#ii . play with the cat ‚ get scratched ‚ crack .

[kumeko]

A/N: For the Demons and Love II Zine, which was sadly cancelled! I still stand by that Yushiro was done dirty at the end, as fun as it is to play with the angst of his ending. 

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Chachamaru woke up a few hours before midnight. Not that she’d be able to tell by sound alone; in the modern world, the stars lived on the ground, the people never slept, and it was as loud now as it was at noon. Yawning, she stretched in her soft cat-bed, her back arching as she pulled all her cricks.

 The master bedroom was dark.  Softly padding across a plush carpet, Chachamaru delicately wrapped her jaws around a small, golden cord. A sharp yank and she drew the curtains back, allowing the bright streetlights to flood the room. Yushiro groaned and rolled over on the bed, covering his eyes with a hand.

For all that the world had changed, the house hadn’t. When Yushiro had finally been forced out of Tamayo’s derelict home and into a more modern house, he’d wasted no time arranging the interior of his bedroom to look identical to the one he’d left behind. It was similar enough that even Chachamaru would sometimes forget that a hundred years had passed, that Tamayo’s scent couldn’t be on the blankets.

Yet it was Yushiro on the bed, not Tamayo. When he didn’t get up, she didn’t hesitate before jumping on the blankets, stalking over to his head, and nipping his ear.

He swatted at her. When she nimbly dodged his clumsy attack, he cracked an eye open and glared. “Why do you do this every day?”

Chachamaru scrunched her nose, her lips curling slightly to reveal her fangs.

“Seriously, it’s not like I have to wake up at the same time every day.” Yushiro closed his eye again.  “I don’t even need to get up.”

She batted his cheeks, extending her claws just enough to scratch his skin. It was important to keep a schedule, after all. Even if he didn’t need to be anywhere. Especially if he didn’t have to be anywhere. From all of her research on the internet, routines were healthy.

But for all that society had changed, for all of the technology that had been developed, there was nothing to translate animal to human. Her words were just meows to him, an annoying, meaningless sound. Chachamaru stuck to physical language; Yushiro never failed to understand what her scratches and bites meant.

He was a brat, after all, and there was only one way to treat those.

“Ouuch!” He sat up, rubbing his cheek. Shooting her another glare, he rolled off the bed. “Fine, fine, I’ll go already.”

Chachamaru meowed approvingly.  Delicately, she sprang off the bed and headed to the kitchen. The house was a big one, almost the size of a mansion. With an art room, a library, a study, five bedrooms, and an entertainment room, they were ready for anything. Every door in the house had a cat flap, allowing her easy exit and entry to any of its numerous rooms. Even the art room, despite all of Yushiro’s grumbling and complaining, wasn’t off-limits.

The only problem was that the house was too big for two. Dust settled in the unused rooms, and half the house felt like a mausoleum, just waiting to be used. Still, there were few ways to guarantee privacy in the modern era and a place like this offered security through the tall fences surrounding the house.

Besides, Yushiro always needed more room for his paintings. Chachamaru sat down in the hallway, peering up at the paintings hung along the wall. Every inch of space was filled, the portraits carefully arranged on the wall to provide maximum coverage. There were dozens of Tamayos smiling down at her: young Tamayo, happy Tamayo, sad Tamayo, angry Tamayo. Each detail was impeccable, whether it was her hair or her smile or even the collar on her kimono.

Yet those weren’t the paintings Chachamaru liked to look at every morning. No, the ones she loved were the series of portraits on the demon slayers. They were earlier paintings, ones when Yushiro was still sentimental enough to paint them. On the right side of the hall were the surviving pillars, Giyuu and Sanemi, surrounded by the various girls of the butterfly estate. Her ears twitched at the memory; they’d always given her extra snacks and scratched her ears.

On the left were a wizened Inosuke and Zenitsu. Grey peppered their hair, wrinkles lining their eyes, and Zenitsu smiled wearily as Inosuke smirked haughtily. They’d both lived long lives. Chachamaru had learned to like them, though she had been grateful when the blonde’s waterworks had finally stopped.

Finally, Chachamaru looked at the middle of the hall. Directly in front of her were Tanjirou and Nezuko, looking only five years older than when they’d first met. They half-hugged as they brightly smiled. They were forever young, and forever together. When the marks had finally consumed their lives, they’d died minutes from one another. Death couldn’t keep them apart a second time. She hoped they met their family again.

“What’re you doing?” Yushiro muttered as he shuffled down the hallway. Even as he passed by the portraits, he didn’t look at them, his eyes trained instead on the Tamayo hung just above the doorway at the far end of the hallway.

Rude. She swiped the bottom of his pants, annoyed. He’d always been so rude. Chachamaru couldn’t understand sometimes why Tamayo had saved him.

Pay attention to your friends, she growled, her ears flattening as she headbutted his feet.

It was always Tamayo these days. Yushiro should be painting his other friends too, should be remembering their names and faces and stories instead of letting himself forget.

“You can get your own breakfast,” Yushiro grumbled, once again misunderstanding her attacks. As he stepped into the kitchen, he glanced at her. “It’d be quicker that way too.”

Despite his words, he pulled out a bag of blood from the fridge. After checking the date, he poured it into her bowl. “Happy now?”

Not really, but she could use the nourishment. Battles weren’t fought on an empty stomach, after all. Eagerly, she lapped up her breakfast, the blood coating her whiskers as she strained for every last drop. The people of this era were healthy in a way they hadn’t been in the past and their well-fed bodies gave their blood a fuller, richer taste. Even better, it was so much easier to steal blood now. Yushiro had enough connections to slip into hospitals, carefully selecting a few packets here and there so that no one would miss them.

Speaking of which, there should be another delivery today. Yushiro’s lecture would have to wait till after. After giving her bowl one last lick, Chachamaru headed to the front door. Delicately, she opened the flap, observing the darkness with a practiced eye. A cool summer breeze wafted in, ruffling her fur. Secure that it was truly night, she crept out of the house and onto the front step.

It was even louder out here. Her ears turned to several directions as she listened to their horseless carriages race by. The metal beasts honked and roared, their riders somehow safe inside their bellies. People walked the streets, chatting excitedly as they walked in and out of pools of light. The fence around their home wasn’t tall enough to keep out all the distractions that filled their neighbourhood. It certainly wasn’t enough to keep out the smog.

In this world, there was nothing to fear in the dark. The demons were nothing more than children’s stories, told to keep the young ones in line. The only monsters left were the human kind.

The door creaked open behind her, and Chachamaru glanced over her shoulder in surprise. Blearily, Yushiro stepped out. “It’s summer,” he murmured.

She snorted. It was about time he noticed.

“Let’s get the mail.” Ignoring her curious stare, Yushiro slowly strolled to the front gate, his hands in his pockets.

How utterly rare. Chachamaru flicked her tail back and forth, considering it. He almost never came out. It was to pick up a package, she was certain, but this was a special opportunity and she wasn’t going to waste it. Quickly, Chachamaru scampered down the steps after him, her claws clicking against the pebbled pathway in her haste.

Yushiro didn’t notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care. As she caught up, he pushed open the right gate. Unlike the front door, it slid silently on its hinges and a pool of light bathed them in its golden glow as they stepped through. Chachamaru’s nose tickled from the air; the smog was always worse near the roads thanks to those metal beasts.

If the city had been distracting from the front door, it was impossible to resist here, in the thick of it all. There were so many sights and smells—the clothing, the food, the life of it all. The city never slept and these years night sometimes felt like day. Part of her missed the countryside, the quiet of their past when everything was cleaner, simpler, smaller.

The rest of her was utterly intrigued. Where did the road turn? What was beyond the buildings? Chachamaru turned to Yushiro. Somehow, he was impervious to the charms before them, his gaze focused as he rifled through their mailbox. At his feet were two boxes: the blood sample, and whatever he was expecting.

Impatiently, she tugged on the hem of his pants, not caring if she ruined them.

“What?” he asked absentmindedly, flipping through their bills and spam.

Let’s go. She tugged again, insistent. There’s so much to see. It could even help with his paintings, if he needed an excuse.

“I already fed you.” Yushiro picked up the boxes now. “You’re not getting more.”

On another day, it would have been nice to see him finally help with the delivery, instead of Chachamaru having to carefully drag the whole box back to the house. Today, though, it was a nuisance. Irritated, she climbed up his leg, not bothering to retract her sharp claws.

“What—that hurts, you stupid cat.” Yushiro shook his leg, the boxes perched precariously in his hands. He’d never been good at repelling her and Chachamaru leapt off his chest and onto the box. Glaring up at her, he growled, “What was that for?”

Chachamaru wrinkled her nose, pulling back her lips into a sneer. Look around you.

They stood there for a long moment, snarling at one another, before Yushiro shook his head. “You only ever listened to Tamayo. Why am I doing this?”

Tamayo listened, Chachamaru huffed.

Unfortunately, Yushiro was still a moron, and he didn’t take the hint. Without so much as a glance at the street, he returned to the mansion.

It was futile, really. She couldn’t force him to be interested in the world, couldn’t force him to walk down the street or even just step out of the house. His eyes were only on his memories, only on the ghost he couldn’t let go of. Even this trip outside was just to grab new paints. Chachamaru could smell the oil and acrylic from within the box, the scent that coated Yushiro’s hands permanently. No matter how much he painted, Tamayo wouldn’t come back to life. His friends wouldn’t return to him. The world would keep moving, leaving him further and further behind.

If only someone would save him. Could save him. But they had no one else here, just each other, and Chachamaru was not enough to change him. A hundred years had taught her that much.

She glanced at the streets before he stepped inside. It’d be a long time before they could explore this world together, if ever.

The only ones he’d listen to were dead, after all.

[notkageyamasprincess]

embarrassing things about them | pt. i

karasuno

genre/warnings: well it’s pretty diddly darn clear that it’s crack but i may have slipped in a hint of fluff in a couple of ‘em

sawamura daichi

well he obviously opens doors for you like a gentleman...

...except he pushes doors that say “pull” and vice versa

once held up a line of about 5 people because he thought the door was stuck

tried to act nonchalant as if it didn’t happen once he realized his mistake

sugawara kōshi

addicted to trashy reality tv shows

the real housewives, the bachelor, love island, keeping up with the kardashians

quotes them on the daily

“KIM, THERE’S PEOPLE THAT ARE DYING”

azumane asahi

he was late to school once and showed up with a scratch on his face

“whoa what’s with that cool-looking scratch, did he get into a fight?”

he was trying to save a cat from a tree

but he had that scary look on his face whenever he’s concentrating

CAT THOUGHT HE WAS COMIN FOR ITS LIFE

mf used his face as a launchpad to get down

nishinoya yū

this man wet the bed until he was 12

his bladder? weak.

his sisters didn’t mean to let it slip out but now you’ll never let him live it down

“AY YO DIAPER BOI”

tanaka ryūnosuke

was 100% that kid who would call his teacher “mom” by accident

NOT JUST ONCE OR TWICE

happened at least once with every female teacher

ennoshita chikara

got pantsed in junior high

all his good underwear was in the wash

guess which pair he had on? his superman boxers.

so many superman jokes that year

kagayama tobio

this boy’s mispronunciations of english are on a whole other level

jalapeño? this dude says jahl-la-peh-nos. says marijuana with a hard “j” sound

pronounces patio like ratio. pronounces slaughter like laughter.

“shut up, i’m going to slaffter you” “you’re going to what?”

the name hugh. oh man. “____, why do you know someone named hug” *followed by hard exhale*

HE THOUGHT HUGH WAS PRONOUNCED LIKE HUH-GUH-HUH

“why do i need to know english anyways, i’m japanese!” >:O

hinata shōyō

when you started to date him, he would dedicate his spikes during his games to you

does a cute thing where he points to you

“____, this one’s for you!”

HE FUCKING MISSED THE SHOT AFTER

IN FRONT OF EVERYBODY AFTER HE POINTED AT YOU

kags was pissed. “HINATA BOKE”

tsukishima kei

honestly this guy has no music playing in his headphones 75% of the time

why does he wear them? he thinks they make him look cool.

also puts them on so he can avoid talking to people

yamaguchi tadashi

this one almost makes me feel bad

it was his first date with you and he was feeling nervous

he was checking his reflection in a car window, fixing his hair and making sure there was nothing stuck between his teeth

THE PERSON IN THE CAR JUST SLOWLY ROLLS THE WINDOW DOWN

BABY WAS MORTIFIED

a/n: first installment of my crack hcs series! (was thinking about including the wamen but my goddess kiyoko can do no wrong...) feel free to request a school for part 2!

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

[river-bottom-nightmare]

I am incapable of writing ANYTHING BUT ANGST. but really this is all elle’s fault, she asked for the fic, I provided. it’s under the cut, have fun with it. it’s on ao3 here.

tag list: @anothertimdrakestan @comicsandhoney @yesboopityboop @dangerduckjpeg @astroherogirl @birdy-bat-writes @thebatsandbirdsofgotham​ @subtleappreciation​

Tim had never been afraid of his mind. His ruthlessness was sharper than blade and his detective skills were keener than a bullet. He wasn’t some sort of super-genius, but he didn’t have to be. He was enough.

Sure, sometimes the wide, disbelieving eyes of his teammates made him a bit uncomfortable. But at the end of the day, he was keeping them safe, wasn’t he? Their comfort was a small price for their lives.

And now? Now he was damn grateful.  

“Cloning attempt forty-five unsuccessful. Samples discarded.” The cool voice cut through the greenish-gloom, cold and mechanical. At times, Tim wished the voice held at least an ounce of warmth. He’d take any bit he could get, and wrap it around himself like a tattered blanket, just willing it to do its job and keep him safe. Other times, Tim was glad the robotic voice was frigid, impersonal. He couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t break down at the first sign of kindness.

“Diagnostic,” Tim said, bent over a computer.

“Protein link breakdown at twenty-three hours and thirty-seven minutes. Full destruction at twenty-four hours and twenty-eight minutes.”

“Solutions?”

“Suggested stabilizer: trehalose.”

“Run it, next trial.”

“Cloning attempt forty-six initiated.”

                                                      _________

“Tim, come on! Cut me some slack!” Kon was trying to pout, but one look at Tim’s raised eyebrows caused him to double over laughing. “It’s not fair!”

“It’s totally fair. You just suck at this.” Tim was straightened up from Street Fighter II, arching his back like a pleased cat.

“You’re not supposed to use your superhero name on this,” Kon said, looking at the blinking line of text that said Robin at the top of all the scores.

Tim scoffed. “Why don’t you say that a little louder, Superboy? ” Kon’s own name was fourth, blinking a little less vibrantly.

“Whatever. I’m hungry,” Kon announced.

“Oh, so now you’re hungry? After losing for the billionth time, you finally want to get some food- hey! ” Tim let out a choked gasp as Kon grabbed him under his elbow, ruffling his head roughly.

“Perfect timing, huh?”

Tim could hear the laughter in Kon’s voice, so he elbowed Kon in the gut, roughly. “Mhmm, it really is.”

“I’m dying, Tim. Dying. You killed me.” Kon was still bent over, arm over his stomach.

Tim grabbed Kon’s other hand and laced their fingers together, thinking nothing of it, tugging to get Kon walking to the food court. “Yeah yeah, complain about it to Cassie. C’mon, I want nacho fries.”

Instead of responding with a laugh and a jibe about Tim’s taste, Kon just started coughing. And coughing and coughing and coughing before he was on the ground.

Suddenly, they weren’t in the arcade anymore. It was a field, calm and peaceful and quiet and Tim was about to throw up because he knew this field.

Kon was lying ahead, staring listlessly to the side with dead eyes.

“No, no no no no, ” Tim rushed over to him, too late, always too late. But the field kept stretching out longer and longer, and Tim couldn’t reach Kon. He made one desperate leap for him, and hit the ground hard.

There was blood all over his hands, Kon’s blood. Seeping into his skin until his fingers had turned dark crimson, spreading down to his palms, his wrists, his arms. He scrubbed at the colour desperately, trying to get it off. Itching and scratching and God why won’t the blood just go away.

Tim let out a desperate, wordless shriek, and the world tilted, turning on its axis and throwing Tim into the air. He woke up gasping, fresh tear tracks on his face.

                                                     _________

Tim was sitting in a rolling chair in front of his computer, cross-legged. His eyes were drooping, but he forced them open. He’d caught a lead in his search for Bruce, somewhere in north Chile. He’d take a week, poke around, then come back here.

Sighing, he turned his chair, back still bent in an awful crouch. There was a glass case right next to him, a black and red T-shirt displayed proudly. He had a couple, but they were all back in his room at the manor. This specific one was the softest, and his favourite. But he couldn’t bring himself to take it out of the case, bundle it up in his arms, and bring it close to himself like he so desperately wanted to. Taking it out of the case made it real.

“Cloning attempt sixty-two unsuccessful.”

Tim let out a near-uncontrollable cry, swinging his arms out wildly in a rare fit of anger. His fist flew towards the computer, and he managed to direct the hit to the wall next to it. The sting of pain brought him back to his senses, and he stared down at his hand, shocked.

Taking in a deep breath, he shook his hand out and shoved his hands through his hair, ignoring the flashing Trial Failed sign on the screen.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. He always knew that he’d lose Kon eventually. Everyone he knew, everyone he loved always left him, voluntarily or not. He didn’t know why he played a losing game.

You know why, his brain told him. You’re selfish. So, so selfish. You just a part of him for as long as he could give it. But it was never going to be enough.

“No,” Tim said aloud to the empty room. “He’s not gone, he’s not .”

“Unknown command,” the automated voice system responded.

Tim held back another fit of rage, then bit out, “Diagnostic.”

“DNA synthesis failure at forty-eight minutes. DNA structural collapse at fifty-nine minutes.”

“Solutions?”

“Retry experiment. New strand of DNA recommended.”

“Run it.”

“Cloning attempt sixty-three initiated.”

                                                     _________

“Tim, come on! Cut me some slack!” Kon was trying to pout, but one look at Tim’s raised eyebrows caused him to double over laughing. “It’s not fair!”

“It’s totally fair. You just suck at this.” Tim was straightened up from Street Fighter II, arching his back like a pleased cat.

“You’re not supposed to use your superhero name on this,” Kon said, looking at the blinking line of text that said Robin at the top of all the scores.

Tim scoffed. “Why don’t you say that a little louder, Superboy? ” Kon’s own name was fourth, blinking a little less vibrantly.

“Whatever. I’m hungry,” Kon announced.

“Oh, so now you’re hungry? After losing for the billionth time, you finally want to get some food- hey! ” Tim let out a choked gasp as Kon grabbed him under his elbow, ruffling his head roughly.

“Perfect timing, huh?”

Tim could hear the laughter in Kon’s voice, so he elbowed Kon in the gut, roughly. “Mhmm, it really is.”

“I’m dying, Tim. Dying. You killed me.” Kon was still bent over, arm over his stomach.

Tim grabbed Kon’s other hand and laced their fingers together, thinking nothing of it, tugging Kon to get him walking to the food court. “Yeah yeah, complain about it to Cassie. C’mon, I want nacho fries.”

“No,” Kon was straightening up now, shoving Tim away.

“Kon?” Tim asked, a little confused and a little hurt.

“You killed me. You killed me.” There was a venom in his voice that Tim had rarely ever heard, and never directed at him.

“I, I didn’t mean to,” Tim was stumbling back now, wide eyed, as Kon advanced on him.

“Yes you did. You know what happens to people you loved, and you loved me anyway.”

Tim shook his head desperately. “I never said I loved you.”

Kon’s laugh was humorless. “You never had to. I knew. You really thought you could hide this from me?”

Kon was backing him against a wall now, arms on either side, effectively trapping him. Tim could get out, of course he could. But he couldn’t make his feet move, no matter how hard he tried.

“Don’t, please don’t,” Tim begged when Kon leaned closer. “Kon wouldn’t, not if I didn’t want to.”

This Conner, one with a cruel, angry glint in his eyes, tipped Tim’s chin up with his finger. “Well it’s a good thing I’m not your Kon then, isn’t it?” His lips were brushing Tim’s now. “Besides, you always had a penchant for torturing yourself.”

Then Kon was devouring Tim’s mouth, and it was everything Tim had ever wanted, and everything Tim hated. Kon was possessive, passionate, biting his lips with a hunger that took Tim by surprise before licking into his mouth hungrily. His fingers were gripping Tim’s jaw, rough and firm, tilting his head to get a better angle. Tim had melted into it, letting Kon take and take and take.

It was wrong. It was all wrong.

Because Kon would have been gentle. He would have cradled Tim’s face in his fingers like he was something precious. His first kiss would have been tentative but sure, letting Tim know much he meant to him. He would have pulled back and smiled at the wonder in Tim’s eyes before ducking down to give him another soft kiss, chaste and oh-so-loving.

Kon had just drawn back to sink his teeth into Tim’s collarbone when Tim woke up with a sob, out of breath and heaving.

He fell out of bed and ran towards the main room, ignoring the flashing light that noted the progress of the latest cloning attempt. He kept running and running until he reached the glass case, where he brought his fist back and slammed it into the glass as hard as he could.

It didn’t even crack. Of course it didn’t, it was reinforced. Tim threw another couple of punches, before spotting a spare piece of piping lying on the ground. He grabbed it and swung, with every mite of strength left in his body, and crashed it into the case.

The glass splintered. He hit it again and again, until shards rained down around Tim, leaving small cuts in his wake. He grabbed the T-shirt, yanking it out of its stand and bringing it close to him, hugging it the way he’d wanted to for so long.

Tim bent over the ground, letting his tears seep into the fabric.

He wanted everyone back. His parents, Steph, Bart, Bruce, Kon. He wanted them all back.

“I’m close,” he mumbled, voice muffled by the T-shirt. “I swear it, I’m close.” He didn’t know if he was talking about finding Bruce or cloning something close enough to Kon. One of them would happen, and it would be enough. He’d stop losing at this rigged puzzle that was his life, he’d stop trying to play this losing game, and it would be enough.

                                                     _________

“Cloning attempt eighty-nine unsuccessful.”

Tim was wearing the Superboy T-shirt. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten out of it. His fingers played along the hem, twitching. His attention darted around from one screen to the next, taking in a map of Norway one second, and reading over the cloning file in the next.

“Diagnosis?” He prided himself on how steady his voice sounded.

“Proteins from Subject: Lex Luthor failed to fully integrate into Subject: Clark Kent, Kal-el. Possible problem: invulnerability of kryptonian genes.”

“Solution?”

“Kryptonite injections suggested.”

“Do it. Run it.”

Tim’s own voice had become as robotic as the computers. It was hoarse, raspy. He’d forgotten the last time he’d truly spoken, barring instructions to the computer and the cries torn from his throat in the middle of a night. Concerned messages from Dick sat unread on his phone.

“Just, run it again. Run it again, try again.”

“Cloning attempt ninety initiated.”

                                                     _________

“Tim, come on! Cut me some slack!” Kon was trying to pout, but one look at Tim’s raised eyebrows caused him to double over laughing. “It’s not fair!”

“It’s totally fair. You just suck at this.” Tim was straightened up from Street Fighter II, arching his back like a pleased cat.

“You’re not supposed to use your superhero name on this,” Kon said, looking at the blinking line of text that said Robin at the top of all the scores.

Tim scoffed. “Why don’t you say that a little louder, Superboy? ” Kon’s own name was fourth, blinking a little less vibrantly.

“Whatever. I’m hungry,” Kon announced.

“Oh, so now you’re hungry? After losing for the billionth time, you finally want to get some food- hey! ” Tim let out a choked gasp as Kon grabbed him under his elbow, ruffling his head roughly.

“Perfect timing, huh?”

Tim could hear the laughter in Kon’s voice, so he elbowed Kon in the gut, roughly. “Mhmm, it really is.”

“I’m dying, Tim. Dying. You killed me.” Kon was still bent over, arm over his stomach.

Tim grabbed Kon’s other hand and laced their fingers together, thinking nothing of it, tugging to get Kon walking to the food court. “Yeah yeah, complain about it to Cassie. C’mon, I want nacho fries.”

“Wait,” Kon’s fingers tightened around his own.

“What?”

“You don’t need food right now, do you?” Kon tugged him towards a corner, partially hidden by a column and an arcade game.

“I sure would like some,” Tim raised his eyebrows.

In response, Kon let out a chuckle, small but warm, the edges of his eyes crinkling in the way that made people fawn over Superman but made Tim fall even further and further in love with Kon.

“Well yes I know that, but I was just wondering...”

“Wondering what?”

Kon bit his lips before catching Tim’s eyes. “Maybe you’d like to taste something else?”

Tim stared at him for a second, stunned silence between them, before collapsing into laughter. “ Kon, oh my god!”

Tim looked up to see lips turned out in an adorable little pout. “What! I’m being serious, and it was a good line.”

“It most certainly was not a good line.”

“Cut me some slack here, Tim.”

