#like my art and acting and poetry. and then my brain tells me that the people around me just pity me and dont want to outright

[ankhisms]

feeling the sad little pathetic creature emotions this evening suddenly. i dont really want to dwell in feeling bad but it is a familiar deep sad feeling u know. itll be ok i just have to let it out

[fatuismooches]

dottore brainrot hit me right in the middle of my poetry class so I'm making it everyone else's problem

dottore with a poet s/o. he's a logical man, he doesn't go into the arts, let alone decipher and examine them. would challenge dottore to decipher their poems. he's STRUGGLING bc how was he supposed to know that "the running water loves the land that hugs it" was meant to represent his hugs?? sometimes the segments can hear him muttering to himself and reading the poem aloud over and over again. but when he figures it out?? he melts(internally) bc it's just so sweet. 100% would support his partner's art

OH YM GOSHHH I FREAKING LOVE THIS. As someone who always adored writing but sucked at poetry like THIS IS SO CUTE BDWQHDWJ ILY FOR THIS ANON (Nah fr though... Dottore probably handed all the literature homework over to you to do for him in the Akademiya because he couldn't be bothered or interested enough in stuff like that 😭)

But even all these years later he still claims to be able to understand it if he tried (lies) so you decide to whip up your own poem to put him to the test. He easily accepts the challenge with his usual confident grin because how hard could it possibly be? He deals in complicated ancient texts relating to science, math, and all these other matters. Surely he can figure out a poem. (He turns out to be wrong. So so wrong.) For such a smart man he couldn't seem to interpret the hidden feelings, or the metaphors and poetic devices used in these poems or writings as quickly as he thought he would. He's POURING over every word, every punctuation mark, stanzas, line breaks, everything trying to understand what's going on. There are literally whole notes, underlining, circling, and more scribbled around the poem. And you thought you made it pretty easy too... of course your poem would be about your love for him!

Despite how much it looks like he's suffering trying to understand what's going on, it's enjoyable to Dottore. Like a stress relief. He knows he's not the easiest person to be around so he wants to understand you and your hobbies too... although he isn't adept at them at all. After a dozen pages of brainstorming he finally reaches a conclusion and he just gets so excited and cocky, like how he does when he finally makes a breakthrough in his research. Dottore will come up to you with his confident smirk again and tell you in plain words what exactly you want. Acting as if you didn't make his brain short-circuit a few times.

"The running water loves the land that hugs it" was meant to represent his hugs??" IS SO SO CUTE IM EVAPORATINGGG AHHH

[taciturnpoet]

okay here is the promised anderperry Icarus and the Sun/Apollo post because @73647e enabled me lol

this will be mostly rambling because I love this comparison (and use it a lot) so be happy if there is even a single coherent thought in this okay? talking about this makes my brain go FAST and I went over this about a thousand times so bear with me here

When I had first started thinking about this, I had originally thought of Neil being the Sun and Todd being Icarus. But then I realized no, their dynamic shifts and actually switches roles after Todd does the poem in Keating’s class.

In the beginning, Neil is the one that draws Todd into the group and persuades him to join the poets, all while also encouraging him to be himself and speak up more. While Todd is not only falling for Neil, he’s also trying to take Neil’s advice to heart since Neil is what Todd wants to be.

Neil could befriend a brick wall if left alone with it long enough. Everyone likes him and believes that he is made for great things (though not the same great things he wants to do), and you can tell that Todd wants to get to that point himself eventually. Todd’s been told his entire life that he will never amount to anything unless he becomes this thing he doesn’t even like, and Neil is more of what he aspires to be.

Then the poem in Keating’s class happens and things change.

After the poem, Todd starts to come into himself a little more. He’s gaining confidence in himself and his work—the work he wants to do, the work he’s passionate about—and he’s joking around and talking more with the poets. (Even though this scene is deleted, and I think that’s a crime) he reads a poem out loud to them and Keating at the end of the movie without Neil there.

Now, we know why Neil isn’t there, but that’s not important yet lol

Neil has been Todd's safety net, the person that kickstarted his self-confidence growth and made him truly embrace himself in the long run. By the end of the movie, Todd can show other people his work without Neil having to be there, which is a major development from Todd in the first poets meeting too afraid to speak and always looking to Neil for guidance.

When Todd is helping Neil practice his lines on the dock—another criminally deleted scene—he’s excited. He’s teasing Neil and playing around with him and becomes what he had the potential to be at the beginning of the movie with the help of Neil and Keating. 

Todd’s decided that he wanted to be his own person. He’s not going to try and live up to his parent’s expectations of him becoming a second Jeffrey, he’s going to pursue his writing and be his own person, and he appears to become so much freer after that realization. He’s embraced his passion for writing and poetry and pursues his art without hesitation, just as Neil wants to do with his acting, becoming a shining light of possibilities and potential, and most of all, freedom. 

After the poem, the glimpse of Todd’s brain, and his passion, Neil almost views it as something holy. In Neil’s eyes, Todd and his freedom are something to strive for, to look up to, and hope for like it's something divine. In a way, Todd becomes a symbol of freedom and passion, a beacon of everything Neil could be and wants to be/do.

I know we as a fandom talk about this a lot, but look at the way Neil looks at Todd after the poem, the way the sun is shining on his face and lighting him up only in the way it does whenever he’s having a Moment™ with Todd. No, seriously, it does that to him both when he decides to audition for the play and after the poem, but practically nowhere else in the movie.

Insanity. Anyway.

But then, during this same time that Todd is embracing his freedom, there is Neil. Neil who is practicing and alive and passionate while preparing for the play, making plans for the future, and dreaming of pursuing this life as an actor.

 ["God, for the first time in my whole life, I feel completely alive!" // "Most people, if they're lucky, live about half an exciting life. If I could get the parts, I could live dozens of great lives!"]

And yet, there is another Neil. The Neil who gets confronted by his father and told to stop doing the play, to stop acting, and give up his dreams, his passions, and what he believes to be his life, all to stay stuck in the existence his father wants him in. The Neil that goes to Keating for help and cries that he’s “trapped.”

The moment Neil decides to lie to Keating and tell him that he talked to his father, the moment he chooses to continue with the play and acting despite everything that could happen is the moment he cements his place as the Icarus in their dynamic. He chooses to ignore his father’s warnings against participating in the play and does it anyways. He chooses freedom and passion over safety. Neil chooses to fly.

Neil chose to take a chance, to try and escape and join Todd on the other side of freedom and authenticity, where he could pursue his dream and become an actor. He has his moment to shine, to taste the warmth of the stage lights akin to sunlight as he brings the play to life. All the possibilities, hopes, and dreams, all within his reach in the form of a crown made of sticks and leaves in a small-town theater. He can see his friends and his teacher in the crowd and feels invincible and in his element, bigger than life.

But then comes the melting of the wax and the plummet back to earth as he sees his father’s angry face in the back of the theater, and he knows.

He knew that there was no going back now, no reversing what he’d done, the fact that he’d lied to the two most influential men in his life for just a chance to join the other side. And yet, as someone pointed it out recently (I can’t find the post right now, I’m so sorry), there is a moment when Neil comes out after the play, and he smiles at his father, an attempt to see if maybe he won’t be falling tonight. But then his father doesn’t smile back, and everything goes by in a rushed blur of a freefall.

All of the poets try and reach out to him, to talk to him and congratulate him on his way out, but the only one he looks at is Todd. Todd, who’s so excited to see him afterward, tries to talk to him and get him to come back with them, but Neil smiles sadly at him and lets himself be dragged away. He knew he couldn’t put off this fight with his father forever and decided to stop hiding from it. He’s falling and isn’t trying to stop it.

I think Neil looks at Todd the way he does before they leave because a part of him knows he’s not coming back. He doesn’t want to go, but he can’t slow it down and spends his last moments with them looking at the boy whose become his Sun.

The descent is quick after the car pulls away, and Neil cannot stand up to his father. Every moment that led to Neil’s decision to be a part of the play, to follow Todd, is in the sun's bright light. It makes sense then that he’d die at night, with death embracing him with the sound of a gunshot rather than water splashing.

