caffvarro

[caffvarro]

Hey, whoever is reading this. I'm back after a long hiatus, but seriously, who would even notice? Definitely no one. I used to write about my life, but I think I should stop doing that. No one will notice anyway, so there's no point. So, only fiction will be posted here.

[caffvarro]

The Man in the Box

Once there was a man, and he had a box. A big, kind, cozy box. It brimmed with wondrous sounds — something jingling, something creaking, music playing somewhere, voices chatting. It was bright and pleasant there, soft and tender, warm and joyful. Something beloved, familiar, something that would last forever. Tall walls, tall people, and only he was small.

Once there was a man, and he had a box. A good box, large and well-kept. Inside smelled of something delicious — sweet and spicy. People walked about, sat, chattered, laughed. Music played, patent-leather heels clicked, dancers spun. A kitten scampered underfoot — tiny, fluffy, white as snow, so small that everything seemed enormous to him. A blizzard raged outside, but inside it was warm. He napped on the couch, tucked under a blanket, the kitten purring sleepily against his side. Everyone was near, everyone was close, everyone was here. And so was he.

Once there was a man, and he had a box. Not so big now, not quite as tidy, but still cozy. Music still played inside — loud, boisterous. Somewhere, women gossiped about this and that, while he swung his legs, kicking his chair until he toppled over. Stomping feet, curses, then a hand stroking his head, ointment applied to the bump. Laughter again, joy again. He even invited others into his box now, showed them how wonderful it was. The most beloved place, his alone! Laughter spilled like wine, dancing till dawn, the kitten chasing a toy — everything in its place, as it should be.

Once there was a man, and he had a box. Small now, but his own. So many memories inside, so many dear faces. It still smelled of baking, still buzzed with noise. The chandelier flickered, spring blossomed outside, birds sang, children ran past. But he visited his box less and less now. The plump white kitten flicked its tail playfully, begging for attention. He walked out early each morning, drawn to the bigger boxes — tall and sleek, not made of cardboard and cheap glue. From their height, he could see the dawn and countless little cardboard boxes below. But for now, he was still here. In this small, shabby, yet familiar box. For now, he was still here.

There was a man, and he had a box. A little box now. Dust gathered inside. No more women’s chirping voices, no more music. Conversations were rare and practical. The kitten lazily waved its tail, clutching a toy. It still smelled nice — something spicy and sweet. Warm and cozy inside. The big boxes... ah, they were too high now, out of reach. His box was good. He needed no other. He was fine here.

There was a man, and he had a box. A tiny box. Gray walls inside, dusty windows, empty shelves. He trudged through freezing dawns just to keep his box. He’d grown taller, thinner; the box was too small now. Corners and walls pressed inward. He lay on the cold floor, waiting for the first rays of sun to start another day. He went there, worked, labored, then left with a half-empty bag, ignoring how his bare hands reddened in the frosty night. No smell of baking inside now — just a sickly-sweet, painfully saccharine stale bun rotting in the corner. No more idle chatter, no one played music, no one wiped the dust from the shelves, no one played with the kitten. Because the kitten, too, was gone. No more scampering, no tail wagging merrily, no leaping through the evening shadows, no curling up warm against his side. Only he remained. And his half-empty box.

There was a man inside a box. He lay on the cold floor, staring up. The empty fridge hummed annoyingly, water dripped onto a mountain of dishes, and the stench was foul — flies swarmed over a pile of black trash bags. Outside, the sun shone. Children ran past — spring had come! The rays would warm the residents of the cardboard boxes! But not him. Inside, only cold. It seemed he’d always been here, the man clinging to memories as he lay on the floor, wondering: Why was he here? What had he found in this simple box? There were so many others — bigger, neater, noisier, buzzing endlessly through the nights. But not his box. He lay for days, walls looming, pressing down. Wanting to consume him. To merge his flesh with cardboard. He lay there. He was in the box.

There was a man. Now there is only a box. Empty and lonely. No one inside. No one will ever be inside again. There was a man, but the box consumed him. Ate every piece, every moment. Silenced the bright music, stilled the stomping feet, dissolved the sweet spice. No more dancing, no warm blanket for sweltering nights, no ringing feminine laughter, no fluffy kitten weaving between legs. Even the sounds outside had faded. Only bare walls remained, a ceiling, and a cold floor.

The box had consumed him.

One question lingers: Could the box really consume him? P.s The original text I wrote was in another language, but I decided to translate it so that everyone could read it, so maybe there could be some inaccuracies somewhere. Thanks for reading!

[caffvarro]

Maybe the stress spilled out on me or just from the surprise that this happened to me for the first time, maybe both together. Fortunately, my friend was there and she supported me. Afterwards I called my grandmother and she also supported me, telling me not to worry about it and that it was nonsense (subconsciously I understood this but could not accept it). I calmed down but for two more days I could not hide from anxiety. But it was funny to watch my acceptance. Anger was in last place, since I realized what actually happened. (by the way, my friend also failed, but she was allowed to finish her work the next day, she already had my notebooks, and the others had the exam versions.) They passed (albeit with a stretch) and I'm happy for them, although inside everything gnaws. I think it clearly affected me. At school, I was a complete C student, but not that bad. Plus, back then, I had problems accepting myself and realizing my importance. I went through this when I entered college and those two years were wonderful for me. The team did not reject me and I felt important, because everyone needed my help and it seemed to me that I was really not bad. Afterwards, I found out that the one whom I considered a good person was speaking unflatteringly about me. It's a shame. But not fatal, although that same feeling of fear and what they think about you was present. The exam and this somehow undermined my desire to study at all. For what? Full of useless subjects and not a single one that is really important for the profession. I hope there won't be any problems with this. Well, let's end here. I haven't visited Tumblr for a long time, I wanted to find out what's new with those I subscribe to and follow. Hey @skvaderarts I'm glad you're okay. I've read a few posts and I see how you're literally on fire with what you do, particularly Arcane. Alas, I haven't watched it and don't know anything about it, but seeing your posts where you write about what you like brings a smile to my face. I hope you had a good holiday. Keep creating, it's really wonderful!