“You mean like at Street Fighter? The way I cut you slack then?”

“Oh shut up. You cheat. I don’t know how you do, but you cheat .”

And suddenly Tim found himself in Kon’s arms, leaning into the taller boy. Kon tightened his grip around Tim, fingers finding Tim’s waist, and cradling him gently.

“It may have been a terrible line,” Tim smiled up at Kon, “but it worked.”

He leaned forward, placing a kiss to Kon’s lips, delicate but not at all fragile. Kon looked awestruck for a minute, before swooping back down and capturing Tim’s lips again. Passive at first, Tim soon pressed back, letting the push-pull rhythm come naturally. They slowed down, came to a stop while resting their foreheads against each other, Kon bent over and Tim on his tip-toes and arched back, but not uncomfortable at all.

“Okay but did my line actually work?” Kon asked against Tim’s lips, biting his own nervously. “Can I do this again? Because I’d really like to do this again.”

Laughter bubbled out of Tim, easy as breathing, and he pulled back to catch the other boy’s eyes. “Yes. We can do this again. But nacho fries first. Food, then kisses.”

Kon nodded. “Food, then kisses.”

Tim blinked awake, still curled up under the thin covers and swallowed by the pillows. This time, he could feel the tears pricking at his eyes, and he let them fall. “Take me back,” he wasn't sure if he said that aloud, but then again, there was no one there to hear it. “I want to go back.”

He squeezed his eyes shut in vain, trying to will himself back to sleep. Then, he remembered the little bottle sitting in the bathroom, sleeping pills Dick had given him once that he refused to use. He threw the covers back and found the thing resting on the sink. He tore it open and shook one, two, three, four pills into his hands. Tipping his head back, he swallowed them dry, then stumbled back into bed.

“The arcade,” he said to himself, burying his limbs under that T-shirt that still somehow smelled like Kon. “We were at the arcade.”

                                                     _________

“Cloning attempt ninety-seven unsuccessful.”

“Diagnostic.”

“Protein failure in link-”

“You know what? No. Forget it. I don’t want to know. Just run it again.”

“Suggested solution-”

“I don’t care! I don’t care, just try. Again.”

“Cloning attempt ninety-eight initiated.”

[vanillann]

flashback iii (spencer reid x f.reader)

warning: swearing, mentions of crime, and slow burn

flashback masterlist

2004

“I don’t think faking as a prostitute is the best idea, Pen.”

Penelope tugged the dress farther down my legs. She looked up at me, her heavy eye makeup was smeared from rubbing her eyes.

“Trust me (Y/N), that man is horrible and the file we need is only in a hard copy form.”

She stood up, placing a hand in both my shoulders.

“You are going to be fine, I’m going to be watching from the cameras he has,” Pen ran her hands down the mesh sleeves of the dress.

“I don’t have the confidence for this,” I watched my hands play with the end of the mesh, the tip of my heel running over the hardwood floor.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be safe after this.”

“Safe?”

Penelope simply nodded her head as she picked up the fake fur coat and placed it around my shoulders

2014

My hand grabbed the door handle as soon as we parked at the station.

Spencer yelled for me to wait up but I made no more progress. I ran into the cold room of the police station.

Penelope was seen ranting to Morgan. before she looked back at the laptop on the table in front of her.

The glass door was pushed open, Penelope quickly looked up from the laptop.

Her eyes were wide and the pen she held between her teeth was falling to the floor.

“So much for safety,” I spoke quickly, out of breath from the run and the heat outside.

“We need to talk to the team.”

Morgan looked between the two, waving over the rest of the team that stood on the other side of the glass wall.

As soon as he gave the okay, Spencer ran through the door. He rushed over to stand beside me, trying to make eye contact with me.

“What is going on (Y/N), please tell me.”

It was a faint whisper but the way his voice cracked, I felt like my heart was going to irrupt.

“Penelope and I used to be friends with this Shane guy.”

Penelope laughed, playing with one of her many rings.

“Friends?”

“You dated him?”

Spencer looked at me with bewildered eyes, a faint blush across his cheeks.

“God no, he’s my step brother.”

Spencer nodded his head, finally looking over the rest of the team who had taken a seat.

Blake patted the seat beside her, a sweet smile on her face as Spencer took the seat.

“Wait, is your step-brother the hacker at Star Chambers we are looking for?” Rossi looked at me, his mouth hung open.

“It’s kinda funny,” Penelope spoke, holding in the small giggle.

“Oh hush, you almost married him.”

Suddenly Morgan gasped, looking over at the colorful blonde.

“Oh I’m so hacking into your 8-ball pool later.”

Derek grabbed her upper arm, making her turn to look at him.

“Baby girl. what’s going on?”

Penelope turned back, giving me pleading eyes. I nodded my head while I grabbed the laptop from her, pulling up a picture of Shane.

“Shane is the only one that would know Pen's password and know that Russell would get to me.”

“Why does Russell get to you?”

Rossi looked up from the papers in front of him, his eyebrows knitted together.

“I was undercover for files when the FBI found him, I was dressed as a prostitute. When they barged in Russell held a knife to me and gave me a nasty scar.”

I ran over the story quickly in my head, not letting myself sit on the details long.

The flash of the knife and the dress flashed through my brain, the memories of hearing the door bust down.

“How do we find Shane?”

Spencer's voice broke me from the flashbacks, him passing me a quick wink before looking over at Pen.

I simply smiled back, listening to Pen while I played with the end of my blazer.

“Sam Russell is the only person that’s in contact with him, maybe he would know more,” Pen looked up at me, grabbing my hand.

The cold rings on her fingers bought back some comfort.

“I guess we are going back,” I walked to the glass door, pushing it open with my hips.

“Reid and (L/N). stay here.”

Hotch didn’t wait for me to protest, everyone quickly leaving the glass room to get in the SUV’s.

“It’s probably better that you don’t go.”

I turned to see Spencer sat in the same seat as before, his hands laid out across the table in front of him.

“I know.”

I walked over and sat in the chair Blake once sat in. Spencer turned to look at me easier, his hands falling into his lap.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I looked up, the face he made when he found the note from Gideon was the same one he was giving me now.

“It’s just a nasty scar and new bad nightmares.”

Spencer only furrowed his brow, tapping in his pant leg.

“June 12th at 3:45am, you called me crying about the sound coming from your closet.”

I rolled my eyes, remembering my neighbors cat sitting under a pile of clothes making scratching noises.

“October 4th at 8:23pm, you were leaving the office when you heard me come behind you and you pulled a gun on me.”

“I said I was-“

“I’m not mad, I’m worried,” Spencer shocked his head, his hair flying out in different directions.

“Don’t be worried about me.”

I stood up walking over to the crime board, the old case files laying everywhere.

“I’ll always worry about you.”

The fireworks in my stomach were going off like 4th of July, stupid crush.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you?”

Spencer stood up, leaning beside me while I looked at the same crime scene I looked at.

“On New Year’s Eve 7 years ago, you told me while you were drunk that I’m responsible for your resolutions, one being that you’d let me in.”

I felt my face heat up, looking back over at the crime scene photo, the idea of Spencer seeing me as more flashed my brain for a second.

Not another word was spoken as Spencer and I looked over the crime scene photos again.

After looking over the 3rd victim, my phone rang with the special ringtone Pen set just for herself.

“What’s up?”

“It’s time to bring back The Dark Queen and The Pure Empress.”

I rolled my eyes, looking over at Spencer. I came to Pen okay and hung up the call.

“Can I borrow a sweater by any chance?”

part ii part iv

flashback tag list:

@summer-writes @snitchthewitch @mortallythoughtfulgurl @l0ve-0f-my-life @101donuts @eldahae @hot-mess-express99 @itlittlefangirl @mollygetssherlockcoffee @afuckingshituniverse @siwiecola









[sumeshi-t]

hinata shoyou x reader | hanahaki x reincarnation au; a chaotic mix of fluff, crack, and angst.

song: lifetime by ben&ben

a/n: a three-part fic because i didn’t want it to get too long in one post. this is my first time working on an au and hinata so i hope i did him justice. beta-ed by @taeiliee ​ iloveyou mom always <3

i. 》 ii. 》 iii.

*:･ﾟ✧ "Tangled with another's eyes–nevermind, you were never mine," ✧･ﾟ: *

Your fingers drummed against the table, eyes intent on the ginger sat before you. “So, what do you say?”

He looks away, avoiding your gaze, fidgeting in his seat. Hinata Shoyou wasn’t sure why he was feeling nervous under your gaze, especially when you were the one basically asking him for a favor, “B-But, why should we date? I know I wasn’t… meant to see that, and I swear, y/n-san, I would never tell Kenma! We can just end it at… that,”

When you don't respond, Hinata decides to raise his eyes to look at you—your face looks solemn, and somehow… something about it, something about you just draws him in. This time, you were the one staring outside the glass wall of the antique cafe. His heartbeat quickened, breath getting caught in his throat—

‘...beautiful,’ was the only word he could find to describe that moment, even if your eyes had a faraway look in them. Hinata knew your true wish was that this never had happened, and that you were talking to Kenma instead.

If only he never went back to the restroom.

You tried not to heave a sigh at your impulsive and brash decision, and at his innocent question. But what can you do when your life's on the line? Ten years left in your life may seem like a long time but, “It’s not enough. Please, Hinata-san.”

You had the sudden urge to cough, and, upon doing so, Hinata could only watch as your pale hands covered your mouth, and the sound of coins dropping to the floor entered his ears. There was a bit of blood that ran down your nose, and he immediately reached for a table napkin. More than guilt, it was worry that bubbled from his chest. 

Even if you had explained it—this sickness—that you had, he still found it ridiculous.

You saw nothing but the disbelief in his eyes, desperate to get a grasp at this uncanny reality.

You saw yourself in them, in his constricted pupils and lids widened—reminded of the first time you discovered that you were sick with a rare disease you thought only exists in fiction.

The Hanahaki Disease, a disease acquired from garnering an unrequited love, was something that no medical doctor could cure nor control—anthosectomy, the surgical removal of flowers, was nothing but a temporary solution.

One must be loved in return to be free from it. 

Apparently in your case, the disease has “mutated”. That instead of flowers or petals blooming from your lungs, money would begin to collect in them, beginning from coins and eventually into large bills as it grew worse over time.

You only discovered this fact just two, about three weeks ago, during breakfast, after a lone coin dropped into your cup of coffee, mocking you as it floated; the aftertaste of iron and aluminum on your tongue. 

“Our family inheritance… came from their chest—even your mother’s.” your father muttered regrettably, with a hint of disgust, back turned to you in the study. 

“I didn’t expect for you to catch the disease this early, and you’re doing so well with your current business projects,” he heaves a sigh, fingers grazing through the spines of the books, before pulling a velvet-covered hardcover, worn out from time.

“How long… has this been going on, dad? Is this some sick family tradition?! So… does this mean…?” you couldn’t even say the words—you haven’t even confessed and yet, having this disease only meant that Kozume Kenma didn’t feel the same way you did.

Finally, your father sits before you, sliding the title-less book towards you. He explains further that you read its contents—the ancestral diary—about the history and the findings made by your predecessors.

He calls for your name softly when your wide eyes never left the book in your hands. He looks over you sympathetically, “I thought that by hiding this from you, I was protecting you from harm.” Your father’s eyes squinted, wanting to reach out to you but his conscience telling him he failed you as a parent was stronger.

“But y/n, don’t give up… don’t be like them, like me,” your father says this with blood dripping from the corner of his lips, before clutching his chest, spitting bills of varying amounts out his mouth. 

“I never thought ten years would pass by so quickly,”

You look at him, mortified at his pallid face, standing up in worry, going to his side. “Who…?”

With a weak smile on his lips, your father utters your mother’s name, voice just above a whisper, tender and soft at hearing her name come from his own lips.

“And I don’t regret it. Loving her is the best decision I’ve made, even if she didn’t want it.”

You spent the next week with him, until he breathed his last, inevitably leaving you to face this battle of love and pain on your own.

As if everybody’s expectations from you weren’t high enough already, now that you were alone, it skyrocketed through the roof. Even as you knelt before the portrait of your father, refusing to talk to anyone on the first day of his wake.

You heard their whispers, you knew their motives—nobody really cared about the life of a rich man, they only cared about the man’s riches. You shut down any and all talks about businesses to potential or lifelong business partners; the least they could do was respect you and let you mourn.

On the third and last night of the wake, someone unexpected came to pay his respects.

“Kenma…?”

“Hello, y/n. I…” he looks away shyly, a few strands of hair falling to cover a portion of his face. “I’m sorry,” he finally managed to squeak out. His hand reached out to you, holding a tiny plastic bag filled with your favorite snacks, all over a black-white envelope.

Seeing Kozume Kenma in a formal suit, bun loosely tied by his nape, awkwardly scratching his cheek; you could feel the ice in your heart being slowly thawed by the scene before you. You would’ve finally smiled; you would’ve pulled him in just so you could cry out into his chest.

But you felt suffocated, and the slap of this impossible reality you couldn’t dodge stung against your bare and open heart, pulling you back and keeping you rooted in your place.

You knew his apologies were meant for condolences—but your father wasn’t the only one who died. You mourned for your own demise, wishing you could bury these hidden feelings along with his ashes and leave everything behind to start anew.

But secrets turn into regrets, and buried feelings would only grow.

Your fingers brushed against his skin as you took the plastic bag in your hands, the sensation sending sparks to your nerves. You didn’t hear yourself mutter your gratitude, only the sound of Kenma’s soft gasp. The back of his hand wiped the tear stains off your cheek, “How long have you been holding back, y/n?”

‘A long time, Kenma,’ you wished to answer, but you knew you or your words didn’t matter to him as much as you’d have liked to. Even through the tears that blurred your vision, the love in your eyes for him was clear.

Kenma awkwardly pulled you close, a hand behind your head to press your face against his chest, while his other arm remained by his side. His actions strongly reflected how he felt nothing more for you than just a friend and a board director—he didn’t even choose to hug you.

But the unheard truth didn’t stop you.

Behind the lids of your eyes, you saw little moments of joy you had shared with Kenma—maybe it all began with an inevitable meeting in your office, unlike the usual video conferences he would attend. Working with someone your age with the same prospects and visions was rare for you in the world of business—you mused, this feeling was mutual.

Then the meetings became less about business, and more for just the heck of it.

You daydreamed about him, seeing his smile from the corner of your eyes when you were alone. His intelligence was a given, so maybe it was his soft-spoken, honest nature; or the way he was athletic even if he stayed in his house majority of the time.

That was the tip of the iceberg.

Because really, it was more of feeling so at peace when you were with him. You couldn’t hold back being yourself when you were with Kozume Kenma because despite hiding behind several secret doors you’ve put up all your life, the scrutiny of his sharp, cat-like eyes opened each of them, finding you over and over.

You didn’t want to lose that sense of familiarity. So, you chose to ignore the signs that you were indeed falling for him. And by doing so, your life was now reduced to a mere ten more years, caught at crossroads, burdened with making the decision between continuing your family’s horrible legacy or carving out your own place in his heart and have him learn to love you.

The words of your father echoed in your head.

And it bounced off your lips, “Kenma… please stay, just a bit longer,”

“Kenma, are you he—oh?”

Hinata Shoyou peeks from behind the corner, checking if he didn’t get lost in your family’s large home. His presence made you shy away from Kenma, clearing your throat before the ginger-haired man was introduced to you.

He offered you the brightest smile you’ve ever seen, fitting for the shade of his hair and contrasting the dark hues of his clothes. “Kenma and I go way back, he actually sponsors me!” his cheeks were dusted pink, both embarrassed and excited. “Now I play for a team in Division 1,”

‘Ah, he’s that kind of person,’ was your initial thought. Hinata Shoyou seemed so easy to read, pure and unadulterated intentions out in the open for everyone to see. What’s fascinating was that he makes it seem so easy to not let that be a vulnerability.

Spending a few hours with someone whose energy was bigger than him—cliché as it sounds, but it was akin to standing beneath the rays of the sun. Hinata Shoyou radiates warmth upon your frozen heart, even if for just a moment.

It was a different kind of peace. And you looked forward to seeing more of his large smiles.

Just… not this soon.

Maybe it was fate playing tricks on you. The timing was quite impeccable.

Kenma went ahead first, Hinata had to go to the restroom. Soon as you stood up to see him out, you cough, coins falling to the floor. One of them finds its way towards Hinata, rolling and stopping when it hits his foot.

“Oh? Lucky!” he picks it up, hears more coins hitting the floor that he has to look for the source. Hinata sees your back hunched over, money around your feet. As he was approaching you, he said sheepishly, “y/n-san, is this yours? I was about to take it—!”

“y-y/n…y/n-san… are you… okay?”

Hinata flinched as you glared at him, voice seething, words through gritted teeth. “Don’t you dare tell Kenma.”

Hinata nods once, pocketing the coin he had in his hand on instinct, before scurrying away.

You let the incident pass, as you had the cremation and burial to worry about in the meantime. But a few days after, all it takes you is a phone call to Kenma and a few texts to Hinata—which leads you to the present wherein you and the athlete agree to meet at a café.

“Now that you know, here’s the deal I’m offering you, Hinata-san. I’ll sponsor you in exchange for your silence. And…” you take a sip from your coffee, watching him from over the rim of the cup. Hinata was uneasy, confused, and shocked at the illness you had. It was as if he were in a volleyball game, forced to take in so many things at once.

“Hinata-san, go out with me. Let’s date. What do you say?”

“E-Eh…?! B-But, why should we date? I know I wasn’t… meant to see that, and I swear, y/n-san, I would never tell Kenma! We can just end it at… that,”

“It’s not enough. Please, Hinata-san.”

Hinata stood quickly, contemplating just how he was going to help. He has to bite the cheeks of his mouth, looking over you with worry as hundred and five hundred yen coins spilled from you. You felt his hands slightly shaking when he gave you the table napkin, and in return you motion for him to take a drink so he could calm down.

“Sorry about that—so, do you agree to be my boyfriend? If you need time to think of a response, I can give you two days, because I have to go in a few minutes,” you say this, looking at your wristwatch while slowly gathering your things.

“y/n-san,” Hinata began, still standing by your side, looking down to meet your gaze. “I… I agree. Because I want to help you in any way I can, just to give back, with how generous you are and… because you don’t deserve this. But why does it have to be me?”

His words struck something within you, but then your own sorrows blocked him out. “Your timing was just perfectly terrible. I’m sorry for dragging you into my problems, Hinata-san.”

Hinata felt his pulse quicken at how you looked up at him from beneath your lashes. His unease somehow was replaced by something. But your next words broke his trance, “There is only one condition that you have to follow,”

With a smile that never reached your eyes, Hinata feels his own heart break at how you were like a broken porcelain doll, red lips moving so easily to convey words, convey the one law you’ve forced him to follow and would eventually break—

“Never fall in love with me.”

cheese cult: @akaashichigo @drainedjaz @haikkeiji @annalyn-annalyn @sosugasweet @cali-writes-sometimes @simping4ratsumu @shishinoya @ushiwakaa @akaashit-baeji @kxgeyamasmilk @agaassi ​ @hanibuni ​ @cupofkenma ​ @kawanisshi ​ @milkandc00kiez ​ @thiccbokuto ​ @shinsukestan ​ @sufiawrites ​ @wakaitoshi ​ @skyguy-peach ​ @fern-writes-ig ​ @briswriting ​ @kawaiikraykray ​ @bubbleteaa ​ @miyuswriting ​ @raevaioli ​ @ouikarwa ​ @hakueishirei ​ @pineapplekween ​ @estherwritess ​ @keiji-n ​ @achoohq ​ @badlywritten-hq ​ @mochibeaa @oinkanna ​ @chxrry-wxne ​ @spudicide ​ @airybby ​ @asranomical ​ @karmasuna ​ @nekoglasses ​

gen. taglist: @yams046 ​ 

[maviemesregles]

Once I was an Eagle

Part II has landed, my friends. I hope you enjoy it. :)

NSFW under the cut.

As always I’ll never get tired to say the words of appreciation to my beta @eclecticstarlightconnoisseur​ <3 

Thanks for sticking with this story, guys.  ♥

All the chapters can be found on AO3 as well.

Chapter I: The beginnings

Chapter II: Sassenach

Chapter III: Catharsis

Chapter IV: Lovestruck. Part I

                              CHAPTER V: Lovestruck. Part II

Jamie ran feeling his leg muscles burn with the effort. Endlessly long, his feet stumbling over the dry branches cracking under his feet startling forest’s inhabitants that seem not to care of his attempt to escape. They know there is no way out. He feels the slap of wet leaves on his face and scratches all over his skin. An aching hollow space inside his chest is growing bigger and bigger. Ultimately, Jamie knows his heart will be ripped out at the end. The sweat dripped down his face forming salty paths. Jamie wants to scream that it stops. He wants to fall down and beg for mercy. But something behind pushes him back further and further into the darkness. His own mother’s voice whispering “Ye didna try hard enough.” 

In the end, the darkness has won. Once again he succumbs to its cold clutches.

* * *

The crisp, fresh Highland air always brings him back on track. Jamie thinks it is one of the main reasons why he feels much better when he’s in the wilderness, especially since his Mam has passed away. He enjoys the freezing early morning air, giving his skin goosebumps and his mind to think straight once again.

He shivers at the swoosh of cold wind. His toes slowly developing a bluish tinge standing on a chilly stone patio. The skies are pink aquarelle with white fluffy marshmallow clouds passing by. Jamie can hear the birds taking charge of the morning chirping away in the garden in front of him. He thinks Claire would love the view. Claire.

Jamie tiptoes back inside closing the doors behind him back facing the wall. Even if he wanted to wake her to catch the beauty of early rising he could not do it. Jamie has learned by now that Claire was a relatively light sleeper. Not by her nature but rather her professional duties. She always slept with her iPhone kept near at hand always, heard each and every message and call. Sometimes Jamie wanted to throw that technical invention through the window and see it break into small pieces. It was his only chance to see her peaceful. Her face always seemed to be concentrating, as if she was not truly asleep. But now that little crease between her eyebrows seemed to be gone.

Claire usually slept like a child with her knees brought up close to her body and wrapped up into a blanket cocoon-like, now was sprawled on her back. The mass of curls exploded into the waves all over the pillow. Like a crown, he thought. One of her breasts peeked from under the quilt, her veins cast a bluish trail over her pale skin all the way down the soft hip pressed to the mattress in its relaxed shape. Jamie was sure he knew each and one of those blue paths under her skin and could trace the map of them on her body with his eyes closed. The morning sun travelled through the thin curtains running its warm rays over Claire’s skin. There was something that came to his mind so sudden that the realisation almost knocked him down. 

Sorcha. 

She was his remedy from that darkness he was running from. That light he longed for so badly but could never find.

When Jamie slid under the blankets next to her she stirred just a bit but did not wake.

He could try to speak to her in English, Gaelic, French; he would even learn any other language just trying to explain what he felt. But it still would not be enough. He was falling in love. Falling in love gave him the same tickling sensation inside his belly and made him breathless as when he rode the roller coaster for the first time at the age of ten.

* * *

Half awake and drowsy I thought that my cat decided to crawl under the quilt in an attempt to beg for his morning feeding. My eyes snapped open when reality kicked in. I viewed a glorious pink sky surrounding the high mountains I saw yesterday through the window of the cottage. The sun crept along the wall, drawing knitted lines of light there. I watched the sunny glimpse run away (creation of the curtains dancing in the wind). It climbed up on the bed all the way up burying itself inside Jamie’s red hair that shone like Amber. His head found its residence in the valley between the milky white of my legs. Jamie’s lips softly touched a spot on the inner side of my thigh where three birthmarks gathered together. 

“Ye ken ye have a witch mark here?” His thumb circled dark dots upon my skin.

Something that vaguely sounded like “mmmm” escaped my mouth. All of a sudden I forgot how to breathe. 

“Now I ken about them too.” 

The rest of the blanket was pushed aside falling to the floor with a soft whisper. It was the competing temperatures, the cool air of the room playing against my hot skin, that raised goosebumps all over me.

I tried to tell him that I am not a witch though (as if they really existed and he was going to execute me). But the words remained stuck inside my throat only letting out a moan when the velvet of Jamie’s tongue descended lower. In mere seconds, my legs began to tremble, hips instinctively rising up with want. But Jamie’s hand laid atop my stomach keeping me pinned on the mattress. A shuddering sigh left my seized lungs as Jamie flicked his tongue once, twice and then his lips closed over the sensitive flesh sucking.

The ceiling started to spin above and I closed my eyes, surrendering to the only existing thing in the world that moment - Jamie. His exploration up and down, from left to right, circling and suckling did not last long before the daylight has disappeared from the view and my cry echoed in the room.

As the real world returned and I regained my senses, I felt my breathing slowly return from short gasping breaths. Jamie's blue eyes settled on me excitedly remarking, "We have a great day ahead of us."

