Calvin could come too – eventually, if you wanted,” He adds quickly, as if afraid that Edward will judge or think little of him if he doesn’t.

 “I’ll – I’ll think about it,” He blurts, unsure what else to say and still shocked by this other possibility. It would be nice to step away from the chaos of home at the moment. There a few odds and ends he’d have to take care of, but – it could work.

 “And it’s fine if you can’t or don’t want to for whatever reason, but it’s an option and I don’t care if you give me five minutes warning or five weeks. I’ll also look into changing my courses – maybe for the winter term it might be easier. I’ll let you know.”

 He wants to argue against that last point, but he knows there’s no point to it; not when Étienne has that determined look to his face. “You’re a mad man,” He says instead with a sigh of his own. He knows a last cause when he sees one.

 “Maybe, but maybe I’m just a poor sap who wants to see his boyfriend as well.”

 Edward looks him over once more and he swears he can spy a flicker of loneliness on Étienne’s face as well. He reminds himself that, if anyone would get it, it would be Étienne. Instinctively, he reaches over to the screen, as if wanting to touch him – to feel that Étienne really is there with him, but instead, his fingers connect with the screen of his laptop and his saddened smile is mirrored on Étienne’s face.

 “I promise things will work out.” Étienne murmurs, as if reading through every turmoil that has been rooted in his head for the past while.

 Edward closes his hand on an imaginary one he wishes was there and spares another thought to the crazy ideas Étienne mentioned moments ago.

 “I love you, kay? M’here for you too.”

 He nods, suddenly overcome with emotions, and wonders if they aren’t some accumulation come to crest over to clear off the thoughts that have been plaguing him. It would be nice, if cathartic, but it would be nicer still if they can wait until the call is over.

 “Talk to Calvin. You’ll feel better.”

 Edward wants to make some petty joke about self-sabotage and a comment about Étienne suddenly being on board with his relationship with Calvin, but it feels trite and misplaced, considering the fact that he knows Étienne genuinely means well. Instead, he nods and promises to do his best.

 FIN

[bowensbyrams]

the canada dream {02}

n/a: hey, guys! Here’s part 2 of TCD, as promised. I’m sorry it took me so long to update, my classes are back and last week was kinda hard, but here we go! Please let me know what you think <3 

Pairing: Pierre-Luc Dubois x reader

Warnings: a little bit of angst at the beginning, mentions of abusive/toxic relationship

Word counting: 2,1k

Ps: part 1 can be found here: https://royaltyofhockeylosers.tumblr.com/post/627737248109133824/the-canada-dream-01 

I realize there's something wrong the moment I find myself opening the door to my old apartment in Boston. As far as I remember, I moved to Montreal and am living with my best friend Anna... Or was it just a dream? I wouldn't be surprised, I've been dreaming on moving to Canada for a while now. I enter the living room and drop my bag on the couch, heading to my room but a noise stops me. No, not a noise. A moan. A woman's moan. I live with my boyfriend, Thomas, and as far as I know, we don't share the apartment with another girl. My heart fasten with every step I take until I'm facing the white door that leads to my room. Our room. "Faster, Tommy" I hear the girl say and my boyfriend groans, making my skin shiver "Yes just like that" "God you're so hot, baby" Thomas' voice is like a fist to my stomach and the tears start rolling down my face. Not again, please. I open the door and the scene in front of me breaks my heart into a million pieces. My boyfriend is buried into a blonde's pussy and keeps thrusting in and out of her as he sees me. "Hello, princess. Do you want to join us?" his smile is almost wicked and I can't move, I can't breath as I watch him fucking her the way he used to make love to me. The tears never stop coming down and my sobbing seems to make him want to go deeper and faster until the girl screams his name.