Todd finds out about Neil's death after sunrise. It's gray and quiet, but the sun still rises even after he knows Neil isn't rising with it.

And he's devastated, and he's angry, and he's no longer afraid to show that. He gets mad at Cameron for blaming Keating for Neil and believing he would kill himself under any circumstances other than his father. [“That is not true, Cameron, you know that. Keating didn’t put us up to anything. Neil loved acting!”]

Then, he gets mad at Nolan, talking back to him in front of his parents in that sham of a conference and in front of Keating's class as Keating is leaving. The same Nolan Todd nearly cried in front of on his first day at Welton because he was so afraid to speak his mind, to stand up for himself.

Todd is grieving, he is angry, and he is stronger than he was at the start. While he stands on his desk for Keating in a show of support, in thanks, he is also standing on his desk in thanks to Neil. For Neil.

Neil's gone. And yet, Todd shows his strength. He stands up for the ones he loves and is thankful for while also standing in defiance for those who played a hand in Neil's end and killing their dreams. He appears to smile ever-so-slightly when Keating looks at him, and Keating must know he'll be okay. 

His best friend is dead. The actor who brought a play to life and cast light everywhere he went was gone, but Todd isn't. Neil's light only reflected what Todd still had and would dedicate to Neil.

The freedom, art, and life that Todd now held were what Neil fell for, and Todd would spend his life creating in memory of the boy who fell trying to join him. Todd had to ensure that everyone would know the story of Neil Perry as much as they did Icarus. They were so similar, after all.

(this started to change halfway through, so idk if it makes sense but that’s fine. please talk to me about anything like this I get so excited about it lol)

[wishmemel]

OMGOMG SAFI congrats on 100 ml !! hihii im here to participate in your cute slumber party event ! (i even brought my fave pillow and totoro plushie)

okok soo yk i'm dria 🩵 black / caribbean, around 5'1 (i promise im so close to 5'2 don't @ me haters will hate i drink my milk and eat my veggies) i have huge hair!! like very big hair, too many curls!! it's alot! i love reading, i write plenty of poetry, which is what i use most of my time to do — i lovelove r&b and early 2000s rap music. however, if u open my spotify rn and shuffle my liked songs it would go in order of hip hop, rap, afrobeats, classical music bcus my taste is all over the place. (i also keep a folder of edit audios for my own maladaptive daydreaming purposes lmao)

im rlly a baby blue girlie, fave flowers are tulips (idk my brain js thinks they look yummy), fave season is autumn ofc bcus rainy weather and i have an excuse to stay inside under my blankets 😭 fave animal would beee a black panther or a tabby cat! (my bby bella is a tabby lmao) i love vintage shows (rlly old noir films of all types of genres) i love cinema and visual art it stimulates me sm (im autistic btw i forgot to say mb) i've watched almost every wes anderson film in existence i love soft color palettes in film so bad <3

i enjoy watching old cartoons to relive my childhood nostalgia, jewelry (esp rings i never go anywhere without one or two on), rainy days, late night car drives, baggy shirts, scented candles, afrobeats n anything astronomy related.

im very much a social science n humanities junkie - yearning to be a clinical psychiatrist or complete my dream of teaching literature / psychology. i cry very easily (im js a crybaby istg) - in general im just very very emotional and more often than not i forget common sense and instinct are a thing bcus wtv i feel i just go with it - though i am extremely introverted and freak out when overstimulated in huge crowds and whatnot.

for the event im picking toji bcus that man is the love of my life bye ☹️ the epitome of sunshine and sunshine protector - tiny human and big scary guard dog ! in terms of our compatibility, we're so opposite it's insane! but we balance each other out well. sometimes i have to serve as toji's brain bcus this man is spending money he does not have on all sorts of things for me js cause i looked twice (my sister hced that he'd go below bankrupt buying me sanrio plushies and rings) he works mostly off instinct where i go completely off emotion so we butt heads alot in terms of decision making but he does not know how to tell me no, all i do is sigh once and HES DONE FOR.

i stress this man out like hes my full time babysitter pls

we acc spend alot of time having deep talks about the world and life in general, (i told him ab the backrooms lore and it messed w his head for weeks) which is a side of him he rarely shows to anyone (also he listens to me rant abt daily pop culture developments bcus he lowkey loves the celebrity drama) he's rlly protective, and even moreso bcus of how my anxiety gets. in a crowd this man is standing in front of me and blocking my view of everyone (he also subconsciously pulls me into his side when we're walking in public bcus my autistic ass will see one thing and wander off never to be found again) im always talking like talk talk talking and he pretends he isn't listening but he's literally able to repeat today something i mentioned two weeks ago - he's attentive, shows his love through actions rather than words. if i even make a face that gives away that im uncomfortable being somewhere, or my social battery is dead, hes taking me home no questions asked not a care as to who says what.

im an affection junkie - physical touch is my thing ! and hes so big! so im always pouncing on him for bear hugs and he acts so unimpressed and cocky abt it like "oh you missed me? im not goin anywhere relax" but he acc melts bcus when was the last time someone gave him affection?? he prob thinks im a figment of his imagination lolol

days off / dates would mainly be : window shopping, grocery runs, sitting in the park at sunset, indoor ramen dates n movie marathons and cuddles !!

AHHH sorry if i ranted way too much omg i can't wait to see what you do safi, i'll love anything u write ily so baddd <33

note: hihi dria, thanks for bringing your fave pillow and your totoro plush to the slumber party.

dria x toji — ꒰ tojria

“in this space right here that we have made for each other, you can say anything and i will not abandon you. unwrap the worst things you have done. watch me hold them up to the light and not even flinch.”

height differences, cinnamoroll x badtz maru, protective touches, 3 am conversations about life, romantic picnics at sunset, shopping together, opposites attract, shy x protective, princess treatment, introvert x introvert, buckling your seatbelt for you, tired bf x hyper gf, teasing remarks, day x night, accidental eye contact, blushing, midnight walks, late night phone calls, giddiness, sunshine x sunshine protector, stealing his clothes, late night drives, deleted texts, holding hands under the table, "mean to everyone but her" bf, head pats, she fell first, he fell harder.

being with toji is not always as seamless or easy as you make it look. He's gruff and protective and difficult and incredibly stubborn. like that time you two fought because he was ignoring what you were saying and he flat-out refused to acknowledge your demand when you called him out on it. to be fair, he'd come home after an eight-hour shift and you'd started talking his head off, but it wouldn't kill him to listen. he wasn't paying attention when you were talking about that new hello kitty cafe with the fun milkshakes and the mini donuts that you wanted to try. hell, he ended up falling asleep on your shoulder after brushing off your argument and as much as you wanted to remain angry at him, you'd softened immediately upon seeing his tired face, all eyebags and troubled frown. and he did make it up to you later by taking you to said cafe and proving that he had been listening, though when you brought it up to him, he pretended not to know what you were talking about. but deep down he cares for you and he's trying — you know he's trying and you don't want to make him feel bad for things he can't control. a lot of the concerns you should bring up to him, you don't — you want this relationship to be easy and safe. you want him to feel comfortable with you the same way that you feel comfortable with him. even if sometimes he comes home with a busted lip and bloody knuckles and sends your heart skidding against your ribcage. but what matters is that he comes to you first and he comes home to you. so you know that no matter what, no matter how he's feeling, if he thinks he can talk to you or not, he'll always come home to you. and even if you doubt his commitment sometimes, he knows that you're home to him and he'll do anything to keep it that way.

NOW PLAYING

the way i loved you, enchanted, daylight, afterglow, how you get the girl, treacherous, sparks fly, so it goes...

join safi's perfect slumber party event — requests are open for everyone!

[pb-dot]

WIP Wednesday: New WIP Introduction

Writing decisions are funny. I think I'm going to make a conscious choice at some point, but that's basically never how it works. After spending some time percolating on this or that decision, I find myself having decided with all but absolute certainty already. I do consider this a part of Writer Brain, in that it seems my subconscious has worked the problem at hand while I was doing other things, which is awfully kind of it.