Jamie indeed had plans. It was hiking in fact (“it’s a must in Highlands, ye canna not do it”). Mentally I kicked myself for stopping jogging in the mornings. How big is the chance that I’m not going to be out of breath ten minutes into our nature exploration? The yoga classes where I went with Geillis was also abandoned after several weeks. “I stand enough on my feet in the surgery” I reasoned with myself (and Geillis who made a remark about having “trained arse”).

With perfectly ripe avocados on toast and cherry tomatoes for breakfast (with occasional kisses in between, Jamie tasting sweetly of orange juice and I of strong coffee) we made it outdoors.

The Highlands was dressed in autumn. The leaves were toned in shades of orange, red, and gold causing the scenery to look as if someone had spilled paint down them. Other sepia coloured leaves fell down, whispering their goodbyes to the last warm days. They rustled softly as they dropped from dry branches bidding their farewells. I remembered as a child I liked collecting star-shaped maple leaves, creating a bouquet of reddish-brown remnants of summer. I used to put them between the pages of my Dad’s books in his office. Usually, he would find them days later and smile at me. Together we would take them out and stick into the notebook I had. We did that each autumn until my blue notebook was left behind. As well as the life of my parents when uncle Lamb turned the keys to close the door of our London house. That way he locked away my childhood forever.

Jamie was a walking book of legends and stories. Since we left the cottage he was telling me all kinds of things I’ve never even heard about. He made a remark that I should be ashamed I live in Scotland and only heard about the Loch Ness Monster. 

“Have ye ever heard about Kelpies?”

“No, I haven’t,” I shook my head clinging to Jamie’s forearm for support when we passed a muddy puddle.

“Kelpies were said to take the form of a horse. They could also take a human form. They would use their beauty to lure people to climbing upon them before being taking them into the water, not to be seen again.”

“Charming.” I grimaced.

“Dinna fash, I willna let them take ye.” Jamie laughed grabbing me by the waist before I was trapped under his lips.

The cool mid-autumn air slightly burned inside of my throat when I inhaled too deeply. Not being used to such fresh, crisp sensation I coughed feeling my eyes water. Jamie who walked next to me, kicking the leaves with his shoes, squeezed my hand softly.

“Yer okay, mo nighean donn?”

I liked the sound of the Gaelic he spoke sometimes. His ability to fluidly incorporate it into his speech when he spoke to me made me long to hear it even more. Made me long for him. There was something about the way he sounded. The soft lilt of his voice, the deepness of his accent with a trace of huskiness that poisoned my blood with curiosity and mystery. I was dying to know what he was saying but also wished it to remain a secret. But I could not resist.

“Jamie, what you just said, what does it mean?”

Jamie stopped turning me to face him. His warm breath travelled upon my skin as his forehead leaned to meet mine. He smiled lips curling into a soft shape.

“It means my brown-haired lass.”

“Rather a dull colour I always thought,” I whispered, the pink blooming in my cheeks.

His lips brushed mine. Hands tangling around his neck, I kissed back, fingers running along with the soft curls on his nape.

“No,” Jamie’s finger gently touched a stray curl on my cheek. “No, not dull at all. It’s like the water in a burn, the way it ruffles down the rocks. Dark in the wavy spots with wee bits of auburn when the sun touches it.”

I knew this wasn’t just a crush on him. I was well and truly smitten. There was such a serenity when he was around that I could not imagine how should I carry on if he suddenly disappeared. My heart was swelling with my feelings growing with something that one day I could name as love. And I was unquestionably petrified but with him, there was nothing I could be afraid of.

Every time he looked at me like that, the world seemed to stop.When he kissed me, I felt breathless as if all the air from my lungs. His presence, his being was stretching throughout my whole body wrapping around my heart and cradling my soul between his hands. How could I not be falling in love with this man?

 Jamie softly kissed her temple when she closed her eyes. His heart leapt as he held her like that. They stood there in the middle of nowhere, with the mountain rising above them, golden leaves falling down. They were spiralling all the way to the ground as the signs of a bright future life holds for them. The way Claire’s body melted into his, her chin rested at the crook of his neck, Jamie’s hands holding her waist tightly. It was more intimate than anything else they’d done already.

“Claire, about what ye said yesterday,” He spoke quietly into her hair. “Do ye really feel that way?”

Her words echoed in his fevered mind. ‘I fancy you. Very much.’

She nodded.

A romantic inside Jamie wanted to tell her that he loved her from the first moment Claire’s solid head bumped into him but he nodded back tightening his grip on her.

The mountains rose high into the blue. We passed fields with yellowish grass, still wet with morning dew making our shoes damp; It was a glorious expanse of dried grass softly rustling in the wind bending over where we walked creating a pathway.

When my fingers became cold and numb from the freezing Highlands wind Jamie untangled our hands to share the pocket of his jacket with me. We ate a tuna sandwich and vinegar crisps on the wooden bench that stood in the valley near an abandoned cabin. Jamie spilled half of our coffee from the tumbler he prepared. I stifled a need to laugh at him, my thumb gently sweeping away sandwich crumbs from his lower lip. My lips chapped from the wind but Jamie’s touch soothed the burning sensation.

“Ye ken that Loch Lomond,” Jamie pointed to the left where in the distance a great lake stretched out. “Is the largest water lake in British Isles?”

“It surely looks like it,” I smiled looking at the dark water on the horizon. “How do you know so much?”

Jamie chuckled speeding up in front of me to let me pass in safety then, with the help of his steady hand.

“I grew up in the countryside, Sassenach. That’s where I belong. That’s what I love. A Scot must know his history.”

“You know, you would be one of those Highlander warriors in the past for sure.” Laughing, I pinched his biceps.

When we reached the blanket of trees at the base of the mountain, the sun started to go down in the horizon. The sky almost vanished in the forest leaving us with small glimpses of the blue coming through the thickness of pines above us. We took at least a hundred awful selfies during our four-hour hike. I spied a flower that bloomed in all possible shades of purple. Crouching down, I took a picture of it so I could look it up later.

I heard the leaves rustling under Jamie’s feet when he appeared next to me holding out his phone.

“I, er… I... I need to take a pish,” Jamie announced shyly. “Dinna want to drop it down the rocks”

“Smart.” I chuckled hiding his iPhone into the depths of my jeans pocket. 

The mist started to gather around covering the ground with a smoky quilt. I inhaled fresh air perfumed with the rich fragrances of the trees and plants. It was filled with a promise of coming rain clouds ready to burst any moment. I mentally estimated how long we have to get to the cottage before we got soaking wet.

The buzz of Jamie’s phone took me out of my thoughts. Not sure what to do, I fished it out my pocket. 

“Jamie, you got a text!” I shouted into the tall trees startling a lonely bird from the bush.

“Who’s it from?” His voice echoed back somewhere from the left. 

Hesitating for a few seconds I looked down at the screen to see the message. Involuntarily my eyes ran along two lines of letters.

“How are u, mo ghraidh? Dougal popped by, said he canna reach ye, it was urgent. I guessed ye didna have a connection there. Xx.”

The box From said Jen with two emojis -a heart and a house. It was Jenny.

“It’s your sister.” I handed him the phone when he came out brushing off the pine needles from his pants.

When we were going down I wondered what those words meant that Jenny had called him. It was something he’d said to me once before. While Jamie was telling me something about the castle that we could see from our path I googled the meaning of Gaelic that I could not understand. 

It said, “My love” and my heart sank down my chest and then almost broke free out of it ready to burst with happiness.

My love.

* * *

The countryside stretched itself around us in brown, golden and burgundy stains of colours. The hills rolled in soft waves of yellow grass meeting the ground in the valleys with hidden flora.

We walked back in companionable silence holding our hands, fingers securely tangled together, not breaking that needed contact between us.

When there was less than a kilometre until we get to the house the grey skies grumbled with anger. The heavy clouds no longer wanted to wait and cold drops started to fall down as gunfire. In no time it turned into a heavy storm soaking the ground beneath us until it was soft and slippery under our feet. The downpour of water felt icy cold and we had to run lest we get completely wet. The wind howled muting our laughs but for once in the longest time, I felt reckless and happy.

Jamie went to the bedroom peeling off his clothes that stuck to the skin. I followed in suit, not wishing to catch a cold and left a damp pile of clothes on the floor. While I had the time I filled the bathtub with steaming water. Turning off the main light the room went into the warm glow of the candles I’d managed to find in the cabinet in the living room. They were half used, the wax melted into peculiar figures. I had placed them in the corners near the windows and popped a couple on the bathtub sides. Sliding down the water, my eyes closed at the feeling of heat soaking into me. I physically could feel each muscle in my body relax and become numb, limp. 

Jamie stood in a doorway looking at me quietly. In this light, he reminded me of a Greek statue. He was beautifully made. With long, graceful bones and flat muscles that flowed smoothly from the curves of chest and shoulder to the slight concavities of belly and thigh. He was fair with bits of freckles but slightly touched by the sun, toned in a way that reminded me floral honey.

“Come here,” I spoke quietly lifting my hand up from the depths of the water.

He walked over slowly, stepping gracefully as a cat, not breaking our gaze. I felt a tight knot in the bottom of my belly starting to ache just by looking at him. Soon his boxers were left aside together with the puddle of my clothes. The water raised slightly when Jamie got in, sitting behind me, my back pressed to his chest. His hands roamed on the water slick sides of my thighs and my head dropped down his shoulder. I hummed an appreciative ‘hmmm’ at his touch. It felt soothing and much needed after our long hike.

“I must tell ye something, Sassenach.” His voice sounded husky. It was the tone that pulled at the deepest strings inside me. “I’m sure ye bewitched me. Cause for God’s sake I canna imagine how I managed to live without ye before.”

My head turned slightly to the left as my lips had found the column of his neck. I loved to touch him. But not just in a sexual way. Being with him, simply existing in the same space, in a distance of millimetres of each other. This became my everyday dose of oxygen. I craved him. All of him. Including his soul and heart and all of his body. He seeped deep into my being and would remain there forever I was sure of it. And I could not remember life before him anymore. As it simply could not be there without James Fraser. I ached for him every time we separated and I would be a damn fool to deny that.

“I think I can’t imagine that either,” I whispered kissing my way down his torso. When he was well-loved with my lips, my mouth and hands Jamie pulled me up cradling my face between his palms.

“I could love ye, Claire. I could love ye well.”

I exhaled feeling his moist full lips tracing my collarbone. When Jamie lifted me up from the water that became our shelter of warmth and my hands circled around his neck I remembered.

When Jamie kissed the tip of my nose I remembered twisting my ankle two years ago on the slippery grocery store tile after the rain.

When his hands held me tightly, the drops scattering off my body I remembered calling first Geillis asking to bring me to A&E. 

When Jamie’s lips softly touched my forehead I remembered that I called Frank but he did not pick up being busy at the meeting.

When Jamie passed the first stair I remembered I stayed home and felt lonely.

When Jamie’s lips dragged down my neck I remembered that Frank had left to the conference in London saying that he’d call me several times a day to check on me.

When Jamie gently laid me down the bed I remembered feeling awfully lonely despite Frank’s words of reassurance and support, calls and promise to come back soon.

When Jamie’s thumb brushed over my nipple I remembered feeling empty.

When Jamie held me I felt safe. And when he leaned in to kiss me I whispered into his lips.

“I could love you too. I could love you well.”

[cemetery-circus]

Okay okay okay but like, if you could write a short little something that's pure fluff about the reader playing with Professor Membrane's hair and giving him a head massage to help him relax, I would die(also your writing is fantastic I love you ty for your work! 💞)

II won’t lie this one had me in my uwus it’s so cute 

Completely sfw under the cut btw it’s just long and I don’t wanna clog up peoples dashes like that

You had been sitting on the couch, idly listening to the TV as you read something on your phone. You didn’t look up when you heard the door to the lab slide open and Membrane steps out into the house, but when he shuffles over to you and cracks his back with a groan, your attention shifts to him. He lowers himself onto the couch with a sigh and you reach out to touch his shoulder to catch his attention.

“Hm?” he hums, turning his head slightly.

“You okay?”

“Oh-yes, yes, of course. Just-” He sighs again, heavier. “-tired is all.”

You click your tongue as you take in the tired slant of his eyebrows and the way his shoulders sagged with fatigue. You gently tug on his sleeve and he looks down at you again, raising his eyebrows to show you had his attention. You point to your lap and his eyebrows raise further, pink dusting his cheeks as he glances around the house.

“Really? Here?”

It takes a second for it to click and when it does, you roll your eyes and yank harder on his sleeve. He begrudgingly allows himself to be pulled down and lets you move his head into your lap, pleasantly surprised as he cheek rests against your thighs. He peers up at you with mild confusion mixed with intrigue. What now?

You motion for him to roll over more and he obeys, shifting until he’s resting on his stomach. He opens his mouth to ask what you were gonna do, but his breath catches in his throat when you gently drag your fingers through his hair. You start at his forehead, pushing it back from his face and combing it into place with your fingers. You repeat the motion a few times before Membrane suddenly lets out a soft groan and practically melts against you, tilting his head into your touch.

You can’t help but giggle and he gives you a side eye for it, but otherwise doesn’t move. He feels heavy in your lap, sort of like a big cat as quiet rumbling groans drift from deep in his chest. He’s boneless in his relaxed state and you start to think you’re loving it more than he is as you watch the rise and fall of his back. You scratch at the shorter hair at the back of his head and he makes a louder noise, pressing his head back into your hand.

“Right there,” he slurs, drunk with bliss. “That felt good.”

You comply with a nod and Membrane somehow gets heavier, relaxing completely against you as you play with his hair.

No later then ten minutes after you started, you notice the professor has gone completely still. You shift as much as you can so you can peer at his face and you have to bite your lip to keep from cooing. He’s fallen asleep! There’s a tired peace washed over his face that you’ve never seen on him before and you take a second to commit every little detail to memory. You brush a stray strand of hair form his face and cup his cheek as much as you can, gazing at him for a second longer before you return to your previous activity.

He sighs in his sleep when you comb your fingers through his hair, smiling behind his collar.

[missytearex]

To Read List - Narry

This list is purely for myself to keep track of everything I still want to read. Its gonna change as I actually read though them and find more stuff to add.

Find fics I’ve already read here.

Narry

It Feels Like Years by wasp

It's easy to stop thinking, worrying, when he's with Niall, like it's all on instinct. (Community college!AU where basically Niall and Harry fall in love and there's kittens and cuddling for warmth and woo-ing and Liam and Louis are hopeless).

good enough to eat by brokendrums

Niall meets Harry on the set of Masterchef and is instantly attracted to him, even if he is a bit of a dick and far too smug for his own good. He finally cracks his determined exterior and a pretty mind blowing set of blowjobs later they start tentatively seeing each other, only Harry is far too invested in the competition and he just doesn’t have time for distractions like Niall

A MasterChef AU.

does it almost feel like nothing changed at all by estrella30

“You don’t have room to talk,” Louis says, pointing a finger at Harry and narrowing his eyes. “Seeing as how you were seventy five million years late to the meeting today.”

“Well I’m bloody well here now!” Harry shouts. Everyone goes quiet, Zayn even manages to pause whatever Robert Downey Jr. is doing on the telly, and it’s right then, in the middle of the first split second of quiet since Harry arrived that he hears it.

“Wait,” Harry says, cocking his head to the side and listening more closely. “Is that a baby crying?”

OR: Niall gets a baby left w him and Harry moves in to help him take care of her

And Maybe by CharacterDevelopment

“I want to kiss you,” Harry says slowly and nerve-wrackingly honest.

Niall blinks at him. “What?”

“Kissing. I want to kiss you, put our lips together, do the mouth tango, play tonsil hockey—”

Niall interrupts him. “I know what kissing is, Harry.”

“Well, you asked,” Harry says, defensive.

Broken-Hearted Boy by NarryMusings

Niall has watched Harry get his heart broken time after time, again and again. Harry just wants someone to love him. But Niall has always loved him and now that he's finally fed up with Harry not seeing it, Niall tells him.

If We Don't Leave This Town by EvilFriendOfMine

Harry moves to London and begins working at a small bookstore, when a blond-haired, blue-eyed Irishman runs into the store to hide from some no-so-friendly looking men. A relationship sparks but it's anything but easy as Harry has to deal with Niall being a key member of the London Irish Crew, along with his two friends, Louis and Liam. But Niall dreams of getting out one day and taking his friends and Harry with him, but leaving is a lot harder than any of them ever thought it would be.

a little drop for me by littlemissmeggie

Niall was amazed how much had changed in a year, how it didn’t hurt anymore. He’d been drowning in heartache and pain for months and suffocated by the weight of his sorrow.

And then he’d met Harry and been scared and heartbroken again, worried to love and hesitant to be loved. But Harry hadn’t left. He’d showed Niall what unconditional love—romantic unconditional love—felt like, whether out of naive innocence or stubborn determination, Niall wasn’t sure.

or...

If anyone asked Niall how he thought he would meet the love of his life, he wouldn’t have said that he expected to find him lying naked on the beach when he went for a walk at sunrise while on holiday.

future full of yesterdays by fliptomybside

Niall studies astrophysics, Harry studies Niall.

the parting line by from

Harry and Niall get married for a year to save twelve-thousand jobs (and maybe a couple of lives).

feels like home by outwardbound93

Harry shouldn’t feel so much like a little boy tucked into his sister’s side when he spent most of last night twined around Niall in his bed, competing to see who could get the other off more times. But growing up doesn’t seem to work like that. It’s not a switch that gets flicked, it’s like seeing where you want to go and building yourself a bridge to that place. Sometimes where you end up is nothing like you expected, and sometimes it’s like coming home.

out of the woods by countthestars

“Hi,” the boy says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the counter, body language open in invitation. Niall half expects him to tip his chin up and bare his throat, but instead his smile grows wider, pulling crookedly at his mouth.

Niall's Kitchen by countthestars

Niall and Harry both have youtube cooking channels, and accidentally become rivals. An epistolary fic, of sorts.

must have been the mistletoe by countthestars

“Hey, Harry,” Niall says, voice low and conspiratorial. “Look up.”

“What?” Harry whispers back, because there's a lot to look at up there, blinking lights and boughs of garland and... “is that mistletoe?”

“'Fraid so,” Niall confirms. His lips twitch like he's fighting a smile, but he keeps a straight face as he taps his finger against his mouth. “It's bad luck not to kiss someone underneath mistletoe.”

hold me closer tiny dancer by countthestars

Dancing isn't really Harry's strong suit. Niall doesn't really care.

The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows by KelliDiane

Unlike other kids of successful, wealthy parents Harry isn't skating by on good looks. Nor is he fifty piña coladas deep in Hawaii. Instead he spends his time learning, whether it's by reading a mountain of texts or hands on at his father's lab. There's an unspoken understanding between his father and himself that he'll take control of the company when his father no longer can. Harry would rather be well versed when he does, science really does interest him. If it interests him because it's genuinely cool or if it interests him because his father pays some kind of attention to him, well.

or

Another superpowers fic that nobody asked for.

remember that time on the bus by estrella30

“Yeah, sure,” Harry says. He smiles and shrugs happily. “I’m good with that.” He gestures to himself on the couch. “You want to like—like now?”

“No! Not now, I mean. One day. In the future.” Niall chews on his thumb and shrugs. “When we’re bored or something.”

Harry snorts a quiet laugh. Only Niall would think shagging a mate would be a good way to kill some time when bored on the bus.

Well. All right. It’s not as if the thought’s never crossed Harry’s mind.

or: harry and niall start shagging

stay, stay, stay. . . (stay.) by badjujuboo (miztrezboo)

Niall keeps a gun by the bed now.

Harry doesn't think Niall knows he knows.

OR an au of the on the streets/gangland type description, drug and alcohol use, violence offscreen, past rough sex (barely mentioned), romantic sex (because we need both sides), somewhat discussed unprotected sex, guns and being shot at and shot, and minor character death (because its a gangland fic and i'm sorry?)

show me by zouee

"i was thinking..." harry begins, scratching the back of his neck hesitantly. he feels niall's eyes on him and his cheeks start to feel hot. "what if we made a sex tape?"

the one where niall and harry are roommates who are close to broke, and are desperate to do anything for money.

high on a pleasure wheel by brokendrums

Niall wakes up the morning after the Billboard Awards married to Harry. Too hungover to face the media storm, he takes up Harry’s offer to drive him home to LA.

the taste was sweeter by brokendrums

On his 18th birthday, Niall travels into the future and ends up meeting his 24 year old self.

only talk about a bruise by brokendrums

With the eclipse fast approaching, the pack is thrown into crisis. New to it all, Harry tries to find his place.

see me in a new light by brokendrums

Niall joins the production team for Planet Earth II and Harry has an interesting proposition.

my remedy for yesterday by brokendrums

It’s been three years since One Direction finally parted ways. Three long years where Niall’s stayed away from home on a never ending holiday. Three years since he’s seen Harry in the flesh and not just splashed across the tabloids or overplayed on the radio.

Niall’s just docked his boat in Ibiza, ready to soak up the sun, when an unexpected accident brings Harry into his life again. And while Niall recuperates on Harry’s patch of sandy white beach old feelings start to emerge, not all of them pleasant.

If we dream forever, whatever happens next by brokendrums

Niall meets Harry on the train and can't stop thinking about him. Then one evening when they get off the train, Harry invites him back to his.

all of the places i ain't ever been by theamazingpeterparker

Harry takes his dinner back to his bedroom, determined to chip away at his book that he came here to write. He’s not sure what it really is yet but he knows he wants it to be in the countryside, maybe a love story without the distractions of a city or a corporate job or a huge population to get in the way.

Or, Harry rents a room on a farm in exchange for working as a farmhand.

something softer than us by theamazingpeterparker

He almost told him then, leaning forward like the thought hit him with enough force that he'd say it out loud. He had bit his tongue, let Niall carry on his explanation against the backdrop of a setting sun across the river from the ballpark. Harry supposes then that he'd loved Niall for a long time now, anyway.

Niall's cat's name is Lunchbox, Louis has definitely been in love, Zayn won't shut up about the Antonine Plague, and Harry doesn't know how to tell Niall that he's in love with him.

dear, i'm always running towards you by goreallegore

He blocks it all out, the cheers, the profanities of overzealous fans from the opposing team, and focuses on one thing, a soft gravelly voice, “Good things take time.”

Or; Niall plays for FC Barcelona, and Harry's a photographer.

a better beginning by goreallegore

Zayn and Liam are attached to the hip, Louis is always putting his foot where it's not needed, and Niall and Harry are ever so quietly in love.

a rising tide like an hour glass by goreallegore

Harry climbs over him, his legs slotting on either sides of Niall, his body flush against Niall’s. He nibbles on Niall’s lowerlip, then licks the seam of his mouth and causes him to elicit a soft - needy - moan. No feelings in the Glade, Niall remembers. Or, he doesn’t. It’s all kind of a haze to be honest.

Or; Niall and Harry are runners.

cook up a recipe for my beating heart by goreallegore

“So, what say wanna live with me? I’ll cook Sunday breakfasts,” Niall says.

“And I’ll make your favorite pastry,” Harry replies.

“Tarte Tartin.” Cause that’s what their love is. A bit of sour and sweet.

Or; Niall and Harry cook.

can't believe I captured your heart by goreallegore

Niall shrugs, “thanks, couldn’t bear living on campus after freshmen year. So moved in here my second year with me mate.”

Harry nods, pausing to repeat Niall’s words in his head, “wait, you’re not a second year?” Please don’t say senior. Please.

“Third year.” Thank god.

Harry sighs in relief, “so ready for the movie?”

Or; Niall likes movies. And Harry is just trying to figure himself out.

baby, we're like a time bomb by goreallegore

“You know that frown thing doesn’t suit you. Look like a lost pug or summat,” he chuckles, his grip tight on the steering wheel.

“I like pugs,” Harry answers simply, and Niall has to turn and look at the boy next to him and it really shouldn’t surprise him because he has known this since day one, but Harry is beautiful. Even the frown that has found a new home on his always smiling face looks pretty – could call it painfully beautiful.

“I do too, though, I like happy ones. Don’t you?” he prods, and that does it as he turns, again, to find a smiling Harry, “there it is. I knew there was something missing.”

Harry ducks his head, avoiding Niall’s gaze, “you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Flirting.”

Or; there are timers, but Harry and Niall are too in love to care.

the whole world is sleeping, but my world is you by goreallegore

“Say if I were to leave for forever, would it be okay?”

Niall reaches for Harry’s hand, intertwining their fingers as if the gaps between their fingers were made to be filled by each other, “Only if it makes you happy. ‘Sides, I’d probably follow you to ends of time. Can’t afford losing me best mate.” A slight blush decorates Niall’s cheeks and the dim lighting of the room makes the boy look – ethereal, Harry thinks. Harry is completely endeared by the sight before him.

Or; Harry lives his dreams and Niall helps him save them.

the name forever on my lips is yours by goreallegore

“What did you forget?” his voice was small, Niall was afraid that Harry might’ve not heard him but the look on his face said the opposite.

