muffled drum

I’ll play for you sometime... [Richie Tozier x Reader]

summary ; AU where 17 year old Richie plays in a band as the lead singer and guitarist along with Mike on drums and Beverly on bass.

a/n ; Almost kinda canon with Finn’s band: Calpurnia but the people are different to fit the IT universe! 

tags ; Cussing, aged-up characters, alternative-80s rock theme, drinking, long, angsty, bad puns

You sat quietly at your desk, staring outside the classroom window and getting lost in the gradual, pastel colours of the winter afternoon sun starting to set. You counted down the seconds, letting your (E/C) eyes settle on an energetic bird fussing about on the fence within your view.

“Hey (Y/N)!” called a raspy voice from behind you. The sudden break in silence snapped you out of your trance with a jolt. You spun your head to locate the source of the voice that had disrupted your peace. Not to your surprise, the culprit proved to be none other than Richie Tozier; the loud mouthed trash talker of your year since grade school sauntered to you with immeasurable confidence.

“Sup’ baby, is your Dad a drug dealer? Cus’ you’re dope” Richie cooed, leaning an arm on your desk and raising an eyebrow. You groaned internally and rolled your eyes into the next dimension.

“I told you Rich, that shits uber lame” you silently pleaded with him, knowing he’s just going to keep on pestering you now that he knows you’re annoyed by his terrible pickup lines.

“He stood up straight again, fixing his ridiculously magnifying glasses, “Says the person who just used the word ‘uber’. Yo, the 50s want their lingo back… they’re pretty pissed about it.” You groaned externally, letting your head drop into your arms, “God I can’t…” The cringe was so perfectly terrible it made your stomach hurt.

Richie chuckled at what his atrocious sense of humour did to you, “nah but seriously, we’re having band practice this afternoon and Bev wanted you to come and help her with vocals”.

You lifted your head up, suddenly intrigued by Richie’s offer. Beverly was your closest friends, you quite literally did everything together it was creepy to most, a total psychokinetic connection. You pondered for a moment, eyes darting back to the scene of the pastel sky hanging overhead outside, “sure, as long as you don’t make anymore shitty fuckin’ jokes, Tozier” you half-jokingly warned, looking deadpan into the trashmouth’s deep brown eyes. Richie smirked, fixing his glasses once more, “I can’t make a promise like that sweetheart” he spoke with an air of ambiguity, giving you a sly wink before sauntering away into the hallway.

As if on perfect queue, the bell chimed through the school, echoing in the halls briefly before doors opened and the loud chatter of eager students grew. You heaved your body up, slinging your bag around one shoulder and shuffling into freedom from the monotony of school.

You arrived at Richie’s house a little later than expected, the previously pastel sky hung overhead with new shades of navy and purple. The cold air nipped at your skin, prompting you to head inside where it had to be a lot warmer.

You approached the front door, hearing the muffled sounds of drums and guitar from the adjacent garage. You smiled, excited to see Beverly in what felt like weeks. Giving the door a small push, you wiped your feet on the welcome mat and continued inside. You inhaled sharply, ‘The fuck? It’s colder in here than outside… what the fuck!’ you raged internally, severely disappointed with the false promise of warmth away from the deadly arctic that was outside.

Before you could run back to your car for a jacket, Richie opened the internal garage door, looking around rather frantically before spotting you at the threshold. He stared at you for a brief moment, his deep brown eyes wild with worry.

You shifted uneasily, “U-Uh hey Rich…” you managed out, watching his face and muscles relax, instantly turning back to his usually confident and cheerful exterior. “Oh hey shithead!” he joked with an almost out of breath tone. You chuckled as he lead you into the garage where Mike waited, fiddling with his equipment.

“Coast’s clear?” Mike inquired, hinting with vague tones. You stood puzzled and Richie nodded at his question. Mikes eyes darted to you, “(Y/N)!” he exclaimed, getting up from his seat behind the drums and pulling you into a warm hug. You felt your muscles relax, Mike always gives the worlds best hugs, especially considering how freezing you were. Richie nodded at Mike, prompting Mike to resume his position at the drum set.

Your eyes fell on Beverly as she walked through the laundry door, “I got drinks!” she praised, enthusiastic as always to get her drink on. Before she could set the 6-pack down, she noticed you and screamed, almost dropping the case in her hands.

“(Y/N)!! What the fuck it’s been too long!” she squealed, running over to you immediately and pulling you into a tight hug. You hugged back even harder, excited to see your best friend for the first time in weeks. You stood in each others embrace for awhile before Richie cleared his throat.

“Let’s save the beaver reunion for later, we got practice to do, Bev” Richie spoke in a low tone and you could tell he wasn’t himself, not since you last saw him at school. You plopped down on the worn out couch and picked up a drink, getting comfortable in anticipation for their performance.

The members assumed their positions: Beverly on bass, Richie on guitar and vocals and Mike on drums. You clapped your feet together in excitement, eyes transfixed on Beverly as she awaited Richie’s signal. Richie tapped his feet and Mike followed, tapping his drum sticks before Richie nodded at Beverly to begin. Her bass was almost perfect and their harmony was well versed. You sat in silence, smiling at Beverly as she enjoyed herself on the bass, sometimes leaning into the mic in front of her and singing the backup vocals.

Somehow through the performance, your eyes fell on Richie, who was looking right at you. It caught you by surprise, causing you to choke slightly on your drink. Richie’s face twisted into a smile as he sang, not once taking his eyes off you throughout the whole performance. You couldn’t help but feel your heart race and your cheeks grow uncomfortably hot as his gaze was unwavering, making you feel dizzy with nervousness.

Before you knew it, the song was over, and Richie immediately looked away, praising Mike and Beverly on their performances as they did the same to you. You broke out of your trance as soon as Richie’s eyes left yours and you clapped, praising the team’s efforts and showering Beverly with compliments.

“God Bev, you’re improving like crazy! Play for me sometime?” you glittered, filled with new found enthusiasm. Beverly chuckled, “maybe one day when I get better” she said with a wink, her eyes darting to Richie momentarily before giving an ambiguous smirk.