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year! I hope you spent it with your family and friends and had a good time. I came to visit relatives in another city and I am spending my New Year holidays quite well. If it weren't for one big minus in the person of my not very pleasant relative (although, to be honest, he is disgusting to me), everything else is fine. I got some money (just in time ha-ha) and I spent some of it on gifts for my friends. Of course, there were some difficulties with my studies (I failed the exam), but now I am fine. To tell the truth, I was extremely stressed then and just fell into silent hysteria. I cried and stared into space. I am an extremely emotional person (not exactly to extremes, but it is easy to evoke emotions like joy or tears). And damn it was an exam on the same day as the trip, my train was supposed to leave at night. I thought it would be easy, because this subject, although with a stretch, was not bad. Unfortunately, she didn't tell us what the problems would be, she just said that they would be and that's it. I grabbed all the notebooks on this subject that I had (I was looking for everything that was there, and I'm good at writing notes) and went with the idea of ​​getting the highest grade. Ironically, it turned out exactly the opposite. I came with the others and it was just a consultation before the exam (actually it is needed for preparation, but as if someone did it, in fact we were just handing in what we hadn't done before), but I initially decided to take the exam that day. My friend and classmate decided to take the exam with me (I didn't tell you about her, we resumed communication during a joint practice.) And then another classmate joined in, but then she left because half of the problems were missing from her HUGE PILE OF PAPER. My friend and I were sitting and decided to help each other solve the problems. My problem is that I write in a draft and then in a fair copy and this is a VERY BIG MISTAKE. The tasks were disgusting. Yes, we solved them, but consider for the whole year plus a month or two. Those months were exactly at the beginning of the school year. After that, we had a tedious pursuit of the coursework (we still couldn’t do it and they extended it until the end of the school year. She literally redid every step of ours because something didn’t fit in the manual and told us to do exactly what was said in the manual (some points didn’t fit for some of us because the topics were different.)). And then a great practice (I’m still delighted) for a month. Naturally, we forgot everything. I spent most of the time trying to find a similar task in the notebook because SURPRISE!! The tasks are solved in different ways. ABSOLUTELY DIFFERENT AND THEY ARE WRITTEN IN A DISGUSTINGLY INCOMPREHENSIBLE WAY. For a teacher it is really easy, she always says so, like there is nothing difficult about it. I managed to rewrite only a couple of tasks and she was rushing me so much that I had no choice but to take a draft written by a friend. Yes. I screwed up. I screwed up big time.

[caffvarro]

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year! I hope you spent it with your family and friends and had a good time. I came to visit relatives in another city and I am spending my New Year holidays quite well. If it weren't for one big minus in the person of my not very pleasant relative (although, to be honest, he is disgusting to me), everything else is fine. I got some money (just in time ha-ha) and I spent some of it on gifts for my friends. Of course, there were some difficulties with my studies (I failed the exam), but now I am fine. To tell the truth, I was extremely stressed then and just fell into silent hysteria. I cried and stared into space. I am an extremely emotional person (not exactly to extremes, but it is easy to evoke emotions like joy or tears). And damn it was an exam on the same day as the trip, my train was supposed to leave at night. I thought it would be easy, because this subject, although with a stretch, was not bad. Unfortunately, she didn't tell us what the problems would be, she just said that they would be and that's it. I grabbed all the notebooks on this subject that I had (I was looking for everything that was there, and I'm good at writing notes) and went with the idea of ​​getting the highest grade. Ironically, it turned out exactly the opposite. I came with the others and it was just a consultation before the exam (actually it is needed for preparation, but as if someone did it, in fact we were just handing in what we hadn't done before), but I initially decided to take the exam that day. My friend and classmate decided to take the exam with me (I didn't tell you about her, we resumed communication during a joint practice.) And then another classmate joined in, but then she left because half of the problems were missing from her HUGE PILE OF PAPER. My friend and I were sitting and decided to help each other solve the problems. My problem is that I write in a draft and then in a fair copy and this is a VERY BIG MISTAKE. The tasks were disgusting. Yes, we solved them, but consider for the whole year plus a month or two. Those months were exactly at the beginning of the school year. After that, we had a tedious pursuit of the coursework (we still couldn’t do it and they extended it until the end of the school year. She literally redid every step of ours because something didn’t fit in the manual and told us to do exactly what was said in the manual (some points didn’t fit for some of us because the topics were different.)). And then a great practice (I’m still delighted) for a month. Naturally, we forgot everything. I spent most of the time trying to find a similar task in the notebook because SURPRISE!! The tasks are solved in different ways. ABSOLUTELY DIFFERENT AND THEY ARE WRITTEN IN A DISGUSTINGLY INCOMPREHENSIBLE WAY. For a teacher it is really easy, she always says so, like there is nothing difficult about it. I managed to rewrite only a couple of tasks and she was rushing me so much that I had no choice but to take a draft written by a friend. Yes. I screwed up. I screwed up big time.