“I never clearly told you how I feel about you,” Harry stopped to pull out a journal from his back pocket, “I wrote about it you see.” He was holding a battered moleskin that seemed like it had ink all over it. Niall had seen it before but never dared to ask what it was; but now that Harry stood in front of him shyly flipping through the pages, he realized what it was. Niall felt like he was running short on air.

Or; Niall is a modern day Prince and Harry is no damsel in distress.

First Person by Gorgeous Nerd (gorgeousnerd)

Harry doesn't know why Niall wants to see him when he loses a year of memories. But Harry can't go anywhere else.

Follow You Through The Dark by disarm_d

Harry discovers that Niall is a vampire and has some valid concerns.

the mad ones (pool party remix) by irishmizzy, miss_bennie

Harry buys a car in NYC = OT5 road trip to LA. 24-hour diners, shit hotels, Polaroids, golf, line dancing, and too many people in the backseat: this is what dreams are made of.

Christmas Wishes by narrywings

Harry's hoping to go home for a quiet Christmas - but everything gets derailed when Niall calls unexpectedly.

It's Christmas. That Means We Have To Hold Hands. by holyzarrialltrinity

"As the day went on, Niall started worrying less about the way he felt. All he knew is that being around Harry made him feel happy. And being with him in the best city on Earth was even better. It made him forget for a moment about all the stuff back home. He just wanted to be with Harry for however long they had. There was some unspoken romance happening between the two of them and they both could tell. But instead of words, they just held hands really tight."

Niall hates his family. Harry barely has one. But when you spend time with someone new in the greatest city in the world, there's always room for a little change in your life.

love actually is all around by storuns

A small smile appears on Harry’s face and he scoots closer to Niall, resting his head on his shoulder. Niall wraps his arm around him and moves his hand up to rub his shoulder, earning a couple of coos from Louis and Liam across the table. Harry laughs and throws French fries at both of them. He looks up at Niall and grins as he watches him throw his head back in laughter. For some reason, a warm feeling overwhelms his chest and he feels like hugging Niall tightly and kissing all over his face. But, of course, he has control and all he can do is imagine it in his head.

Or the one where Harry and Niall go to Mullingar for Christmas, and stuff happens.

Time Has Brought Your Heart to Me by fakeheaux

Harry meets Niall, and feels a connection, so he gets to know him just a bit more.

Or the one where Harry and Niall are soulmates.

hear this heartbeat breaking through by acastle

He feels another shock of warmth, much more intense, much more overwhelming, as he looks at him. Watches Bailey cling on to this person tightly, laughing as he’s lifted off the ground. He doesn’t know how to describe it, but he’s sure. Very sure, that it is a positive feeling. He doesn’t know how to react to it, really.

(In which Harry is an amateur boxer, raising his son on his own after the hardest few months of his life, then he meets the piano teacher with a beautiful heart.)

a rush inside i can't control by dramaturgicallycorrect

all seems to stay for as long as he can -- that what it feels like to Harry, like Niall’s only ever there until he can’t be there anymore, until something’s tugging him away and he has to follow. Every day he seems to be able to stay longer, sometimes up to hours at a time before he’s tugged away. Every time he goes, Niall leaves his glasses on the kitchen table like a promise.

[Or Harry’s rented a cabin by the woods in Mullingar to write his new album and he doesn’t know that both of his muses are Niall.]

the world still turns by dramaturgicallycorrect

It’s not like he’s not seen any of them over the last eighteen months -- he has – but certainly not all once, not like the way it used to be. Not even the 2015 Way It Used To Be, because even before Zayn left they’d all pretty much tried to do their own thing. Like Just Starting Out Way It Used To Be when they were too scared to let go of each other because they didn’t have anybody else.

Niall had always had his family and the crew and all, but most days it felt like it was just the five of them and nobody else. And the world was laid out in front of them for the taking and they didn’t know who they were or who they wanted to be. Some days Niall still doesn’t know who he is or who he wants to be and he thinks that’s just as comforting as it is terrifying.

You’re not supposed to have it all figured out by age 23. He thinks people forget that sometimes.

[Or Niall organizes a lads’ holiday to see if they still fit.]

let's start right now by dramaturgicallycorrect

He turns to Harry. “Do you mind, like. Can I take a picture of your driver’s license?”

“Yeah,” Harry says easily, fishing his wallet out and presenting him with a California license to match his California plates. He has got an LA address, Niall notes as he snaps a picture. He’s got longer hair in this picture, waving down to brush his shoulders, a far sight from the short crop he's got now. It looks just as good on him, he notes almost subconsciously.

He texts the picture to Louis as Harry puts the license away, give this to the police if I go missing ..

What have you done Neil?? comes Louis’ answer quickly, but Niall ignores it, looks up to find Harry looking back at him.

“It’ll be fun.”

“Promise?”

Harry tilts his head. “I never make promises. You’ll just have to trust me.”

[Or Harry's a professional cross country road trip driver, and Niall is his latest fare.]

call this what you like by dramaturgicallycorrect

“Who was that?” Laura asks, something sly on her face that Niall quite wishes she’d wipe off.

It twists Niall’s stomach anyway, to say, “My mate Harry,” when the truth of it is mates aren’t supposed to catch your breath in your chest talking to them.

He doesn’t know what to do with the feeling, so he presses it away, deep into that box of other nasty feelings he doesn’t want, the ones that haunt him, the you’re never going to get a gig, the you’re going to end up alone.

The thing is, it doesn’t feel like a nasty feeling. It feels like something he should explore instead of hide, because it feels good. But he’s felt it, maybe just once or twice before, and nothing good’s ever come of it. Not a single person’s understood. So Niall locks it up tight and swears he’ll lose the key.

[Or Harry’s looking for love in all the wrong places, and Niall’s not meant to be looking at all.]

only fools rush in by darlingjustdont

niall holds up his hand to show off the band, unthinkingly pushed onto his fourth finger. harry stares at it. “i woke up with it on my thumb.” “did i get one?” says harry, now staring at his own hands. there’s a simple silver ring on his left hand. “oh fuck, i did. holy fuck, niall. i think we got married.”

a post-zayn, non-hiatus au where niall and harry accidentally get married in vegas. it's a bit problematic, mostly because niall's been in love with harry for a long time.

once in your life by wearecities (falsetto)

There’s a moment of silence where Harry considers just passing out right there, head hanging off the bed, because the alcohol’s finally catching up to him in the most unpleasant way. “When we’re thirty?”

“When we’re thirty.” Harry repeats. His eyelids are slowly drooping closed, fingers going slack around the beer he’s clutching. He’s just slipping over the edge when there’s the rustle of material and he squints open one eye to look at Niall.

"We’ve done stupider things.” Niall shrugs.

Niall and Harry make a marriage pact.

and we're starting at the end by dessertmeltdown

The first time Harry sees Niall he's bouncing around bootcamp with a guitar.

See You Later, Boy by marcel

One day, Niall runs Harry over with a skateboard.

Maybe With Me by threeturn

Harry tries to help Niall hook up. Set during the American leg of the TMH tour.

Turn all your grey skies blue. by mogigraphia

Niall's a new single dad, and Harry's his daughter's teacher at the daycare.

it’s kind of our routine by somerdaye

Niall only gets to kiss Harry on New Year’s, and does not in any way want more than that. Really.

You and I Misbehaving by BlackWave

Harry and Niall bake and fail to be proper human adults.

Everything Comes Back To You by Narryornarry

Niall and Harry go to Mullingar, and fall in love in the process.

a true thing by from

NYC, December 2014. Nothing lasts, especially not a shared tub of cereal milk ice cream, but they’re Harry and Niall, and they'll move on with the new.

find a way out of myself again by mozartspiano

harry can't go home so he makes a new one.

AU set in montreal, canada.

Mastering the Art of Friends Cooking by el_em_en_oh_pee

Niall has spent years of practice preparing for his appearance on the Next Food Network Star. He expected his life to change as a result of it - just not quite in this way.

Always Wanna Blow Your Mind by jibrailis

Harry accidentally buys a ring that gives him special sex powers. It’s terribly confusing for everyone involved.

Uncertainty Principle by jibrailis

He didn’t expect this: Australia, the vineyard, and Niall who won’t look him in the eye.

and show me why you deserve to have it all by intherubble

Genetics could go eat a dick as far as Harry is concerned. He just wishes he still had one. (written January 2012)

I Can Be Your New Addiction by estrella30

And that’s another problem. Harry is way too aware of Niall right now to get entirely comfortable. He’s just…

Niall is just there – right there – and Harry is having all sorts of ridiculous thoughts about him.

days grow on colorful trees by criminiallar

He’ll miss nights when they scroll through their phones side by side and Skype with their friends from opposite sides of the room, and he’ll miss leaning over whenever the mood strikes him, nudging his nose against Harry’s jogging bottoms that he’s taken to wearing around the house and looking up with a hopeful grin and Harry leaning back on his elbows with a flourish of his hands before he tips over, smiling at the ceiling with a, “Have at it, then.”

Happy Genius Heroes by BlackWave

Niall is an aspiring evil genius (who isn't very evil at all). Harry is his pretty assistant. Liam is the visiting friend and Louis and Zayn are meddlesome superheroes.

it's the way we are together by roofpizza

Harry leans against the shelf and opens his mouth to say something witty and probably super sexy when Niall interrupts him with a snort. “Do those kinds of lines get you anywhere?”

“Most of the time,” Harry shrugs, and it’s true, because he has quite a bit of charm, and it tends to work in his favor, despite his cheesy lines. “I’m charming.”

“I suppose you are,” Niall laughs, and Harry can’t help the smile that spreads across his face.

you don't need me anymore by outwardbound93

Rain riddles the sea like bullets and the dark storm clouds hang just above ceiling height, but Niall doesn’t have the panicky crushed feeling he sometimes gets. The little house feels cozy with his baby asleep in the next room and Harry’s lip jutting out in a pout.

Or, Niall becomes a dad.

hold on by outwardbound93

Funny, Niall thinks, that for all their success ordinary terrible things happen to them just like anybody else. Girlfriends get tired of the fans or get panicked about too much commitment, and bandmates slip going into the pool and lose five years’ worth of memories.

i sing you like a song i heard when i was young by disequilibrium

Niall never thought he’d find his way back home. But then, the wind works in mysterious ways: a stranger at the door, an impossible escape. A whisper that changes everything, forever, again.

always be your boy by saysthemagpie

In retrospect, becoming part of the world’s biggest boy band might not have been the smartest move for someone with Niall’s 'special condition,' what with the whole never-aging thing and the insatiable thirst for human blood.

Niall's a vampire. Harry's his human boyfriend. Harry thinks he should probably become a vampire, too.

Sad Blue Eyes by Mcwarr

“To the rest of the world, Harry had no qualms with being an absolute asshole but when it came to Niall, all bets were off.”

the one with all the football by irishmizzy, miss_bennie

Senior year was supposed to be the best ever – that is, until Louis goes through a breakup over the summer and Zayn starts acting weird. With everything falling apart, Niall, Liam, and Harry are doing their best to keep it together, but it’s easier said than done. If nothing else, at least Niall’s got Harry.

[2015 One Direction as told through an American College AU]

and you know in your heart it'll be worth it by outwardbound93

“At home, we sleep on the,” he points at the ceiling. “The top, so we don’t float away.”

Niall laughs. “The ceiling, you mean?” He traces the line of Harry’s dimple. “I figured you slept inside a castle, like in the pictures of what Atlantis looked like.”

“I doubt that’s accurate,” Harry says. He palms Niall’s thigh, running his hand down to his knee, where he pauses to feel out the unfamiliar bones with his fingertips. “Otters sleep holding hands so they won’t drift apart, did you know that?”

“What, are you an otter?” Niall asks.

“No, but it might not be too bad,” Harry says. He lays his head to rest on Niall’s chest, over his heart. His fingers tangle with Niall’s in the sheets, his skin tanned and smooth, Niall’s pale and scarred.

"Eh,” Niall says. “It’s not too bad, I guess.”

We Could Be Enough by balefully

One Direction reconvenes after two years at Niall's cabin in Connemara for Christmas. Niall and Harry haven't spoken during the break, but they relearn each other and fall into something they never expected.

Super Beautiful Sex Machine by jibrailis

Niall Horan, porn star.

you're the truth i can't explain by takesmeunder

When Harry gets hired to be Niall Horan's celebrity photographer, he's expecting a learning experience and a chance to see the world. Determined to keep his business and personal lives separate, Harry tries desperately to keep things professional. The last thing he's expecting is to fall for a rockstar.

Relatable Content by makesomelove

Harry glances down at the floor, then up at Niall, lip curling up in a bashful smirk. Niall wants terribly to kiss him. The opportunity is right there in front of him, and it's the worst idea in the entire world.

It would reach the press. He'd be in the news - CEO and Founder of BeepFodder Niall Horan Sexually Manipulates Underlings. His mum has an alert for him on her computer and she'd see it and have a heart attack. They'd lose sponsors. Even if they didn't publish the footage, it'd still exist. It all still would have happened. Harry would know Niall likes him. The thought of the most vulnerable spots in his heart being captured on film and shown to millions of people makes Niall sick. Going through with this in a legitimate way would ruin his life no matter what.

in the golden afternoon by bisousniall

Niall can talk to flowers, but his life is pretty uncomplicated despite this. Until Harry shows up.

A Spell That Can't Be Broken (orphan_account)

He hears the people around them whisper, saying that he's got this boy under a tragic spell. Niall thinks they've got it all wrong. It's him who's caught under Harry's spell.

[Niall's a witch, Harry doesn't know this, and it's all on Niall if this blows up in his face.]

watch you on the red horizon by littlecather

“Just us,” he murmurs. “If - we’re talking about, like. Always.”

Harry nods. “Just us,” he repeats, voice a cracked whisper.

It's 2018, a year after One Direction has ended. Niall and Harry may or may not accidentally become soul mates.

Yoga To Be Joking by mdashes

The tags explain everything, I think. (Yoga, Autofellatio)

slow and steady (your hand fits in mine) by leitmotifs (orphan_account)

Niall slips the case shut, running his fingers along the top until they reach the handle. “Would you come with me?”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Right now, or in general?”

Niall decides to humor him. “In general.”

“Always.”

---

Or: Their first Christmas since the accident, and Harry promises to take care of Niall.

i'll pull you closer by leitmotifs (orphan_account)

“You’re a fish,” Harry says.

“Am not.”

“You have a tail.”

“ ‘m not a fish.” Niall sounds vaguely affronted. “I’m a siren.”

“Uh huh. Care to elaborate on that?” Harry snips.

“Well,” Niall says thoughtfully, “I’m supposed to seduce you with my voice, lure you in, and then viciously devour your flesh.”

till you know that the words are right by el_em_en_oh_pee

Somehow, at this stage in his career, waking up with breasts and a vagina on the morning of the biggest show of his life doesn't even seem that comparatively weird to Niall.

Welcome to the Jungle by peerpressure

Harry, Louis and Zayn are in a band (it's not an indie band and definitely not a tribute band).

Harry falls in love with Niall a little too hard and a little too fast. It's not very punk rock.

we're on fire now by leitmotifs (orphan_account)

In which Harry and Niall are two of the best spies in the world, except maybe not really, because they're enemies and one is not supposed to fraternize with the enemy, but it keeps happening anyway. Liam is very exasperated.

i won't be on my own by sakabelle

Harry takes a quick trip back to London to care for his ailing boyfriend.

Benefits by sakabelle

It begins at Jay and Dan's wedding. It's supposed to be a laugh, really. Niall and Harry showing up there together because they've got no one else to bring.

It continues because Niall's always got to have some sort of fling going on whenever they're home from the tour. It's just that Harry never expected that he'd be one of those flings.

Holding Me Hostage by sakabelle

Niall Horan is content to keep to himself for his thirteen month prison sentence. He's content to stay out of trouble. Content to do his time and get out. But within the walls of HM Forest Bank, everyone's got a secret. Everyone's got a purpose. Everyone's got to get through their time somehow.

Which is how Niall finds himself with a lot more problems than he ever had on the outside.

To the Stars by sakabelle

The last place Niall Horan wanted to be was a first class passenger on the Titanic, headed to America. His father was forcing him into a life he didn’t want, full of business meetings and ritzy parties. Simply put, he was miserable.

Until he met Harry Styles. A passenger in steerage who would turn his entire life upside down.

A Titanic movie AU.

Piccadilly by anb123

Based on this prompt: fic where niall is a famous pop star who takes the tube every chance he can get, mostly because it’s one aspect of his life that makes him feel more normal and harry’s the cute college student who also takes the tube, has absolutely no clue who niall is, so when niall grins at him from the other side of the car, harry just thinks niall’s a normal lad flirting with him by niallharold on Tumblr.

Famous Niall & uni student Harry meet on the tube. Life ensues.

show me your love (orphan_account)

niall and harry go to las vegas as best friends and go home married.

and if it's quite alright, you could be my way of life by lizzybean

A comfy cozy, post break up, slightly golf!AU where Harry fills all the cracks and gaps left in Niall's heart.

A Slide Into First by siempreniall

Niall's a minor league star baseball player, Harry's in love with him, Liam makes really good hot dogs, Louis's a mascot wrench, and Zayn shows up to pull everything together.

Love Muffins by alexenglish

A story about something at first sight. In which Niall didn't call, Harry stress bakes, Louis meddles, Zayn and Liam are... Zayn and Liam, and everything works out in the end.

What's A Fella T' Do? by iwanna_seeyou_undoit

Pretend!Boyfriends AU where Harry doesn't own any trousers that don't have holes in them, Niall is the only one who can drive, and they definitely aren't shagging.

take me with you by outwardbound93

“I’m dating Niall,” Harry blurts out in the middle of their interview with Scott Mills. Liam’s, Louis’s, and Scott’s heads all swing around to him. Niall doesn’t so much as blink.

If it's torn we can stitch it up by ifzi0531

Niall shifts his feet nervously. He still doesn’t know if this is the right decision but he stares back at the small name card in his hand. “Hi, it’s Niall. The one from juvie. You gave me your card, and asked me to call you if I ever needed your help.”

“Hi, Niall! What can I do for you? Are you in trouble again?”

Niall shakes his head like he always does when people are asking him questions. It’s what he does, giving them non-verbal answers. But then he realizes he’s talking through the phone, so he speaks out loud again. “I-,” Niall trails off, tightening his grip on the phone. He stares at the ground, hoping that the ground would swallow him. “My mum kicked me out of the house.”

or

The Orange County (O.C) AU

how to make two lovers of friends by petals

The first time they meet, they hate each other. Or, Harry hates Niall. The second time they meet, Niall doesn't remember Harry. He says he did. The third time they meet, they become friends. They're friends for a long time. And then they're not. And then they fall in love.

Or a When Harry Met Sally au

My Kiss Can Mend Your Broken Heart by PigSlay

After Zayn leaves the band, Niall withdraws into his head. He tries his best to keep up appearances (both in public and in front of the boys) but it's not hard to notice when he falters. Harry is the first one to do something about it.

and the history books forgot about us by roofpizza

for the prompt: A timeline of how narry came to be narry from X-Factor bootcamp to the OTRA tour.

or

Niall is having the worst day of his life.

it's not just where you lay your head by disequilibrium

Harry chuckles a little.

“I am. Cry at everything. Sad movies, the lot.”

Niall smiles.

“Yeah, I know.”

And he does know. He’s sort of started to know Harry like the back of his hand. He might even go so far as to say he’s his best friend. And that makes everything else all the more difficult.

friends just sleep in another bed by littlecather

“Just - I’ve just been hanging out with Harry. A lot - slept over a couple of times.”

“You slept over?” Dougie echoes.

"Not like that," Niall rolls his eyes - even though it kind of is.

Tour starts; Niall and Harry grow closer.

Know Your Place by siempreniall

Niall's place in life has changed a lot. He's always left trying to figure out where he truly belongs, with whom he truly belongs. It just takes a few tries and a few life-changing, impossible events for him to get it right.

Everything Comes Back To You by alliecat23784

A canon compliant fic where Harry and Niall are very much in love and manage to keep their relationship strong while both touring the world at the same time.

(And I’m queer for math!) by softly (alexenglish)

No no, we aren’t breaking up! You didn’t let me finish. I’m gay for YOU.

all the time before i knew you by littlemissmeggie

“I’ve heard you like Scrabble,” said Niall. He considered Harry. Maybe Louis was right and he and Harry would make good friends.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded enthusiastically, eyes lighting up. “I go to the Scrabble club at my library.”

“I think I’ve got a Scrabble set round my flat somewhere,” Niall told him. He shrugged and shot Harry a crooked grin. “If you don’t mind playing with a set that’s almost certainly missing a few letters.”

“Oh,” said Harry slowly, understanding seeming to dawn on him. A flicker of something Niall couldn’t identify crossed his face. “Um, that might- that might be a challenge. I’d better- I’ll probably stick with the sets at the library.” He gave Niall a sad, apologetic half-smile. “I should get back to, um, back to wardrobe."

“Don’t be offended,” said Louis, moving closer to Niall. “It’s not you. It’s not me. It’s Grimshaw. Fucking twat.”

Up-and-coming model Harry Styles falls under the charms of his long-time celebrity crush, emotionally manipulative Nick Grimshaw. After some poking and prodding and meddling from his friend Louis, Harry befriends fellow model Niall Horan and soon realises that friendship—and maybe true love—should be a bit more like this.

if I got a condo on a cloud then I guess you can stay at my place (orphan_account)

“I think I can make it. Wait so are we gonna have to hold hands and stuff?” Niall asks Harry and Harry blushes and looks down at his feet awkwardly.

“I- you don’t have too. You can just hover.” --

Harry can't just show up to his sister's wedding where his ex boyfriend is going to be without somebody with him, I mean he can't just loiter around the chocolate fountain. So that's why he enlists Niall's help.

The Wedding Singer by littlecather

It's not that Harry doesn't believe in love, exactly - he just thinks that romance and marriage and all that comes with it are overrated. Niall has sung at over a hundred weddings, and is determined to prove Harry wrong. After all - there's a reason for all those songs.

Frenemies by alteringegoism

Harry hates Niall. Niall hates Harry. But Harry wants Zayn and in order to get to him, he’ll have to go through his best friend Niall. Harry will just have to kill Niall with kindness. That’s if Niall doesn’t kill him first. Oh and Liam and Louis are getting married.

When I Close My Eyes, All the Stars Align by FallingLikeThis

Harry Styles looks out the windowed wall of his penthouse apartment, staring down at the teeming masses that bring life to the streets below. Any one of the people down there could be his soulmate. Or, who knows, his soulmate could be halfway around the world. Or dead already. There’s no way to know, really, since Harry’s affliction is so rare. He bears the soulmate mark. It occurs in maybe one in a million people. He’s one of the chosen few who has one, single person that’s meant for them. Everyone else has the freewill to love whoever they want but if Harry ever hopes to find true love, he’ll have to go through a damn scavenger hunt to get it. And as if that wasn’t enough, he has a time limit.

Or a Beauty and the Beast Au in which Harry's only beastly qualities are his hair and his bad attitude and Niall arrives to spy on him for his sister but ends up staying for so much more.

baby, you don't know what it's like by peerpressure

Harry tries really, really hard to only see Niall as a friend.

It’s not working very well.

Because Niall is simply amazing and Harry is so stunned that he’s even allowed in his presence. And also because he wants to suck his dick. Just a little. But he also wants to cuddle him and maybe share food and fight for blankets and press cold feet against each other and shampoo each other’s hair.

Harry just wants to be with Niall.

(In which Louis is a good friend, Liam is kind, Zayn is always stressed, Niall is the new guy and Harry falls in love)

let's spin the world around by jamesniall

"Superlatives are just about putting the word más before an adjective or a sustantive. Like más grande which means bigger, or más fuerte, which means harder" Niall says, looking pointedly at Harry and Harry is 99% sure he's doing it on purpose.

"más rápido means faster" Niall continues, "Are you getting hard from this, Harry?" and if Harry would have had something in his mouth he would have spilled it all over Niall's face.

Or, Harry learns spanish thanks to Niall's dirty talk.

Maybe You're My Snowflake by pintsandguitars

Harry Styles loves the snow. Niall Horan loves the stars. And somewhere between snowflakes and night skies, they start loving each other.

For Rayvans: Uni! au where Harry doesn't have anywhere to go for Christmas break, so his roommate Niall invites him to spend the holidays with him. (bonus if they end up sharing a bed in Niall's small childhood room).

A head for business and a body for sin by flickerbyniall

He first time he caught Harry’s eyes was about an hour ago, the boy was eating some strawberries from the buffet table around the corner, oblivious to the fact he was standing out in the crowd with his rebellious look.

or Harry goes to a Gala and can't take his eyes off the boy wearing a leather jacket.