~~ I sit on my bed, tears running on my cheeks and my heart racing like a horse. My entire body hurts as I'm forced to remember every single scene from that damn day, unable to erase the overwhelming feeling for good. My phone pings and I reach out to check it. When my eyes catch the clock and I realize it's almost 1 p.m, my heart skips a beat. I've never woken up this late, but I guess the adventures from last night and the anxiety of moving to another country to restart my life got the best of me. Unlocking the screen, I check the message app before anything else. There are 2 texts from Tyler and 6 from Logan, so I decide to open the latter thread. L: Hey Y/N, it's Logan L: I'm sorry for last night, I hope Anna is okay L: Tyler said he invited you two to the barbecue, cool! L: Here's the address and don't worry about anything, just bring whatever you guys wanna drink L: We reeeeeally want you to come, Luc is excited to meet you two I smile at the last text which is formed by at least 10 different types of emojis. I reply saying I need to ask Anna if she wants to come and lock the screen again, leaving my bed and going to Anna's room. My best friend is sleeping like a baby, so I decide to go make something for us to eat. When I'm almost done with the spaghetti, Anna appears in the kitchen with a pout on the lips and her brows furrowed. "Good morning, sunshine" I sing and my friend groans, sitting on one of the benches by the marble island in the middle of the kitchen. “I’m not feeling sunshiny today. I feel like I’ve been ran over by a truck. Multiple times” “That’s called tequila hungover and I’m not saying I told you so...” “Nah shut up” she shushes me waiving her hand “Can you get me a pill that’ll make this go away?” Anna points at her own head and I hold back a laugh, opening one of the cabinets where she showed me the medicines were. Handing her an Aspirin and a cup of water, I go back to the stove and turn it down, taking the pan to the island. Anna takes the pill and sighs, looking at the food. "Is this a dream?" my best friend asks when I put a plate in front of her and lets out a small moan when she takes the first bite "Honestly, if I had known you could cook like this, I would've invited you to move in with me way earlier" "Oh, don't get to used to it. My cooking knowledge is resumed to spaghetti, lasagna and burgers" "Who said we need more than that to survive?" Anna looks at me with an offended look making me laugh. We're half way through our meal until I decided to tell her about the barbecue. "So Logan and the other boys are hosting a barbecue today and they want us to come. It'll be just us, them, Tyler's girlfriend and that other guy they were telling us about yesterday. You in?" "As long as Logan keeps his alcohol to himself, I see no problem" she replies and I can't hold back my laugh. "Hey you're the one who suggested you guys should see who could get more shots in less time" "I never thought he'd say yes! That guy is crazy!" she snaps back and I laugh even harder. "Okay so we're going?" "Yeah, I guess so..." "Cool, I'll let him know then" * "What's up?" Anna asks as we're getting ready to leave. She's in my room, laying down on my bed as I finish putting some make up on. I'm wearing a long sleeved shirt with a jeans skirt and snickers since the weather gods decided to send a chill night to break the living hell temperatures of the day. Me and An spent the entire day laying on the floor and drinking an absurd amount of water while watching the latest episodes from The 100. "What?" I ask and look at her through the mirror. "You have a worried look on your face. What's wrong?" "Nothing... I just have a weird feeling that I should know something but I don't" I reply and focus on applying my mascara. "You're weird, Y/N. Are all americans like this?" "Hey!" I throw a pillow at her, making her laugh. As I finish everything and grab the beer packs we're taking, we're all settle to go. On our way to go, I open my Instagram and start scrolling through my feed - which is the most diverse thing in the world. It’s the perfect balance of hockey, singers, food, friends and family. I look at some of the posts before heading to the Story part. I slide through a couple until one catches my attention. It’s the same bar I was yesterday and I can see Anna in her white and red dress in the corner. I check the user and my heart skips a beat when I realize who it is. Pierre-Luc Dubois, one of the few hockey players I follow on Instagram. He plays centre for the Columbus Blue Jackets, my ex's home team, and my heart aches a little when a memory gets me. "Hey, I just saw you follow PLD on Instagram" Thomas' voice reaches me before he appears on our room. "Yeah, I've been following him for a while now, Tom" I say and go back folding the clean clothes. "Why?" he asks, making me look at him a little confused. "Why what?" "Why are you following him?" "Why not? He's a hockey player and I like him. What's wrong?" "Oh you like him? What, do you think he's gonna fuck you if you ever meet?" his aggressive tone makes me blush and my heart fasten. "Why are you saying this? I'll never meet him, Thomas, he's like super famous and lives in Ohio" "Exactly, so stop following him. I don't approve it and I don't like the fact that you're following these hockey guys. They're all assholes" my boyfriend says before storming out of our apartment, leaving me to try and understand what the hell just happened. I never stopped following Pierre's profile, but that was never needed since I caught Thomas in bed with another girl just two weeks after his little scene. That was three months ago and now I was living in Montreal with my best friend, trying to rebuild my life after what he did to me. I look at Pierre's story again and can't help the weird feeling that takes over my body. I knew he was French-Canadian, but I definitely did not know he lived in Montreal during the off season. I guess I never took the time to check on any player's personal lives. I mean, expect for Mitch Marner's but that's just because I really wish we were best friends but anyways. "Hey, you're on Pierre-Luc Dubois' Insta Story" I says and Anna almost throws the car out of the road. "I'M WHAT?!" Definitely should've waited until we got to the house. "Yeah, he was at the same bar as we yesterday and posted a photo of the dance floor. You appeared in the corner" "Wait... You're telling me that that fucking greek god was at the same bar as we and none of us saw it? Are you kidding me?" she says and the annoyance in her voice makes me laugh. "Yep, that's what I'm saying. What are the odds?" "I mean, they're high since his parents live here, but still.. We weren't even at the best bar of the city" "Maybe he is low key and was trying to avoid the crowds" "Yeah, probably" she agrees and changes focus. I observe the streets, filled with big houses with even bigger yards. "I guess Pierre is not the only rich who prefers underground bars..." I comment and Anna snorts, looking at the mansions. “Should’ve guessed he had money when you told me the neighborhood we were heading to, but damn” Anna says and all I can do is nod in agreement.