Anyway, this is all to say that I have decided what this year's NaNoWriMo project is going to be, and that I today plan to tell you all about it. As much as I have figured out at time of writing, at least.

My project this year will be The Artist, although I am considering vague-ing down the tittle a little bit. Perhaps The Impossibility Artist, or The Painter and The Impossible, Madness; Art or something like that. Titles are hard, but I figure I'll let this decision sit on the backburner for a little while. With a little luck, my brain will come up with something amenable all by itself.

With every project I undertake, I try to keep one particular challenge in mind. I do this because I find it useful to further my craft and also perhaps build a teensy tiny little bit of confidence in my own abilities while I'm at it. This time, I'm going to write a protagonist, a 1st person POV protagonist at that, who's not wholesome. In fact, I plan for him to be a kinda fucked up guy, maybe even a really fucked up guy on balance. I do this because it feels right for a horror novel, and I want to see if I can do it, but also because my protagonists in The Clockwork Boy are honestly little cinnamon buns and while that is cute, it's not quite what I'm looking for here.

The challenge, I figure, will be indulging in moral grey cynicism but not becoming mired in it in it. I do want both my protagonist and nominal antagonist to come out of this changed for the better. I just hate horror that ends on a note of loss and nihilism and no lessons learned by nobody, because that's just real life most of the time, and that's not fun nor engaging for me. It'll be a narrow road to thread I suspect, but my convictions wouldn't be worth much if they're not tested in the spin cycle of adversity.

I've gone a while without speaking any on what the story is about, so here it is briefly. Our (as of yet unnamed) protagonist is an art critic obsessed with a controversial contemporary painter by the name of Tomasz Gildebrant. The reclusive Gildebrant has taken the art world by storm despite, or perhaps because, rumors that viewing his pictures drives weak-willed individuals into acts of extreme violence, destructive debauchery or both.

Our protagonist catches hints of Gildebrants inner circle being on the move, and immediately springs into action to try to secure contact with them. His goal? Nothing short of a face-to-face meeting of an artist who doesn't even allow pictures of his face. Needless to say, our hero has crossed some ethical and judicial lines by the time the invitation to join Gildebrant in his isolated alpine home.

Upon their first meeting, our protagonist notices Gildebrant seems almost impossibly gregarious for a recluse. The darkness inherent to his work is nowhere to be seen, neither in the man nor his impeccably, arftully minimalistic and shockingly modern home high up in the Carpathian alps. There are, however, little hints that something isn't as it should be, like how the doors to the guest room locks automatically half an hour before midnight, and just how many pairs of shoes crowd the entryway.

So, without spoiling too much, we're going to explore some avenues of paranoia, as well as learning some harsh truths both about our determined point-of-view character and his enigmatic host. Perhaps, if it all falls into place, it'll turn out sweet, and if it does not, I hope it at least becomes tragically beautiful.

Anyway, before I disappear entirely into the poetry corner today, I figured I'd talk some shop. This book is by all probability going to be longer than TCB. I originally envisioned The Artist as a triology, but figured I could also execute what I wanted in a single work if I showed some discipline. So, that is what I will try to do, although I will have to try a slightly different approach to outlining than my usual method to see if it all fits.

I probably won't talk all that much about this WIP on here before I'm done with the bones of the story and the characters. Hopefully that'll be before Oct 31st, but if I have to pants it come November 1st, i'll pants it and probably start ranting in a sufficiently unhinged way on here. I'll put down a tag list post as fast as I can come up with a working title that I can live with.

[ikeservant]

Hi! It says you’re doing hc requests and your asks are still open, so could you do something for warlords and an MC who is a theatre kid? Singing, dancing, even costumes for her performances? I would live Nobu, Hideyoshi, Shingen, Kenshin, and Mitsunari especially if not everyone. 💖💝

Since in my mind’s eye thinking of this, I picture mc as a highschooler so all these are platonic/fluff and gender neutral (also sorry I am a novice to theater but I know a little so bear with me)

Nobunaga- It’s canon that he knows traditional dance choreography and is probably versed in the arts and entertainment with being the lord of a castle and all, but golly was he surprised when he asked mc to come to his room to interrogate this stranger that popped up out of nowhere. Mc told him everything since he was scaring them, but hearing their stories of their time intrigued him and when he asked what they liked to do in their time, mc lit up and talked about musicals and theater. Now every night he invites mc to his room and in exchange for konpeito they tell him about a play or teach him a song. When mc catches him sneaking in the kitchen he likes to quote Hamilton “If I can prove that I never broke the law, Do you promise not to tell another soul what you saw? No one else was in the room where it happened.” while giving them a piece to silence them as they both snicker and hang out. If mc wanted to host a play, he would snap his fingers and let them do whatever. Make the other warlords participate, give all the fabric access for costumes, make mc the director, have a whole makeshift stage and audience chamber. Anything to make his lil pal smile.

Hideyoshi- When he was suspicious of mc and followed them around, he noticed that they were constantly humming or singing unfamiliar tunes while doing chores and seemed so happy, making his guard go down. When he asked mc about what they were singing, mc lit up and went on a tangent about musicals and it made him warm up to them since they were like an excited kid talking about their passions. When he started inevitably going big brother/ mama hen mode and escorted them around, he often got their tunes stuck in his head. Every time it rained, he would start humming ‘singing in the rain’ and if he saw hills while riding he’d start lightly humming ‘the hills are alive with the sound of music’ because his brain is now hardwired from being classically conditioned by mc to sing/hum along with them. Would always be mc’s audience and supporter if they wanted to host any performances in the castle. If Mitsuhide tries to tease mc about their performances or quirky dances, Hideyoshi is not afraid to pick a fight and defend his new adopted child and their sengoku broadway dreams.

Kenshin- Does not get it or care when mc starts bringing up musicals and plays. “What’s the point if there’s no violence?” “Well, there is one about the French Revolutionary War.” He heard war, he is now intrigued. Mc could only really talk about plays with violence in it to gain his attention, but he got the appeal and liked how people can get creative with murder. Would even catch onto some song quotes, but brings them up in the worst times. The first time mc saw him murder someone, he thought it’d be appropriate to say “He ran into my knife. He ran into my knife 10 times.”, thinking Chicago’s Cell Block Tango would make this modern day teenager brush it off. It did not. When he’s grumpy and doesn’t have sake, pickled plums, or anybody to stab, he asks mc to entertain him with Sasuke acting out fighting scenes in plays, liking a lot of Shakespeare Hamlet and Macbeth but only the violent parts. It makes him happy seeing mc happy, especially when they’re talking about violence, even if its just about a play. Mitsunari- Is really intrigued when mc starts talking about plays and musicals since they’re like stories and poetry from a foreign and distant time. This scholar wants to whip out a scroll every time mc talk about a play or musical so he can record it to read for later. He loves learning about it all. Cats the musical? “Cats can sing in the future?!”. He loves hearing mc sing and dance. They tried getting him to do a dance from Newsies and it ended in a bookshelf collapsing and the sliding door to break over innocent passerby Ieyasu, who further cursed Mitsunari. He would love to help mc rewrite and be a scribe for their new play idea of Azuichi Hamilton Shingen- Wanting to make a nervous mc ease up, he asked them about their favorite hobby or entertainment. Coaxing mc to talk, they started going on a ramble of musicals and plays. He’s hooked on Phantom of the Opera and Grease cuz he’s a romantic at heart and loves the drama and the fluffiness of the Grease story. Obviously mc had to add context due to the time period difference, but he got the gist. Wants to learn the duets of the songs so he and mc can have their dramatic musical outbursts to cut off Yukimura fussing Shingen or make Yuki jump with a “SING ONCE AGAIN WITH ME”. Shingen would kind of be like Hideyoshi but more with a cool uncle vibe. Would brag about mc’s talent of remembering plays and knowing so many songs to sing. Kennyo wants to shrivel away when Shingen goes on a ramble of their amazing adopted teen, thinking that he would’ve been done after Yukimura. Nope, my man trained a warrior, he’s gonna train a performing star.

[dwindlinghaze]

Congrats on 500 followers, that's a huge milestone! Could I please get a 🪞with the character I'm shipped with and a 🩰?