Searching by littlecather

Niall has been hired by a magazine to track each employee's searches on Google. Harry uses Google a lot.

wide open spaces by outwardbound93

“Well,” Harry says at the end of the day. The sun sets late in Texas like it doesn’t want to go, clinging to the scrubby flatlands with the last reaches of striped sunbeams. Niall leans on the broom and watches Harry fidget with a bundle of notecards he has to fill with peoples’ heartfelt sentiments. Love notes, apologies, get-well-soons, Harry’s got them all. “Will I see you tomorrow, then?”

Niall props the broomstick against a shelf holding a bunch of little green plants he doesn’t know the name of. The shop is bursting with green leaves, colorful blossoms like pops of candy mixed with buttered popcorn at the movie theatre, and at the heart of it, Harry. Harry, with his languid speech and that one curl that stubbornly sticks out on the side of his head that Niall always wants to twirl around his finger and that smile that arrives in a flash or unfurls slowly.

“Yeah,” says Niall. “I’ll be here.”

this could be the end of everything by basementhero

The Norns remembered each cycle of time and would recount the tale if asked: Harry and Niall were not the first of their kind, nor was it the world’s first attempt at existence. Some cycles were short while other stretched on for tens or hundreds or thousands of millennia. It was always the same in the end, though, no matter how many intervening years it took to get there. Baldr always fell; the giants always attacked, and the realms of Yggdrasil—the world tree—were always plunged back into the void after Ragnarök, waiting for rebirth.

But not everything was so set in stone; at least, it didn’t seem to be.

(or: Niall and Harry are immortal deities, but even gods are subject to fate.)

We Could Be The Ones Who Matter by jibrailis

Harry and Niall both get weirdly intense about things, and by things, they mean competitive Scrabble.

lovesick boys will write you lovesongs by narryblossom

When Niall walks through the gate at Dublin Airport at four in the morning, jet lagged to hell and back, he feels like he’s home. He thinks he’s never felt so happy to hear an Irish accent, and he certainly has never been so happy to have no fucking clue what he’s doing.

(Well, he has some idea of what he’s doing, he just isn’t sure it’s going to work out the way it does in his head.)

(An AU where Niall dreams of his lost love and finds himself going home to search for him.)

let yourself be enchanted by acastle

“Which means, I’ve got a Charms post to fill. And do you know who he suggested for the job?”

Harry doesn’t trust the wide beam on his face, and Louis goes on, “Well, he’d told me about this bloke. Class of 2011, student rank number three but top at Charms of his class, Hufflepuff, prefect, atrocious Quidditch player, but he makes a great treacle tart-”

“He suggested me?” Harry says blankly.

(Hogwarts and co-teachers AU, all in one.)

Along the Way (Something Changed ) by catrinahart

For the last five years, singer turned actor, Harry Styles has had Niall by his side to help manage his incredibly crazy life. They met and quickly became the best of friends. Then people start asking questions, making Harry think, what do they see that he doesn't?

and days gone by by outwardbound93

Niall catches himself glancing at Harry in the backseat. The tops of buildings are lined with Christmas lights like the iced piping on a gingerbread house, and the crisp sharp light of a winter night makes Harry’s skin look warm and soft.

riverina by outwardbound93

Harry looks up at Niall, the sharp, almost antique lines of his face thrust into regal beauty by the stadium lights. Harry’s ribs press against the size of his heart.

Or, a royalty!au where Niall's a prince and Harry's the reporter that writes about him.

let me photograph you in this light by storhan

“I like that one,” he says, turning the camera back around to show Harry the picture he took earlier that day of Niall reading. Harry also finds himself smiling, he quite likes that one too.

“Me too,” Harry says softly.

Or, Harry's a photography major and Niall is his muse.

something so magic about you by storhan

Niall's a single father and Harry's his neighbor who never seems to wear a shirt.

St-st-stuttering by asaprockme

In which Harry has a stutter that he just can't control. Niall doesn't mind.

I'm not trying to stop you, love by littlecather

If we're gonna do anything, we might as well just ...

Niall and Harry are the only ones left on campus over the Christmas holidays, and even though they've never really hung out before, they manage to spend most of the week holed up in Harry's room, together.

the piano man’s playing some old melody by littlervoice

Harry is a piano player. One day his neighbour puts in a request.

Do you want to come to the gym? by maxette

Niall is Harry's personal trainer: a romantic comedy without the middle forty-five minutes of misunderstandings.

running around in love again by mozartspiano

they meet at a coffee shop on valentine's day. it's all a horrible cliche.

You Feel Like Home (You're Like a Dream Come True) by roughvoiced

Niall sighs and unwraps the scarf from around his neck. "A plus one," he repeats. "I need one."

“For what?” Harry asks, watching as Niall unzips his coat, letting it slip off his arms and drop to a rumpled pile on the carpet before slipping off his shoes and striding over to Harry, plonking himself down on the sofa beside him and snuffling up under his arm, waiting for Harry to pull him in close before he speaks.

“Greg’s wedding.”

or, the au where Harry offers to be Niall's plus one and ends up with a whole lot more than he bargained for.

Another Auld Lang Syne by colbyjack

"We drank a toast to innocence We drank a toast to now. And tried to reach beyond the emptiness, But neither one knew how.”

-

Harry and Niall are old flames who eventually find each other again, of course, because the universe doesn’t want to give up on them.

Stacked Against You by siempreniall

Niall hates the library. All of the computers are always taken, the stacks make him feel claustrophobic, and his short attention span has never given itself well to studying anyways. The cute boy at the information desk makes it all worth it, though.

i want you so much (but i hate your guts) by siempreniall

Niall doesn’t know what he’s still doing there. This isn’t really how he likes to spend his Sunday nights. He doesn’t want to be yelled at and made to feel guilty for something that happened months ago. All he wants is to leave, really.

heartbreak hero by acastle

“So you want me to hear your side of things?"

"Yes, that would be a start."

"Fine,” Niall steps forward, so he and Harry are practically nose to nose. “Come back tomorrow at 8, so you can air your side of the situation on my segment.”

In which Niall is a love guru of sorts on the radio, who thinks love is the bane of the world, and Harry is a fuckboy who’s lovely, surely, but is not the best boyfriend in the world, not by a long shot. His girl breaks up with him while on air with Niall, and Harry isn’t having that, so he forces Niall to help him win her back.

(Alternatively, Niall’s Guide On How to Win Back the Girl, patent pending. It should work, in theory.)

Home is Wherever I'm with You by ziamfcks

Niall is blind and Harry works in a coffeeshop. It's love from the start.

Intensified by Absence by littlecather

Niall smiled, the action uncontrollable. “Hey, time traveller,” he said softly.

Harry blanched, his eyes growing a little wide, but he cocked his head to the side with confusion. “Hello,” he said, holding out his hand across the back of his seat for Niall to shake. “I’m Harry. What’s your name?”

The Time Traveller's Wife AU.

My Dearest Love by badjujuboo (miztrezboo)

His teeth hurt. Ached really. Like this thrumming underneath the veneer that wouldn't cease. Wouldn't be calmed no matter how many pain meds he's taken, no matter how much oil of clove he's rubbed onto them.

His dreams. His dreams were strange, too. Bloody, but without violence. Just a warm, wet, thick feel to them. And red. So much red.

He should have expected it. Should have made plans, sought guidance, kept himself away but. . . .

He’d never been to good at any of those things. Especially the last.

hands that hold me by lostgirl152

Niall was always too interested in Harry's hands

6,359 miles by acastle

“Why, why’d he send me that?” Harry murmurs, and Nick looks up from the screen. “What does he want me to do? I don’t-”

“Idiot,” he flicks his phone back to him. “Make a reservation. He wants you to go there.”

(Niall and Harry were sleeping together, until they aren’t, and then Niall disappears into a tiny island in the East. Then he asks Harry to follow him.)

i forget where we were by littlecather

“You,” he says thickly, swallowing. “You don’t - you don’t remember.”

“Not the last three years,” Harry tells him simply. “Sorry. What was your name?”

“Niall,” he mutters, face suddenly dark. “I’m Niall, I’m Liam’s assistant."

Harry wakes up to find he has retrograde amnesia and a perfect life - seemingly.

he is the lamb, she is the slaughter by trishapocalypse

“Niall, what did you do to me?” Harry repeated, quieter, slower than normal, and he looked up at Niall from under his eyelashes.

Niall froze, reaching a hand up to rub at his eyes, blinking rapidly as he stared at Harry. “What’s that?”

“This?” he asked, gesturing towards his chest. “Oh, you know, just breasts!” he snapped, picking up the pillow and throwing it back at Niall. “What did you do to me?!”

(Or: the one where Harry wakes up a girl and it's clearly NIall's fault.)

Through the Screen by sunshineflying

In his free time, Niall Horan likes to subscribe to his favourite camboy, Harry Cox. When he moves to uni he's not sure how he'll manage to watch the weekly show with a roommate. Things become even more complicated with that roommate is the one and only camboy of his dreams - Harry.

The Whole Shebang by BakerGrey

Niall lives life like it’s a daydream, Harry’s just in love, and Zayn’s painting pictures of Louis’s boyfriend.

laughin' loud on a carnival ride by el_em_en_oh_pee

Harry looks around the fairground. They’ve already done the putt-putt - Harry got tripped up by the windmill, but Niall almost lost his ball at the clown hole because he didn’t want to look straight at it - and the zipper and the gravitron and the spinning teacups. The Ferris wheel looms, past the inflatable slides and the yo-yo, and he wants to go to that, he does, but - Ferris wheels are always romantic in the movies, and Harry isn’t sure that Niall wants romantic from this. “Funnel cakes?” he suggests, instead.

i have lightning by sarcangel

“Have you ever eaten a raw olive?” Harry asks. Niall can actually taste them on his breath, green and briny, mixed with vodka and actual bitters; Harry still needs to breathe to live, after all, and still has no concept of personal space.

in the lonely cool before dawn by mozartspiano

Niall is the Deputy Chief of Staff at the White House. Harry is his assistant.

A West Wing!AU.

like your favourite tune by words_unravel

It's just another summer for Harry - an unexpected flat mate, Louis being an idiot, and Liam hiding away in Wolverhampton.

....okay, maybe not just a typical summer then.

The River and the Deep Green Bend by liquidmeasure 

Harry studies the card for just a moment. It’s all brightness and blooming growth where the last card was darkness and destruction: a child, fair haired and laughing and riding on the back of a horse, his arms outstretched and basking in the light of a yellow sun.

“See? Not all bad." Jesy taps at the image on the card and nods. "Him I like. Look at him casting his light, nourishing the four little flowers in the back. He's an engine, burning brightly. Illuminating the dark corners. He's growth. Newness. Reconciliation...” Harry shakes his head and moves for the door. Opens it just as she says, “for all five of you.”

There’s a flutter and a commotion from behind him and then Rover is winging past him through the door, making her way out into the dark. The night air is cold on his face and it feels like relief. Like an escape.

“Four of us.” Liam sounds a little uncertain.

“What was that?”

“There’s just four of us, not five.”

“Oh…” her voice trails off as Harry steps out into the moonlight. “Well, like he said, it’s mostly bullshit anyway. Can’t get everything right.”

A Dark Tower AU for round 4 of the 1D big bang.

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Things that Keep me up at Night pt II

Genre: sci-fi, period piece, wlw

Words: 6k

Summary: A runaway and an anxiety-ridden young housewife try to build a bomb shelter in her backward in the 1950s. Digging in the woods soon turns to trouble as they find something unusual buried in the earth.

OR: the bomb, the bombshell, and the box in the woods.

Part I ~ Part II ~ Part III ~ Part lV

WordPress ⭐Ko-Fi ⭐Patreon

PART II

warning: for injury

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

My ears are ringing, my thoughts coming back to me one by one, materializing out of the void as I feel a throbbing ache in my head and shoulder.

“Oh God, oh God, oh my God.” I hear someone chanting over and over again above me, a pair of hands were on my shoulders and shaking, I feel a dull throb through my limbs.

I try to push myself to consciousness and to start lurching to safety, I manage a deep groan instead. “Carolyn?” A desperate voice asks, “Carolyn!?”

I crack open by bruised eyes and my whole body shudders, a little woman with golden curls and blood running down her nose is staring at me, wide-eyed and horror-stricken. I try to swallow but my throat feels swollen.

I reach my hand up and then let it falls back down again, I had taken a tumble, I knew what that felt like.

Ginger’s face was smeared with blood from her nose and sticks and leaves poked out of her hair, her sleeve and skirt were ripped. The woman’s eyes were streaming hot tears and I could see her hands shaking violently as she reached toward me.

I groan again and try to turn over, everything hurt. I feel at the lump at my head and wince violently, “what happened?” I rasp and feel a pair of arms wrap around my neck and pull me closer.

“Oh thank God,” she whispered again, her voice a ragged plea. “You’re alive, oh God, you’re alive.” “Ginger?” I say her name like I’m a man coming out of a coma.

She sniffs loudly, “I thought, I thought,” she rubbed her swollen nose again, I could see the light dying behind her and I open my mouth the say something else.

“What-” She lets me go and shifts back and forth. “Wait, wait,” she says and I watch her unevenly stagger to her feet, swaying slightly in place, more blood and cuts run down her legs and leaves cling to her skirt.

I look up and pull a stick out of her stocking, “was it…?” “Tree,” she says as she seems to try and pull herself together, “you weren’t so lucky.”

I only nod and try to feel around my mouth for any broken teeth, I taste something coppery but it seemed I managed not to crack anything. I feel my hands next and wiggle my toes, I gasp audibly when I try to move my shoulder.

“Shit,” I grit my teeth, “That doesn’t feel good.” Ginger was still looking in all directions, “I’ll get some help, but we have to get back.” “What?” I try to make sense of her, I look behind me and see a long trail of swept earth, I realize she must have been dragging me here.

“We have to-” I’m just moving my legs again when I hear the loud purr of a car engine, I glance over and can just see Ginger’s backyard.

Ginger makes a loud whimper, her shoulders fall, “oh no.” She rubs at her face again and then looks wide-eyed back at me. “St-stay here.” I can only open and close my mouth and then look back at my feet, “How far did we fall?” She just shakes her head and we both turn to hear footsteps, “Ginger?” A loud voice calls, “Ging, the lights are all off- everything alright?” I don’t know what to make of meeting Todd like this, Ginger is already running. I watch her limp quickly back toward the house. She pauses to look over her shoulder, “be right back.” She mouths.

A figure comes out around the house, “by God, Ginger have you been digging again?” I watch the other woman flatten out her torn clothes and stay in the dark of the house, “wait, Todd, we need milk. Could you please go out and fetch me some milk?” The figure turns on a light and jumps, “Ginger?!” He says loudly, “what have you been doing?” I test my knees and try to push myself upward, my body working like an old untuned guitar learning how to play again.

“Is that blood?” I crawl back up and tense every muscle in my body as I try to force myself to my feet. “Are you alright?”

“Todd, Todd, it’s not what it looks like.” I stumble and grunt as I take the first staggering step forward.

“What did I say, what did I say about all that digging! You’ve gotten yourself hurt.”

“It’s nothing, I wasn’t digging, I just fell down-” I stop listening, I managed to get back to my feet and start heaving myself forward one step at a time, back to the road, back to the motel. Away from the strange hole and whatever the hell just happened with Ginger Samuels.

I only pause to look over my shoulder once to see her arguing with her husband, hands in the air, face bruising. I’m quick to keep walking.

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

I spend that night in bed looking at the ceiling, my head pounding like an entire orchestra and my shoulder throbbing wildly, Ginger hadn’t had time to pay me before I was flung into the air. I didn’t have enough for painkillers.

I stare at the ceiling and wish for aspirin like frogs pray for rain during a drought. My vision is still blurry and all I can do is lie on my back and listen to the blood in my ears pound.

I squeeze my eyes shut and count back from ten several times. This was it, this was the strange way I would finally get what was coming to me.

I only roll over once to count my change I had left, it wasn’t enough for this second night at the motel, but maybe I could just hitchhike my way to Tampa in the morning. I could go south now and keep going south.

I barely slept that night, though I remember, I remember the sound of ringing and the sudden, unknown pulse in the air. Like flying, but you come back down with little to no ceremony.

We had hit something, I chew on that through my mind’s eye and let my dreams bleed in and out of my thundering headache. I tell myself it’ll be a normal day in the morning.

I wake up hours later, my body stiff as an ironing board and twice as fever hot. I force myself up anyway and stagger around the room. They’d come knocking for their money soon, I knew that.

I re-pack my bag hastily along with all the little shampoo and soap bottles, I managed to roll up a towel as well as a pillowcase and add them to my pack. Those would be useful later.

I hurriedly check the large purple bump on my head before turning toward the door and squishing a knit cap down on my head. I had picked it up in the second town, an old lady dropping from her bag and it felt like something that was meant to be.

I spend a second longer looking at myself in the mirror, thinking, Ginger’s face flashes behind my eyes and I take a deep uneven breath. It was for the best.

I think about the knife I used to chop my hair off and then the look on Ginger Samuel’s face after she got her nose smashed in. I think about a very large hole growing wider in Raleigh. I leave the mirror quickly and trot over to the front of the room.

I hitch my bag high on my back and creek the motel door open, making sure cleaning staff wasn’t making their rounds yet and no one was coming to collect money just yet.

I peak out both ways, checking the area, I freeze when I see a little figure standing in the parking lot, a little figure in a white pressed dress and silver buttons down the front. She stood with a handkerchief tied under her chin, a wide white sun hat, and a pair of cat-eye sunglasses.

She holds herself perfectly still at the edge of the parking lot, a large bandage was pressed over her nose and a few noticeable scrapes ran down her exposed legs. I was momentarily impressed she stuck with her skirt.

Then I remember careening to earth with nothing but my wits about me and a shovel in hand, I remember the irking pain through my right shoulder. I turn away and try to limp a little more quickly in the opposite direction.

“Wait!” A figure comes jogging toward me, “please wait.”

I feel my body tense and a part of me, the part that wants to not be eaten by rabid wolves or go drowning to the bottom of the ocean, tells me to bolt. I turn stiffly in place and look back at her.

“Why?” I finally call out with my hands fisted around my backpack straps.

She holds up a large clean bottle, “because I can help.” I narrow my eyes and then look back at the scratches on her legs and deep bruising around her nose. Just under her cat-eye sunglasses.

I take a deep breath in, “did you do the thing in the woods?” I ask sharply as she stands on the ground below me.

Her mouth becomes a tight line, “Of course not.” She says, a return to her usual snappishness, she peeks up over the brim of her wide hat, she looks small in it. Like it might swallow her. “Please.” She says that word again.

I stand with my body taut like a bowstring and my thoughts rippling over each other as if a storm was shifting back and forth in my headspace. I stare over at her, “I didn’t pay for my room last night.” I say honestly for once.

She waves a hand in the air, “I’ll take care of it.” I raise by my eyebrows and then look around, I nod, “come on up.” I see Ginger turn and go to the front office, I don’t know how she knew which room was mine but maybe she had been standing there for a long time. I don’t know what she says to the manager but I find her standing outside my door in a couple minutes.

We stare at each for a long second, I trace the edges of her cuts with my eyes, “are you okay?” I finally ask, softly, like it’s a secret.

She gestures toward the door, “let’s go in.”

I can feel the back of my neck prickle as she opens my door and ushers us both in, I don’t turn my back to her as we face each other. She closes the door and tosses something my way, “here.” I catch the aspirin bottle with one hand and she goes rifling through her purse, “I also brought bandages and cream if you need it.”

I take a step backward, “why?” She lifts her chin up and I make out the bruises under her eyes, she frowns at me, “you fell at least ten feet…” “So did you,” I say steadily as I hold the bottle up,  I look back at her, “You did too, right?” I change it into a question as I reflect on the childproof lock.

She rubs the back of her neck, “yes, didn’t you see? Maybe not.” She was muttering, she crosses her arms over her chest and looks at me sharply, “you know I was worried sick when I found you disappeared when I got back to the spot.”

I shift from side to the side and turn around to sit on the bed, “You were busy.” I pop open the aspirin and pour a handful into my palm.

“Only two!” She reaches for me and I roll my eyes as I pop two back into my mouth and dry swallow.

“Yeah.” I say forcefully.

“Well,” she pets her blonde curls down, “I thought you were swept away! Or dead or I dreamt you up all along.” She was picking at her hands now, “you’re lucky one of the people at the store saw you walk by.” I give her a hard look, “why?” “Ugh,” she pulls at her bag, “I’m trying to be considerate here.” She says with her expression pinching.

I throw her a hard look, “well what the hell was that thing?” Ginger cringes, “I,” she opens and closes her mouth, “I really don’t know.” “Did you hit something?” I start muttering, “was it an… air bubble?” Were there air bubbles in the earth?

She shrugs, “I would say that’s not possible, but I really don’t know anymore.” She looks me over, “we have to accept it was an anomaly.”

I look her over and have a dawning realization, “but you still want to build your shelter. That’s why you’re here.” Ginger stood perfectly still in front of me and I watch her, poised, thoughtful. She takes another step toward me, “Did you break anything?” She asks instead and I just shake my head.

“Shoulder hurts like the devil, but everything seems to intact,” I glance down at her legs, “you?” She shakes her head, “I was lucky. You were passed out cold. But I’m… I’m okay.”

“Yes,” I say in a strained tone, “we’re okay. But that wasn’t normal.” She nods, “I agree.” “And you want to go back!” I throw my hands up, “tell me I’m wrong and that’s not why you’re here.” Ginger puts her hands on her hips, “it was… strange.” She says carefully, “but,” she bites her bottom lip, “don’t you want know more? I can throw in more meals too, Todd is even going on a business trip in a week. You could sleep in the guest room.” My eyebrow twitches and I stand up, “Listen, lady, I know all I am to you is a walking desperation case, but I was thrown ten feet in the air-” “And we should find out why,” she interrupts quickly, “and see it doesn’t happen to anyone else.” I shake my head, “why do the locals think that place is haunted?” She sniffs loudly, “nothing like that.” She says in an exasperated tone, “honestly, it was probably just an… air bubble?” She offers up my own explanation to me. “You know they…” She says with her eyes going wide, “You know Khrushchev is taking power soon.” Her voice cracks, “the summer can only last so long.” I shake my head and pop another aspirin, “who are you?” I ask stiffly, “I’m not going to be thrown about for just some change.” We stand across from each other and the air stretches thinly between us. “Look.” I finally say as I get back to my feet, “thanks for everything but,” I sigh, “I’ll find a reliable guy to help you after this. Someone who’s not a creep, who can dig.”

“Oh,” I couldn’t read her expression at that but do note her ramrod-straight back as she examines me again. “Where will… will you leave?” I nod, sprouting a crooked grin, “I’m not the type to stick around anyway miss Ginger.” I put my hand out, “though you were lovely to work with.” She looks at my hand, her mouth open slightly, “Lovely.” She raises her eyebrows in the shape of a house roof, “even after yesterday?” I shrug, “I assume you didn’t do that on purpose and,” I wink, “I did enjoy your sandwiches.” She gives me a tight smile, “Carolyn, I,” she takes a breath in, “I guess I can’t make you stay.”

“It’s nothing personal,” I reach for the motel key to hand it to her. “But- Ack.” A feel a small electric shock and jerk my hand back from the key.

“Ow,” I pull my hand away as if it’d been burned.

“Oh my,” Ginger gasps loudly and I look up, my eyes go wide too. The key flew up in midair, as if tossed toward the ceiling, it sailed up for a second, risen like the dead.

“Oh no.” I say loudly.

The key falls back down as quickly as it was lifted, as if remembering itself, flying toward the ceiling for a moment and then clattering back down to the table.

I look back to Ginger and she looks back to me. I long silence follows before I lick my lips, “have you been doing that?” She just shakes her head, “that’s a first.” She said it so dryly I almost laugh, but the key now lying on the floor stops me.

I turn back to her and yank my knit cap over my ears, “okay.” I steady myself, “Okay, okay.” “Carolyn,” Ginger struggles with something, “I don’t think that’s unrelated.” I ball up fists, “God dangit.” She watches me and turn around in tight circles, “God dangit!” I clench my teeth and then glance back at her, “has the forest been doing anything funny since we left?” She just shakes her head, “the only weird thing has been, well, that.” She points at the key again and I make a face.

I kick the carpet wipe at my face, “Ugh,” I look up at the ceiling and count down from ten. Could I just ignore this?

“Maybe we should go back.” I concede with a deep sigh. “Can we-” “No shovels.” She pouts at me, “the shelter isn’t going to build itself.” I sigh loudly, “Miss Ginger,” I say evenly, “I think there are other things we have to be thinking about at this time.” She grabs her purse a little tighter, “I have some helmets in the garage.” We turn to leave.

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

I’m holding a hockey stick and standing in a hole-ridden backyard at 1 in the afternoon, Ginger was holding a broom and two oven mitts as she stood beside me.