*

I was worried we would be late, but when we get to the house, Tyler and his girlfriend, Kate, are the only ones waiting for us. "Hey, guys" Ty greets us and takes the beer packs from me "Logan went to buy more beer, Jesse backed down and Luc is late as always" he leads the path to the backyard and I have to keep myself from dropping my jaw. The house is huge but the backyard is unbelievable. There's a deck where the grill is, a pool with a pool house and a soccer court. "This is my girlfriend Kate. Kate, these are the girls we told you about, Anna and Y/N" "Hi!" the curly haired and green eyed girl says and we down by her side. A couple of minutes go by and we're all getting along pretty well until Anna looks at her phone and sees that it's dying. "I think i have a charger in the car, I'll be right back" She leaves and only two minutes later my phone pings. A: don't freak out and act normal but i just bumped into logan outside Y/N: so what? A: pierre is with him My eyes go wild and before I can process what I just read, Logan's voice reaches me. “Look who I just found outside!” I look up asking God for Anna to be messing with me, but she's not. Pierre-Luc fucking Dubois is standing between Logan and my best friend, how's acting like there's nothing wrong. I try my best to do the same and I guess it worked since no one is looking at me with funny looks. "Luc, this is Y/N and Y/N, this is Luc" Tyler introduces us and Pierre shakes my hand with a small smile. "Cool, now you two know each other. Can we eat? I'm starving!" Logan says heading to the grill. “We’ve known each other for less than a day and I’ve already noticed that’s a constant mood of yours” Anna snaps back following him with Pierre right after her, leaving me, Kate and Tyler behind. "You look like you just saw a ghost" Tyler says getting my attention. "I'm just thinking why none of you bothered to tell me that your friend looked like that" I snap back, making Kate laugh. I decide not to mention the fact that I'm a hockey fan and know the NHL player that has just walked past us. "Nah, the minute he opens his mouth you'll see he's a dork" Kate says and heads to the area where the rest is. I follow her with Tyler right by my side and asking God to help me out here.

[bubbashawn]

Fine Line || part i

author: here we go, lovies!! Want to give a quick shoutout to my babe @wholesomemendes because Kaleigh has been so supportive and I love her. Also quick thanks to @sauveteen and @shawnjpeg for writing you flower, you feast (I tagged it) because it made me want to do this and @watchmegetobsessed because she reinstated my need to write this story when I read back to you (i tagged it). I hope you fall in love with Maia like I did and enjoy reading this as much as I loved writing it!!

synopsis: she walks the fine line between friends and lovers. he walks the fine line between love and heartbreak. they walk the fine line where everything is blurred.

warnings: 4.2k of oblivious “best friends” obsessing over each other. It’s a little angsty but more fluffy than anything.

Jet-lagged Shawn is simultaneously Maia’s favorite and least favorite version of Shawn. Or maybe her favorite was her drunk Best Friend after her seventeenth birthday when he became affectionate and clingy crying out her name. But the jet-lagged version was definitely up there.

He looked soft, in grey sweatpants and his ‘Youth’ sweatshirt. With hooded eyes, rosy cheeks, and chapped lips, emulating a sigh from the back of his throat. Exhaustion hid messily behind his smiling features. It was clear to her though. Maia could recall this look, and his crushing weight on top of her, since high school before he was selling out stadiums.

She enjoyed this sleepy side because she knew what followed his sweet demeanor. His forehead would crease, his hands would tug at his perfect curls, his voice would drop to a grumble while his muscles flexed. It was the worst.

Maia has seen a lot of jet-lagged Shawn throughout the years. Whether he was in a different country while on tour or flying to Los Angeles from Toronto too much, she’d confidently say she knew her best friend in this state quite well.

The Oceania leg of his headlining world tour was complete. Shawn had rushed from Auckland, New Zealand all the way to his condo, and happily found her curled around the softest blanket he owned, sunk into his white couch.

The second he heard ‘New Girl’ reruns coming from his tv through the door, his heart was light. Finding Maia exactly where he hoped she’d be, just bringing up his heart rate further. And he took a minute just drinking her in. It didn’t matter that her hair was messy with knots littered about, that her, his, sweater was wrinkled, and she softly snored. It didn’t matter that those noises began overpowering the dialogue of the show she’d seen too many times to count.

What mattered to Shawn was seeing his Maia for the first time in months. She didn’t live here, though he had asked her to move in with him on multiple occasions, she had always refused because her life was in Montreal, five hours and eleven minutes away from him. A few hours doesn’t seem terrible, because frankly, it wasn’t, but Shawn missed seeing her the moment he got home. Back when she lived in Toronto, a mere four-minute drive from the famous boy, Maia ended up spending more time frolicking through his halls than her own.

Things did change, though. No matter how hard Shawn denied it. Because she got her dream job, and she moved away. Away from him.