[caffvarro]

Heyyyy! Why not write another post? It's been two weeks since the last post and this time I don't have much to talk about. Well, the first thing is probably….I didn't know that writing is quite a difficult thing for me. No, I knew, but rather I didn't realize the scale. For some reason it seemed to me that it would be easy for me, like…Damn, I just came up with some idea for a fanfic, why should I write about it and wow….I can't describe what should go before the scene that was in my damn head.

And I'm constantly distracted, for example now, instead of writing what came to my mind while typing a bot from character ai.

I thought that I could write my works quickly and without problems, but I was clearly wrong. I need a muse, because without her I definitely won't be able to write anything, at least something that my inner critic will like (My little cat critic inside me tears up every poorly written part of the work). And I definitely need a solution to the problem with concentration, because as I realized recently, I have obvious problems with this. (Thankfully, not constantly, at least because recently I finally cleaned up and put things in order.) And I should hurry up a little with this, because all my ideas that were planned for certain dates (fanfics for some holiday) are damn late (I'm still sad about Halloween), and I'm stuck at work that I'm writing for a friend. I love her honestly, but for some reason the thought of writing this work brings me to terrible discomfort. Of course, I could leave and continue those that were written before this work, but damn, this fanfic is literally weighing on me. In my mind every damn evening, a terrible whisper runs that tells me: "Write this damn fanfic!" Ugh, terrible. Oh, and the latest news. My internship is ending soon (literally this week) and after that I need to quickly pass the exam and go to my family for the holidays. I also started publishing some of my works on Ao3. Naturally, they will be published here earlier. Well, have a good week everyone! P.S. I started taking morning photos when they go to the place of practice. It's not something masterpiece but I like it.

[caffvarro]

Hi! I disappeared for almost 2 weeks. Nothing special happened, so I'll briefly tell you about everything I didn't write here. First, my training practice started. Nothing special, I do all the same tasks, but in a new place. I'm glad that I got there, although to be honest I'm a little scared that the place is literally empty. There are only workers and not a single client. Which is strange considering the specialization of this place, it literally lives off its clients! But it's even better for me, fewer clients means less work! I'm not lazy, I just don't want to go through production hell.

Essentially, our group was divided into several parts and places. The larger group went to another busier place of work and there it was divided into floors. I ended up in a kind of duet with my classmate. In fact, it's cool because we communicated well for some time, she's really cool. It's a pity, of course, that we don't maintain the connection that we had at the very beginning… Secondly, I think I've hit a small creative crisis. It's not that it was something terrible, but at some point I really got worried, because I didn't understand what was wrong with me. I thought about art block, but I write. After looking on Google about ArtBlockNoForWriters, I realized that this is exactly what was wrong with me, well, or close to what I had. It was caused by stress, because every call from my beloved granny would inevitably cause a bunch of not the most positive emotions. Either I plunge into apathy (or a state that is incomprehensible to me) thinking about existence and how the hell I will survive until I receive money on the card, or non-stop crying and fear of loneliness. It so happened that in my life there came that very period of eternal sadness. (Okay, this is extremely exaggerated, but God, how it sounds!) In general, not the best news from my relatives, not the best state of affairs in the country and not the best financial situation affect me and I splash it out. I realized long ago that it is not the best idea to keep everything to myself. Unfortunately, I do not have that person to whom I would tell everything, how I feel and what sometimes happens to me (like the situation when I am stupidly in one position and my thoughts are far from reality or do not exist at all. The last time I was lying on the dirty floor looking at the ceiling, because I felt either lost coupled with loneliness or disgust for myself. I will say in advance that I love myself and do not have any bad thoughts about myself. I am who I am.) and I have to express myself to someone non-existent or to myself. Often it helps. And this state did not allow me to concentrate and plus I am not sure but I have some inclinations of ADHD … I am not sure but there is something similar. It became more difficult for me to concentrate on something. It's a shame that this affects my favorite things like writing, reading (I put the book on the table hoping that it would reproachfully remind me that it was worth reading. The result - it didn't help. I returned it to the shelf with the rest of the mostly unread and not even opened books.), and damn my favorite videos. I like to watch one blogger who exposes mystical stories. I watched his video for several years and today a new one came out and damn. I couldn't stand it for even a few minutes. But I'll return to the topic of writing, after all, I was able to overcome this and find a new way to write. I don't know if it works, but it worked once. I'll try. Well, the third one, Christmas and New Year are coming soon! I don't know how I'll celebrate it this year, but so far there seems to be a festive atmosphere. Last year everything was extremely bleak. I'll try to write all those fanfics that are lying around in a folder on my PC desktop. (now I mostly use a laptop, so I move folders from one computer to another.) And the last little part. I would like to start my original works. I don't expect any success, a regular like is enough for me. Even one or two. But I won't be switching my attention to this anytime soon. After all, I'm starting with fanfics and want to continue them. I hope you like everything I write:)

[caffvarro]

The college throws my stickers in the trash without my knowledge, calling it childish. part 2