“We have to hurry,” she pulls the visor of her helmet down, “Todd is visiting his mother right now. Probably to talk about me. And my neighbor Dorris starts knitting at three, which means she starts watching my yard again.” Ginger tuts to herself.

“Aw yes,” I put my helmet visor down too, “the bat-eared one.” Ginger gives me a very flat look, “if you want to tell jokes to the demon hole please, by all means.” “No jokes,” I work up the gumption to wink, “I’m just a woman holding a hockey stick and stuffing pillows down her blouse.” Ginger finally cracks a smile, “You should also stuff them down your trousers your know. My cousin broke her tailbone last summer and wouldn’t stop complaining about it.”

I hum lowly, “I guess we’ll just have to see if this thing breaks tail bones,” I sniff, “sounds like a bit of a creep actually.” Her face lights up and she gives a small laugh, “I’m sure there are other words.” “I’ve met creeps like him,” I try to make her laugh again, just to break the tension in her shoulders. “Toss little ladies around and don’t even say sorry, that’s what he is.” She snorts, “Please miss Carolyn,” she says with a steady voice and turns around, “we have tailbones to break.” I pause, “I really will take another pillow then.” Ginger looks back to me, “I’m going to have to pray that no one see us.” She runs back inside so I can put a pillow into my pants.

I can’t help but watch Ginger limp toward the door and her petite frame dip in and out, I have take a deep breath in and look up toward the sun. She just wanted my labor, and then probably not to be alone in this.

Whatever it was.

Ginger returns and I pat down the pillow down on my persons, I give her a thumbs up, “I guess this is ready.” She nods, “if things go south…” She gives me a firm stare, “please toss out my casserole. I don’t want it to be the last thing my mother comments about at my funeral.” I lightly whack her in the back of her head, “First of all, we’re not dying.” She starts with a few shaky breaths and faces the woods again, “that’s what they all say.”

A pause follows, I trail after her, “I’ll eat if I have to,” I say with a somber expression, “but only out of charity.” She gives me a dry look over her shoulder, “you are very generous. You can have my pie too.” I shake my hockey stick, “let’s survive then,” I grin, “I bet I would love your pie.”

We share a small smile and follow after her, my skin prickling as we round the dense forest and my heartbeat picks up. I twitch at ever noise overhead and I can tell Ginger is going slower than usual, taking her time picking her way through the foliage.

I feel my chest clenching and look up at a bird singing to my left, “have you ever met a monster before Miss Ginger?” I ask lowly as I stare up.

She glances over her shoulder, “we’re out of time for jokes Carolyn.” I open my mouth, I almost want to correct her in that moment, tell her my real name, I just clear my throat instead, “no jokes.” I say carefully, “but,” I walk up closer to her, putting our strides in time together, “if this does go south.” I make firm eye contact with her, “I want you to run. No freezing, just run.” She sniffs loudly, “I don’t intend to freeze.” I look down at my shoes, “That’s what they all say.” We make it to clearing much faster than I wanted to, Ginger’s body is held completely rigid and I see sweet running down her neck under her helmet.

We both look in either direction, it was quiet, the grass rustle and birds chirped overhead, the clearing lay empty. We crept toward the mouth of the large hole and I feel something trembling inside me.

“Okay.” I take deep breaths, “Okay.”

We stand shoulder to shoulder, I don’t know what to expect, but it feels almost irritating to see nothing but a large nothing hole in the middle of a field. We creep along the edge and keep my ears perked up for noise.

We stand there for a very long moment as we both try to peer into the dimness.

“Is that,” Ginger squints and leans forward, “is that…? Huh.” She shuffles forward and I give her a look. “Wait!” I try to grab her elbow as she drops her broom and jumps into the hole, “don’t be stupid Ginger.” I almost go to wack her with my stick. She doesn’t pause as she reaches out and pushes at the roof of the enclave, letting a huge cascade of dirt fall down. She stands there for a moment, looking, but doesn’t reach any further. She peers over her shoulder at me, “I think it’s a box.” “Well don’t touch it!” I say loudly as we both stand in the middle of nowhere in makeshift armour.

She tilts her head to the side, “it’s dark blue.” She says in a fascinated voice. “With markings.”

“Well, again, don’t touch the box then.” I’m still reaching for her, “Ginger, get back here.” I feel like a just adopted a rebellious 19-year-old at that moment as she just stands there.

She clears off some more dirt, “how could a box do all that?” “I vote we don’t find out,” I’m reaching for her, my fingers inches from the nape of her neck, I could yank her back, but then we might both fall into the hole again.

I suppress a shiver at the memory of a sickening thud as I hit the earth, the splintering pain and then darkness, me and my body were both still trying to forget that moment.

“It’s not doing anything,” she finally says.

“Don’t touch it!” I’m scrambling forward.

“I’m not gonna touch it,” she finally turns around, “I just think it’s odd.” “It IS odd!” I say loudly and look either direction, “And we should let it be.”

She turns back around and I let out a sigh of relief, she takes a step forward, “Perhaps it’s dormant.”

“Ginger Samuels,” My voice wavers, “come back.” She nods with a slight incline of her head and takes a step back, “do you think-”

Irrrrrrrrrinnnng

A sound fills the air like a dust cloud, noxious and blooming outward.

My eyes go wide, “Ginger,” I put my hand out as the world starts ringing, “Ginger get out of the hole!”

She scrambles for my hand and I grab for her desperately.

Irrrrriiiiinnnnnnng

I dig my nails into her skin and hoist her upward, she kicks her feet in the air as the loose dirt scatters and she grunts as she wiggles her way back up.

“Run!” I yell, “we need to run!” She falls forward and I pull her to my chest. She’s shaking, I try to move her but her body goes limp against me.

Her eyes are wide and pupils dilated like dinner plates, she stands there, “Ginger.” I say her name, and then we’re both falling toward the ground.

IRRRRRING

I’m holding her shaking hands one second and then the ringing is like a silver bell seizing the air and shattering it. I go to cover my ears but my arms are heavy, too heavy, I can barely breathe.

I fall to the ground as if sucked there by an unseen force, hard, instant. My cheek is pushing up against the dirt and I screw my eyes shut.

A flash of memory grabs me. My dad once sprang to let us all go visit an olympic sized pool for a day, he said it was our reward for no one getting arrested that summer.

I remember sprinting as fast as I could and cannonballing into the deepest part of the pool, I didn’t actually know how to swim. My ears popped and I sank down down down, the pressure on my hands and feet tugging at me, I clawed desperately upward but it all just melted through my fingertips.

I gasp for air, the dirt presses up against my cheek and my limbs are weighed to the earth, I can barely move, barely think. It feels like I’m in the deep end of the pool all over again.

I see Ginger splaid on the ground next to me and I pray for a moment, I hadn’t prayed for a very long time but I take that moment to let out one long silent wish. God, I swear, let us make it through this.

Maybe I had been praying for that for a long time, but I could feel my heart leaping toward it this time. Let me live.

It’s over as quickly as it began.

The field was full of a deep, chiming blare and I was being pressed down forcefully to the ground one second and then it was warm, bright, sunny. The birds were out, my lungs filled with air like they hadn’t just forgotten how.

I cough and choke, rolling over immediately as mobility comes back to me. “Oh,” I cough, “fuck.” “I didn’t do that,” Ginger was wiping at her face again, rasping and trying to wipe away the tears cascading down her cheeks. My hands are shaking, something primordial overcomes me and a wrap my arms around her slim frame.

I pull Ginger to my chest and she clings to my front, we hug for a long silent minute, shaking against each other in the strange trembling afternoon.

I can barely catch my breath before I open my eyes again and hold her steadily, “we shouldn’t have come back here.” Ginger paws at my back and doesn’t look up, “I think we had to come back here.”

I shake my head, “Ginger, did you not just feel that?” “Carolyn,” she digs her nails into my back and her voice is taught, “do you see a man in the woods?” “My name’s not-” I pause and then whip my head around, I see an outline in the distance, right behind a large bush. “Is that-” I blink and then see nothing at all.

Ginger gives another hiccup as more tears stain her face, “Oh God.” She leans into me, “what the hell have I gotten us into?” I go to help her up, “we need to get out of here.” She nods and we both adjust our helmets as we turn to leave, I don’t mention the electric spark going through my spine or the way the dust settles around us. I don’t mention that I think this isn’t the last time we’re going to be there.

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

I am sitting in Ginger Samuels couch with a cup of hot coffee in my hands. Normally I would be reveling in the smell of a hot pot of coffee and a nice plush pillow under me but I was quivering like a leaf in October and cursing instead.

I take a deep, long sip. Ginger was sitting deftly in her chair and looking at nothing, “Todd was right,” she says bitterly, her face slack, “Todd is always right.” My head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and I don’t know what to say to her, ‘it’s alright’ didn’t feel like the right thing at that moment.

I settle for taking another deep satisfying sip of my drink, I look out into nothing too.

She glances over to me, “should we call the police?” I lift my eyebrows, “absolutely not.”

Her brow furrows, “do you think it’s the Soviets?” She asks in a high-pitched whisper, “because if it’s the Soviets we have to go to the-” “I don’t think it’s the Soviets,” Some part of me doesn’t believe that, but I wasn’t going to get the police involved. I wave my hand through the air, “there wouldn’t be a reason to.” “It could be us then,” she says quickly, “They heard about my bomb shelter and-” “Ginger,” I put my hand up to stop her, “we need to breathe.” Her mouth becomes a hard thin line and she just looks at me, her face placid and drained of all color. “Do you think it’s a weapon?” I just shake my head, “I don’t know what it is, but,” I catch her gaze and hold it, “I think we should get away from it.” She opens her mouth as if to protest, and then closes it again. Eventually, she just gives one tight sharp nod. “I,” she gives a single high-pitched laugh, “I can’t argue with that.” I study her, “We could get that company to bury it again if need be, but I think we shouldn’t go near something like that again...” Ginger blinks a couple times, “until?” I just shrug, “I’ll be headed out, so before that.” “No,” Ginger reaches forward as if to cling to me again, her eyes wide, she sits up straight, “No,” she puts her finger in the air, “I won’t go near it again, promise. With one condition.” I raise my eyebrows, “Yes?” I feel a tightness seeping in through my frame as I ask.

She shakes slightly and her eyes become perfectly round, “you can’t leave.” She says in a small voice, “You can’t leave me all alone with this thing.” “I’m sure it won’t do anything if you don’t-” Ginger leans over and grabs my hand, “No one else knows about it.” Her eyes search my face, going a little wild. “What if it is the Soviets? What if I disappear? Todd will never, I mean,” she takes a deep breath of air, “no one will know.” My eyes go soft, I look into her face and memorize the worry lines there. I was used to running, I was good at running, I take a deep breath instead.

“Okay,” I squeeze her hand, “but only until we find a way to cover it again. I can’t stay here forever.”

She puts my hand in both of her hands, “I’m sure… I’m sure there’s a way.” I don’t like the way she puts those words together, but I let her hold my hand and we sit close to each other as the sun dips behind the horizon. I’m not sure how long it is, but my eyes go wide as I eventually hear a car engine in the driveway.

I whip my head toward her, “Todd?” Her eyes go wide, “He’s back from his mothers.” I stand up, “I should go.” She looks both directions, as if searching for something, “You could stay in the basement, it’s not finished but Todd doesn’t go down there.” “I have to go,” I say more firmly, “I can’t…” I can’t watch you argue with your husband in a two story house and a pair of white heels. “I can’t leave my backpack at the motel.” “Well,” her eyes are still large, “take this.” She turns around in circles, “for the next couple nights.” She reaches into her purse again and takes out a ten dollar bill, I stand up straight, some part of me, the part my mother raised, wants to say no. The other part that had been sleeping on benches for the last couple weeks doesn’t protest.

She turns around, “though if you run off,” she swallows thickly, “I’ll be… very cross.” I crack a smile for the first time, “wouldn’t dream of it miss Ginger,” I take the money, “I keep promises.” She looks into my eyes and I’m not sure what I’m seeing there, footsteps thump from the doorway. “Honey,” a male voice calls.

“Go go,” Ginger gestures at me, “I’ll call for you.” “I brought a stew from my mother's.” He came in through the front door, Ginger ushers me to the back door again.

“That sounds lovely dear,” I raise my eyebrows as Ginger’s voice sounds ten times more simple than usual, like glass chimes or precise musical notes.

“Did you have someone over?” I freeze by the back door, “I saw a man in the driveway.” “You did?” I could hear the restrained tremor in Ginger’s voice, I pause to look back at her, our eyes meet again. She mouths the word ‘go.’

“He was in a suit,” Todd says easily, “you weren’t having a suitor over here were you?” Ginger just laughs, “wouldn’t dream of it.” “Well, let’s warm this up.” I have no choice but to slip out the kitchen door and back into the upturned soil of the backyard. I look in both directions, as if I’m going to find something.

The wind rustles in the woods and I try to make out outlines in the dimness, I’m not sure if I see anything, but I do know that I’m running. I was good at running, even with my shoulder still complaining and the world seeming more colorful and wrong then it ever had before.

I lock all the doors in my motel that night.

<====== Previous Part ~ Next Part ======>

[from-chaos-make-art]

things exist within me

written July 17, 2016

I was planning on finishing it, but let’s be real - it’s been 6 years, it ain’t gonna happen.

Trigger warnings for: self-harm, blood

i. There is a hole inside of me that has been there since I can remember. Mother says that I was born with it. Grandmother says that it grew when I was five, when I saw blood for the first time. She says it’s been growing ever since. She says that Mother would like to take credit for the hole and this is called “selfishness”. Grandmother says that the hole is there because of sadness, and grief, and sin. When I told Mother that I was full of tears blood and wickedness, I saw her eyes for the first time. Blue, cold, angry. She took my face in her hands and whispered that it was not my fault. That the hole is natural and that we all have it inside of us. That mine is simply bigger because “of circumstances”. Mother says Grandmother is full of shit.

ii. The smell is unbelievably disgusting. I choke and heave on it, but nothing comes out. I have not eaten in three days. I’m told there is no salvation for me. I’m told that the blood that has been spilled is because I have not been pure, good, faithful enough. They whisper and hiss at me, their mouths lines. Sin, sin, sin, they chant.

iii. The water peels off my skin. I try to wash it off. I have tried to fill the hole with everything that I can imagine. Everything I touch crumbles. Everything I try to put inside does not stick, comes out rotting, stench. This is the day that I learn that there are different kinds of blood that can spill from you.

iv. When Father leaves, Grandmother slaps me. I know he has left for good when she screams at me. She is trembling and I have never seen her this angry before. Mother is holding my hand so tightly, I am afraid my bones will crack. This is the second time I see Mother’s eyes. I do not remember much after this. I wake up with a bandaged arm and head. I see the violet ceiling of my room and Mother’s song in my ears. I am told, later, that what happened was “abuse” and that what Mother did was “protection”.

v. This is not my fault. I did nothing wrong. I am good. I am not full of sin. I will not go to Hell for the things that I have done. For the things that I could not change. For the things that have happened to me. I am good and worthy and able to be loved. I am enough.

vi. I am seven when I learn that the water will not cleanse me. I have peeled off layers after layers of skin and flesh and muscle hoping that I will be remade, that God will see fit to purity me. I try to see what mechanism inside of me has been turned wrong, which switch I can flip that will make me good again. That will make it all right again. I try to dig myself out

vii. I am ten when I learn that not everybody heals as quickly as I do. That veins that are cut do not mend in minutes. That bones that break do not piece back in hours. I am ten when I learn that the deeper I go, the more interesting it gets. I do not have any friends or toys. I become my own friend and toy and I make games of my own self. I am ten when I learn that there is a word for me--insane.

viii. They say that your senses evolve and mature as you grow older. I realise this as I stand against a wall, blood dripping on my tongue, blood dripping from my hands, the taste of iron and rust and fear in my mouth. They say that as you age, you learn new things about yourself. I am twelve when I learn that my self is not the only toy I can play with.

ix. Nobody teaches you to fight. Nobody teaches you to defend yourself against a city that would rather chew you up and spit you out and rake at you. Nobody teaches you that you can use your anger and your hatred to grow teeth, to grow claws to snap back and scratch out. Nobody tells you that this is what happens when you are twelve years old and he smells like the cat that you found on the street, five days into decomposition.

[lapetiteauteur]

#1 WRITING PROMPT

If you click on “keep reading” you will read the best I could do with @wordsnstuff ‘s writing prompt.

You recently inherited the house of your 98 year old grandfather. He had lived in this house since he was a child. Then one day a postman drops off a letter that your grandfather sent in 1941. This is what it says.

You will be able to see that it’s just inspired by wordsnstuff’s post and does not respect it entirely. Initially I wanted it to take a fantasy turn... but somewhere in the writing process I made it into what you’ll see.

Please have mercy and criticize politely.

People use to say that a great deal of luck befalls the one who suddenly inherits a fortune; they even tend to become envious and obnoxious about said fortune and the quantity of it. Some even obsessed, to the point they can’t seem to leave you alone with you thoughts.

The bigger the fortune the bigger the luck! One should think the ones who inherit the fortune should play at the lottery so they might win more and more.

Do you care about my opinion, in quality of the heir of a great fortune? Or is it enough for you to know that I inherited my grandfather’s 1941 mansion? Well, I am going to tell my thoughts on it anyway.

By inheriting a mansion, or any other object – be it big or small -, you do not only inherit the object itself, but the luck the owner had in or with said property. If it’s for that, I can tell you my grandpa had so much bad luck that he could donate to the ones who longed for his possession.

Putting aside the bleached and unhinged entry door, the broken windows and window panes, the peeled off and musky walls, the stench of garbage teenagers use to throw into abandoned places and the cracked wood of every couch, armchair and table, my bad luck concerned an unpronounceable amount of money I had to pay.

But if my only concerns were the earthly ones, I would have been more than happy with my fate and wouldn’t have written to you. I fear, alas, that a greater evil fell upon my shoulders and it weights on me more than the sky on Atlas. I will not tell you what you might already know, so I will try and avoid any unnecessary reference to ghosts and other such entities from the Afterworld.

Yesterday, while I was waiting my turn to speak at the local Bank’s info checkpoint, a postman standing right behind me tapped me on my shoulder and without a word handed me the letter I am sending to you together with this one.

I was tempted not to pay any attention to the letter coming from my grandpa, being more concerned with the matter at hand, but the moment I read the date on the envelope I sprinted out of the bank, forgetting even my groceries! My grandfather has sent me a letter from 1941, calling me by my name. Which, in case no one observed would be quite impossible given the fact that my father was born way after that date. At first I thought he might have sent it to seomeone who shared my name and his timeline, but the more I dug into what he had written the more I convinved myself that he was in possession of not only a great fortune but also of great superpowers.

I quote:

Dear and most loved Veronica,

I, the grandfather you have never had the chance to meet and know because of a series of unfortunate events, hope that you will receive this letter I sent you in the year 2018. I know it might sound very strange

I decided to make a few cuts into the content of the letter, skipping the 1940s courtesies that not you nor I have the time and will to read anymore

I hope with all my heart that you DO NOT come into the possession of the house I own for it is surrounded by great horrors that your pure heart should never get to know. It suffices for me to say that soon enough the War will become even more bloody and immense crimes will be committed within these very walls. Blood will soak every rug and pillow, smoke will burn every wall and wood, stones will shatter very window and picture and the only thing that will be standing up to your day will be the Commander’s portrait.

At this stage of reading, I swear I heard a muffled cry in the night and the lamp resting on my table moved a few inches, although I swear to God I haven’t touched it. I was being spooked by a letter about World War II. Hilarious.

I am now leaving this damned house” said my grandfather and what followed made the hairs on my arms raise even more, to the point I felt icey chills down my spine.

My sight is getting worse and worse but I can still grasp the future and the past. The spirits of the old are haunting me and punishing me for allowing that future to penetrate this mansion. Lamps are being put out without me or the butlers doing it. While I sleep I hear cries and giggles, touches on both my shoulders and my cheeks, I hear the floor screach under a nonexistent weight. And when I wake up in the morning the whole house is mocking me: pictures look at me tilted upside down, garbage is thrown all over the 3 floors and the walls and curtains are scratched even though I own no cat.

My grandpa keeps going on with the list of shenanigans these entities enjoy doing the night. Apparently they have nothing else to do. Read a newspaper for example?

Anyway… all the lights have just gone out. Thanks to God the battery of the laptop is charged. I called a cleaning company but apprently they left some mice into the house. There is screeching anywhere and it is driving me mad!

I fear my grandfather’s letter might have affected me… I feel a cold wind caress my cheek and bare shoulder. I still don’t believe in all this but maybe, by the time you get this e-mail, you could recite a small prayer for my soul? I am starting to feel fear.

What do you think about my grandpa’s abilities to see through past and future, as he puts it. You knew him quite well, padre.

God… I swear I’ve seen something walk or fly past me on the left wall. And a picture just fell over a cupboard. I have to get out of this house, only if I find the keys.

I found them but I heard someone knock at the door. I checked through the peephole but there was no one. I believe someone got into the house, I hear footsteps, like boots on old wood… and there’s no light at all in this house. I have to get out, I have to find the back door, if there is any.

I hope you get the e-mail in time to say a prayer, father.

Goodbye, your Veronica.

P.S. do no get into this house! Ever!

[xseedgames]

Zwei: The Arges Adventure - Localization Blog #1

AAAAAAHHHHH IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING.

I’ve been working on this game for the better part of a year now, but have been unable to say anything about it for PR reasons – namely, that it wasn’t in a showable state, and we didn’t want to confuse prospective players by having two Zwei games announced but unreleased at the same time. Which is totally reasonable, but AAAAAAAHHHH I’VE BEEN WANTING TO TALK ABOUT THIS GAME SO BADLY YOU HAVE NO IDEA.

…Ahem. First off, I guess I should bring you all up to speed, in case you missed the announcement. Falcom’s 2001 PC classic Zwei!! is coming to the Western world via Steam, GOG, and The Humble Store in early 2018, under the name Zwei: The Arges Adventure. Why the name change? Well, because we already released its 2008 sequel, Zwei: The Ilvard Insurrection (which was originally called Zwei II: Sky-High Great Adventure in Japan).

That’s right. Localization work wrapped on the sequel first, and now we’re finishing things up with the original.

What are we thinking?!, you must be asking yourselves. Why would we release the sequel first, then go back and release the original? Why wouldn’t we release the original game first? And since we’ve already released the more modern second entry in the series from seven years later, can this earlier effort really hold its own by comparison? 

Well, that’s why I’m so excited. Because Zwei: The Arges Adventure is good. REALLY good. In fact, I dare say it’s my favorite translation I’ve ever worked on to date – yes, even topping Return to PopoloCrois and Corpse Party. And if you’re at all familiar with me (this is Tom, BTW), that statement alone should tell you that Zwei: AA is something special, since PopoloCrois and Corpse Party are… shall we say, perennial favorites of mine. To put it very lightly.

So, yeah. Let’s address those hypothetical questions, shall we?

Why would we release the sequel before the original? Well, two reasons. One, because we can – these games each tell standalone stories, set on different floating continents with different casts of characters. Zwei: AA’s two protagonists, Pipiro and Pokkle, do make a few cameo appearances in Zwei: II, but this is done almost purely for the sake of fanservice (the literal kind, not the naughty kind). When all is said and done, these two games are completely standalone, taking place in the same world but telling very different stories with very different characters and a very different feel. Think of it kind of like the Ys series, but even more episodic (since, Ys Origin aside, Ys has the Adol-as-protagonist connection from one game to the next, whereas Zwei doesn’t even have that!).

The other reason is because of the nature of Zwei: AA’s code. The Japanese version of this game utilized DirectX 5, was formatted strictly for 4:3 resolution with no widescreen options whatsoever, offered a lovely FPS selection of 30 or 15 (seriously!), counted on players to play it with mouse and keyboard over gamepad (it supported gamepads, but… barely), and contained no fewer than six unlockable Windows desktop apps that were loosely tied to yet completely separate from the main game.

This is one of them. And that first screenshot at the beginning of this blog entry is another.

In other words… this is the kind of adaptive coding project that’s been known to give lesser programmers heart attacks. Getting a game like this to even run on a modern Windows machine at all – much less run WELL – was decidedly not a task for the meek. In fact, it’s because of the way this game is coded that we ultimately decided to translate the game in-house rather than working with any fan-translators as we did for Zwei: II, as no two programmers would handle this text the same way – and trying to convert a fan-translated script to a format that would work for us would’ve taken almost as long as translating the game from scratch.

So, yeah. Getting Zwei: II out first was pretty much just done because… erm… it was ready first. And it was always GOING to be ready first. Even with a lengthy QA process and a couple minor delays, it still inevitably got finished long before its predecessor was ready to make its debut.

