The Hayloft - Ch 1
Through all the pleasant meadow-side
The grass grew shoulder-high,
Till the shining scythes went far and wide
And cut it down to dry.
~ Robert Louis Stevenson
Greg watched the sky change through the trees, the sun dropping closer to the horizon. It lit the clouds with dramatic streaks of vivid colour. The cool damp of the air carried a whiff of the germinating seeds, the spring creeping into the grounds. At any other time, it would be his favourite season. He dropped down on his haunches and picked up a handful of the topsoil. It was ready. Nearly twenty years of work, and this was the year.
~
The Hayloft - Ch 1
Based on a twitter/tumblr prompt ( here ), I was just going to write a one-shot and *gestures wildly*... Not terribly sorry about it though.
Alright, I know I promised this ages ago, but it took some time to get it all down on paper, beta'd, foreign languages checked, figure out how to make the hover text work properly...
The plan is to post a chapter every Friday (probably first thing in the morning -- US time). This will take through June to complete! (it's a big one). I hope you all enjoy this labor of love.
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going straight from a mother mother show to the last mcr livestream. im dying tonight.
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clementines obv
some of my favorite thiam art of all time
being noticed by both arden and dylan (just to remind you)
the band mother mother for some reason(?)
horror genre bc you make me read gruesome and beautiful things
double digits notifications telling me that one of us has done *something*
😭😭😭😭😭😭🥰I’m literally so soft rn omg 😭😭😭😭😭💕💕💕💕
No ur right I love mother mother
And 🥺🥺I’m honored I can make some of ur fave
I’m still not over them noticing me I’m on the floor
I love horror 🥰🥰ty
Dhfhjfjfjfjf me In your dms yelling at u for your writing or posting a devastating screenshot and running love that for us 💕💕
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Monika from ddlc gets a animatic of Hayloft II in my brain, as a treat bc she deserves it <3
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I love tumblr’s thing of like talking about boyfriends in a decidedly nonperson way. Like it’s my favourite type of post
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songs r pissing me off today its so weird
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➵MASTERLIST
➵ ONE SHOTS
Mark Me.
Mommy.
Like a Book.
Putting Out for Me.
Dark.
First Time.
Asleep.
No Touching.
Mouth.
Strapwarming.
Brat.
Tutor.
Rings.
Hers.
Oral Fixation.
F*cktoy.
Hayloft.
Fl*shlight.
Somno.
Ovulate.
Bloodlust.
Corrupted.
Throat.
Pillow.
Ghost.
The Woods.
Halloween.
Princess Parts.
C*msl*t.
Onlyfans.
Present.
Ghostface.
Religion.
Palette.
Tarot.
Bubblegum.
Tinseltown.
Familiar.
Bump, Set, Spike.
Home Intruder.
Good Morning.
Skirt.
The Scarlet Siren.
➵ SERIES
The Darkhold.
Déjà Vu. | part 1 part 2
Mind Games.
Whorehouse.
Seeing Red.
The Human Psyche.
Mentor. | part 1 part 2 part 3
Violent Night.
Little Pill. | part 1 part 2
➵ ONE SHOTS
We’ll Never Have Sex.
On Your Knees.
Uncontrollable.
The After-Party.
Polaroid.
Porto Ercole.
Innocence.
Swimming Pool.
Jealousy, Jealousy.
Philosykos.
Like I Do.
Fireplace.
Shower.
69.
Autumn Love.
Relax.
Housewife.
Thanksgiving.
Obedience.
My Girl.
Birthday.
Nightclub.
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Page 24
Next 💜 Back 🖤 First
(Author Notes)
Panel 1: Imogen is asleep, more peacefully now. With her head on the pillow next to her in the narrow bed, Laudna is snuggled up and lying very close, watching her sleeping face. Pâté lies curled on top of the blanket like a pet.
Panel 2: Transition to a dream. The flashback is dimmer this time, the colors more muted, and everything has a slightly shabby cast to it. It’s nighttime. In a small loft bedroom, a tiny “Laudna,” three years old, is being tucked into bed by her weary mother.
“Laudna”:
. . . and there was a — there was a scary tree, and . . . and . . .
Mama:
It was just a dream, darling. Go back to sleep.
“Laudna”:
Please I can sleep with you?
Mama:
You’re a big girl now. You have to stay in your own bed.
Panel 3: She does not stay in her bed. Clutching a rather misadventured-looking doll, she lingers anxiously outside her parents’ bedroom and peers around the doorway.
“Laudna”:
Mama? Papa?
Mama:
(groans) What is it, dear?
“Laudna”:
I want a drink of water.
Papa:
Go back to bed, Matilda.
Matilda:
Otay.
Panel 4: She withdraws, putting her fingers in her mouth as she casts a fearful glance up in the direction of her own bedroom.
Panel 5: Instead, she goes outside, pushing open the bottom half of the kitchen door to let herself out.
Panel 6: In the hayloft of the barn, she has made a little blanket fort for herself amid the hay. There’s a lantern, some handmade dolls (some made by her mother, some obviously made by herself), a gourd with a face drawn on it, and a scattering of drawings. By the low light of the lantern she is moodily drawing a picture of the aforementioned scary tree with a black crayon clutched tight in her fist.
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