And now to the most important and sad part. Yesterday our group did not have to go to college (we had one class and she was the last one, so the teacher allowed us not to go, since she had things to do.) And if anyone still follows my blog, then you know that all day I wrote a fanfic for my friend. And in the evening I find out from that same first-grader that she heard from her friend that everyone who had stickers on their lockers had papers hung up for us to take them down. I just exploded with anger! Damn it, what did stickers on your lockers do to you??? The rules for renting a locker do not even indicate an approximately suitable rule prohibiting it, and the college charter does not either, damn it, I read it! And for three damn years no one cared! But as it turned out, they were preparing for an inspection. Fuck what??? They were scared of a damn fine! And I'll tell you frankly, this college is not a prestigious institution at all, but for some reason it makes itself look so damn important. We don't have enough important teachers. English (it's our second language and it's incredibly important in the specialty I'm studying and the teacher we had taught it really badly, so we practically didn't have English) and physics (it's not that important for us, but half, if not most, of the specialties are tied to physics, so… It really hits you hard). And some of the lockers are just broken, somewhere the doors are knocked out or something. And the water coolers don't work! WE DAMN IT DON'T HAVE ANY WATER! NO CUPS OR WATER! And the coolers are on the 4th and 1st floors, a fucking long distance away. I won't even talk about the toilets, there are only two of them and only one for students on the 1st floor. The girls' toilets even have a mirror on the ceiling and you can clearly see who's doing what. And it would be fine if they hung them up with a request to remove them, we would come today and remove them, but no… I found out from my favorite friend that they have already started removing them themselves…. they put up a couple of the last ones for us again, so I still have to come and see my locker with my own eyes.

And damn, some of the stickers could have been fucking easily removed and then re-sticked!

Fuck, I spent money on this, time sticking them on, and so you know, our stipend is very small (more than that of ordinary students in the country) and even if mine is increased due to benefits, you still won't be able to live on it for a month!

I'll most likely take a short break. So there probably won't be any fanfics… I need to come to my senses.

[caffvarro]

The college throws my stickers in the trash without my knowledge, calling it childish.

I just somehow got myself together after an hour of hysteria… I go to college, I don't skip classes, I do all my assignments on time, I study perfectly, so that at some point my things will be taken off and thrown in the trash… I'll tell you in more detail: We have lockers, not that they are convenient, especially for those who got the bottom ones, but damn, these lockers! I dreamed of such my whole childhood! At school, we had disgusting locker rooms, it was almost a pen with hangers. Seriously, it really was, they were divided simply by the floor. Ugh and it was damn inconvenient! In the morning, you look for a place to hang your jacket so that by the end of the day you don't find it in another part of the locker room, trampled on the floor. And you'll be lucky if the bag with spare shoes is in place. If there is one at all. Seriously, one day I either couldn't find my bag (someone stole it) or I couldn't find my shoes (I was lucky to find them in a completely different place). And there was a crowd! Oh my god…what a nightmare. So I was incredibly happy when I found out about the lockers during a college tour. And when I got in, I immediately made a plan to stick as many stickers of my favorite characters as possible. And posters! Oh, that's probably the only reason I bought a magazine. By the way, they are still in my locker. I mostly stuck my stickers on the inside of the locker, since we have a pretty nasty contingent at college (There are a lot of guys there and they don't really understand when not to do shit, especially those from remedial school…) but this year I decided to stick them on the outside. At the beginning of the year I met some freshmen and they were also putting stickers on their lockers and I showed them mine and they almost fell over in shock and admiration. We became sort of sticker acquaintances, I shared mine and they shared theirs. Oh, what pleasant memories! And I had a hell of a lot of them put on (not like on the inner locker but still…) and there was everything! Cats and yaoi manhwa (nothing that would attract attention, only funny moments) and damn Leon Kennedy! And Dante! Oh, I wanted to put more on but alas, I am limited in funds and cool stickers are not cheap. And then I have to wait for the delivery to reach my city… In general, they were truly valuable and dear to me, you could even say it was a part of my student life. And you could say that I became, so to speak, an inspiration for others to do the same. Especially this year, I saw how several lockers also put stickers on their lockers and it even made me proud of it. You could say it even united us. It's not that we communicated, but we definitely knew that we were not alone in this.

[caffvarro]

My Muse

Fanfic

DMC: Devil may cry

Actor Au

Vergil x OC

The author has something to say: This fanfic was invented spontaneously and I was kept in slavery so that I wrote this work in literally a day. The character is not mine, but my friend's! The idea came to me during one of the video calls when we were discussing various things. And at some point my friend sent a picture of Vergil standing on the balcony and boom! The idea immediately came to my mind. It was difficult to write considering that the key character was my friend's, whom! I basically cannot imagine in my head, neither the character nor anything else. I just relied on my thoughts. And the song Muse Isabel LaRosa also helped me, I love this song, even before the release, when I heard it in TikTok in the summer. And the vibe was perfect, which cannot be said about the lyrics … Well, my friend really liked it and her friend too. I hope you like it! :)

The filming ended with varying success. Simon was ready to strangle not only the scriptwriter for the poorly written work, cursing him for all the sins on the set. Unfortunately, the scriptwriter was saved from the tenacious clutches of the director, but alas, the actor Dante was not saved in time. The newspapers managed to thunder scandalous articles about a fight at the studio with the headlines "Famous director beats up a newbie actor!" The only thing that pleased him was the angry face of Dante, who, due to his lack of fame, was considered a newbie in show business. The oppressive atmosphere was diluted by the rest of the actors with a small corporate party in honor of the end of filming.