Fortunately, we hired a veteran programmer to work with us on Zwei: AA… but you’ll never guess who! It wasn’t Sara, since she was busy getting Zwei: II ready at the time (and a fine job she did of it, with one of our smoothest PC launches ever!). But this wasn’t our first time working with the guy we worked with on this project, either. It was, however, our first time working with him to modernize someone else’s game – and he really did perform some miracles for us (and put up with my many, many demands for quality-of-life improvements and feature additions, to boot!).

The man in question? Matt Fielding, of Magnetic Realms. A.k.a. the guy who brought you the game Exile’s End. 

Pictured: Exile’s End. Which is also an awesome game you should play!

And thanks to his technical wizardry, you guys are going to have an astoundingly up-to-date version of Zwei!! on your hands at launch. We’re talking more than just widescreen support here – there’s full in-game integration of the Pet Monitor and other desktop apps, new control functionality for more natural gamepad support across the board, inclusion of the arranged soundtrack from the Japan-only PSP version of the game, additional art and text content not present in any previous version of the game, and much, much more (to be detailed in future blog entries!).

Moving on to the second question I asked, with Zwei: II already out, can Zwei: AA hold its own by comparison?

I think you know what my answer’s going to be, on that one. Zwei: The Arges Adventure is a freaking awesome game with a lot to offer, and differs from its own successor in enough key areas that it can very easily hold its own any day of the week. Hell, you might even like it better than Zwei: II – it’s certainly a very close call for me, but I’d say Zwei: AA gets the slight edge! 

Sure, they’re both dungeon-crawling action RPGs at their core, and they both use food to level-up, even sharing the same food exchange system to discourage grinding. And the two-character party (plus one pet), with one character taking the role of physical attacker while the other slings spells, takes center stage in both titles as well. Plus, both games are set on floating continents in the same world.

That’s a lot of similarities, but they’re all relatively superficial. You could say Zwei: AA is like the 2D answer to Zwei: II’s 3D world, but that would be discounting its snarkier and more tongue-in-cheek storyline (yes, even more than Zwei: II’s!), or the gorgeous and ludicrously colorful hand-drawn backgrounds, or the two games’ very different approaches to pets (you only get one pet in Zwei: AA as opposed to the veritable army of pets featured in Zwei: II, but that one dog or cat [or other?] has significantly more personality and gameplay involvement than its many Zwei: II counterparts), or the huge variety of minigames on offer (all of which have been adapted to play from within the game itself, despite formerly existing only as desktop apps)… and that’s just scratching the surface. In short, although the two games use the same basic template, they represent two very different approaches to game design within the confines of that template.

For me as Zwei: AA’s translator, though, I can’t help but laser-focus right on the game’s dialogue. Protagonist duo Pipiro and Pokkle are without a doubt the best pair to write that somebody like me could ever ask for. Pokkle constantly cracks bad puns (and I do mean constantly!), wears a tail for funsies, and is always hitting on women twice his age.

And Pipiro just has absolutely no filter whatsoever, and is full of so much snark that she’s fit to burst.

Practically every line out of these two is an absolute gem – and that’s to say nothing of the many quirky NPCs surrounding them over the course of their rather lengthy quest (such as the endlessly self-delusional “libertine fatass” that’s funding your adventure, and his extremely no-nonsense maid who gave him that nickname).

I… really can’t stress enough how much fun it was to write for these characters, and how inspired I was to come up with the perfect phrasing for every line. I’m extremely appreciative that we chose to translate the game in-house, as it gave me an opportunity to work much more deeply with this script than I ever could’ve if we’d only been tasked with editing it. As time went on, I found myself revising my work on a daily basis, making small tweaks here and there as new bits of wordplay or better puns popped into my head (much to Matt’s chagrin, I’m sure!). The end result is something that I can stand behind as a faithful interpretation of the game’s mood and intent – an attempt to convey the same degree of lighthearted fun and irreverence present in every line of the Japanese script, but formatted to sound more natural in English, accounting for context, tone, atmosphere, and individual character quirks rather than just hammering out a word-for-word translation.

I’ve never laughed so hard while playing a JRPG before, and I truly hope that when you guys play this one in English, you’ll find its English interpretation just as hilarious as I found its original Japanese to be. That would mean I succeeded at what I set out to do, and would bring me great joy and pride as a localizer!

And please do keep an eye on this Tumblr, as I fully intend to give lots more info about Zwei: The Arges Adventure (and more screenshots showing off lines I’m particularly proud of) in the weeks to come!

Until then, I hope you’re all continuing to enjoy Zwei: The Ilvard Insurrection, and… well, I’mma go back to testin’ Zwei: The Arges Adventure now, ‘cause I want this game to be downright perfect when it’s released! And with translation and editing 100% complete, and coding probably somewhere in the 70-80% done range, that release date will be here before you know it…

[skyedill-blog]

300 things that make me happy (May 11th, 2014)

  music that reminds you of something good

coldplay

doctor who

wes anderson

arctic monkeys

watercolors

my grandma’s house

my grandma

cats

dogs

my other grandma

my parents

getting money

my sisters

when my palms aren’t clammy

old photos

blogging

supernatural

cardigans

christmas lights

steel guitar strings

making movies

sleeping in

staying up all night

sunrises

candles

new converse

wifi working

biking

benedict cumberbatch

sherlock holmes

family videos

the vlogbrothers

learning something new

teaching someone something new

calvin & hobbes comic books

ampersands &&&&&

remembering something i forgot

full battery

the fault in our stars

tea

coffee

clean dishes

honey

when my sister thinks im funny

getting better from a cold

colored napkins for parties

bad music that you still like

being the first to wake up

grapefruit soda

passionate political debates without bigotry

equality

hugs

when you get to lick the spoon during baking

coming home

running away

strangers who smile back

when you and one other stranger see something funny and you smirk at each other

little kids that make faces with you

the london underground

winston churchill

colin firth

jarred telling me dumb jokes

the tylers

my cousins

when films are remade from a long time ago and they are really good

when films are remade from a long time ago and they are really bad but you see them anyway

appreciating good art

laughing at stupid pretentiously simple art

67 chevy impalas

oversized jumpers

indoles crew

chapin’s class

finding my old clothes from when i was little

the color green

sun shining through the cracks in the leaves

tia

kepler

my family in denmark

carlsberg beer

meeting strangers on buses and having nice conversations

old english women named sally

maddy because she calls me a dork and makes me laugh

my grandma’s accent

my mom’s accent

bridget’s singing voice

getting to stay up when the little cousins have to go to sleep

the kids table at thanksgiving

bread

coloring

finding out that you got accepted to college at your dream school

spaghetti

rosy cheeks

finger painting

days that my depression lifts a bit and i feel like a normal kid again

the smiths

three hole punching

getting glasses for the first time and its like you found god

old cameras

new cameras

101 dalmatians

new york city

being surrounded in books

when i do homework and dont cry

new music that i cant believe i didnt know about

internet friends

getting mad and just swearing like a sailor because damn it feels good

dean winchester because he taught me about love  

sam winchester because he taught me about forgiveness

cas because he taught me about redemption

bobby singer because he taught me that family doesnt end in blood

porch swings

boys

alex turner’s accent and hair

The number 115

triangle banners

the hotel room i stayed in when i was in berlin

trivia

brushing my teeth

morning star farms veggie sausage

during spring when the sun is up by the time i leave for school

lord of the rings and the hobbit

going to the library for class instead

apple products

white linens

top gear uk

james may’s stupid hair

maps

getting confirmation

star gazing

teaching my little cousins about science and the stars

the fact that we are all made of stardust

puns

when you know a word in a different language and you feel really cool for remembering it and connecting it wow im cool

lower case letters

newly vaccuumed carpet

the sound of stapling

muffins

shredding paper

exact change

getting homework done early

mediterranean food

karl pilkington and how much he hates everything

stephen fry quotes

obama

calling my friends nerds

waking up early

plane rides

soft socks

when family brings you home leftovers

when my step dad gives me life lessons

my cat rory. rip.

my dog seeger

les miserables

showtunes

frank sinatra

billie holiday

queen elizabeth II

james bond movies

alfred hitchcock movies

billy wilder movies and how he was a sarcastic butthead

warm paper just off the printer

freshly mowed grass

evolution theories because wow that is so cool and learning how species grew and evolved is insane

colorful kites

museums

tuesdays

old timey christmas music

the thought of moving away from home and doing something new even though its really scary

mac and cheese

when packages come for you in the mail

the feeling i had when i got my drivers license

mr. kato

pirates

when people fall asleep on your shoulder and you suddenly feel that being their pillow is your only purpose

my family in miami

winning board games

when people get their braces off

kick ass lyrics that perfectly make sense

accepting how fragile things are and being better for it

stand up comedians

rainy days that make you feel a little sad and chilly but its good to be sad sometimes

unrealistically tiny things

getting compliments from people you are trying to impress

backing out of plans you didnt really want to fufill

shows without continuity errors

when movies and tv shows say the title of the movie or tv show

colloquialisms

freckles

songs turned acoustic

quirks about people like scars or birthmarks

leonardo dicaprio because like holy crap have you seen that guy act

shakespeare

formatting errors

irony

having a good calendar

a clean house and your mom being proud of you

painting walls

finishing a good tv show or series and having a good cry

books

kissing

oragami

pepper jack cheese

concerts that make you feel like you belong somehow with all these strangers and the lights go down and you all sing

giving a waiter/waitress a good tip

writing lyrics on the back of your hands

feeling like a stupid teenager with loud music and ripped jeans which somehow feels like your own rebellion against nothing

knowing that however old i get i will still be that stupid teenager who eats cold pizza and plays my music a little too loud

listening to people talk

road trips

pranking my step-dad

filling up the gas tank all the way

my aunt tiffany’s house

peaceful people

diplomatic solutions to violent things

pianos

cool light fixtures

film scores

inventiveness

dystopian novels

finishing a long paper

basset hounds

photo booth

clark’s shoes

mayonnaise on wasa with yellow tomatoes and salt and pepper

veggie burgers with fried green tomatoes

nostalgic places

monty python

peter pan

boarding passes

butter

blue skies

overcast

shadow puppets

blanket forts

camping

the smell of mosquito spray

waterfalls

driving through the smoky mountains

bon iver

harry potter

learning about WWI and WWII

good quotes

google because without it i probably wouldnt be graduating high school

when people let me talk/encourage me to keep talking because sometimes im made fun of for talking too much

knowing weird facts about things and getting to tell people

hearing people talk about the things they love

hearing people laugh

trumpets

when people stand up for me or notice when i am being wronged without me telling them

when people remember my name

having a sub for a teacher i dont like

understanding a math concept because it is rare

riding in golf carts

weekends

christmas trees

eurovision

french

plot twists

nice patio furniture

waking up to thunderstorms

witty welcome mats

having the windows down all the way in the car and it's really cold but it feels good to feel something

tom hiddleston

that really nice business man i met on the tube several months ago

booty

getting my hair cut

those really pretty flowers in england

laying in the sunshine on the living room carpet

high waisted shorts

strawberries

pirouettes

lemonade

glitter

the rain song by led zeppelin

those erasers shaped like food

rollercoasters (not too big)

campfire smell

waking up with good hair

conchita’s beard

copenhagen

really juicy pens

horse movies

april ludgate

the sun

the moon

weeping willow trees

acing a test

alpacas

warming your hands on a hot mug

red noses after playing in the snow

watching old movies during a rainstorm

hammocks

baby toes

those pretty lights on northumberland street

mushy peas and chips

wristwatches

scratch & sniff stickers

knowing that even though i will get older and my hair will grow and my skin will wrinkle and scar and this list will be revised… that i will still be me and its okay to change… its okay to run away and make stupid choices and dye all your clothes purple and waste your money and eat cheesecake… its okay because my list will change and so will i and hating what you used to be gets nothing done and neither does hating who you are. things are changing and they wont stop. today these 300 things make me happy and one day they wont but that doenst mean i lost myself. it means i grew. i know that. that makes me happy.

moving on

[rxdonmyledger]

Writer’s Block|| II.

Summary: In which Sebastian and you have the same writing course and you deal with a terrible writer’s block. Will he be able to help you?

Author’s Note: As promised, Part 2 of this little story I created in my mind. I remembered that Sebastian has a cat allergy so I put it! As always, I hope you enjoy it and feel free to comment whatever you want. Feedback would be appreciated.

Warnings: Oral sex (F receiving), Protected sex, Fluff!

Words: 3,167.

You poured the hot water on the mug, observing the mist rising from it. You left the teapot and put a tea bag inside, covering it before moving back to your desk, where the laptop rested. The document had several lines written and the cursor flickering, waiting for you to continue. You sat, placing the mug near your phone, sighing. You made your back crack and your fingers as well before keeping on.

You glanced at the clock while your fingers moved over the keyboard, mixing with the sounds that came through your open window. The curtains rocking as the breeze entered your apartment. You took the lid of the mug and blew before taking a sip. The words were right in front of you and while you had managed to write something, you didn’t like it.

After that class with Sebastian, you had written at least ten pages to your upcoming project. You had felt revitalised and willing to sit down and face the blank paper. And it worked. You had typed for hours before having dinner. Your cat had rubbed her head against your leg, meowing in an attempt to catch your attention.

Yet, that energy had started to decrease. You sighed and rubbed your forehead, watching as your phone lightened up. You frowned and took it, unlocking it before you looked for your incoming messages. Alycia, Anna and your mother had written to you. The other chat was a number you didn’t know.

«Hey»

«I forgot to ask you your number so I texted Alycia and…here I am»

«I’m Sebastian, btw»

You snorted at the three emojis with tears as they laughed and hurried to type an answer, resting your feet on the table as your cat observed you, licking her own paw. She meowed again and you frowned.

“What?” Your cat meowed. “It’s rude not to reply, don’t you think?”

Her green eyes kept observing you and you stick out your tongue at her, watching as she laid by your side, her paw touching your ankles. Your fingers moved over the keyboard, typing an answer.

«Hey! Don’t worry. »

«How r u?»

Typing…

«Stressed. And fucking tired. My trainer is killing me.»

You moved your head back as you laughed, shaking your head. You sent him several emojis laughing at him and replied.

«Poor mine»

«No pain, no gain. That’s what happens when you must play The Winter Soldier»

Sebastian replied with the emoji rolling its eyes and you bit your lip, taking a sip of your colder tea, almost forgotten now you were talking to him. The dots moved as he was typing an answer and you waited patiently, petting your cat’s head.

«You owe me a coffee. And we have a project to do, so…»

Sebastian sent the emoji smirking and you rolled your eyes, huffing. You looked at your cat, who was observing you. You chuckled and caressed her neck, hearing her purrs.

“What do you think? Coffee with Sebastian?” She meowed and you typed, nodding.

«There’s a coffee shop in the building where we went to the class. I’ll meet you there in…30?»

«I’ll be there»

Punctual, you found Sebastian waiting for you in one of the tables with a coffee by his side. He was rubbing his hair, curling it with his finger as he looked at his notebook, absent-mindedly. He lifted his head and his face seemed to shine the moment he sees you, standing up to kiss your cheek.

“You’re here”

“Of course. My future as a writer depends on this project” you joked, sitting down by his side, hearing his chuckles. “What were you writing?” you asked, taking off your jacket and placing it on the chair, waiting for the server to come.

“I was just doing a kind-of brainstorming, so we can choose some ideas,” he muttered, biting his lips. “But of course we must talk about this. Lovely shirt” he added, winking at you and you laughed after ordering your chocolate milkshake.

“Thank you” You replied, looking down at it. You were wearing your Bucky Barnes protection squad t-shirt, black with the words in grey. “Someone has to do it”

“Yeah, I can’t stop hearing he’s the villain” Sebastian pressed his lips in a thin line before pouting and you laughed again, caressing his cheeks.

“Poor mine. Now, show me the ideas you had”

Sebastian moved his chair closer to yours, explaining what he had been writing until you had come. He had wonderful ideas and soon, you two were discussing one that, if you wrote it good, it would turn out to be a short novel with plot-twists and breath-taking scenes. You decided one would write two characters and the other one, the two remaining. The novel would have four voices and you were shivering at the amount of work it would take.

“So, your trainer?” you asked after that, wiggling your eyebrows playfully. He chuckled and rubbed his jaw. He had a two-days stubble and you found yourself wondering what would it feel like against your skin.

“Yeah. I swear one day he’ll kill me”

“Drama queen” you replied rolling your eyes and slurping the milkshake with the straw. Soon, you two started to talk about Marvel and Sebastian told you how it had been for him to work in the franchise.

While you listened to him, you discovered you enjoy being in his company. He was charming, funny and was always teasing you in a good way. You thought Sebastian was the kind of person you’d spend hours talking.

“What are you writing now?” He asked and you huffed, smiling at him. Sebastian frowned and chuckled. “What?”

“Well, let’s say I “try” to write. I was having a few good days before I started to get blocked again” you sighed and rubbed the back of your neck, shaking your head. “I try to write other chapters or changing them so the story can go through other ways but I still get blocked in that part”

“May I read it?” Sebastian asked, staring at you and shrugging. “Maybe other person can figure out what’s happening in there”

“I…” you muttered.

You didn’t like people reading what you wrote. You knew it was necessary to have beta readers or at least someone who can point out your mistakes. But for you, it was terrifying. It had been a long journey since you were forced to read one of your stories in your writing class. Since that moment, you participated, but only when you felt like doing it.

“I don’t want to force you, okay? It was just a suggestion”

“I don’t have my laptop here” you blurted as you felt your hands sweating at the idea of him in your small apartment. His lips twitched into a smile and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“We can go, if you want”

His blue eyes were fixed on you and you swallowed hard, nodding and standing up to pay the bill. He tried to stop you but you reminded him of your promise of inviting him. Sebastian lifted his hands and stretched, smiling. Minutes later, you two entered your small apartment.

“It’s nice. Small, intimate and you have good views…And a cat” he said with a strange voice. You looked at him frowning. Sebastian was standing there with his hand covering his mouth. “I have a cat allergy”

You followed his gaze and you found your cat meowing and walking towards him. You opened your mouth and grabbed her, petting her behind her ears.

“Ok, nope, lady. You’re not allowed to be around here today” You locked her in the guests’ room with her food and toys and after you had washed your hands, you went back to the living room, where Sebastian were, sitting behind your desk. “I’m sorry. You should have warned me”

“I didn’t know you had a cat” he replied with a chuckle and stood up. “Just in case, I’ll open the windows”

“Do you want something to eat?”

“I’m fine” He clasped his hands together, taking off his jacket and placing it on the chair, pointing at your laptop. “Show me”

You huffed and went to the desk, leaning against the wood as you turned on the device, writing your password while Sebastian closed his eyes. You found the document and made a gesture with your hands. Sebastian leant and his eyes moved as he read the story. You sat down, trying to stop the nervousness that filled your body. He was the first person that had read the project. Not even Anna or Alycia.

“It’s good. It’s really good” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms and he huffed. “I’m serious. You should keep writing” A sound broke the atmosphere and Sebastian took his phone from his pocket, groaning. “I’m sorry. I must go”

“It’s fine” you said as he took his jacket and walked with you to the door.

“Can we meet again? This time, in my apartment. And bring your laptop. I’ll help you with your story. And no cats allowed!”

He kissed your cheek and disappeared, leaving you astonished in the middle of the hall.

“And after that…what?” he said and you huffed, falling on his bed.

“I don’t know. My mind blacks out”

Sebastian had kept his word and he had called you, asking you to meet again. After that, several meetings came and you found yourself enjoying spending time with him. He was a total nerd that could talk with you for hours.

You’ve been working on your project, having the first four chapters written. You were excited, as everything seemed to go smoothly. You could write three pages without stopping. Sebastian and you would fangirl on the phone, insulting each other when there was a non-expected plot twist.

Yet, your story was still halted. The document would look at you reproachfully, shouting at you to write something. At least one word. But nothing came to your mind. Instead, your mind wandered over possible scenarios for the story you were writing with Seb. Ideas, characters, plot twist, everything.

Sebastian moved the laptop and read the last lines again, scratching his jaw, thoughtfully. He closed it and stood up, making a gesture with his hands. You frowned and he sighed, smiling at you.

“C’mon. Stand up”

“What…?” you obeyed but he interrupted you.

“Let’s try something new. Talk aloud. Describe me the situation, the scenario, what is she doing?” He raised his eyebrows and nodded at you, clasping his hands together before placing them on his waist. “At the same time, try to act”

“What the…?” you laughed and he chuckled, shrugging.

“It’s a good way to get into the story. C’mon. I’ll be Matt and you’ll be Charlotte”

“You don’t look like a Matt” he glared at you and you raised your hands, laughing. “Okay, okay! Kidding!”

“What is he doing?”

“He’s sitting on a chair” you answered firmly. Sebastian grabbed one of the chairs he had in the room and sat down, facing you. You closed your eyes and made as he had said. You imagined the situation, the characters.

“And Charlotte?”

“She’s walking towards him…She’s angry” you acted, walking from one side of the room to the other, imagine you were Charlotte. You felt Sebastian’s eyes in your figure, following your movements.

“Now what?”

“She discovers that he’s there. Looks at him…and moves” you walked towards his body. Sebastian’s legs were spread and you between them. His hands moved to your hips and you bit your lip.

“Now?” he whispered and you shook your head.

“I don’t know”

He made  you sit on his knees, his fingers caressing your arms. You shivered and he pressed kiss on your forehead, your jaw and behind your ear. Sebastian stopped there, his hot breath fanning your skin.

“I suppose now they kiss…”

“I don’t write romantic” you muttered and he chuckled, shaking his head. He swallowed hard and smiled, his fingers shaking.

“Well, we’ll have to find out…”

He leant and pressed his plump lips against yours. You closed your eyes, your hands moving to his soft curls, tugging it. He moaned in your mouth and you felt his fingers grapping your hips, pressing your body against his. Your teeth bit his bottom lip and he smiled while kissing you, the tip of his tongue rubbing your mouth. His right hand went to your ass and squeezed it, making you to jolt. He chuckled and moved away to catch his breath, his forehead against yours.

“Are you sure about this?”

You nodded and he stood up with you between his arms. Your legs were around his waist as he placed you carefully on the bed. Your hand tossed the notebooks and pens on the floor and you moved until your head was on the pillows. Sebastian caged you between his arms and pressed a kiss on your nose, making you to laugh.

“I’m not made of glass. I won’t break” he chuckled and his breath hit the skin of your neck, making you to shiver. He pressed a kiss there, biting and licking and you moaned.

“Surely you don’t. But I want to be nice and slow today…” His blue eyes stared at you and Sebastian bit your lip, smiling. “But you won’t escape from what I’ve prepared”

“Oh” you said teasingly, your fingers running over his chest. “So this is not a one-night stand?”

“No! I mean…”he stammered and looked at you. “If you want, of course” You laughed and took advantage of the situation, rolling so you were straddling his hips. Sebastian observed you in awe, his chest rising.

“Invite me to have dinner and I’ll think about it”

“Deal”

You looked at him, smirking and biting your lip, grabbing the hem of your t-shirt, playing with it. Sebastian cleared his throat and jiggled, taking deep breaths. You refrain your laughs, watching as he squirmed under your body. His hands moved to your ass and push you so your head was above his.

“C’mon, kitten…Don’t be mean…” You licked your lips and observed as Sebastian followed the path. You chuckled and moved away, taking off your t-shirt and tossing it on the floor. His eyes grew up wider and gasped. “You’re so pretty…so beautiful…”

You undressed him and your nails scratched his chest, red lines on his skin as your mouth kiss, licked and bit his neck, leaving love bites all around. He panted and his hips jerked, meeting yours. You whimpered and smirked.

“Your trainer will ask you tomorrow…” you moved from one side to the other, with the smile still on your lips and he laughed, grabbing your ass.

“Bad kitten…”

His hands went to unclasp your bra, your bared torso displayed to him. His mouth assaulted your breast, licking your hard nipple while his fingers played with the other. You hissed and rolled your hips against him. Sebastian moaned and bit your nipple, making you to shout his name.

“Darling…” he muttered and his hands went over your skin, unzipping your jeans and helping you to step out of them. He rolled and pulled you from your ankles, spreading your legs. Sebastian’s lips peppered kisses over your skin, biting your thigh. You moaned and gripping the sheets. “I want to hear all your beautiful sounds…”

His fingers moved down your panties and rubbed your clit with his thumb, making your body to jerk at the contact. He smiled and touched it with the tip of his tongue, his fingers running over your folds. Your back arched and your mouth opened as you whimpered.

“Seb…”

He smirked and continued touching your clit with his tongue, placing his index finger inside you, pumping in. You writhed and bit the pillow, feeling his hand going over your body to your breasts, playing with your nipple. The room was filled with your moans and the sounds Sebastian was doing. He hummed and your hands went to his hair, tugging it.

“Cum for me, kitten…”

He kept licking and pumping his fingers, curling them inside you, hitting your g-spot. Your legs closed around his head as waves of pleasure hit you. Sebastian kept going until you were a trembling mess. He kissed your thighs while you breathed heavily, caressing his hair. His hand wiped your juices off his mouth.