Yet, here she was. His Maia, five hours away from her congested apartment, instead found sleeping soundly in his. Shawn couldn’t be happier seeing her there. He toed the heel of his Chelsea boots off his feet and shuffled over, praying his socks would mute the sounds of movement. Crouched by Maia’s face, hand coming up to cup her cheek, he was undeniably adoring her. He stared from this closer angle before pressing the calloused pad of his thumb across her cheekbone and peacefully roused her from her dreams.

“Papillon?”

She had called him that jokingly in school after a French class they had together. Leaning against her locker as students bustled and shoved their way down the small halls of Pine Ridge Secondary School. One extra aggressive classmate pushed so hard against Shawn’s bag he ended up pressed into Maia.

“You’re so fragile, Papillon.”

“Papillon? What ev-”

“It’s French for butterfly.”

“Really? And why am I a butterfly again?”

She had responded with some stupid excuse about him being delicate and a clutz before shoving him off her chest.

The nickname stuck. It didn’t matter that Shawn’s limbs had filled out or that he could lift her off the ground with ease. He was always Maia’s Papillon.

Her eyes were shut tight, her brows furrowed, and she mewled his name in question over and over.

“Maia,” he smiled when your shifting eased as his voice echoed along the walls, “Flower, I’m right here. Open your eyes, M.”

“Papillon?”

He watched as her eyes opened and nodded, his smile only growing when her arms wrapped around his neck.

Maia had driven, on Ontario-401 East, with every intention of surprising Shawn. She had thought about going all out, but after considering how jetlagged he’d be, Maia simply bought some popcorn preparations and flipped his television on.

“When did you get in?”

“About an hour ago. We took the long route home, Jake said something about a wreck on Gardiner Expressway.”

She nodded, too overwhelmed by her happiness to speak more. Maia’s hands found the small of his back, under the navy fabric of his sweatshirt, and pulled his body over her figure. Shawn’s arms quickly adjusted to brace his weight on his forearms on either side of her pouting face.

“What?” He flicked the hairs framing her face out of her eyes, “don’t give me that look!”

Her hands pressed down harder on his back, trying to effectively press his body down to hers.

“Stop! Your hands are so fucking cold. Jesus Christ, woman.”

Maia’s hands slipped out from under his clothes, holding his shoulders. Pulling down harshly, still wanting his weight on her.

“Honey,” Shawn’s hands slid along her jaw, “hey, I really don’t want to crush you.”

“Just c’ mere.”

“Flower, I love you, but I’ll crush you.”

He wasn’t lying; his 6’2” frame would smother Maia’s shorter figure, by seven inches. She had always been dainty, her hands barely reaching his second knuckles when they compared their hands.

“I know,” she smiled sheepishly, “you’re just far away.”

Shawn agreed, even though their legs were intertwined, her chest was pressed to his, and he felt her familiar heartbeat. He smiled softly when Maia continued pouting until he quickly shifted to flip their position. His body, now resting against the cushions, cradled her as she laid on top of him.

“I’m right here,” his hands made grabby motions at her hips.

She was quick to oblige, her head tucking into the crook of his body. Her lips grazed the crease in his shoulder, her hair brushed along the underside of his jaw. This was her favorite Shawn, the one who seemed happy to just exist with her.

“Bub.”

“Mmm?” He hummed against her skin, Maia felt the goosebumps crawling up her spine from the vibration.

"I have popcorn and hot chocolate makings on your counter.”

He hummed again, softer this time. Shawn knew they'd move from this position before too long because she wasn’t really his to hold, not like this, at least. No matter how many times he called her his Maia. She’d never be his, not really.

“Let me hold you a little longer,” he relished in the feeling of her lips pressed sweetly to his neck, “okay? M, just a little longer.”

“You good?”

His hands squeezed the curve of her side, before letting her pull away just barely. His perfect Maia coming into view.

“More than good,” he smiled as she brushed her finger down the bridge of his nose, “perfect, really.”

Her smile grew, her gaze remained locked on his. Maia leaned down, kissing the scar on his cheek, remembering that day happily. His heart almost hurt from beating so hard, and Shawn had to hold back a whimper when her eyelashes fluttered. She was so perfect, staring down at him. The moment broke off much too fast for either of them as she rose to her feet, hand outstretched for his.

“I love you, Papillon.”

“I love you too,” Shawn’s eyes locked on their intertwined hands, “God, I really fucking missed you.”

She just laughed and pulled him towards the kitchen. Both with gushing smiles and red cheeks, looking like a teenager with a stupid crush.

Maia wasn’t lying when she told Shawn she’d gone shopping for popcorn, but she wasn’t being completely truthful either. She had stocked up all his cabinets with food of all kinds, including a takeout box holding his favorite french toast from Regine Cafe, a local favorite down the block from her Montreal apartment. She had bought the makings of chocolate chip muffins, and he saw what looked like all the parts of a traditional English roast dinner. Shawn’s favorite meal his mom, Karen, makes when she comes by.