I'm a straight female and my pronouns are she/her

Physical description - I'm 5'9 and I have long and curly dark brown hair and brown eyes. I have a fair skin tone, I'm slim and I've got full lips and fairly large eyes. I also have these dimples that I really like!

I love reading, my favorite genres are poetry, Russian lit, and mysteries! I love learning about new things and knowing a little bit of everything. I adore adventures, witty and playful banter, joking around and having indepth discussions on anything and everything! I adore all forms of art and I have quite a few creative hobbies! I listen to a lot of modern/indie rock and I love watching films very much! It takes me a while to feel comfortable around new people but once I do, I become really talkative and outgoing. I love helping out and I'm the therapist friend, people come to me to vent or for advice and comfort. I'm smart and ambitious; I love being the best at everything I do. I'm quite the hopeless romantic and I love being in love! I adore big and small romantic gestures and I love domesticity sm!! My love languages are acts of service and quality time. I'm a ravenclaw, my mbti is infp and my enneagram is 4w3!

Thank you very much! Your aesthetic is so gorgeous and you seem super sweet! I hope you have a lovely day ❤️

hello and tysm for participating in my 500 celebration

here is your 🪞 in case you didn't see !!

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

🩰 : i ship you with remus lupin

╰┈➤ you give off soft spoken and sweet personality which is the perfect pair for remus !

╰┈➤ remus is a big poetry guy so he definitely shares his favourite poems with you and analysing them together subjectively. he'd interpret it too deep while you're being more real.

╰┈➤ having playful banters with him will be so entertaining because the words coming off from both of your mouths are silly.

"lucu gray was a william wordsworth character," you said out of the blue. "no- lucy gray was a hunger games character," remus replied. "but william wordsworth created lucy gray way before suzanne collins was born!" you defended as you watch a playful smile forming on his lips. "there are hundreds of lucy grays," he said. "but lucy gray is an original character by william so suzanne collins basically stole her name!" "you're on first name basis with an 18th century poet now? wow i've got some competition," remus said as he sat up. "oh of course. i love poetic men and you... hmm i don't know," you looked at him with your eyes narrowed. "give me his address." "what're you gonna do with it?" you raised your brows. "tell him to have a drink with me or whatever."

╰┈➤ you'd convince remus to read russian literature with you!!! learning the russian alphabet too.

╰┈➤ watching movies with him!! remus likes the classics so you'd end up watching an old english film with the old english language. but he'd let you pick the movie, wanting to know what your preferences are.

one time you put on twilight as a joke. he watched it with full attention probably because you had put it on. "i always dreamt of having a werewolf boyfriend when i was a kid. guess i've manifested it." you sighed as you put your head over his chest. "i don't understand the movie," remus face was puzzled. "why are they going to high school while being like- a hundred years old and a vampire? why is a vampire and a werewolf in the same school and in a love triangle with a normal human?" you laughed, entertained by the way he was so serious. "that's why i love it. it's so cliche, it fills my brain and heart to the very top."

╰┈➤ remus would definitely be okay with you having to warm up with him no matter how long it might take. he knew that some people prefer to keep themselves private until they know that that person is trustworthy so he doesn't force you at all. you'll ease up when you're ready.

╰┈➤ you're his shelter. he seeks you for comfort because you know just the right thing to say all the time. it doesn't happen only when he needs someone to talk to, he just comes naturally to you because you're welcoming and smart and the best at everything.

╰┈➤ i feel like remus is also a big hopeless romantic. he wants a love just like the books and movies. once he really got comfortable with you and knew that you're the one, he'd make the best of the relationship. both of you are hopeless romantics, resulting in doing lovey dovey stuff to each other to fulfil your fantasies.

sitting by the fireplace with you on remus' lap while he's reading. the room felt warm and comfortable, the soft breathing, the sound of the log, it all were so peaceful. "you have gorgeous eyes," you spoke softly, lifting yourself to kiss his face in which remus responded by gently tugging your waist to get you closer to him.

╰┈➤ remus loves it when you smile (especially if it's because of him). he'd have constant romantic gestures for you; it doesn't have to be expensive, the thought and effort are the things that mattered.

[artdoc07]

January thoughts: Why  I Make Art

By Pia De Girolamo

January 2023

January is a transitional month of endings and beginnings. In art, the god Janus is depicted as having two faces, one looking ahead and one looking backwards. So it is fitting that in January people feel moved to take stock, review the old year, and make plans for the new. During this liminal time at the beginning of the month, I happened to be walking the dog when a memory about art emerged from a stream of thoughts. I remembered reading in a book* on aesthetics that art “intensifies the sense of immediate living” and by art, the author means everything from cave paintings, to tattoos, to pottery, jewelry, poetry, theater etc. *(Art as Experience by John Dewey—it’s a bear to get through, so don’t start reading it unless you really want some brain calisthenics). As one thought led to another, I started wondering about why art exists and why I make it, topics that I find useful and interesting to revisit from time to time.

Callla Lily by Pia De Girolamo

Picasso said “Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life“. While art can be escapist it can also lift a veil and remind us to see and experience reality, the good and the bad, which often gets lost in the fog of our thoughts and the busyness of our lives. When we put ourselves on auto pilot we forget to look, to feel, and to appreciate a tree, a place, a person, a landscape, a rock, a cup of coffee, a crumbling, graffitied building. It allows us to see with fresh eyes and with a “Beginner’s Mind”.

Why do I make art? Making art makes me an explorer of the world.  It allows me to experience things twice-once in real life and once again in the studio. My inquisitiveness is engaged and I look at things more closely and experience more fully in order to get them down on paper or canvas.

Art takes me “out of my head” when a painting is clicking along without me having to think about it and I am in a state of flow. State of flow is like a form of meditation and often like a mini-vacation.  At some point after the flow ceases though, the analytical brain takes over with its narrative of critique-does it work? is it balanced? is it interesting? Which is usually necessary to some degree to bring a painting to fruition. Even though this is the “rational” brain engaging it is a very interesting exercise because it poses questions and what ifs as in “what happens if I change this color, or this shape and so on and how does it affect the rest of the painting”? These questions lead to other questions and keeps me fascinated with the process of creating.

Elizabeth Gilbert in her book Big Magic says she writes solely because she likes to, she enjoys her creativity, and writing is fun! And really isn’t that the bottom line?  I make art because I love making art! I am delighted by the process that takes me from a blank canvas to something completely new. Art making is of course frustrating at times and closing the gap between intention and execution is a tricky tightrope to walk, but the totality of the act of creation is fun and exciting, sometimes just because it is challenging and the outcome is not assured.

Art is a means of connection with other people. I especially love it when a viewer can tell me how and why my art moved them. It’s also interesting when a viewer sees a meaning or feeling that I did not consciously intend but subconsciously might be there. Then I deepen my understanding of the work as well as myself, and that may help me make the next painting. Even if the viewer’s interpretation is way off base, if it helps them make a connection with the work, the art has found a way to forge a personal connection.

Ainsley in the Green Chair by Pia De Girolamo

In early spring an insistent impulse-something not rational-compels me to start cleaning out my pots and my vegetable patch and start getting ready for planting. This winter an impulse (the whispers of Janus?) compelled me to think generally about art and why I make it, which jumpstarted the desire to evaluate last year’s specific highs and lows in my art and then set goals. Essentially, I sketched the outlines of a year and I’ll be painting in the scene, figuring it all out along the way.

[twst-drabbles]

Hi!! Hope we can still send these in :)

Dude, the sience bros would be my clutch lmao. First of all, I think that joining the sience club as someone from our world would just be a slay move in general. I go to an arts school, so I'm not the most involved person out there, but I think even our basic understanding of sience could make for insightful experiences. Just comparing our sience basics to their science basics could be really cool! And hey, if we happen to make an ingenius discovery along the way? Or Just happen to mention Newton's Law and get a Twisted equivelent to the Nobel Prize? I mean... It's the benefits. Maybe we can even decipher a way home lol

But I digress.