“Hey (Y/N) we’re out of drinks, there are some in the fridge at the back, can you grab ‘em for us?” Mike asked, giving you a wide grin. You nodded but hesitated for a second, “Uuuh, I don’t know where the kitchen is” you admitted with slight embarrassment, looking at your feet. “Oh right, Richie, show her the kitchen” Beverly commanded, not looking up from the guitar she was tuning.

“Aight” Richie spoke quickly and shrugged, striding swiftly past you to the garage door. You followed hesitantly, not able to read Richie’s behaviour at all. Firstly, he throws pickup lines at you; secondly, he looks frightened when you opened the door; thirdly, he stares right into your eyes during the performance; and lastly, he won’t even look you in the eye. Your head spun with confusion, not sure how to gauge Richie’s situation.

“You comin’ (Y/N)?” Richie asked with irritation, standing on the other side of the threshold. You apologised quickly and followed him, trying not to look him in the eyes.

“Aight kitchen’s here” Richie gestured towards a small kitchen space, it’s table tops were immaculate and clean, not a thing out of place. You marvelled the tidiness silently and sauntered to the fridge. Richie leant on the wall near the door, biting his thumb. You could feel his eyes digging into your back as you opened the fridge. ‘Not on the top shelf’ you thought to yourself, scanning the fridge’s contents. You bent down further, gently pushing items around in search of the illusive alcohol.

You reached the bottom shelf and still nothing, “The fuck?” you spoke aloud, straightening your posture and closing the fridge door. “Hey Rich, the drinks aren’t here-!” you called as you turned around, only to be confronted by Richie, his brown eyes staring at you once again, causing your heart to pump in your chest.

“S-Shit Richie you scared me” you managed out, gripping your shirt in attempts to calm yourself down. Richie smirked, turning his body so his back was facing the sink, “This house is fucking cold” he spoke in a low, but humorous voice. You agreed, it was really fucking cold. Just being reminded of the temperature made it real again, nipping at your skin once more and causing you to shiver.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice” Richie broke the momentary silence. You froze, “Noticed what?” you inquired cautiously, his silence was intimidating and you couldn’t help but admit you were scared; you had never seen Richie like this before.

Richie turned to you and bent down, so that your eyes were level. He held his gaze for a moment before yelling, “Noticed how many fuckin’ drinks you guzzled you little shit!”. Your heart skipped a beat and the redness in your face started to go down. Richie was losing his shit, laughing like his intimidation tactic was the best thing. You placed your hands on your hips, cocking a disappointed eyebrow before sighing, “I didn’t even have that many get over it” you scoffed, shaking your head.

Richie stopped laughing, taking off his glasses to wipe his eyes of the tears he’d conjured with his ‘oh so not funny’ joke. You couldn’t help but stare, he looked so different without his glasses on, like a totally different person, more grown up too. Richie turned to you, giving a puzzled look, “something on my face?” he asked with genuine concern. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and you shook your head, avoiding his eyes once more.

Curiosity overwhelmed you, the thoughts of Richie’s indescribable actions and crazy mood swings perplexed you to no end, making you uncomfortable with the mystery of his actions. “Richie, do you hate me?” you asked, genuinely curious. Richie’s eyes widened, “W-What? Hell no why would you even think that? We’re friends” his last words struck your heart like a bullet. ‘Friends’ just ‘friends’.

“Friends… huh…” you mumbled, not able to keep your thoughts in your head. Richie looked you up and down, “What, we’re not friends?” Richie sounded genuinely confused for the first time but your heart wouldn’t stop bleeding, his words ringing in your ears. You knew you had a tiny crush on Richie but you never thought him calling you his ‘friend’ would hurt so bad.

You and Richie stood in awkward silence for awhile before Richie broke the silence, “Ooooh I get it, we’re not friends (Y/N), we’re best friends!” Richie spoke with such confidence, sounding like he had just solved the worlds hardest maths equation. But to you, Richie just sounded like that one kid in class who calls out an answer to a question they think is right with such confidence but it just turns out he’s wrong, completely wrong.

“No Richie…” you managed, attempting to hold back tears, “we’re not friends, or best friends” your voice cracked, even if you tried your hardest to sound angry. Before Richie could answer, you ran straight outside. Once you reached your car, you fumbled for the keys all the while hearing Richie’s voice as he called from behind you.

“(Y/N)! What did I do?!” Richie shouted, approaching you as you continued to find your car keys. “Fucking keys!” you grumbled in frustration, giving up and wiping your eyes. You spun around, meeting eyes with Richie once more; his stupid brown, sparkling eyes full of worry. You groaned internally, trying to straighten yourself up. But you couldn’t, his brows were furrowed and his arms were open, completely confused and speechless. His eyes were so dark and sad, your heart felt a bullet pass right through it once more and you snapped.

“Richie Tozier, you’re such a fucking idiot!” you cried, weakly pushing him away. “We’re not friends, I’ve had a fucking stupid crush on you since grade school how could you not notice?!” your voice cracked but you didn’t care, everything was bleeding out of the proverbial bullet wound in your heart, everything you tried to repress, every emotion.

Richie stood speechless, his face flushed completely red. His arms dropped by his sides and he stood, staring. “Don’t just fucking stare at me, say something!” you choked out, tears pouring down your cheeks. You probably looked like a complete mess but you didn’t even care.

“(Y/N) I…” Richie started, presumably trying to find the words to say. You stood there, tears streaming down your skin and disappointment written all over your face. “Forget it” you mumbled, turning to open your car door. Before you made your full turn, Richie grabbed your arm, tight.

“(Y/N) I’ve had a crush on you since grade school too” he spat, trying his hardest to make the confession as smooth as possible. Your eyes widened, the red in your cheeks returned and you tensed. “W-What…? Y-You’re fucking with me you dick” you stuttered, feeling your body melt as his hand remained glued to your arm.