At first, it was a simple cozy party, smoothly flowing into, as Simon called it, a den of drunken idiots. Sitting surrounded by drunk ladies chatting uncontrollably on one side and listening to Dante's unintelligible mumbling on the other, he silently drowned out, with such unwanted alcohol, the desire to leave here as soon as possible. The music, mercilessly tormenting his ears, did not save the situation. Twisting a shot of whiskey in his hand and watching the glass shine from the neon lights in the impenetrable darkness of the room, covered in smoke with a sour-sweet tint, so cloying on the tongue that it turns any connoisseur of fresh air inside out, he did not dare to take another sip of the disgusting drink. Still, he was not a fan of alcoholic drinks, but the lousy mood of this event completely discarded all moral principles. Taking a deep breath, the director looked around the room, hoping to somehow brighten up that dull evening. The gaze of pitchy eyes stopped on a painfully familiar figure, standing alone on the balcony.

Getting up from the sofa, he put the glass on the table and made his way through the crowd, not paying the slightest attention, as if they were just mannequins frozen in eccentric poses. Closer to the intricate patterns of the curtains swaying in the frozen autumn wind of the night city, closer to such an incredible figure standing on the balcony, leaning on the railing and looking into the distance. Smoke enveloped him and dissolved in the cool air, snow-white strands swayed from a light breeze, and a black shirt hugged his athletic back, evoking the image of the mighty giant Atlas, holding up the vault of heaven. Vergil, a famous theater and film actor, his muse.

He had known him for such a short time, but during the filming he could not tear his eyes away, completely captivated by his acting. In the main film, he did not have such a good role and not so much screen time, but each of his improvisations perfectly suited the character, forcing the director to literally freeze like a statue sitting in a chair and shut up the scriptwriter, grumbling about the departure of his written consumer goods. Having seen a real diamond in this game, Simon decided to let him into a real game of improvisation of feelings. It was incredible, delightful, magnificent. His game was mesmerizing, the words reached the very depths of the soul, not allowing even for a minute to take your eyes off him. Taking a step towards the figure of his praise, he shrank from the chilly wind, adjusting the collar of his turtleneck. Vergil, noticing him, turns towards his interlocutor, peering with his blue eyes, like one of the types of Iris flowers. The shirt unbuttoned by two buttons immediately attracts the attention of black, like night, eyes. Unable to resist a slightly playful grin, he sarcastically asks: "Isn't it hot? I didn't think that on such a cool evening, someone would come in a light shirt."

These words only reflected a slight smile on the actor's face. He answered: "Hm, I'm not afraid of frost. And you?"

The corners of his lips rose in a barely noticeable smile, an eyebrow arched questioningly, something seemed funny in his words. Without waiting for an answer, Vergil turned again, rubbing his fingers, either from excitement or doubt.

"I would like to thank you for... such a well-coordinated work together. There was no time to tell you this earlier, but I am deeply grateful that you allowed me my frequent liberties on the set and-" - He looked with those blue eyes, full of respect and gratitude, that the words seemed to dissolve, forming a symphony for the ears. "You... listen?"

Simon didn't even notice how he was looking at Vergil with love, as if a dreamer was looking at a work of art, although, to be honest, for him he was a work of art.

"Do all theatergoers talk like that?" Simon asked without looking away. Such words made the actor open his eyes in surprise and slightly open his mouth. Quickly coming to his senses, he just laughed and answered shortly: "Not all."

The atmosphere between them gradually became more relaxed, there was no longer that viscous feeling of awkwardness pressing from within. Loud music and drunken shouts were coming from the room, but it seemed so far away standing here and breathing in the damp, cool air, watching the bright lights of the city flicker in the distance and how Vergil stood like the main exhibit in this night landscape. Gradually, barely noticeable clouds covered the sky, foreshadowing rain.

"I thought you got along well with the others, so why are you standing here in proud solitude?" - Simon asked, feeling the first drops of rain fall on his shoulder.

The actor leaned his hands on the wet railing, getting into a relaxed pose, slightly thinking about the answer: "I'm not against parties, but I'm not a supporter of noisy celebrations."

The image of a collected man gradually began to disappear in the ringing drops of rain. Snow-white hair, previously collected in a perfectly sleek hairstyle, was disheveled and wet. The black shirt, which sat perfectly on the figure, completely stuck to the body, outlining the slender physique of the man. Drops flowed from his face, lingering on his cheek, to his neck, where they playfully hid in the folds of the shirt. Behind him, the moon was visible, complementing his image, creating a semblance of a halo. From a collected person, he turned into a more sloppy one; this did not spoil his appearance at all, on the contrary, he even became more attractive, mysterious, desirable. He looked with his bright blue eyes into the depths of dark eyes as if searching for an answer to a long-troubling question. The smile left his face and in a slightly low voice he asked: "You... look at me like that... I-i can't understand what this look... means. How do you see me?.. Who am I to you?"

Simon froze for a moment, his mind clouded by various thoughts, like a storm one after another swirling in his head. Even nature seemed to understand his feelings and thunder was heard from afar. The thunder was gaining its power, the pounding of rain on the concrete floor of the balcony, the thoughts that were swirling did not allow him to find the right answer and one look at the silhouette put everything in its place. The silhouette of a man in the splendor and chaos of the night, like a sublime creature, had a snow-white halo behind him, these strong hands, these facial features, this look.

He already knew the answer.