I completely agree with anon. Trey Clover because food. If I'm isakied to another world without any money, people who food will be my life-line and absolute favorites. But also, with all the insane shenanigains that go on in NRC? I'm gonna need someone to share an exasperated side eye with. Clover's experience as a junior would just be helpful in general, especially when succeeding from the side lines. I don't enjoy parading my victories around, so being able to take after his example by mostly avoiding conflict while still doing good for ourselves would be nice :) And if we ever wanna prank some people... i think it'd be kinda funny to be the perpetrators AND the least suspected people in the room😂😂

Also, Rook! I mentioned before that I go to art school, so exposure to different media and insightful disscusion/ critique is something I hold dear! In the incredebly survival-of-the-fittest-dog-eat-dog-testostorone-filled-dick-measuring-contest that is our darling NRC, I would heavily consider shrivling away. Still! A lot of the boys can be incredbly passionate about their artistic forms of expression :) From Malleus and his music, and of course Vil and his acting career, I'd respect them so much! But- many of those same boys don't feel the most approachable about more vulnrable discussions. And not even talking about art in a fancy-smanchy way. I wanna talk poetry! Point out how one of my classmate's eyes remind me of nickles, or how the tiles of the school reminded me of hop-skotch! I want to brain-rot about a book and rant about how the thematic elements reflect reality! I concur with Rook's appreciation of beauty in everywhere he looks, and I'd have a lot of fun with him just pointing out the mundane things we admire :) 

Would be weirded out by the stalking though... ha... haha

People I'd dislike? Azul. Probably Azul. Gosh, knowing his backstory as a viewer I want to sweep him into his arms and tell him he's beautiful and has the most darling blue eyes. I mean??? Babe?? An OCTO-mer???? That's so cool!!! Realistically though, I would be a bit disgusted by what he does. I'd still conversate with him, and appreciate his buissnessman-smile face, but deep down I'd try to avoid him. We're already stuck in a world with no money, connections, or information. I don't need the weight of a deal on my back.

Also I want to punt Crowley like a football. At this point I want to high-tail it to RSA and ask them what they know about reality-travelling shenanigains lmao. Hope you're having a good day!!

No worries, you can send them in any time. I was just cooking myself something.

Considering that magic is a profession you can study for in this world, that implies that magic itself is a predictable enough phenomenon that it can be studied, tested and recorded. Though, obviously the main magical classes don't quite account for signature spells since I imagine it would require quite the number of layers in magic spells to be able to replicate them. I know officially signature spells are so unique that they can't be replicated, but in my own head, it's less that it's impossible to replicate and more that it's difficult and tedious to do so with general magic means. The life of an individual, their own stories determine what kind of signature spell manifests in a person, hence why I have the headcanon that ancient magic of old had spell incantations that were fairy tales. Basically, each spell was treated as it's own form of unique magic waaaay back in the day, before more modern, common means of magic were developed.

So yeah, magic science. Any little science nerd would go nuts over this.

"In the incredebly survival-of-the-fittest-dog-eat-dog-testostorone-filled-dick-measuring-contest that is our darling NRC" Yea that really is NRC in a nutshell huh? Funnily enough, I actually had a little short-lived fantasy where the reader comes from an even more testosterone filled world, I'm talking about "gang wars but with colleges" type deal. Buff guys all around wanting to challenge you, to prove their worth and be become the ultra alpha chad or whatever the hell they label it these days. Almost Baki levels of crazy, but not quite, still following some lines of logic. Basically Reader takes one look at Jack, Leona and Rook and go "you are babies to me," not in the adoptive way, but in the, "I would steal your candy."

And speaking of poetry, it's actually my worst skill in all of my writing. See, as you've said, poetry usually does require a certain level of emotional vulnerability, or at least be willing to dip into those emotions and memories and have them come out. Stuffing as much meaning as possible to just a few words. Personal layers that become easier to peel back the more you understand the author, buuuuuut, I'm super private. Incredibly so, and so stuck in this apathetic state of mine that my poetry is bland. It doesn't have any specific details that make it unique. Bare boooones. So rather than remarking on what my classmates eyes remind me of, I'd remark how the sunlight loves the color. Or how the line of the tiles cut through and separate a whole bunch of students apart despite being stuck together. Observer type poems, rather than looking internally.

Wouldn't it be so ironic that the first friend you make was Rook of all people? After avoiding just about everyone "normal," you let Rook talk to you? You're willing to hang out with him? Rook stalks but it's never with the intention of hurting you or controlling you in anyway. If it bothers you enough, Rook is emotionally intelligent enough to leave things well enough alone. Rook stalks Leona but Leona doesn't register Rook as a threat in any way, just an annoyance. Hence why Rook keeps stalking him. So if does give you genuine nightmares, yeah he will stop.

Azul will find those legal loopholes when he can and already that puts him on my shit list. That and I don't like owing that smug motherfucker anything. He lords deals over peoples heads and I refuse to give him any sort of satisfaction just because he was bullied.

Same on the RSA route. Would not hesitate. Like, even if I end up friends with everyone, I would still leave for RSA cause at least their headmage is reliable. I can't stand being under the authority of someone like Crowley even if my friends are there. My well being comes first.

[otvlanga]

Otty i just want you to know i always delight in seeing you pop up in my notifs and that you remain a dear tesblr friend to me ;u;

Anyway if you've got the thoughts i wanna hear about your priest of mara with a gun or Neloth and Meallana hehe

AHH I always get so happy when you say that, I’m glad I make a good impact! <3 it’s always an absolute joy seeing your art and writing on the dash, even though I’m not as active as I used to be

And I am so glad u asked about my son Anaro I haven’t talked about him in SO long. I’ve been working out some ideas of what I want his backstory to be and I’d love to talk about it. Obviously in his like REAL story he doesn’t have a machine gun but like in his own little separate stand alone spin-off universe, he is absolutely unstoppable with his AR-15

So basically Anaro was pretty much born an orphan. Nobody has the faintest clue who he parents were, he was basically left on the steps of a Temple of Mara in Cyrodiil as a newborn, cold and as silent as the night time that engulfed the temple grounds. It’s well known that priests of Mara will often take in Orphaned children to be raised in their practices. Though Anaro’s delivery to the temple wasn’t the typical drop-off, he was welcomed in with open arms anyway. After all, who would be able to resist a chubby yellow baby with ears twice the size of his head?

The first thing the head priest noticed about Anaro was that he was quite the silent baby. Many of the priestesses and wet-nurses would grow anxious overnight when he wouldn’t wake and cry, or throw tantrums upon waking in the morning. He also grew to be a very well behaved child. He was never the most organized with his belongings, or punctual when it came to temple meetings, but he always did as he asked and never really acted out. The worst he would really do was wander off during the day to sketch by the lake-side, or carve pictures into tree bark. He was always an outdoorsy kid, and often got scolded for sleeping outside while it rained and tracking mud through the temple the next day.

As he approached his teen years and started his formal apprenticeship, he grew to be very interested in history and politics. He’d spend hours a day in the city libraries and catacombs, stuffing his big yellow brain with knowledge. He was never one for debates — hated them actually, but he still liked to sneak out of the temple and eavesdrop on the city scholars in from outside the college windows.

His passion for sociology and the like only increased as he grew older. He loved philosophy, and literature, and poetry. He loved hearing people speak to each other, and speak about themselves. He loved listening to the long, drawn out stories that most people would find too boring to tell all the way through. He was perfectly content sitting in the town square and just watching families interact with each other, never once staring with envy, but with curiosity and admiration. He always knew he wanted that one day, though he was shy and generally seen by others as a little strange. Though he was always a man of few words, he knew when to use his voice as it was needed. He was reckless in the way he would stick up for those in need or in the face of cruelty, and it got him hurt. Quite a few times. Not everyone in Cyrodiil is so hesitant to lay a hand on a future priest.