Richie turned you to face him and lunged, crashing his lips into yours without a word. You couldn’t find it in you to fight back, no matter how angry you were at him. This kiss felt different from any other kiss you’ve experience. You could tell he meant it, his arm slithered around your waist and pulled you into him and you could feel the warmth of his body radiating onto yours. It was heaven in the cold weather, you were addicted to his warmth, trying to push yourself closer so that there is no space between the two of you.

Your tears made the kiss salty but sweet - it was a bitter sweet kiss. One that you’re never going to forget. You snaked your hands into his hair, tugging gently at the roots. Richie let out a sigh of pleasure into your mouth and you smirked to yourself, continuing to tease his hair between your fingers and scraping your nails on his scalp. Richie seemed to melt into you as you did to him and you were both in perfect sync.

You both pulled away, panting slightly and catching your breath. “God, you’re a fucking mess” you jested, looking at Richie’s now disheveled, dark brown hair. “Me? Look in the mirror, sweetheart”. You laughed, gently grabbing his hand. “We better go, the others are probably really worried” you stated, not even realising how long you two were gone for.

Richie nodded and pulled you along with him back to the house. You felt yourself grow warm, happy and content, weight lifted right off your shoulders.

“Oh and by the way, there was no more drinks in the fridge” Richie spoke coyly, glancing at you quickly with a smirk. “I just wanted to be alone with you” he added, his tone sweet and genuine.

Stopping before entering the house, you turned to Richie who smiled, “You know, for a jokester, you can be really heartfelt sometimes”. Richie’s face lit up with shades of red. “S-Shut the fuck up” he choked out, covering his mouth and entering the house before you. You laughed, following him in once more.

Reblogs greatly appreciated!

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Two pieces in two days…Yay, I guess?

This one is for Noctis this time. It takes place before the battle with Ardyn. I was inspired by the pre-funeral held for Augustus in ‘The Fault in Our Stars’.

Angst, feels and a few laughs ahead.

References to ‘The Fault in Our Stars’‘Four Weddings and a Funeral’, and ‘Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2′ ahead. I don’t own those, ok?

Recommended Song: “One More Day” by Diamond Rio

No S/O this time, just the bros.

Tagging: @itshaejinju @ohgodsnowwhat @stunninglyignis @chocobabyporcelain @angelic-guardienne @zacklover24 @bespectacled-girl @crown-city-moogle @insomniacapples @blindbae @themissimmortal @eternallydaydreaming2015 @poisonous-panda @misaki-kurenai @ultimoogle @stephicness @rubyphilomela @asoeiki @sweetchocobae


“Hasn’t changed much, has it?” Noctis asked. “Everything’s still where I left it.”

The four of them were currently in his old room in the Citadel, taking a bit of a break before going to the throne room to confront Ardyn. Fighting through a city’s worth of daemons and the Infernian was no easy task.

Each member of the group was spread out across the room, all with their own respective space: Gladiolus by the door (in case Ardyn tried to launch a sneak attack), Prompto by the window trying to take pictures of the Citadel, Ignis seated on one of the black sofas in the middle of the room, and Noctis sprawled out on his old bed.

“Nah,” Gladiolus replied. “The King pretty much told everyone not to try and touch your stuff. Hell, he even had me and Iggy check on it at least once a week to make sure nothing had changed.”

“Seriously?” Noctis chuckled. “A little much, don’t you think?”

“Well,” Ignis cut in, facing your general direction. “His Majesty wanted to make sure that, in the event that you would return to the Citadel, everything would be just as if you had never even left.”

“Down to the dirty clothes though?” Prompto scrunched up his nose in mock disgust, holding up a faded black t-shirt that looked like it had seen better days. Turning to Noctis, he joked, “Seriously, dude. Which one of us was living alone again?”

They all let out a hearty series of laughs, exhaustion temporarily forgotten. For a moment, the party of four imagined that they were all just hanging out in Noctis’ room on a normal day…

Not on their way to send Noctis to his death.

Somehow, all present seemed to remember that little fact and the laughter immediately died down. All that hung in the air now was a heavy silence loaded with grief.

No one spoke, nor did anyone move a muscle. Collectively, everyone wanted to just make time stop, suddenly have Bahamut or any other Astral tell you all that there was another way to save your King…Hell, even wishing that Ardyn would just give up and off himself.

Anything to keep them all together.

Noctis suddenly stood up from his place on the bed, Gladiolus and Prompto watching as he went to stand in front of the television. For a moment, they wondered what he was doing before the realization sank in.

“Noct?” Ignis asked, a slight tremble to his voice as he turned to where he knew the King had stopped. “Is it time?”

“Yeah,” he replied, an uneasy smile on his face.

“Sure you wanna go through with this, buddy?” Prompto was shaking a little now, fists clenching and unclenching. “We don’t have to if you wanna back out.”

“Hey, he said he really wanted to do it,” Gladiolus said, giving the gunner a light pat on the back. “Besides, our hard work would’ve gone to waste if we didn’t go through with it. Right, Noct?”

“Y-yup,” he tried to put on a brave face for his brothers. Shooting a sad yet grateful look at his Shield, Noctis took a deep breath before speaking again.

“Okay, who wants to go first?”


“I’ll start off this pre-funeral, if you guys don’t mind,” Gladiolus spoke up. Prompto and Ignis nodded in his direction, the Shield now making his way toward Noctis, who had made himself comfortable on the sofa beside Ignis to make it easier for the blind man later on.

“Alright, big guy,” the Chosen King replied. “What do you have for me?”

“A poem, actually,” Gladiolus sheepishly scratched the back of his head. “One I wrote myself.”

He rummaged in his pockets before pulling out a sheet of crumpled paper. Smoothing it out, he cleared his throat before he began to read.

“Stop all the clocks, cut off all the phones,

Prevent Umbra from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum,

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

“Let airships circle, moaning overhead,

Scribbling on the sky the message ‘He is dead’,

Put crepe bows ‘round lamp posts on the streets that he loves,

Let the Hunters of Eos wear black cotton gloves.