“You’re too good to me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re too good to me, we even out,” she chuckled, stepping up behind him, “I know you get homesick, and I just saved your mum the drive down. She always made you food before you get home, and I was already here. It made sense, Shawn.”

He hadn’t even been processing Maia’s voice behind him, all too focused on her small arms looping around his waist, her chin resting between his shoulder blades.

“Either way, thank you.”

“You’d do the same.”

“True,” she could practically hear his eye roll, “but, just let me say thank you.”

“Okay.”

The two just remained in the corner of the kitchen, enjoying the sweet, homey silence of Shawn’s condo. They worked happily making hot chocolate because it was past midnight, neither of them needing caffeine, and Maia had never liked the bitterness of coffee. Before long, they both had steaming mugs being stirred with silver spoons.

“Put your drink down.”

“Why?”

“Just,” he smiled at her confused look, “trust me, okay? Drink down, Flower, please.”

The moment the ceramic touched the marble countertop, his hands found the small of her waist just above her hips. He lifted Maia into the air, chuckling, as she squealed in shock. The hair of her arms stood up, her warm skin made contact with the cold counter she was now sitting on. She nearly gasped when Shawn’s hands found home under her shirt where the fabric met her cotton shorts, kneading the skin gently.

“You’re crazy,” her head fell to his shoulder.

“Yeah, for you. Only for you, M.”

Her heart dropped, freezing up her whole body, but Shawn’s hands continued to massage the tight muscle.

“Jesus, woman, why are you so tense? It’s just me.”

“Would you stop saying ‘woman’?”

“You are one, aren’t you?”

He was being cheeky, Maia’s body remained stiff in his hold.

“Relax,” his lips kissed her forehead, hoping she’d melt into his touch again, he repeated his mumble, “it’s just me.”

Shawn continued to move his hands, reassuring her of his words, until she slumped against him like putty in his hands. She turned her head, letting her lips brush the soft skin above his collarbone. Maia’s eyes fluttered closed, enjoying their closeness, knowing she couldn’t have it for much longer.

“Honey,” she hummed against his skin, sending vibrations down his spine, “what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve just been clingy.”

Maia’s eyes snapped open the second he finished his remark, quickly, adjusting her legs, forcing Shawn to move out from between her thighs. She offered him a half-ass, awkward smile before hopping off the counter.

“Whoa, wha-what?” He followed her figure with his eyes, not moving, still in shock from her sudden distance, “what just happened?”

“Nothing, um, I’m heading to bed, it’s late.”

“Flower…”

“See you in the morning?”

“What about,” his eyes searched for an excuse for her to stay, “what about your hot chocolate?”

“You can have it or just dump it in the sink.”

Shawn nodded his head, a frown on that perfect face of his as he watched Maia leave the kitchen, wandering down the hall.

He just stood there, processing the demeanor change, it was completely drastic to your soft persona he adored so much. His hands found his curls tugging on them harshly like she had predicted he would at some point, just not for the same reason. Shawn hated it when she blocked herself off from him, especially when he caused it.

Maia was never one to let her emotions out, she liked to keep them bottled so no one would worry until Shawn would mumble one word and she’d be falling apart in his arms.

His hands absentmindedly found the two lukewarm mugs dumping them into his sink and placing them on the metal drainer, reminding himself to deal with it in the morning. The quiet the two of them shared, now seemed bitter practically nipping at his mind until he walked down his hallway. He found himself staring at his bedroom door.

He let the light from the hall sneak in when he entered the room, not wanting to disturb your quiet and unmoving body with the overhead fixtures. His hands found the neckline of his soft sweatshirt, pulling it from his body. The once comforting warmth was now claustrophobic against his flustered skin. Shawn wanted her cold fingertips to run along the valleys in his back, to lure him to sleep. He lightly padded his way to the bed, feeling around the duvet for the curve of Maia’s figure only to come up empty. The mattress was cold, her perfume only lingering from that morning when she crawled out. Shawn could feel his stomach drop, knowing she was upset enough to not curl into his king-sized bed for comfort.

He flopped back, not bothering to pull any blanket over him, his arm folded behind his head as he considered his choices. Knowing Maia wouldn’t fall asleep laying across the hall from him, Shawn climbed out after only minutes of staring longingly from the ceiling to the crack between his door and the frame.

He stood silently in the hall, peeking into the guest room, sure enough seeing her resting form in a lump under the wool blanket stolen from his bed. His legs had a mind of their own walking towards you until he was kneeling at the foot of the mattress. He felt the fabric sink under the new weight, and Maia’s red eyes were connected with his all too welcoming honey ones. He could barely see her face, but the city lights reflected off her cheeks, tear tracks hitting him in the gut all over again. Shawn walked around the bed until he was kneeling by her face, just like she’d seen him earlier that night.