In his adulthood, after fully gaining the official title of Priest of Mara, he found himself itching for more. Of course, he loved the temple and he loving serving the people in his town. He loved officiating wedding and watching people fall in love all over again, and was perfectly happy pledging the eternity of his spirit to his divine. However, he couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted to travel, and see all corners of Tamriel, and meet all the souls her land had to offer. He wanted to really help people, not just by having them repeat vows after him, but by spreading true love, and peace, and kindness. He never thought of himself as particularly influential, nor did he ever crave to achieve fame in his teachings. He knew his desire for a world at total ease and peace was beyond unrealistic, but he was more than willing to do his part to take steps towards that dream. Under his gentle nature, he is a stubborn and relentless soul. He will stop at nothing to stand for what he believes in. Would he go on hunger strike for months? Yes, absolutely. Many call him foolish for his passion but he’d rather be a fool than a bystander.

So, he left. He set out on the first carriage ride to the farthest city in Cryodiil from where he was at before, and started to make his rounds throughout the country. He’d help out wherever he could. Farm work, mining, healing, simply teaching children on the countryside to read — nothing was off limits to him, no matter how difficult the task.

He started dabbling in restoration magic when visiting a Temple of Kynareth in the Summerset Isle. He decided not to stay too long though, given their whole racial supremacist thing they had going on.

He may be Altmer himself, but he was not raised with any connection to his culture. Sure, the temple he grew up in had a few high elves among them, but their lives were dedicated to Mara. No effort was really made to teach him about his roots, so he often has a difficult time connecting with other Altmer, especially the ones from his homeland.

He didn’t manage to make his way to Skyrim for quite a few decades. (For reference, I envision him to be somewhere around.. 150 years old by the events of the Dragonborn storyline. So like around in his “40’s” in physical terms.) When he does get around to Skyrim, he probably only gets a good 6 months into his travels before dragons decide to show up. How lovely. He settles himself down in the Temple of Mara and winds up meeting the Dragonborn when he stumbles in piss drunk trying to marry a hagraven. Now Anaro is all about having the freedom to love who you choose, but he really can’t just sit by and let this dangerously intoxicated nord marry ANYONE in his condition. It’s not technically illegal, but he has morals. So he shoos away the hagraven and the strange sorcerer carrying some sort of plant shaped staff, and lays the strange nord to rest. This is how he officially became ‘uncool’ in the eyes of the daedric party god. Way to go Anaro.

And once the Dragonborn wakes up, that is where Anaros epic dragon slaying era begins. I would describe how he meets Erandur but I haven’t played that quest in so long I don’t even want to attempt it right now.

As for Meallana and Neloth. They don’t have children, and probably never will. BUT IF THEY DID, the baby would be grown from the side of wall of Tel Mithryn via magic and a lot of freaky deaky questionable alchemy. Yes. Their baby would be a spore baby and his birth would be horrific as he bursts through the wall of Tel Mithryn like a rabies infested rat. He would have a badass wizard name but disappoint both of his parents by being obsessed with archeology or something stupid like that instead of the archaic esoteric arcane knowledge of the universe

“Meallana our son is digging in the dirt again”

“Shut up you old fart he said he’s looking for dinosaur bones”

“what the fuck is a dinosaur”

Their baby’s conscience would project across realities. Talvas would pay him with animal bones and shiny rocks to pull Neloth’s goatee because he just really gets a kick out of it

[nityarawal]

9/23/23

"OJ"- AKA "Juice"

Morning Songs

How Many Songs

Can I Write 

In A Day

Make It Short

Make It Snappy

I Overtalk

I Know

Lyricists

Cut Back

Rich Refusals

My Poetry Teacher

Said

Is It Songworthy

Put It Somewhere

Else

Maybe It's 

3 Songs In One

Maybe You Have

A Voice

Where Some Have

None

Is It A Coincidence

That AI

Tells Kim Kardashian

Stories

Is It A Coincidence 

Her Daddy Was The

Atty

That Coined The "RO"

For A Murderer

Mommies Silencings'

Is It A Coincidence

Kimmy Can't Speak

Will They Resurrect 

Robert's Hologram 

To Defend

#MeToo Please

Attys Vanity Restraining Orders

Kimmy Can't Speak

Acts Like She Can't Sing

But We Don't Believe It

Everyone's Got A 

Unique Voice

Tune

If They Listen

To Hearts

Callings

Whistles

Kimmy Says She 

Can't Sing

In So Many Words

But North Likes

Her Tunes

And Dances Galore

With Her "Ye"

Ears

Kimmy Says She 

Can't Sing

In So Many Words

Stumbling Through

Christmas Recordings

Kimmy Can't Sing

Clearly Not True

Because

We Like Her Voice 

#FanGirls

It's True

If Kimmy Just Wants To Be A Poppet

"X" Meme

Like Elon

That's OK Too

Maybe She's Being 

Wise

Or Gagged

With Pleas

But Queen's In

40's

Seemingly

Behind Glass

Behind The Sidelines

Mamma 

Queen Of The Globe

Influencer

Got No Pride

Your Life's Not Over

You Outlived 

Your Mothers BFF

Not A Hasbeen

German 

Nicole Simpson

Might've 

Started As A Waitress

At 18 

With A Black Man

12 Years Older

Like Me 

A Nun

When Her Story 

Went Down

Cloistered By 

A Bipolar Monk

20 Years Older

Secretly Engaged

To My Molester

Handler

Pedophile Of Football 

Clinton League

Whitehouse

Boys Stirling Cards Clubs

Co-Creating

Spiritual Center

Manifesting

Heavenly Mountain

Muses And Me

Who Thought 

His Yogi Body

A Perfect Cloak

For A Tiny Football

Players Brain

He Ran Into

Every Pub

At The Mall

After 8 Hours Of

Meditation

Threw Money At 

#MeToo

Shopaholics

Forgetting Us

At Banana Republic 

Or Victoria Secret

Watching 

Modeling Purchases

We Went To Nephew's

Football Games

Fresh Out Of Nunnery

Forbidden Love Stories

Secrecy

Thanksgivings'

3 Years

Alienated

David Kaplan Must've Gone Up

To Bat

For OJ

Like The Whole 

Defense Army

Begging Him

Like Their Beloved

Buddha

"Don't Die Bro,"

They Begged

As They Chased Him

In His White Bronco

A Gun To His Head

They Tried To Shame

The Waiter

Instead 

Innocently

Returning

Nicole's Mothers' Glasses

From Italian Cafe

Brutally

Murdered Kid

For Jealous

Triangulated

"Theoretically"

A Mistake

After "Words"

He Said

Bloody Mess

Stunned

His Son Later Accused

Of Murders

Anyone But Him

Not A Cop's Football Hero

To Be Confirmed Guilty

20 Years In Jail

Per Head

Like Most Civilians

Would've Been

40 Years

At Least

For Even Attempting

Crimes

His Best Friends

Targeted

Atty's Families Pay

Still

Kardashians Paraded

But The Football

Hero "Juice"

Won't Cover His Bills

"Hoe-Flation"

Tax

Candace Owen's Calls It

On ROs

For Poly Trans Losers

You Can Play

The "Barracuda 

Mamma" Song Kimmy

If You Settle

#Nitya4Eternity

Estates

Uncouple My Kids

From This Blessed Mess

And Businesses

Gwen Stefani

Lady Saw

Lady Gaga

Or #FreeBritney

Might Sing For You

Anyone You Want

You Can Play Lori's 

Atty Brands'

Like A Poppet

For Kardashians

If You Wish

"Lawyering" 

Style

But If You Did

Some Yoga

Find Light

In Meditation 

Pranayama- Breathing Exercises

Cardio

Self Oil Massage 

Ayurveda

I Think You 

Might Just 

Find Your Voice

Too

No Need To Let

The Courts

Antagonize

"Ye"