“He was my North, my South, my East, my West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song,

I thought our brotherhood would last forever: I was wrong.”

Gladiolus paused to take a breath, his normally even voice cracking ever so slightly. When he had recovered enough, he continued with the last verse.

“The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.

For nothing now can ever come to any good.”

As the last word tumbled from his lips, Gladiolus excused himself from the room, muttering something about scouting the bathroom in case Ardyn showed up. When the door had closed behind him, Ignis spoke up.

“Might I have my turn next, Noct?” He asked quietly, his voice trembling.

“O-of course, Specs,” Noctis coughed out, trying to hold in his tears. “As soon as Gladio gets back, alright?”

A nod, then total silence…

Save for the muffled sobs from the behind the bathroom door.


When Gladiolus had returned from his ‘recon’, Ignis pulled out his own piece of paper from his pocket. This one was neatly folded, the text in Braille.

“Alright, Ignis,” Noctis turned to address his adviser. “Let’s have it.”

The strategist cleared his throat before he spoke.

“Noctis Lucis Caelum was a selfish, lazy prince who hated vegetables, loved to sleep in, and generally give his ever-loyal companions some form of grief.”

Gladiolus and Prompto burst into laughter at the introduction, Noctis burying his head in his hands.

Igniiiiiis,” the black-haired man whined. “Really? You’re gonna call me out now?”

“Better late than never, Highness,” Ignis smirked. “You asked me to write down what I wanted to say, did you not?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Noctis groaned, lips twitching into a smile. “Anyway, are you just going to diss on me the entire eulogy or what?”

“I was just getting to that,” Ignis replied. “Unless you don’t want me to continue?”

“Keep going, Iggy,” Gladiolus snorted. “I wanna hear the rest of it.”

“Hear, hear!” Prompto cackled, clutching his side from laughing too much. 

“Aaaand, that’s enough from the peanut gallery,” Noctis chuckled. “Seriously though. Go ahead, Specs.”

“Very well,” he cleared his throat once more, allowing the energy in the room to die down a little before resuming his eulogy.

“In spite of all this, we forgive him and continue to remain by his side. We do so not because he is royalty, and we are sworn to protect him at the cost of our own lives. Neither is it because he is the one chosen by the Astrals to purge the world of the Starscourge, or because he had thirty-odd years when he should have gotten more.”

“Just thirty, Specs,” Noctis teased.

“Time is a strange thing in this new world, Noct,” Ignis replied. “Calendars and such were done away with for the most part. This was written assuming your birthday may have already passed.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Noctis shrugged. “Just get on with it, Specky.”

“Of course,” Ignis continued.

“Noct’s patience was quite short as well, so much so that he would keep interrupting you at his own funeral just to tell you to hurry up.” This elicited a snort from Gladiolus and Prompto.

“He was also quite moody. Astrals above, he couldn’t even breathe without complaining about something that was bothering him. Plus, he was quite silly. I do not believe I have ever met someone with as much…sharpness as Noct has ‘erryday’.” He adopted a lightly teasing tone, his charge’s catchphrase strange on his tongue. The other two members of their group were once again howling with laughter, with their guest of honor muttering curses under his breath.

When everyone had calmed down enough, Ignis spoke once more, his tone grave.

“I shall say this, however, of my beloved charge and brother. If the day comes where technology has advanced enough that they may be able to replace my eyes, I will politely tell them to shove off…” He trailed off, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat.

“For I would rather spend just one more night with him as I am than to spend a lifetime of seeing without him.”

When Ignis had finished, the room was draped in heavy silence once more, only broken by Noctis’ shuffling to hug his beloved adviser.


“I guess…it’s my turn now, huh?” Prompto timidly asked once he could find his voice again. What Ignis and Gladiolus had written…they caused the blond to nearly break down right then and there.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Noctis grinned at his best friend. “Let’s hear what you’ve got.”

“Alright..I can do this,” the gunner muttered to himself, taking a few deep breaths before grabbing the creased paper in his pocket and addressing the black-haired man.

“So…how’s it going?” Prompto began. “My name is Prompto Argentum, and Noctis Lucis Caelum was pretty much my best friend for life. The story of our friendship is an epic one…one which I probably wouldn’t be able to describe in more than one sentence before I turn into a crying mess.” He chuckled sadly at this, noting the encouraging stares (and presence, from Ignis) of his brothers.

“Like all stories of friendship, ours will die with us, as it should,” Prompto continued, feeling the lump in his throat threaten to resurface. He tried to play it off with a nervous laugh as he read the rest of his eulogy. “You know, back then, I was hoping I’d stay friends with him long enough for him to be doing this for me since there’s really no one else…um…”

The blond paused for a minute to compose himself, tears threatening to spill out at any given second. He flinched slightly when he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder, looking up to see Noctis.

“You wanna continue, Prompto?” He asked, smiling sadly. “I don’t blame you if you wanna stop…”

“No,” the gunner replied immediately, shaking his head. “I wrote this especially for you, buddy. I’ll be damned if you don’t get to hear it all.”

“Alright then,” the Chosen King chuckled. “Have it your way.”

“Damn right I will,” Prompto joked back. Gladiolus and Ignis both sent him a small smile, proud of how much their youngest member has grown over the past decade.

“Anyway…Like I said, since I can’t talk about our friendship without me being admitted to the nearest psych ward, I’m gonna talk about something I hate: math.” This elicited chuckles from his three companions, causing a smile to appear on his own lips before continuing.

“I’ve never been good at math, but I’m sure of this: There are infinite numbers between zero and one. Point one, point two, and so on…like I said, infinite. Of course, there are bigger sets of infinite numbers between…let’s say…zero and a million. Some infinities are bigger than others…a certain asshole taught us that lesson.”

“Y’know, there’d be days when I honestly resented the size of the set I’d been given. They just seemed too much, especially during the darkest times in my life. But now?” Prompto paused and bit his lip, a pained expression on his face. “Now, I just want more numbers than I know I’m gonna get. Astrals, I want the same thing for Noct too, more than anything.”