“Shawn, what ar-” her voice was cracked, and she had sniffled when taking a breath.

“Baby,” he was basically whimpering, reaching to cup her damp cheeks, “I’m so sorry. You don’t have to tell me anything, okay? M, I shouldn’t hav-”

“Shaw-”

“No, I shouldn’t have pushed you to talk to me. I swear, I just wanted to be helpful. And you’re absolutely not clingy, I love it when you let me in, and you are so close to me. Flower, I’m so sorry, so, so sorry.”

Shawn was crying, when Maia’s hands gripped his. Pulling him into her embrace, this time, however, he let his weight crush her dainty figure.

Shawn buried his head deep in her dark hair, his lips moving next to her ear mumbling.

“Sorry, Baby,” he repeated, again and again, mixed with sweet nothings.

“Papillon, hey,” she pulled his head back, so their temples pressed together, his nose against her cheekbone, “hey, I overreacted, please calm down. It kills me to see you like this, Bub.”

He pulled back further to hold her gaze, both their teary eyes making them let out soft chuckles of relief. Shawn rolled them over, letting his Maia bury herself in his chest, breathing in his expensive cologne.

“I love you,” He littered kisses on her eyelids, before letting Maia curl up in her spot in his neck.

“Mmm,” she hummed, the goosebumps down Shawn’s spine were back, “I love you too, Papillon, so much.”

He smiled as her breathing evened out, her grip loosening but still holding his bare chest against her now sleeping body. Shawn let his hand travel across the expanse of her spine under his sweater, adorning her figure. Maia leaned into his touch, her mind not letting her overthink in its restful sleep. It was like all her inhibitions were gone when his calloused thumb stroked the curve between her shoulder blades, enjoying the softness of her tanned skin. This was Shawn’s favorite Maia. His Maia. It was rare, but when he could just hold her silently, it always sent a serene wave over his mind just being with the girl he adored, holding her.

Shawn didn’t mind that he didn’t sleep before the sun peeked through his windows, the rays sending a glow over the skin he could see from the gap between her shorts and the rolled-up knit fabric of his sweater. He didn’t mind staring at her with a soft smile because he couldn’t sleep. His jetlagged head was eight hours ahead of hers. He definitely wouldn’t mind curling up with her later when he did, finally, tire out sometime in the afternoon.

“Shawn?”

His gaze moved from where his hand grazed her skin to her now open eyes, hours after sunrise. Shawn took in the depth and warmth of her brown irises. He smiled when her cheeks crinkled as she giggled at his sheepish expression, after being caught watching her sleep.

“How long have you been up?”

“Not long,” he was lying, Maia could tell when he gazed back down at his hands, not daring to make eye contact, “how did you sleep?”

“Good. What time is it in New Zealand?”

“Like twelve or one I think, why?”

“You haven’t slept?”

“Honey, it’s fine. I’ll go to sleep early tonight, eh?”

She nodded yawning and enjoyed her view of her best friend's home. Maia’s hands found the edge of the covers, pushing them off of her, Shawn's hand slipping out from under her clothes when she adjusted. He quickly grabbed her waist, pulling her back into bed, flush against his chest when she tried to climb out.

“Where do you think you’re going, Flower?”

“Mmm, up.”

He held her tight when she went to stand again, laughing when she huffed, realizing she’d be unable to overpower his strength.

“Shawn, our day is already shortened because you’ll be collapsing in exhaustion by like two.”

“I’ll stay up for you.”

“Yeah,” she frowned from on top of him, his hands holding her down on his stomach, “you and I both know that’s not what I want, Papillon. It’s not healthy.”

“Stop your worrying, woman.”

“Stop calling me ‘woman’”

She groaned, still sitting on him, her legs on either side of his waist. His hands squeezed her legs, showing no signs of letting go at any point. Maia realized a morning cuddled into Shawn wouldn’t hurt, even if both their sleep schedules changed in the result, so she let her chest slump onto his and just enjoyed the feeling of his touch everywhere.

“Shawn?”

“Mmm?”

“How long are you home for?”

He sighed and his movements stopped for a moment before she looked up at him. Shawn smiled down at the girl in his arms before continuing to rub her back and kissed her forehead softly.

“My first show is the twenty-ninth,” he tried to ignore the pull on his heart when Maia frowned, “so, I’ll leave in a couple weeks for rehearsal and publicity.”

She nodded, wanting to say something along the line of ‘I wish you could stay’ or ‘I wish I could go with you’ but, wishes were all they’d be. So, Maia held her tongue not wanting to give Shawn any ideas or hopes that she’ll skip the rest of her school semester. She would skip the rest of the semester, she’d probably skip the rest of the year because no one, in her mindset, could say no to him.

“How long can you stay?”

“Um,” she glanced up at him, trying to see past the little stubble on his chin, resting on his chest to see his eyes, “I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”

His eyes looked down to hers in shock, the idea of her staying in Toronto with him for two weeks almost too overwhelming.