A moment, silence and time stopped before them, in an indecisive step of fate. And a sharp movement forward, pressing him to the railing and only a bright light of lightning illuminated in the night such a passionate and daring act. Lips pressed to such unattainable lips, tasted, tried, bit like a wild animal that knew the joy of a hearty dinner. Fingers crumpled shirts, holding on like a saving straw, not wanting to let go. Eyes dug into the flowers of the Iris, wanting to absorb without a trace in its resinous darkness. Vergil reciprocated without taking his blue eyes off, allowing himself to be absorbed, wanting to be absorbed in this dark ocean. His hands, not finding a place for themselves, touched the neck, causing a wave of goosebumps, forcing him to sigh convulsively and close his eyes. One hand reached higher, burying itself in a shock of black hair, the other lower down the back, along the spine, stopping at the small of the back and pulling closer, as if afraid that all this was nothing more than a mirage, a deception. The tongue, as if in delirium, penetrated everywhere, felt every part, entered into such a passionate dance, not wanting to let go.

Opening his wet lips, breathing heavily, Simon raised his hand higher in the snow-white wet hair, and boldly pressed his head so that his forehead touched Vergil's forehead. With a predatory look, piercing into the blue eyes, he said:

"My muse."

[caffvarro]

Oh my god, it's been almost two months and I wrote a continuation of the fanfic a long time ago, but for some reason I forgot to post it. Well, here it is, uuuh, the second part??

He, as if tasting the forbidden fruit, sank his teeth into the prosecutor's neck, enjoying the drops of blood that appeared at the site of the bite with his tongue. Edgeworth sighed sharply, not expecting this from the lawyer, his eyes widened, looking in shock at the rocky, slightly shabby wall. Having exhaled, he was already preparing for what awaited him, when Phoenix turned his head, wanting to touch him with such desired lips. Gumshoe's ringing voice rang out: "Mr. Edgeworth, dude, are you there?" Apparently not finding his master in the parking lot, the faithful dog went looking for him. Phoenix cursed, clearly planning to shoot the stupid inspector in the dark of night. Edgeworth froze and prayed that the damn Gumshoe did not stumble upon them. He was brought out of his prayers by Phoenix, who had managed to inadvertently steal the frill and press it to his lips, smiling playfully and winking. “Next time, the dog won’t save you, kitten~” – Wright cooed and immediately disappeared around the corner, leaving the blushing prosecutor in a whirlpool of thoughts until a confused Gumshoe found him.

Fanfic Ace Attorney

Au Devil's Advocate.

(In the last post I wrote about this au. To understand why the Phoenix behaves this way, it is better to read the previous post.)

The lawyer pushed the prosecutor with a sharp movement against the wall of the courthouse, away from the parking lot and away from prying eyes. He immediately pressed his body against Miles’s back, not giving him the slightest chance to escape from the grip. Wright was like an animal that had caught his appearance in tenacious paws and was breathing down her neck, anticipating the taste of fresh flesh.

"Gotcha~" - Phoenix playfully whispered in his ear. Miles swallowed nervously, covered in cold sweat, feeling the lawyer's breath on his neck. The lips were a millimeter from the skin, but deliberately, playing with the victim, without touching.

"It was fun cornering me with your evidence, huh?" - the lawyer laughed devilishly in the morning. His hand deftly darted under the velvet suit and played with the button on the jacket. The other hand grabbed the man's chin, giving him more access to his neck.

"Do you like being cornered like a kitten?" Phoenix whispered.

Realizing that time had frozen, as had they in such a compromising position, they did not want to continue the passionate actions of the devilish lawyer. But alas, this devil had other thoughts.

[caffvarro]

God…it turns out I didn't post the continuation of almost the very first fanfic that started it all…And why did I notice this only now…

[caffvarro]

Right now I'm finishing a fanfic and to be honest I don't know how to continue. Initially it was just a spontaneous fanfic. (of which I have twice as many as those that I write with a more responsible approach (yeah yeah responsible) like Lazy Weekend. It took a long time to write and I literally tried to find the right state to damn well write. (and I haven’t watched any of the Great Gatsby movies, I read a book that I liked.) And I consider this one of my best fanfics. It’s ironic that I didn’t even read it completely, but only parts when I was writing and sending it to my friend. And it’s even more ironic that she remembered it much better because she read it three times afterwards. An interesting fact is that some of the thoughts, in particular where love was described, were my thoughts. It’s funny considering that I’ve never fallen in love and haven’t been in a relationship. Heh.) But if I usually already have a rough draft of the text in my head, which I refine while writing (especially in the middle) and the ending that was originally intended doesn’t change, then in the fanfic that I I'm writing now, everything is different. There was supposed to be an 18+ scene. Not something really wow, but still… And when I wrote the main part, I literally started to split into two parts. After all, without that scene at the end, it looks like a simple cute fanfic, I don't even have to put a ship. But damn… I liked that scene. What should I do??? T-T

[caffvarro]

This is definitely a great day! Firstly, I don't have to go anywhere, secondly, I got some sleep, thirdly, I got some money. Hmmm, why not finish one of the fanfics that's lying around in my folder? Well, I have the whole day ahead of me :)

[caffvarro]

Well, I slept for about 10 hours to end up doing my classmate's term paper for money. It's for the best since I have no idea when the money will come, but I hope at least for today. (Seriously! Money goes away so quickly. It seems like you just got a good amount of money, with which in theory you can easily live for a month, but then it mysteriously disappears. It still depends on where you live. In my seedy town, the choice is limited, so you'll have to spend it on not the best food anyway.) If I don't get the money, I'll go learn photosynthesis from plants! (ah….right…less sun - less photosynthesis…)

[caffvarro]

Monday is a hard day. I thought that the muse came to me at night and decided to sacrifice sleep, but alas, instead of a beautiful lady whispering text for fan fiction in my ear, a miger has arrived. So instead of a peaceful sweet night, I got a headache and never got around to writing. So I'll sit out a couple of classes at college and if money comes into my bank account, I'll first go to the pharmacy and then to the local pizzeria. Eat and sleep. Perfect.