“Noct, buddy,” Prompto looked directly at his best friend now, tears flowing seemingly endlessly. “I just wanna say thanks for the infinity you gave me, even if I was nothing special…even after finding out the truth about me. I wouldn’t trade the forever we had for anything in the world.”


“So…should we get moving?” Gladiolus addressed the group once tears had been shed.

“Let’s,” Ignis replied quietly, adjusting his Kingsglaive coat as he stood. “Let’s not keep the Chancellor waiting any longer.”

“Wait,” Noctis said as he put a hand on the blind man’s shoulder, causing the other two to look in his direction as well.

“What’s up, dude?” Prompto tried to sound cheerful. “Not getting cold feet are you?”

“No, but…” Noctis trailed off, suddenly finding the carpet to be quite interesting.

“How many times do I have to remind you?” Gladiolus said jokingly. “Just spit it out already, Noct.”

The Chosen King let out a sigh as he pulled a piece of paper out of his coat pocket and presented it to the group, a small gasp escaping from Prompto’s lips.

“What is going on?” Ignis asked, hearing the blond’s exclamation of surprise.

“Oh, my bad,” the gunner turned to him sheepishly. “Noct wrote out something too.”

“Well, it would be a waste if we didn’t hear him out, wouldn’t it?” Ignis sent a small smile in his liege’s direction.

“Damn right,” Gladiolus chuckled sadly. “Besides, His Highness will get sulky if we don’t.”

“Good that you know that, big guy,” Noctis smirked at his Shield before unfolding the paper and reading his own eulogy for them.

“Iggy and Gladio know that, when I was a kid, I pretended to be a normal guy: someone with a mother who took great care of the family, a father who was around all the time and did whatever normal fathers and sons did with me, and maybe a brother or sister with whom I could goof around with and be myself around.”

“It never really struck me until ten years ago,” Noctis chuckled sadly, taking a good look at his companions before continuing. “But it turns out that I ended up making my dreams come true after all.”

He paused to turn and directly address his adviser. “Ignis may not be someone who sings me lullabies or tucks me in at night, but he does make sure that our asses aren’t cooked and used in one of his ‘recipehs’ at the end of the day.”

“Happy to oblige,” Ignis sent him a sad smile.

Noctis then faced his Shield and looked him directly in the eye. “Gladio wasn’t a guy who could give me advice or play a game of catch with me without wanting to embarrass me first, but he always made it a point to keep my head on straight and light a fire under my sorry ass whenever I needed it.”

“Well, someone’s gotta do it,” Gladiolus replied, his voice cracking.

Finally, he looked at his best friend and sent him a small smile. “Prompto…he was all that I could ask for and more in a brother. The trips to the arcade, the way he’d keep all of our spirits up on the road…Definitely the best sibling a guy could have.”

The blond tried to reply with a witty remark of his own, only for a few choked sobs to come out.

“All things considered, I had a pretty damn good family…”

This was all Noctis could get out before he broke down, hot tears hitting the plush carpet. He suddenly felt warmth surrounding him as his family pulled him in for a hug, the four holding each other in silence.


The Silent Parade, one of the first mass protests against lynching and anti-black violence in the United States, is the subject of a July 28, 2017 Google Doodle that commemorates its 100th anniversary.

The parade took place on July 28, 1917 along New York City’s Fifth Avenue, and, as Google notes, the only sound “was the muffled beat of drums.” Google chose the Silent Parade for a Google Doodle to honor “those whose silence resonates a century later.”

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message ‘He is Dead’.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

—  “Funeral Blues,” W H Auden
Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message ‘He is Dead’.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Tom Hiddleston reads
Funeral Blues
by W. H. Auden (1907-1973)

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Not Dead Yet (Part 5)

*Not that much interaction between our lovely “couple” this chapter but some good bonding with the Lost Boys and some potential foes. Things are cooking!*

Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan

Warnings: mild language, allusion to sexual assault (very minor)

After a few wrong turns and almost running headlong into a ginormous spider web I made it back to camp. The boys were still partying the night away. Do none of them know what sleep is? Speaking of…

“Hey, Devin.” I pulled him away from the others, “Where exactly does one find a place to sleep around here?”

“Turning in already?”

“I’ve had a busy day, I think some sleep is just what I need.”

“Okay, well, thankfully we already took care of that for you.” Devin led her to the near outskirt of the camp where a lone tent stood. “Nick and some of the others built this while you were out swimming. It has a cot, some blankets and a change of clothes we thought might fit you. Nothing major but it’s yours.”

“Thank you, you guys didn’t need to do that.”

“We do it for all the new recruits.” Devin shrugged, “I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See you.” I crawled into my little tent and took it in. It was a very simple living station. Aside from the mentioned blankets and clothes there was also a lantern fashioned from a coconut half and a cracked handheld mirror. The mirror was really unnecessary but a nice, if not slightly sexist, contribution to the tent.

I kicked off my shoes and stripped off my clothes until I was left in my undershirt and knickers. I hadn’t realized until after I was in a confined space just how hot it was on this island. I laid down on the cot using the unused blankets as a pillow and fell asleep to the muffled sound of the drums playing back in the center of camp.


When I woke up the next morning I had to take a moment and remember where I was. I wonder how long it’s going to take me to get used to waking up in a tent. I grabbed the set of clothes the boys left for me and pulled them on. A little loose but that wasn’t a problem.

I stepped out of my tent to grab some breakfast and was not in the least surprised to see no one else was up. After that late night I would be genuinely shocked if any of them were awake this early.

Taking advantage of the quiet I found where they kept the stores of food, grabbed a couple apples and wandered off into the jungle for a morning walk. What am I even supposed to do here? They say it’s a fantasy realm where you can have fun all day everyday but I can genuinely say that as of this moment I am bored out of my mind.

What am I supposed to do with all this free time? All I’ve ever done is work. Without any work to do or books to read I am at a complete loss.

I eventually made it to a different beach and sat down in the sand. I pulled my dagger from its sheath and studied it in the morning light. It was as simple as daggers come. Sharpened stone with a leather bound grip. There was something carved at the bottom.