“Really?”

“I mean, yeah. I’m taking a couple classes online right now, so I’m in no rush.”

“In that case,” he tickled at her side, getting a sweet laugh in reward, “you’re stuck with me, forever.”

“Forever?”

“Baby, now that I have you, I’m not letting you leave this bed, much less my city. Or Drake’s city, whatever”

Maia giggled and settled back in his arms, smiling at the idea of being his forever, just the two of them holed up in his bed, his apartment, and this perfect little world for both of them. Her heart fell a bit, knowing he’d share that world with a different girl, eventually, that Maia wouldn’t always get the benefits of Shawn’s love once a girlfriend enters the picture. Once he finds the love of his life.

She couldn’t bear the idea, much less a reality like that. She pulled away, just slightly.

tbreak. She’d excuse her love towards the boy on multiple occasions by choosing to believe she just missed him like any best friend should. And maybe a bit more.

Shawn could read Maia like an open book, his concerned eyes watching her, searching for answers in her silence. He watched the shift in her eyes from its warm, chocolate color to a dark, sad muddied color.

“Hey, Honey,” he was still watching her reactions, “we’re taking advantage of this time, yeah? And then it’s only a month apart, and then we’ll be back in Pickering for Christmas. My parents would love to have you again, and then I can stay in Montreal with you for a while. You’re stuck with me, M. You should know that by now.”

She smiled, but that sweet light he loved hadn’t shown up again, so Shawn pulled her down onto his chest, hoping Maia would curl into him again. She’d be happy again, and that’s all he cared about.

“I love you, Flower.”

“I love you, too,” she rested her chin on his chest, the little hairs tickling her skin, to stare at him, “I’m just homesick, I think.”

“Want to go back to Pickering for a couple days, then? I was actually thinking that’d be a good trip. I’d love to see my parents and Aaliyah again.”

“No,” he looked confused with furrowed eyebrows, “I mean, yes, but I’m not homesick for Pickering. I think I’m just missing you more than usual.”

Shawn felt like jumping around and squeezing Maia, so she’d squeal in shock, but he settled for kissing the crown of her head and holding her hip that much tighter.

“I’m right here.”

She hummed, her lips pressed into his chest, feeling the thump of his heart. He was so close, acting like Maia’s favorite Shawn. Just holding her.

“Is that why you were upset? Last night?”

Maia nodded, deciding that was close enough to the feeling of her heartbreak. She’d excuse her love for the boy on multiple occasions by choosing to believe she just missed him, as any best friend should. And maybe a bit more.

“M,” Shawn waited for her eyes to lock on his, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Papillon.”

And for once he actually believed she could be his Maia. Not his best friend. Not the girl he loved since he was seventeen when he admitted his feelings, drunk. Not the Maia he adored from a distance. His Maia.

“C’mon, up we go,” she’s pulling at his hands, “it’s Sunday, so we can head to the farmer’s market. I’ll make that raspberry jam you like to put on the bagels I brought from Montreal. It’s time to explore, eh?”

Shawn’s perfect morning is ruined just like that. It’s a wave that hits him, pulling him underwater the rips too strong. He knew she wasn’t his — his Maia. He sat up letting the covers fall from his stunning physique that Maia tried to not ogle at before turning and sashaying her way into his kitchen.

This was their reality. Walking around the market, pinkies brushing each other, her eyes searching his profile covered by those stupid Tom Ford sunglasses. They couldn’t hold hands and they definitely couldn’t kiss. They just stood side by side, longing for something they feared they’d never get. Reality sucked.

flsm taglist: @oyesmendes @someinsanefangirl

permanent taglist: @wholesomemendes @fallinallincurls @ashwarren32 @mendesficsxbombay @haute-shawn @turtoix @prncsnee @http-isabela

[pancakebutton]

Teacher X Reader Part I

The Beginning

A/N: Hello, the name’s Kappy and just to clarify: I switch point of views a lot but it’s not hard to understand who’s it’s in, I do take plot line requests, (Y/n) means Your Name, (L/n) is your Last Name, (T/n) will be Teachers first name, and (T/C) will be what you refer to him as formally (so basically his last name).Thoughts and other forms of communication are in Italics. Also sorry if you don’t like sports, but I reference sports such as soccer and hockey in the story. This chapter will be short since it’s basically just an introduction, but I will update weekly. And so we begin!

Summary: it’s only been a few months since moving to Rochester, Minnesota and as senior year approaches, you are nervous about what is in store. You suddenly find yourself in a group of amazing friends and have amazing classes, but after finding out you have a lot in common with your government teacher, you realize you’ve fallen head over heels for the awestrucken man.

Warnings: Foul Language

Word Count: 1038

Genre: Romance, Slice of Life, Sexual, Series.