He leant by your side, kissing your head and caressing your skin until you calmed down. You looked at him, his eyes observing your naked body and your hands went to his belt, unbuckling it. He smiled as he saw you were so eager. He held your hands and cupped your face, rubbing his nose against yours.

“We have plenty of time, kitten…”

His lips kissed you softly, his thumb grazing your skin. You closed your eyes, his hands roaming down his jeans, unbuttoning it. You helped him and his fingers wrapped around his length, stroking it. His lips kissed your neck before moving. Sebastian searched inside his drawer and opened the wrapper, rolling the condom down her length.

“Ready?” he said and you nodded, caressing his cheek. He rubbed the tip along your folds and entered inside you. You gasped and he groaned, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “God…”

“Move” you whimpered and he rolled his hips, grabbing your leg with his left hand. Your ankle hit his ass and he jerked his waist, thrusting inside you. Your teeth found his neck and bit his skin, making him to move harder, hitting your g-pot. You cried in pleasure and tugged at his soft brown locks.

“Kitten…” he muttered as he hold his weight on his right arm, his blue eyes fixed on yours. You swallowed and moaned, feeling him inside you. Your hands found his ass and pressed it so his hips were closer to yours. His free hand went to circle your clit and you muttered his name.

“I’m close…” you whimpered, digging your nails on his ass. He licked your nipple and touched your clit harder. The sensation was overwhelming and soon you were feeling that knot inside your stomach, your mouth falling open, not making a sound. “Sebastian!”

“Oh, god!” He groaned and his thrusts became faltering, his body shaking as he came, collapsing on top of you. His breath moved as he tried to calm himself, rolling to the side. He took off the condom, tossing it to the bin and getting into the bed with you.

“So…” you muttered, kissing his shoulder. His arms circling your body and Sebastian pressed a kiss on your temple. “Now what?”

“Well, I hope you got enough inspiration” you chuckled and hit him on the shoulder, rolling your eyes. He laughed and lifted his hands. “Sorry, sorry. Now…”he played with a lock of your hair and touched your nose with his fingertip. “I hope you accept my invitation to have dinner with me”

“Of course. Pizza, Netflix and writing?” You smiled and curled by his side.

“Always, kitten”

[indieharry]

Saturdays with Harry: Part II

A/N: Boyyyyyy I’m feelin’ it this weekend, huh? Husband!Harry is….truly messing with me and I really wanted to get it all out before the long weekend is over, so part 3 will probably be up tomorrow. Bye @harryspeakingfrench I just wanted to kill you a little more before the weekend was over. 

There are busy Saturdays, when you spend all day cleaning and doing laundry and grocery shopping for the week.

Then there are lazy Saturdays when you just say ‘screw it’ and watch netflix all day.

And there are the ‘let’s go on an adventure’ Saturdays. Those magical ones when you jump in the car, pick a place, and let time tell where you’ll end up.

All Saturdays with Harry are the best.

It spreads over you like the sun peeking out through a passing cloud. The warmth. You take a deep breath in and hold it. When you let it out, you swear your lungs have a heartbeat of their own. You open your eyes and turn your head to Harry, where he’s sleeping soundly, belly down and facing you. You want to run your finger through his eyelashes but you stop yourself and admire him without touching instead. You lay there, smitten, for a few long minutes.

“I can feel you staring at me,” he says suddenly. You gasp loudly and clutch your chest. “What the heck!” 

Harry laughs a silent laugh, the creases in his eyes ever present.

“How long have you been awake? My goodness, Harry. You scared me half to death.”

He opens his eyes, long fingers rubbing the sleep away from the inner corners. “Mmm, long enough.”

You laugh too, this time. “Didn’t know you had married a creep, did you?”

“No, I was fully aware. You’re a full-on weirdo, love.”

You pout at him and he tugs at your bottom lip with his thumb before leaning in to kiss you. It’s a drawn-out, breathy hard peck. “Mmm, good morning,” he whispers afterwards, his voice raspy with sleep.

“Good morning,” you giggle, a little dizzy, a little love drunk. “I’m gonna go start the kettle,” you start, but Harry wraps his arms around your waist, running his hands up and down your back under your shirt. “Nooo, stay here. ‘M not ready to get up yet,” he whines. Your stomach flutters, because how could you say no to him? The pull for a cup of tea is stronger, though.

“I’ll be right back, my love. Promise,” you say, kissing his messy bed head.

Harry groans some more but ultimately lets you go because he knows he will get coffee if he leaves you to run down to the kitchen.

You decide to make some toast and cut up some watermelon while the water heats up. Pulling out the half watermelon from the refrigerator, you grab a tea towel and knife and get down to business. You pull out a tray for the small breakfast and set everything neatly on it. The scent of Harry’s coffee dances through the house as you carefully make your way back upstairs with the tray. Harry’s got his leather journal open when you reappear. He’s got one of your headbands on and is feverishly writing away, pen cap in his mouth. You know by now not to ask what he’s writing. He usually lets you read it eventually, or plays it for you when he’s attached a melody to it. He feels your side of the mattress sink and looks up, all curls and big green eyes and pink lips. You could cry thinking about what Harry looks like in the morning. His puffy cheeks and sleepy lids. You let out a little sigh, trying not to spill anything on the fluffy white duvet.

“You’re my favorite person in the whole world,” Harry says, grabbing the tray from you so you can settle down next to him.

“Are you only saying that because I brought you coffee?” you inquire, raising your eyebrows.

He sets the tray on his lap and leans over to kiss your cheek. “You’re my favorite person anyway, but especially when you bring me coffee.”

You smile at him and grab your laptop off of your nightstand. Opening it up, you click the browser and type in Netflix.

“What episode did we leave off on with Mad Men?” you ask.

“Well, we were on the third episode of season 2 when you fell asleep and I finished it, so why don’t we start where you left off,” Harry says mid-chew of toast.

You set the laptop on your own lap, grabbing your cup of tea from the tray and snuggling in tight to Harry’s side.

A while into the episode, which is so gripping that you’ve tuned out your surroundings, you look over to the tray to grab some watermelon only to find that it is gone along with the four slices of toast you had made.

“Harry!”

“Wha’?” he asks, innocently?

“You ate all the watermelon! And the toast!”

Harry giggles and scratches his shirtless tummy. “You were too slow!” he announces.

“Ha-rryy,” you whine, pausing the show and frowning at him.

He pauses the scratching and gets up from the bed. “I’ll be right back, milady,” he says, holding the tray like a waiter.  

After a few minutes, Harry returns with a tray of fresh toast and tea, and more watermelon.

“You are my favorite person,” you beam.

“Are you just saying that because I brought you new tea?” he asks, teasing you.

You stare at him lovingly, motioning for him to sit back down with you. “Come baack, I’m cold.”

Harry lightly jogs to the other side of the bed and carefully gets back under the covers, moving around in attempts to find your legs and wrap his around them. He grazes your shins with his feet and cuddles up next to you, his head resting on the pillow next to your hips. You press ‘resume’ on the show and immediately tune out again.

A few episodes in, the end credits roll and you sigh heavily. “Wow, how is this show so amaz-” you look down to see Harry quietly asleep for once, the soft hints of his snores to come falling out of his mouth. You smile down at him and close your laptop, placing it underneath the breakfast tray on your nightstand. You slide down, your head meeting the pillow as you turn on your side to admire Harry sleeping for the second time this morning. You pull yourself closer to him, your chest flesh with his head and you graze your fingers through his hair. You let your own eyes get heavy, and you fall asleep with your hand on the back of Harry’s neck, his silver chain wound around your index finger.

You wake up mid-afternoon to an empty bed. One of your cats is spread out on Harry’s side and the duvet is twisted up around your waist. You rub your eyes and yawn, sitting up and scratching the cat under his chin. “Hi honey, hello little one,” you coo at him while his purrs grow louder. In fact, his purrs are all you can hear. You grow curious, wondering where Harry has gone to. You hastily make the bed, knowing that you’ll be back in it in a few short hours so the result is rather sloppy. You put on a sweater and head downstairs to look for Harry. When you see him through the glass windows to the garage-turned-home studio, you lean against the wall, arms crossed, eyes still sleepy.

He’s sat at the piano, staring down at his hands that are moving swiftly up and down the keys. You remember when he didn’t know how to play piano. He had signed up for lessons and dove right in. He’d sit for hours after his lessons, practicing what the teacher had shown him and then making up things of his own. You’d have to go into the studio, which you normally don’t do, to tell him to come to bed. “You’re going to get carpal tunnel, my love,” you’d say.

You watch him finish whatever he had been recording. You see him tap around on his phone and click it off. You knock lightly on the window, waving when he turns around. You try not to bother him when he’s in there, but you just wanted him to know you were awake. He blows you a few kisses with both of his hands and you catch them in a hug. He giggles, but you can only tell it’s a giggle because you see his back shake a bit. He raises his hand and waves as if to tell you to come inside. You shake your head and he repeats the motion, so you crack the door open to stick your head inside.

“Just wanted to say hi, didn’t want to bother you.”

“Don’t be silly,” he says. “Come in. I want you to listen to what I just did.”

You come in, closing the door behind you and sit next to him on the piano stool.

He reaches down the piano so you lean back a bit to give him some room. He begins to play. It sounds brand new but familiar at the same time. It’s upbeat and jovial, yet mature and refined. Your eyes dart back and forth between his hands and his face. You could watch him play forever, you think. It’s a different experience watching Harry play in his own studio than it is watching him perform. He’s very focused, and he sticks his tongue out when he’s playing particularly difficult chords.

When he finishes, you hug his shoulders. “It’s lovely,” you whisper.

“I haven’t matched up the words quite yet. But it’s been stuck in my head all week,” he explains.

You begin to get up to leave but Harry catches your wrist. “Stay,” he says, kissing the back of your hand. So you do. You sit on the sofa in the corner reading some Bukowski anthology he uses for lyric inspiration sometimes. There are no windows to the outside in the studio, so you two are there for hours that seem like minutes before Harry gets up from the piano and announces he’s hungry 

“Can you make that chicken I like?” he asks when he’s at your feet near the couch, his knees leaning on the armrest.

“You like all chicken, Harry,” you state.

“You know, the one with the lemon and stuff,” he tries to explain.

You know which one he’s talking about. He’s been requesting it almost every day for weeks, so you’ve kept thawed chicken on hand to cater to his whims at the drop of a hat.

“Yes, I will make it. But there’s a fee,” you say, attempting to coax him down to the couch and cuddle with you. 

“Oh, is there?” he asks, already knowing what you’re trying to say.

“I need exactly five minutes of cuddles and twenty kisses before I can even fathom slaving over a stove for a man,” you cry dramatically, your hand fanning your face and falling onto your forehead.

“Consider it done, darling,” he chuckles, hovering over you so as not to crush you when he lies down on top of you.

The chicken is made, along with some grilled asparagus and roasted red potatoes. You grab a bottle of white wine out of the refrigerator and pop it open, pouring yourself a very, very generous glass. It is Saturday after all. 

Harry eats quickly but politely, kissing your cheek with a mouthful at one point. “I never thought I’d meet a better cook than myself and I’m so happy to be wrong,” he chimes. You beam at him, cradling the glass of wine in both your hands. “‘M glad you like it,” you mumble. 

“I love it,” he says mid-chew, winking at you and grabbing his own glass of wine.

You hip bump each other at the sink after dinner while washing and drying the dishes, Harry whistling a tune from an old Stones album. After things are put away, you saunter over to the living room and plop down on the sofa, turning on the television and grabbing the throw blanket from behind you. Harry walks in with his hands behind his back.

“What are you hiding?” you ask curiously.

Harry whips his hands to the front revealing a large square of dark chocolate. “For you,” he says simply.

“For me?” you inquire, gasping and placing a hand on your chest. He hands it to you and pulls the blanket up so he can sit next to you under it. His hands slide around your waist and he rests his head on your ribs so that your arm is above his shoulder. 

“Pet?” he says, looking up at you as you bite into the square.

“Yes?” you reply through a mouthful. 

“Love you,” he sings.

“Loveee youuuu,” you sing back.

[theonyxpath]

Only the Cats Had Meetings Today- No Notes.

But we still have these, and I’ll be back next week with our usual tomfoolery:

  BLURBS!

  KICKSTARTER!

We’re headed to the half-way point, and are at that stage where we’re doing a lot of talking to bloggers and games sites! Please help us out by talking Monarchies of Mau up on social media and to your friends, especially your cat-loving friends. Don’t be shy, every mention helps!

We’ve already shot past Stretch Goals for an exclusive t-shirt, an Intro adventure, the first three Mau stories in a fiction anthology, a book of character write-ups featuring the characters submitted by backers, and our second adventure goal – this time by Dennis Detwiller – is headed toward happening with plenty more to come! If you get a chance, here’s the link: http://ift.tt/2rmHhAG

  ON SALE!

ON AMAZON:

We’re delighted to announce the opening of our ebook store on Amazon! You can now read our fiction from the comfort and convenience of your Kindle. Our initial selection includes these fiction anthologies: Vampire: the Masquerade‘s Endless Ages, Werewolf: The Apocalypse 20th Anniversary Edition‘s Rites of Renown: When Will You Rage 2, Mage: The Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition‘s Truth Beyond Paradox, Chronicles of Darkness‘ God Machine Chronicle, Mummy: The Curse‘s Curse of the Blue Nile, and Beast: The Primordial‘s The Primordial Feast!

And this week, we’re releasing another six fiction books:

Vampire: The Masquerade: Of Predators and Prey: The Hunters Hunted II Anthology

Werewolf: The Apocalypse: The Poison Tree

Werewolf: The Apocalypse: Songs of the Sun and Moon: Tales of the Changing Breeds

Vampire: The Requiem: The Strix Chronicle Anthology

Werewolf: The Forsaken: The Idigam Chronicle Anthology

Mage: The Awakening: The Fallen World Chronicle Anthology

        Looking for our Deluxe or Prestige Edition books? Here’s the link to the press release we put out about how Onyx Path is now selling through Indie Press Revolution: http://ift.tt/1ZlTT6z

You can now order wave 2 of our Deluxe and Prestige print overrun books, including Deluxe Mage 20th Anniversary, and Deluxe V20 Dark Ages!

    ON DRIVETHRURPG.COM:

Curated by Matthew McFarland, developer of Changeling: the Dreaming Twentieth Anniversary Edition and featuring authors such as Myranda Kalis, Wren Handman, and Peter Woodworth, this C20 Anthology of Dreams will go on sale in electronic/PDF and physical copy PoD formats this Wednesday on DTRPG.com!

        Now on DTRPG, the EX3 Tomb of Dreams Jumpstart PDF/PoD jumps up for sale!

http://ift.tt/2qdriZU

Once, in the time before the gods forgot their names, when the world was flat and floated on a sea of chaos, there was an age of gleaming cities, untamed wilderness, enlightened devils, greedy spirits, and mighty heroes. This was the age of the Exalted, champions empowered by the highest of gods.

Tomb of Dreams will jumpstart your group’s Exalted game—all you need to start playing Exalted Third Edition is this book, pencils, and 10-sided dice. Included here are the game’s core rules, five pregenerated characters, and a self-contained scenario that can start a new campaign or that Storytellers can use in an ongoing chronicle. And for groups that already have the Exalted Third Edition main rulebook, Tomb of Dreams will serve as an introduction for new players and a quick reference during play—anyone intimidated by that prodigious volume need only read Part 1 of this book to get started.

What legends will they tell of your deeds?

        Sailing out of the dark, the V20 Dark Ages Companion Advance PDF is now on sale on DriveThruRPG.com! http://ift.tt/2pX42dq

Travel the long roads and deep seas in search of power and experience danger, or tackle the wilderness to hunt monsters and face death. Settlements large and small dot the black expanse with the promise of sanctuary, life, and community. These bastions of civilization present cold comfort, when playing host to vampire warlords and sadistic Cainite faiths. Whether led by a Prince, a coordinated belief, or hounded by monsters from without and within — no domain is truly the same as another.

Dark Ages Companion includes:

• Domains scattered across the world, from small fiefdoms to massive cities. Bath, Bjarkarey, Constantinople, Rome, Mogadishu, and Mangaluru each receive coverage.

• Apocrypha including plot hooks, new Paths, and mysteries to explore in your games.

• A how-to guide on building a domain within your chronicle, including events and servants necessary to make a domain as functional or dysfunctional as you wish.

• A study on warfare in the Dark Ages period, so combat in your chronicles can gain authenticity and lethality.

        Bill Bridge’s new W20 novel, The Song of Unmaking, is on sale in PDF/ePub/PoD versions on DriveThruRPG.com: http://ift.tt/2qXQH9f and in ebook form on Amazon: http://ift.tt/2qpQM2V !

The fabric of reality is cracking. Fissures appear in thin air, glowing with balefire. Something is scratching on the other side, pressing, beginning to break through….

The Wyrm’s corruption finds its way into the hearts of humans and Garou alike. Even an ultra-rational techno-cratic scientist can fall sway to its lies. Channeling his hate and resentment through the most sophisticated machine ever created, Basil Czajka has turned a tool designed to peer deep into the heart of the quantum universe into a nursery for the hatching of a horror — a creature whose birth cry is destined to unmake Gaia’s Song of Creation.

The only ones standing in his way are One-Song, a broken-down old Theurge, and Lord Albrecht, whose heed-less anger might be the very weapon the enemy needs to crack the egg and free the Unmaker.

    The Chronicles of Darkness: Dark Eras Companion has arrived in PDF and PoD physical book versions at DriveThruRPG.com! http://ift.tt/2pygIL7

The Dark Eras Companion presents eleven new Eras for the Chronicles of Darkness. Stretching from Ancient Rome and Egypt through the Black Death, the Thirty Years War, the Reconstruction, and the Russian Revolution, the Companion showcases even more of the secret history of this eldritch world. Included in each era are “snapshots” of the various supernatural creatures, including vampires, changelings, mummies, and demons. Also included are lists of inspirational media to help you put these Eras in context for your troupe.

Open the Dark Eras Companion and take another look back in time.

    V20 Lore of the Bloodlines awaits in PDF and physical book PoD versions on DriveThruRPG.com!

http://ift.tt/2pj8UuA

Lore of the Bloodlines is a single volume (created via Kickstarter) that revisits some of the bloodlines in Vampire: The Masquerade 20th Anniversary Edition, providing story hooks, character concepts, history, and bloodline-specific rules. The secrets of the Baali, Daughters of Cacophony, Gargoyles, Harbingers of Skulls, Kiasyd, Salubri, Samedi, and True Brujah are now yours.

Lore of the Bloodlines includes:

• The history, lore, and nightly practices of nine bloodlines, told from the perspective of the Kindred themselves.

• New combo Disciplines, powers, Merits, Flaws, and other rules specific to each bloodline.

• Revisions and updates of more classic Vampire: The Masquerade material to V20.

      Night Horrors: Conquering Heroes for Beast: the Primordial, PoD and PDF versions is now on sale on DTRPG.com!

http://ift.tt/2j7p7lO

This book includes: 

An in-depth look at how Heroes hunt and what makes a Hero, with eleven new Heroes to drop into any chronicle.

A brief look at why Beasts may antagonize one another, with seven new Beasts to drop into any chronicle.

Rules for Insatiables, ancient creatures born of the Primordial Dream intent on hunting down Beasts to fill a hunger without end, featuring six examples ready to use in any chronicle.

    From the massive Chronicles of Darkness: Dark Eras main book, we have pulled this single chapter, Dark Eras: Beneath the Skin (Demon and Skinchangers 1486-1502 Aztec Empire). Ahuitzotl sits on the throne at the height of the Aztec Empire, overseeing his sorcerer-priests’ sacrifices and the endless flower wars his jaguar and eagle warriors carry out in his name to keep the altars well-supplied with victims. The gears of the Aztec Empire turn smoothly and inexorably, but not everything is what it pretends to be. Skinchangers take the shapes of animals to run the wilds or bring down human prey, the Unchained cobble together identities from stolen lives, and stranger things still lurk in the deserts and jungles beyond the walls of Tenochtitlan.

On sale in PDF and physical copy PoD versions on DTRPG! http://ift.tt/2p79i1O

  From the massive Chronicles of Darkness: Dark Eras main book, we have pulled this single chapter, Dark Eras: Into the Cold (Demon: the Descent 1961 Berlin). East Germany erects a wall against its Western counterpart, turning West Berlin into an island within its own country. As the Cold War heats up, demons find themselves the targets of increasing human scrutiny, and begin to realize that the God-Machine’s plans didn’t end with the War.

On sale now in PDF and physical copy PoD versions on DTRPG! http://ift.tt/2p70sBl

      CONVENTIONS!

Discussing GenCon plans. August 17th – 20th, Indianapolis. Every chance the booth will actually be 20? x 30? this year that we’ll be sharing with friends. We’re looking at new displays this year, like a back drop and magazine racks for the brochure(s).

In November, we’ll be at Game Hole Con in Madison, WI. More news as we have it, and here’s their website: http://ift.tt/RIm6qP

      And now, the new project status updates!

    DEVELOPMENT STATUS FROM ROLLICKING ROSE (projects in bold have changed status since last week):

First Draft (The first phase of a project that is about the work being done by writers, not dev prep)

Exalted 3rd Novel by Matt Forbeck (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Trinity Continuum: Aeon Rulebook (The Trinity Continuum)

M20 Gods and Monsters (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

M20 Book of the Fallen (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

C20 Novel (Jackie Cassada) (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

Hunter: the Vigil 2e core (Hunter: the Vigil 2nd Edition)

DtD Night Horrors: Enemy Action (Demon: the Descent)

The Realm (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Dragon-Blooded (Exalted 3rd Edition)

  Redlines

Kithbook Boggans (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

Ex Novel 2 (Aaron Rosenberg) (Exalted 3rd Edition)

  Second Draft

V20 Dark Ages Jumpstart (Vampire: the Masquerade 20th Anniversary Edition)

GtS Geist 2e core (Geist: the Sin-Eaters Second Edition)

Trinity Continuum Core Rulebook (The Trinity Continuum)

Scion: Origins (Scion 2nd Edition)

Scion: Hero (Scion 2nd Edition)

WoD Ghost Hunters (World of Darkness)

Pugmire Fiction Anthology (Pugmire)

  Development

Signs of Sorcery (Mage: the Awakening Second Edition)

SL Ring of Spiragos (Pathfinder – Scarred Lands 2nd Edition)

Ring of Spiragos (5e – Scarred Lands 2nd Edition)

Changeling: the Lost 2nd Edition, featuring the Huntsmen Chronicle (Changeling: the Lost 2nd Edition)

BtP Beast Player’s Guide (Beast: the Primordial)

M20 Cookbook (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

VtR Half-Damned (Vampire: the Requiem 2nd Edition)

Pugmire Pan’s Guide for New Pioneers (Pugmire)

  WW Manuscript Approval:

Book of Freeholds (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

    Editing:

Wraith: the Oblivion 20th Anniversary Edition

Arms of the Chosen (Exalted 3rd Edition)

  Post-Editing Development:

      Indexing:

      ART DIRECTION FROM MIRTHFUL MIKE:

In Art Direction

Beckett’s Jyhad Diary 

W20 Pentex Employee Indoctrination Handbook – AD’d

Cavaliers of Mars

Wraith 20

W20Changing Ways

Ex3 Monthly Stuff

Storypath Brochure

VDA Jumpstart

Scion Origins

C20 Jumpstart – AD’d

Ring of Spiragos – AD’d

Ex 3 Arms of the Chosen – AD’d & Contracted

  Marketing Stuff

  In Layout

M20 Art Book – In progress…

Prince’s Gambit – New Cards out for playtesting

Gen Con Stuff

Proofing

CtL Huntsmen Chronicle Anthology

M20 Book of Secrets – Josh inputting final corrections and page xx’s.

VTR: Thousand Years of Night

  At Press

Beckett Screen – Shipped to shipper.

Dark Eras: To the Strongest – PoD proof on the way.

EX3 Tomb of Dreams Jumpstart – Going on sale on DTRPG.com this week.

C20 Anthology – On sale this Wednesday.

C20 – Wrapping up errata and prepping for indexing.

Pugmire – Printing.

Pugmire Screen – Printing.

Pugmire Cards & Dice – Printing/manufacturing.

Wise and the Wicked PF & 5e – At Press

Dark Eras: The Wolf & Raven– Reviewing PoD proof.

Dark Eras: Three Kingdoms of Darkness – Reviewing PoD proof.

Dagger of Spiragos (5e) – Out to backers.

Dagger of Spiragos (PF) – Out to backers.

V20 Dark Ages Companion – Awaiting errata so I can wrap this up.

BtP Building a Legend – Out to backers last week, gathering errata.

      TODAY’S REASON TO CELEBRATE: Not so much “celebrate”, but certainly we commemorate today all of those who gave their lives in service to their countries.