R. Just R.

Was this someone else’s before they gave it to me? If so then what happened to its last owner? Did I even want to know?

What was it Pan said when I met him? That I should be lucky to see this place and live? I sheathed the small blade once more. This island had already instilled a sense of unease but with every passing interaction with its leader and the questions it raises the more danger I feel I’m in. A part of me is screaming to get off this island. Run back to the Enchanted Forest and never look back!

Then again, there is a part that does kind of like this place. The boys, at least the ones I’ve met so far, are friendly. It’s like a big family unit that I get to be a part of. There are no adults to boss me around or harsh chores that needed tending to. I should give it a few more days before deciding if I truly want to find a way to leave.

I went back to the camp and was pleased to see that some of the boys had finally woken up. I looked for Devin but didn’t see him amongst the multiple faces. I did see Nick though and stuck by him for the morning. I thanked him and the other boys for making my tent. Again they told me it wasn’t a problem and quickly drew me into a story about a one legged pirate and the legend of his golden treasure chest. I was getting into the tale too before the rest of the camp woke up and suddenly story time was over.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

“Training.” Nick shrugged. “We do it every morning before it gets too hot.”

“Oh right,” I remembered what they had told me yesterday about the combat practices they did, “Why do you guys train like this anyway? Neverland really that dangerous?”

“More dangerous than you’d think girly.” Another boy brushed past me. He was about my height with long mousy brown hair tied back with a string of leather.

“Who you calling girly?” I snapped at him and he glanced back to glare at me with only one dark brown eye.

“I’m calling you girly, girly. You may have the others fooled into thinking you’re one of us but you’re really just a weakling that’s only good for digging a ditch.”

“Excuse you? I’ll show you who’s a weakling!” I grabbed a tree limb off the ground and swung it hard at the boy’s head. He caught it and spun it around so fast that I tumbled to the ground. The other boys stopped their conversations as they watched the confrontation going down.

“Like I said, weakling.” the boy broke the branch over his knee, “Try to stay out of my way.”

“You little–” I bolted up but was restrained by Nick.

“Don’t let Slightly get to you. He’s been like that for as long as anyone can remember.”

“Slightly? What kind of a name is Slightly?

“What kind of a name is Y/N? You don’t have to be what you were named. A lot of the boys have different names than from when they were first brought here. You could change yours too if you wanted.”

“No thanks, I’ll stick with Y/N.”

We came to a clearing and the boys broke off into groups. Archers, spear-wielders, swordsman, and so forth. “Wondering where to go?” Pan was suddenly at my side.

“Kind of…” I fiddled with my dagger, “The closest I’ve gotten to weaponry and combat was my shovel and an incident with a wolf.”

“You fought off a wolf with a shovel?”

“What else was I supposed to do? Offer it a belly rub?”

“You’re really aggressive in the mornings aren’t you?”

“Only when you’re around.”

“Well,” he whirled me around, “Knowing your past experience I’d say you should join them.”

“The boys with the clubs?”

“Well it’s the closest we have to a shovel without actually using shovels. So, off you go.” he pushed me forward, “Also, if you have trouble or the others give you a hard time don’t go complaining or I will give them permission to beat the living hell out of you.”

“Aren’t you just the definition of charming.”

“I don’t tolerate pansies on my island.”

I had a biting remark on my tongue but held it back. Telling the leader of a pack of lethally trained boys that: if he didn’t tolerate pansies then he shouldn’t be there, didn’t seem like the smartest idea.

“You don’t need to worry about me. I learned not to complain a long time ago.” I muttered and walked over towards the boys that were practicing with the clubs. It was only a small group, Felix and some others I had only seen in passing but hadn’t talked to.

“Look who decided to stop by.” Felix grinned, “You wanna try this, really?”


“It takes a lot of muscle power.”

“I think I can handle it.”

“If you say so. Then let’s get you started.” he whistled and one of the boys handed me a club. It was a couple inches shorter than what I was used to holding and a lot more top heavy.

“Trick to using a club correctly is shifting your weight.” Felix explained to me, “If you don’t have a strong stance when you’re fighting then someone can use your weight against you and you’re down.”

He stepped back and spread his arms out. “Go on, show me your best swing.”

“Okay,” I tried to dig myself into what I thought was a strong stance like he said and swung. Without as much as a bat of his eyes he shifted out of the way, slammed my club back with his and for the second time that day the momentum of the hit sent me spiraling to the ground.

“A strong swing but also very clumsy, slow and blaringly obvious.” Felix leaned over me, “You have the power but you do not possess the technique. Not yet anyway. Get up.”

I stood up and and recollected my club. “What do I do?”

“Put your weight into it. That way all the power will be on the other end of the club. Go again.” I went again and again and everytime I swung he blocked it and every other time I ended up on the ground.

The entire morning went on like this. Steadily trying to get better and turning black and blue in the process. No matter how much I improved it was just never quite enough. I was still too predictable, too slow. Eventually Felix got tired of trying to teach me and handed it off to a large boy with a thick gut named Curly. Curly was a lot more patient than Felix but didn’t hold back any either.

When the sun was almost directly overhead we were finally done. In a word I felt miserable. I was used to long work don’t get me wrong but there’s something about getting constantly pummeled with a wooden club that adds to the exhaustion. I would be lying if I said the experience didn’t stir up some bad memories.

I pushed them away as the boys and I headed back to camp for lunch and rest. Now that practice was out of the way we had the entire rest of the day to do whatever we wanted. Seeing as how I was drenched in sweat I decided that my downtime was going to include a cool dip.

Coming back to the pond I had bathed in the day before I stripped down and hopped in once more letting the water wash away the grime I had built up during training. I was up to my neck just soaking it in when I heard voices behind me. I turned my head and saw Devin, Nick and some of the other boys walking my way. They stopped upon seeing me.

“Problem boys? Can’t handle a naked girl?” I smirked at them. “Nothing you haven’t seen before, right Devin?”