[caffvarro]

Fanfic

Devil May Cry

Dante/Vergil

Topic: Lazy Autumn Weekend.

Part two.

Film frames flashed on the screen, changing from romantic or historical to comedies and detectives. Both were silent. The sound of rain outside the window stopped and moonlight peeked out from behind the curtains, as if piercing the darkness of the deep night. They did not want to interrupt their special idyll, recreated between them. It does not happen every day, it can be considered almost a miracle, a dream, a fantasy. But here they are... together... together. Sitting in one position for a long time wears out even a half-demon. Dante fidgets in place, trying to find a more comfortable position. His legs are numb and he would like to lie down, which he does. But he cannot stretch his legs out completely, Vergil is sitting on the other side. Dante lightly pokes his foot into his brother's thigh, thinking that he will move a little or allow him to put his legs on him, but as it turned out, he misunderstood. Vergil began to get up from the couch, but immediately felt strong legs around his waist. Dante himself was a little shocked by his own actions, casting aside some doubts about the correctness of the action; he began to pull on himself and immediately heard an irritated curse from his brother: "Dante, fuck!"

To this Dante only let out a small laugh and replied: "You're not going anywhere, brother. Lie down with me." Vergil, however, made excuses, trying to get out of the strong... legs of the demon hunter. Alas, he lost this battle and fell on Dante's body, looking with displeasure at his brother's slyly smiling face. "Got you!" - The man grinned and immediately felt the displeasure of the one caught. He pinched his nose. But this childish prank only provoked the man even more.

Having calmed down, he slightly hugged his brother and covered them with a blanket. He turned away, looking at the TV. Just then, the opening credits of another film ended and ringing jazz music began. Dante didn't remember right away, but when he saw the familiar face of one of the actors, the title of the film immediately popped into his mind. As he watched silently, his gaze darted from the screen to Vergil, who was mesmerized by what was happening in the movie. It had been so long since he had seen his brother like that, so engrossed in something, never taking his eyes off the object of his interest. The last time was in his childhood, when the boy, trying to hide from his annoying brother, sat down on the windowsill in the back of the family library and eagerly devoured the pages of classic works. How did Dante know about this? One day, when he was looking for Vergil to play with again, he accidentally wandered into the library and caught him reading. He was brought out of his memories by the words of the man lying on him:

"What's the name of the movie?"

"The Great Gatsby," Dante replied, "Interesting?"

Vergil only chuckled: "I read the original. The book is well written, but the plot didn't interest me. Especially tragic fate of Jay Gatsby. His death in the end did not touch and... Ow! Fuck, Dante!" Dante immediately lightly, but quite noticeably hit him in the side. His eyebrows furrowed, and he muttered discontentedly: "I fell asleep in the middle of the film..."

Vergil raised his eyebrows in surprise and irritably said: "It's not my fault that you are an uncultured dog who does not know the classics."

These words only enraged the "dog" even more and he barked in response: "What are you talking about, the very embodiment of culture and manners. Only you can culturally fuck off every time." Moreover, immediately felt Vergil pinch him on the side. In the whirlwind of general punches and kicks, Dante emerged victorious and solemnly took his place above his defeated brother. "Dante, get off, you're heavy!" - Vergil grunted discontentedly. Dante sank down into the same position the "cultured" man had been in before and grinned, "I'm not heavy, you're frail-Ouch!" He instantly felt a heavy hand hit his head. “Okay, okay, you have...Power.” Vergil rolled his eyes in displeasure and turned away, looking at the screen. The warming fingers of the man above him touched his pale, cold hands. Shuddering from the sensation of warmth that sent shivers down his skin, he felt Dante playfully but with feeling stroking his snow-white palm, creating intricate patterns. He didn't want to look up, didn't want to see that subtle smile, that caring look that wanted to swallow all of Vergil up in an ocean of love. Hot breath burned his neck, teased his mind, preventing him from concentrating on the film, inflaming the desire to wrap himself like a snake around a person dear to his heart. The idle noise of jazz changed to a tragic song, flowing into the beginning of another picture. A quiet melody, two people in one small dark room, wrapped around each other, as if clinging to the most intimate thing in their lives.

Ah, romance! People are always greedy for something so desired and at the same time unattainable. They want love, passion, care. Like a branch surrounded by fire, they want to be surrounded by this fire, to burn with every particle for the sake of love, not afraid to go out and disappear, leaving only the ashes of their passion. The couple quietly whispers something, babble something, and wants to convey their souls to each other. They lightly touch each other's noses, rub, and lightly touch their lips, as if studying each other again.

The blue eyes look at such a familiar face, noticing how the corners of the lips rise in a gentle smile. Only a quiet, barely perceptible breath is heard. A moment, the face comes closer, touching nose to nose, forehead to forehead. Chaotic light friction, something so meaningless, but exciting a wounded and burning soul. The beating of the heart echoes in the ears, and not only his own, but also his brother's. In such a delicate movement, their lips lightly touch and for a moment, everything becomes silent, as if time has stopped. The first awkward step breaks the shackles of time, allowing their lips to touch, in simple kisses. Each touch makes Vergil feel all that fiery love of his brother, as if fire surrounds him. But he wants to burn. To burn completely in the flame of love. He meets the gaze of those blue eyes again, sees that sweetish cloying smile again. Dante was pleased. His brother relaxed in his arms, which was what he wanted. He ran his hands through Vergil's blond hair, testing it, admiring the softness and stroking his head.