Me

Or #FreeBritney

You

And Ladies

All Singers

Kids

Masses

Abused Today

We Know 911

Didn't Work For

Nicole Simpson

Nor Me

We Know 911

Didn't Work For

My Latina Mamma 

Country Club

Neighbor

When Militia Shot

Her Son Adrien

On Mistakes

We Know 911

Didn't Work For Me

Not Even The New

Fancy Texting

Services

We Couldn't Prevent

Domino Effect

Of A Dozen More

Murders

Idy Missing Peeps

Secrets Hidden

By Sergeant Protero

Young Bribed Investigators

Sheriff Gays

Secrets Hidden

By The Old Art Academy

Staff

Now Dead

Fired

Institutionalized Students

Silenced

My Old Therapist

Posing For CPS

To Traffic Actors

Super Geniuses

Harry Potters

Like Russel Brand

For England

Julie Anne Steiger

A Spy To Rockstar's Attys

In County Courts

How Many Murdered

On ROs

211

With Ashby Clark 

Sorrenson

United Way

Judge Judith Clark

Lori Clark Viviano

911

Until Her

Scuba Diving Demise

Last Year

Was She 

Charles Viviano's

Class Action Atty

Starter Wife First

Or In Walter Clark's

Gay Chain Of Attys

Marilyn

Butterballing

Lying On Radio Ads

Before 

They Became A 

Poly Tribe

Inflicting Sodomy

Taxing Breeders

Her Kids Keep

Advertising Her Expired

Law Scams

"Dead" Orders Now

On Bribes

Even Though She's Gone

Tweeting Onto

Twitter #X

So Can't You

Resurrect Robert 

Kardashian's

#AI Hologram Too

And Rectify

Peace

Forgive

What He Did

To Restrain American Moms

From Kids

With No Domestic Violence

Hotline

Mind-boggling Them

DV's A 1-800 Data Collection Site

A Waste Of Time

On Last Pleas

Calls

Desperate Needs

Reparations

Needed

Now

Rain Rape Clerks Violate

Moms

Silencing

For Robert Didn't 

Know He'd Win

He Didn't Know

He'd Make A Hero

Of A Murderer

In Loving His Brother

"Uncle OJ"

Y'all Called Him

He Didn't Know

Homeschooling

"Tweens"

His Girls Flaunted

In Court

Like Child Trophies

To Shame Moms'

Child Brides Still

He Didn't Know

His Armenian Baes

Daughters

Would Make 

Civil Activists

He Didn't Know

He'd Win

Against Odds

For A Slaughterer

Who Asked Him To 

Go Back To Work

Take the Sordid

RO Job

Still Murdering 25% 

Mothers Annually

From Divorce Courts

Sexualising

Infidelity

Violence

Vows

All He Knew

Was His Road

On The Coattails

Of A Football 

Hero

"OJ"

Capitalism

Won

Kardashian Hung His Head

When They Won

For He Couldn't 

Undo

Sin

An Oath

To His Family

Bonds

A Legacy

Bartered

Peace,

Nitya Nella Davigo Azam Moezzi Huntley Rawal 

[annacantdie]

written 6/30/21

1/2

It’s cold, and goosebumps are covering my body due to the seat I've chosen in this annoyingly trendy coffee shop. I’m not at my usual place, but instead at a grossly millennial shop in my least favorite spot to be, the college town in my area. I’m right under the air conditioning, and it isn’t very desirable. Not to mention the coffee I've ordered is utterly awful, and I’m debating not drinking it at all. But alas, I type away at my laptop, hoping that I can make something of this less-than-ideal situation. I had a thought, a few moments ago, that inspired this half assed Google Doc. All of these 20-somethings here, with their Birkenstocks and hollow smiles, make me feel a depressed state of grog. I’m young, not even 17, but if this is how I'm destined to turn out, a broke, starving artist spending my days connecting to free wifi and wishing my parents hadn’t kicked me out, I think I'll just end it early. I know what I look like, a pretty face clicking away at my keyboard during the summer, probably writing some half-assed hollow poetry that I’ll post on my Instagram story later with my coffee in the background. Any other time I'd seem like an innocent student writing an essay, most likely due the next day, but now? I look like the exact prerequisite to the people here. I’m writing my own destiny, spying through the looking glass of my future, and I haven’t accepted that yet. The question on my mind, plaguing my corrupted thoughts, is this. Who am I? Honestly. How often do I ask myself that. I know that at this point in my life I don’t really need to know persay, but it’s at least helpful to have an idea. I was a cute kid with an innocently curious and creative nature, I loved reading, immersing myself in any book I could get my hands on, and I loved writing, slaving away at my pink journal every night and writing fantastical stories during the days, but you would expect me to say that, wouldn’t you? You have an idea of who I am, a nicely dressed teenage girl with a coffee and a laptop writing extensintial half poetry to fill her empty slots of time, but you that’s all you know. Based on that knowledge, you hear about my childhood love of writing and reading and feel that it checked out, but in reality I could compare my childhood to almost any vaguely creative hobby. I took way too many baking and cooking classes, so who's to say I wasn’t destined for the culinary arts? I went through sketchbooks like an old man goes through packs of cigarettes, so who's to say I was destined to be a visual artist? No matter what I find myself enjoying now, my childhood, looking at it from a different angle, could reflect it. So if my childhood doesn’t define who I am now, then all I have left is the last few years. During my less than idealized teenage years experienced thus far, I've woven a tangled mess of my sense of self. We kicked off entering the teenage years with the idea of suicide washing over my mind constantly on my 13th birthday, and It’s just been up and down since then. I’d like to say my lowest point was and will be attempting suicide, but I don’t want to jinx it. I've had highs too, to be fair. But as for a sense of who I am, I find myself at a loss. Writing seems to be what I'm the best at, so that’s what my current and adolescent self has decided I'll try to do for the rest of my life, to have the telling of my childhood interests reflect, but it wouldn’t be a first choice. I love music and fashion, and if I could just weasel my way into a position where I could just immerse myself in those guilty pleasures forever, I would. But i’m a subpar musician, and my fashion sense is nothing to be awed at, and I probably shouldn’t waste these stupid, sticky fingers i’ve been given. I took my ACT test recently, and in a fashion so utterly predictable, I opted to take the essay portion as well. I wrote the shittest persuasive essay I think I've ever let spill out of my brain, but my formatting was good and so I did quite well. It’s odd, having tangible evidence that I'm a better writer than the average joe.

[doomanddead]

Probing New Album from Monovoth

Monovoth’s self-titled album is an offering at the feet of despair… if despair is an intergalactic goddess wielding arcane knowledge with one hand, and unspeakable terror with the other. One look at the album art tells you it’s going to be interesting. Frontman Lucas Wyssbrod (MOSTRO) dreams up a realm “where in [sic] a female extraterrestrial deity - a corruption of the notion the Catholic religion has of the virgin - is seen suspended in the voids of space.” Let’s strap in and cue the X-Files theme for this journey into the black vacuum of the cosmos.

Monovoth by Monovoth

The Key begins at a creeping pace. A faint static pulse creates an otherworldly atmosphere. Tinny synth notes jangle your perception— it’s unclear whether time is moving forward or backward. A heavy melody sets in with plodding drums and crashing cymbals. It’s ritualistic and foreboding, with dark majesty at an unfathomable scale. 

Ulcerated and Ablazed has Close Encounters vibes with an unsettling tune in minor chords. There’s something both resonant and discordant about the progression of notes repeated like a mantra. Listening to this composition makes you feel like you’ve caught the attention of something alien, whose intentions are beyond out comprehension. The drone subsides, and we re-orient ourselves to waves lapping a shoreline. It’s as if we’ve been abducted and returned to a different location, dazed but finally lucid.

Servants is slow and solitary. Each note echos in the emptiness like water dripping in an abandoned space. The intensity swells and sadness bursts through the walls in slow motion, inundating the room. As quickly as they arrived, the layers of sound recede and we find ourselves alone again. The track is an emotional powerhouse that manages to sneak up on me even on subsequent plays. 

Dour and heavy, Tace Dolorem is as impenetrable as a sheer rock face. This deliriously doomy offering picks apart its own strata, exposing muscle and bone in a solemn act of sacrifice. Federico Ramos (Avernal) adds extra weight to this track with arrangements for electric and acoustic guitar.

Hands skulks onto the scene with a haunted stare and an insatiable appetite. It quickly distends over its own borders encompassing both religious ecstasy and outright fury. Spoken word poetry and relentless drumming underline the duality of this intense offering.

Laesura is a funerary trudge through the brain-scramblies. It’s like riding around inside the hollow shell of someone who is completely disassociated, emptied of all thought and meaning. Again and again, the electric guitar pierces the stillness of the vacant vessel. 