“We didn’t know you were back here. We’ll just–”

“Just what? You really think I care if you dopes see me nude? Besides what’s between your legs there’s not a whole lot of difference. Or are you so hormonal that the sight of my bare chest will turn you into raving beasts?”

They became quiet and I rolled my eyes. “Stay. Leave. Jump in. I don’t care.” I relaxed back against the pond wall.

“I’ll take up that offer.” one of the boys shrugged, “Could use a soak.”

“Ben!” Devin held him back, “You’re not seriously going to jump in, are you?”

“Why not? She said it was okay.”

“Yeah. I’m fine with it.”

“So you’d be fine if say the entire camp decided to come and hop in while you are in there without a strip of clothes on?”

“As long as none of them try to assault me then I don’t see any harm.”

“I’m heading in.” the boy, Ben, jumped in. After a few tense seconds the other boys looked at each other and hopped in as well. They were awkward about it for the first couple minutes but relaxed after we started cracking some jokes.

Maybe an hour went by and my fingers and toes were looking awfully wrinkly. “I think I’m done for today.” I hopped out and the boys made some cheeky comments.

A loud whistle sounded from across the pond and my head snapped to the source. Pan was standing there watching our group with an amused smile. What was more unsettling though was his gaze on me. I know I didn’t care about the boys seeing me naked but Pan…it felt wrong. I didn’t want that creep seeing me like this, not that I’d let him know that.

“Get a good look?” I called across to him as I started to put on my clothes.

“Not much to look at.” he called back and the simmering anger below my skin started to bubble once more.

“Stop commenting on your reflection, I’m over here.” I said and even from this distance I could see the annoyance flash across his features. Devin and the others were failing at hiding their amusement as I pulled on the rest of my clothes and sauntered back to camp.

Leaving Pan alone with his sniggering Lost Boys and the knowledge I had soundly irked him I began to smile. I’m starting to think I can really like it here. So long as Pan continues to be so easy to mess with that is.

(Part 1) (Previous) (Next)

Some images of Nyarlathotep

I love how Lovecraft’s monsters are so protean, enabling so many great artists to take some wonderful creative liberties with their interpretations of one the the great author’s most fascinating inventions.

“Will Murray, in “Behind the Mask of Nyarlathotep,” points out that not only is this Lovecraft’s first fictitious god, but it is te first t appear in more tan one Lovecraft story.”

-Leslie S. Klinger, The New Annotated H. P. Lovecraft

“And though this revolting graveyard of the universe the muffled, maddening beating of drums, and thin, monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes from inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond Time; the detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods–the blind, voiceless, mindless gargoyles whose soul is Nyarlathotep.”

-H. P. Lovecraft, “Nyarlathotep”

Ond Cefais Ddal Di Chi //But I Could Catch You  Eggsy Unwin X Fem!Reader

Author’s Note: Hi! This is my first Eggsy Unwin fic and it will be multiple parts so if you’re up for some angst, fluff and maybe a little bit of smut here and there, you’ll enjoy Ond Cefais Ddal Di Chi

(ALSO i totally just translated the title in google translate so if any of you can actually read Welsh and that sounds ridiculous, please let me know xx) 

Warnings: Swearing (of course), some implied traumatic experiences, a little bit of gore, Eggsy being a soft caring boy, partial nudity (for relevant reasons) 

Rain pelted down against the roof of Eggsy’s flat. The muffled drum eased a sense of calm into his bones as he began to strip down and slide into bed. His consciousness was drifting slowly.

Until he heard a feverish knock against his front door. It was urgent and hard and it was nearly 3 in the morning so he decided it must be important. As he was getting up, the knocking ceased but was replaced by a singular loud thump.

Looking through the mail slot, Eggsy could see the top of a head, their hair matted and wet from the rain. He opened the door. The girl tumbled back and into Eggsy’s arms. She was injured. Badly.

Keep reading

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone.
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead,
Put crépe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song,
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong

The stars are not wanted now, put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

—  Funeral Blues, W.H. Auden

long enough to call it courage (to live without a lifeline).

Summary: Nico flees, Will breathes, and the waters of the Mediterranean have plans of their own. (Or, alternately, “Dude, do you wanna tell me why that siren took my form to try and seduce you?”)

Quests teach you things about yourself.

For instance, since leaving for the ancient lands with Will, Nico has learned that he is a morning person. He has learned, through a series of nasty withdrawal symptoms, that he has an unhealthy addiction to coffee. He has learned that, when you’re not being chased by a horde of monsters thirsty for your blood, looking at the stars rattles your soul.

He has learned that it is easier to sleep when he is lying next to Will Solace.

Keep reading

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.


W.H. Auden, Funeral Blues

dear almost lover

Your voice was the wind,
and I was deaf.
you sang to me in howling storms,
or soft whistles.

Dear almost lover,
there exists a world where I can hear the piano in your voice,
where your tongue presses the keys that play to me what words can’t say.
there exists a world where I can hear the chimes in your laughter,
the notes ringing in a blissful echo,
and I will look to you crying, my ears have never heard such delicate beauty.

Dear almost lover,
in this word I am deaf
and when you open your mouth
I feel the coldest. 
your voice is the wind,
and i throw my hands up to the sky
in frustrating agony…
so you stop speaking for a while.

At night, with my head resting on your chest,
you press your lips to my ear.
I can feel the muffled beating of drums coming from your chest,
I urge you to open your mouth,
and try again
slower this time,
in the darkness, I stare at your lips with wide eyes 
and strain my ears,
trying again.
you open your mouth,
I wait,
anticipation crushing my bones, if only we try hard enough this time, then maybe I can hear, sound returning to my ears, and you can speak instead of howl, and
we’ll be warm again.

But you look at me,
and your lips form into something that looks like ‘i’m sorry,’
what deafening silence,
when love could’ve been the most beautiful symphony.

So we fall into a battlefield,
where blame is our shield, and fault is our sword.
we fight.
that’s all we seem to do,
that’s all we can do.