"Tell me what upset you so much, brother?" Dante whispered quietly. Vergil paused for a moment, thinking about what to say and, closing his eyes, began:

"I was fighting a demon. He took a human woman hostage. One annoying man was spinning around, shaking with fear and holding a rusty pipe in his hand. The battle was not difficult, he was weak. I was about to leave and out of the corner of my ear I heard them crying while hugging. The woman reproached him for acting stupidly by going against a huge demon. He only nodded in response, saying that his sister was the only thing he had and without her, he would be alone in this world. I didn't attach any importance to it and walked on, but something in my chest tightened. Walking down the street, I noticed the warm light in the windows and people gathered together, a family. What would happen if you suddenly disappeared? If you died like mom... I... I don't know the answer myself, but... something hurts inside. I..." He paused for a minute, closing his eyes, and then answered in a whisper - "I don't want to lose you, Dante..."

Dante froze, not expecting to hear such words. His lips trembled slightly, and yet he was able to answer with a slight laugh: "Where would I go from you? I will haunt you for the rest of my life, giving you no peace!"

Then his voice dropped to a barely audible whisper: "I'm afraid too, Vergil. I lost you on that fateful night and I'm afraid that it will happen again..."

Vergil looked at his brother with understanding, as if he saw him from a new, previously unknown side. For the first time he saw his brother so vulnerable. He hesitantly hugged him, burying his face in his blond hair, feeling Dante's face buried in his brother's neck, quietly snoring. It was so unusual to feel himself in such a soothing care of each other. He closed his eyes, dissolving in the sensations, understanding the most important thing. He was not alone. In the morning, the girls found them sleeping in an embrace. One leg wrapped around the other, the other on the hip, arms wrapped around the waist, and the blanket was lying on the floor. Trish picked up the blanket, shaking off the dust, and covered them both. The ladies decided not to wake them, after all, this does not happen every day. Well, not every day, until this evening. Who knows, maybe this is not the only lazy weekend that they will spend together?

The author has something to say: "Well, for me it was quite a long fanfic to create, but you know? I liked it. Although I like small sketches in writing, but this kind of thing touches my soul more. I would like to write this format more often, but alas, for me it is impossible at the moment. I need much more concentration and inspiration. And I also worry quite a lot if I don't get into the character of the characters. I'm not sure that I succeeded… but if I worry about it every time, there will be no fanfics at all. I hope you liked it!"

[caffvarro]

Well… The last few days have been sooooo…meh?

I lay in a fever all night and day, it sucked. And for a few more days I tried to somehow speed up the recovery process. Well… partially sped up? Well, the temperature and headache didn't bother me, but damn, a runny nose is the most disgusting thing about a cold. I hate it. I'd rather die of coughing again than blow my nose every second of this damn day and run to moisturize my face so that the skin around my nose doesn't dry out like lizard scales. (Spoiler it didn't help…) And of course, my lips got herpes again. I tried to avoid meeting this disgusting thing, but it's literally impossible. But you can reduce the consequences. But for several days I literally washed my face with healing creams to fix the situation around my nose and mouth. And at the same time I have to go to college… of course. Fortunately, our schedule just floated with the flow and did not think to be ordinary. Coming to one class after lunch is incredible and wow tomorrow is the same. True, I wasn't feeling very well… and my deskmate wasn't lifting my spirits. Someday I'll definitely lose my temper and say everything I think… someday… yes. Unfortunately, it didn't work out with fanfics, it's still hard for me to start writing again. The cold literally took me out of the writing boom and deleted all those ideas and thoughts from my head. It's a shame that this also affected my Halloween fanfic. As if it wasn't enough for me to sleep through Halloween and then get sick. Unfortunately, it didn't end there, because November came. And this is the most disgusting time. Especially where I live. Since this is a month that seems to have not yet decided what it is. Winter? Autumn? A little spring? Or all of these together and a strong wind to boot. Strong winds are not something unusual, but very annoying, especially with such "wonderful weather". By evening the snow had melted, but in the morning you can expect a slight cold snap along with ice under your absolutely NON-slip shoes. And the wind definitely won't want to blow you away to hell, just because you had to go somewhere in the morning. Oh, and my favorite. The blues. Autumn blues. The most disgusting thing that can happen to a person, ESPECIALLY to a lonely person living alone in a quiet apartment, in a quiet area where even cars rarely drive. I'm just waiting to go to my grandma's for the holidays. At least I won't have to take care of most of the household chores, especially cooking. I'm really bad at this. About the blues. Previously, I blamed it on apathy or just didn't understand what was going on… This happens in normal times and God, how I hate it. I decided to google it and found out that damn it's the blues. And all the symptoms match. And it doesn't make me happy. I don't want to walk around depressed most of the time. Agh, and these obviously not positive melancholic thoughts?? Give me back that positive attitude. I really need it. Well, I hope you're okay with that. I noticed that one person liked my fanfic, the continuation of which I wasn't going to post because I felt a little awkward. But while something else is in the slow and painful process of writing, why not post at least this?