Pairing: Insert Teacher X Reader

Master list

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I could feel the bottom of my dress start to crawl its way back up my legs before I quickly push it back down. Working a skin-tight black short sleeved dress would not be easy as I felt handfuls of eyes analyze my outfit I had planned for days. Just as my dignity began to slip away, my best friend Morgan pushes through the sea of students and embraces me, making the fear of other opinions disappear.

“My lord (Y/n) you look hot!” She exclaims as she looks at me from head to toe and me doing the same.

“So do you! God this is gonna be our year I can feel it”.

The sound of the bell cut our conversation short and we both quickly sped-walked towards the nearby set of stairs. We exchanged schedules and as my eyes scanned through the list of teachers, my eyes caught one in particular.

“No way, you have Mr. (T/C) second period too?!” I ask excitedly.

“You do too! Ugh I am so happy I have one saving grace in this god awful hell hole!”

Realizing what time it was, we parted ways to our first classes, but agreed to try and sit by each other in the next. After a forty-minute introduction speech about my new math teacher, I was off to find room 315 on the third floor. Luckily for me, Mo was waiting for me in the back corner of the end of a hallway.

“There you are, here I found our class, let’s go find a good spot”.

We ended up sitting in the front but farthest away from the teacher’s desk.

“I wonder what he looks like, hopefully good looking” I joke, and Mo laughs along.

“Yeah totally, I’d hate to have to stare at an ugly ass old man for the rest of the year”.

After this remark, an unknown boy with tan skin, light blue eyes, and golden brown hair butted into our conversation.

“Wouldn’t want that eh doll face? Hey the name’s Allen, nice to meetcha”.

Allen then stuck out his hand for a hand shake but quickly pulled it back to comb through his hair, warning a scoff from the guy behind me.

“Don’t mind this fuck boy, he’s just looking his next fuck buddy. I’m his better friend Matt”.

This time when he stuck out his hand, I was actually able to take it and noticed how big the guy was, especially his hands.

I looked around the other that were also looking at us we didn’t know yet, “(Y/n) nice to meet you...these uh, are your other buddies I suppose?”

“Pretty name for such a doll, oh yeah this is Kaitlyn, Theo, Brock, and Beau”.

Kaitlyn had pretty long brown hair, pale skin, matching blue eyes to Matt and Allen, and a look that could kill. Theo looked like the definition of a cinnamon roll with sun kissed skin, green eyes, and wavy dirty blonde hair pushed to the side. Brock and Beau looked like they were about to kill each other, Brock was more intimidated as you could tell he was more built than Beau. Brock had a similar skin tone to Allen’s, but he had dark brown eyes, and black hair. Beau was a platinum blonde with fair skin and baby blue eyes.

The four smiled or smirked and waved while Mo and I simply returned the gesture.

“Where are you from (Y/n)? I haven’t seen you around much” Theo asked.

“Oh I moved here while ago from Maine”.

But before anyone could respond a loud but almost soothing voice boomed behind me.

“Maine eh? One of the only two states with split electoral votes giving it four in total. Does anyone know the other state?”

Mr. (T/C) was tall but not too tall, handsome but not overwhelming so, and was a big guy but you could tell he was built. Damn.

“Nebraska with five sir” a random student spoke up answering his question.

“Good. Now I didn’t catch your name Miss Maine, which city are you from?”

I pause in embarrassment, but quickly sputtered out an answer.

“Port Clyde sir, a-and it’s (Y/n)...sir”.

He chuckles while walking over to his desk.

“Well Miss Maine, it’s nice to meet you, and to all the class if your schedule doesn’t say Mr. (T/C) then you’re in the wrong place”.

A few students exchanged glances and stood up to leave. I could tell he had a super chill attitude by the way he talked and carried himself.

I leaned over to Morgan and whispered “I can tell I’m gonna have a fun year”. She quietly laughed, but before she could reply Mr. (T/C) beat her to it.

“Miss Maine, seems like this year you’ll be quite the trouble maker huh? Well I guess since you love to talk answer me this, I graduated high school in 2012. What NHL team won the Stanley Cup that year?”

Knowing it like the back of my hand, I quickly answered the question.

“The LA Kings sir.” I smirked as his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“A hockey fan? Well this must be my lucky year, a girl who actually watches hockey”.

I could tell everyone was now staring at me. Some trying to burn holes into my head, and others trying to undress me with their eyes.

“I love the Toronto Maple Leafs sir”.

I could hear Matt’s chair scoot back a tad bit but was surprised to hear him speak so loud, “The Maple Leafs suck ass! Montreal is where it’s at!”

“Language. But I’m glad to see a good rivalry here, now before things get out of hand, let’s get into the introduction”.

As I walked out of the classroom with everyone, I couldn’t stop laughing at a dirty joke Brock had just told. Mr. (T/C)‘s class was amazing, government wasn’t my best subject, but I could tell I was gonna love it. And after learning about Matt’s disdain towards my Maple babies, I knew he was just teasing and I actually felt closer to the people I had just met.

Boy was I in for a ride tomorrow.