Until the day you surrender,
or I do.
you don’t want to give up but there’s a girl who can hear your songs.
and I don’t want to give up but there’s a boy who’s voice I can hear.
at night, I leave all the windows open,
I fall asleep shivering in a wind that doesn’t feel like you.
what excruciating coldness, 
when love could’ve been the warmest fire.

Dear almost lover,
there has never been a more sorrowful story.
our love could’ve been music
a classic, that lives on for centuries
long after we stop breathing.

They will bury our bodies separately,
never knowing the love that almost existed,
the love that never existed.


Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message ‘He is Dead’.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

requested by ilovethemoose
The Sacrifice part.2 (I accidentally deleted my entire first attempt to write this second part and i am upset, so my writing might be lame and hurried. i am sorry the bad writing) (G/T short story)

I felt myself choking, forced to cough and gasp for air. It was painful, not just for my throat, my head was also spinning. I could barely remember what happened, where even was I?

My eyes drowned in my tears, I tried to feel around with my hands. It was hard, rocky, cold, and wet… I could also hear my coughs echoing, and water dripping. Was it a cave? What was I doing in a cave?

My head was spinning too much, I had to calm it down, first. So I just laid there on my back, taking deep breaths until my heartbeat became more… normal. When I was finally able to get my thoughts together, I started noticing other sounds I haven’t noticed earlier…  Like something really heavy being dragged on the ground, and slow, muffled, repetitive drums… almost like a heartbeat, but it couldn’t be mine, mine was fast. I finally opened my eyes…

Surprisingly, It wasn’t completely dark. Something was glowing green, making the rocks covered in water glitter like shiny emeralds. shiny green stones… It seemed familiar somehow. As i looked around, I finally spotted the source of the green light. It looked like a wall of pretty glowing stones, joined together to form the shape of a giant fish tail, fins, and…. giant hands?… Oh no, It all came back to me now.

The shiny green scales, the island, the sacrifice, the monster. These green glowing ‘’stones’’, these were his scales, he was right there! Staring at me this whole time!

I gasped and tried to drag myself as far away from him as possible- he just watched me and blinked like an idiot.

‘’Go to HELL, you pest!!’’ I yelled, and he flinched. What did I have to lose anyway? I was cornered by a giant sea monster in a cave with no obvious exit! I had right to be mad! Mad that my life was going to end this ridiculous and abominable way!

Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut though, because the creature decided to speak back; his voice boomed inside the cave- and the echo was NOT helping! I had to cover my ears, or else i’m sure my ear-drums would be permanently damaged. But the way he spoke, he was saying something, but I didn’t know this language, it was like the island’s inhabitants. And his tone, it sounded like he was asking questions, lots of questions.

‘’I don’t know! I don’t know! please, just shut up!!’’ I cried, after enduring thunder in my ears for a moment, and he stopped, just like that… 

I then heard him drag himself away from me, and heard his voice rise again, but this time, it was quieter, muffled, creating a melody. Was he… Humming? He was! He was humming an almost relaxing melody. Why? Was he trying to calm me down? Why would he bother calming me down when he can just kill me now? I looked over at him, he was still looking at me, only more… distant. 

‘’What do you want from me?’’ I asked, and he stopped humming, before leaning towards me, studying me with glowing green eyes. Then out of nowhere, He stretched his arm towards me, reaching with his horrible fishy-glowy hand.

I yelled ‘’No! Stay away from me!!’’ as I made a sad attempt to get away, but his scally fingers wrapped around me in a firm grip, and he took me with him as he dragged himself across the cave. I was sick and tired of this stupid game. Why did I have to go through this if I already knew I was going to die here? Why couldn’t he just kill me already!? I tried to bite his hand, but his glowing fish scales made quite a great protection, even if they were surprisingly soft? Not the unflexible armor you’d expect.

To my surprise, after he came to a stop, he slowly set me down, right next to… wait, was that my sailboat!? Broken planks, torn sail… and my supply chest! It really was my boat! Not very capable of sailing anymore, though… But why was it here? And most importantly, why did the monster take me to it?

I looked up at him. He seemed to be waiting impatiently for something, splashing his fish tail in the spot of deep water of the cave -which I now assumed to be the exit- to keep himself occupied. Maybe… He didn’t want to kill me? At least not now?

That didn’t give me a clue of what he wanted from me though. I ran to my trusty waterproof supply chest- all my stuff was intact! water, food, fishing rod, map, compass, flash light and radio… All these things aroused the giant creature’s curiosity; He lowered his head- almost to my level, to get a better look. I was still scared of him, but at this point I knew he wasn’t interested in hurting me… I think. 

I suddenly felt a little bit of hope inside me. Maybe… If I could just get on this weird monster’s good side, just maybe I could get him to let me return home. somehow.

(That’s it for tonight. I will probably make more, as their relationship evolve slowly, until they finally find a way to communicate easily ^^ And I will find names for our two characters here, eventually, and it’d be really fun if some people gave me suggestions for their names.)

Once You Play
(Don’t own anything but the idea. This came to me and I just had to write it. Maybe someday I’ll go into better detail, but this is it for now.) It is amazing, how one thing can change a life and, in turn, all the lives around it. Even all the holders of the Sky Mare Ring, with their abilities to see and expect, can’t fully comprehend every single possibility of every single world. As the saying goes, the possibilities are endless. So when one Sawada Nana takes in her home, which seems much lonelier then it should, and her seven year-old son, who loses the shining happiness in his eyes day by day, she comes to a decision. It’s time for the holidays; and it’s summer anyway, so why not go to the beach? The way her Tsu-kun lights up at the words just cement her choices.

Keep reading

Funeral Blues by W H Auden
Tom Hiddleston
Funeral Blues by W H Auden

Funeral Blues by WH Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with the juicy bone.
Silence the pianos and, with muffled drum,
Bring out the coffin. Let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling in the sky the message: “He is dead!”
Put crepe bows around the white necks of the public doves.
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my north, my south, my east and west,
My working week and Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song.
I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one.
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can come to any good.