This saturnine album closes on a piece of unexpected beauty. Franco Colautti lends his talents on the brief instrumental Cerro Sangre. His mandolin adds punctuation and form to an intricate, tangled tableau.

Monovoth has constructed a shrine to sadness, with each track more haunted and otherworldly than the last. I don’t know if this extraterrestrial cult is recruiting, but I’m ready to put my name in the offering plate.

[headspace-hotel]

I can't even describe to y'all how much the side of tumblr that's proud of like, not caring what "tropes" are, and thinking fan-fiction is of no value, is just a pile of pseudo-intellectual bullshit.

It's all based on assuming the intellectual high ground over Cringe Stupid People~ who only read repetitive fanfiction. Meanwhile i consume fuck all of "Media" aside from...spending Literally hours a day reading literary journals, academic publications, and ancient and medieval texts. I don't read fanfiction. I don't watch TV, as in "have never logged onto a netflix account in my life." I've read more of egyptian papyri, or ancient Greek poetry, or the fucking Annals of Tacitus in the last year than fanfiction.

Like do you want to start on the ✨intellectual high ground?✨ Do you really want to play "Who's read the most dead people?" Some of us are super mega goblin brain autistic and also devoting an education and career to this shit, hi.

Guess what, I don't give a flying fuck if someone wants to read 20 coffee shop AU's in a row of their favorite characters. It's not the collapse of the intellectual world. Everyone should do what makes them happy and read what makes them happy, we don't get long on this earth.

Fanfiction isn't inherently worse than any other kind of writing, it makes no sense to say so, and nothing you do is going to stop people from reading the stories they like. If you look at folklore studies, you'll see a lot of similar constructs to the ones we have to describe fanfiction. And tropes? Tropes have existed for a hell of a lot longer than "genre" has, they actually substantially describe stories, and the majority of "Real Book" readers consume the same tropes over and over in reading thrillers and romance with the same formulas.

"Ao3 tropes" are being used by bookstores, discussed in classrooms, and they will be used to understand how people in this time told stories, and acting like that's the death of art is bizarre. This stuff is fascinating and it's cool.

Also. People's reading choices absolutely weren't more erudite (or less horny) in The Past.

Do you think the "novels" people in the 18th century freaked out over were intellectual masterpieces? Do you think Greeks in ancient Athens somehow had some greater ability to discuss Literary Narrative Techniques than people now do? Do you think any rando common person on the street watching Shakespeare perform would have a super smart and educated take on the Themes Present Within The Text?

Maybe teens on tiktok failed 10th grade english class or whatever, but storytelling is a living creature millennia old, breathing in the lungs of people across centuries that, for the most part, couldn't even read. Telling stories and being told stories is human nature and that's just the coolest shit to me

[havenoffandoms]

72 for Geralt/Jaskier?

I meant to post this a lot earlier... sorry about the wait, nonnie. I hope you like it anyway. I'm not sure how it came out in the end after I agonised over this for the past couple of days, but it was fun going back to my Geraskier roots.

Masterlist

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier

Prompt 72: Character A has a secret. Character B does whatever they can to find out what it is. When they find out, they wish they hadn't.

Warnings: brief angsty episode, mention of Geralt's traumatic childhood

Also, I love that art! Holy Shit!? So of course this had to feature before the fic <3

Travelling with Jaskier had its downfalls.

For one, the bard talks a lot. He never stops, not even in his sleep, and that would drive any man insane if you ask Geralt. He listens to Jaskier waffling about poetry all day, every day, he doesn’t have to endure a lecture on the benefits of iambic pentameters when he’s trying to fall asleep, thank you very much. Jaskier also likes to complain about every little thing that causes him discomfort, which when they’re on the path, ranges from fly bites all the way to sore feet. Travelling with a human also means that they travel considerably slower, unless they’re both riding on top of Roach, but Geralt doesn’t like putting his best girl under that kind of strain very often.

For all of Jaskier’s flaws, Geralt would hate to have to separate from his bard. At least, when Jaskier is close by, Geralt can keep an eye on him and make sure Jaskier doesn’t get himself into any unnecessary trouble. Having Jaskier travel with him gives Geralt peace of mind. He appreciates the singing as well, even if he could stand to tell Jaskier this a bit more often. Geralt deems that his bard’s ego is plenty inflated without Geralt making it worse. Not to mention that life always seems a little bit brighter when Jaskier is around, and the nights are a little less lonely as Geralt gets to pull his bard close and fall asleep to the sound of his beating heart. Knowing that Jaskier is safe is the only thing that lets Geralt sleep peacefully at night.

You’d think that after nearly two decades of knowing his bard, Geralt would have figured out Jaskier’s secret by now. Geralt is, of course, referring to Jaskier’s near supernatural ability to always come up with coin when he and Geralt need it most urgently. Geralt has no idea how the bard does it - his songs are popular, granted, and on a good night Jaskier makes enough to buy a nice room for the night and the better pieces of meat from the kitchen. Still, being a bard doesn’t pay that well, not even if you were as famous as Jaskier. Just last week, Geralt’s horse and most of his belonging were stolen by bandits, leaving Geralt travelling on foot and too poor to afford to buy a new horse. Two days later, Jaskier came trotting up to their camp atop a gorgeous mare, looking mighty pleased with himself but refusing to tell Geralt how he managed to afford to pay for the horse.

“Would you believe me if I told you I stole her, Geralt, my dear?”

“Not in a million years,” Geralt admitted deadpan, pulling an offended squawk from his songbird.

“Just because I’m a bard you don’t think I can steal a horse?”

“I don’t think you could ever steal a horse because you’re as stealthy as the proverbial bull in the porcelain shop.”

It’s not just the horse, though. Geralt’s armour needed replacing and good armour doesn’’t come cheaply. Geralt doesn’t hire the services of just any blacksmith or armourer to craft his weapons and protective gear. He has his regular suppliers, the ones he always goes back to because he knows that their work is reliable and of the highest quality. And even though these people know Geralt by now, even offer him a friends and family discount on occasion, their wares still come at a hefty price. Geralt, as it turns out, didn’t have the coin to replace his armour for a few months. He desperately needed new boots, though. A new pair of breeches wouldn’t hurt either, and his silver sword broke in half whilst fighting a particularly vicious griffin a few weeks back.

Geralt didn’t even mention all of this to Jaskier. That didn’t stop the bard from going ahead and commissioning a brand new suit of armour, new silver and steel swords, as well as a few casual clothes for Geralt to wear on the warmer summer days. All of this must have cost an arm, a leg and a fucking lung, and yet Jaskier acted like he didn’t just break the bank all for Geralt’s benefit. He didn’t even get anything for himself and that realisation had Geralt feeling slightly embarrassed about the gesture.

“You don’t have to buy me all this stuff, Jask.”

“I know that, dearest,” Jaskier assured him, eyes soft and an easy smile playing on his lips, “but I wanted to. Only the best for you, my sweet witcher.”

The mystery of where Jaskier managed to find the coin to pay for all this remains unsolved, despite Geralt’s questioning. Well, if Jaskier won’t outright tell him, then Geralt will just have to investigate the matter by himself.

"Where the fuck did you get your hand on all the coin to pay for all this?" Geralt asks one evening, blunt and straight to the point. There was probably a kinder and gentler way to ask this, but after spending weeks mulling over Jaskier's sudden new-found fortune, Geralt has lost the little patience he possessed in the matter. Jaskier, on the other hand, looks perfectly unperturbed.

"From the bank," he offers simply as he sprinkles expensive herbs over the hare Geralt caught earlier that evening, "you know, where people deposit their valuables? I know you witchers don't believe in bank accounts, savings and interests, but-"

"Where does the coin come from?" Geralt interrupts, hissing those words through clenched teeth.

"Why, my inheritance."

Geralt stares for a long while. It takes his brain several seconds to catch up to what Jaskier is telling him, and another few seconds to make sense of the words. Inheritance?

"What inheritance?"

"Well, when my father passed away he left me and my siblings a share of his wealth. That's how inheritance works. Say, pass me my satchel my dear, I think I have some more spices in there."

Geralt wordlessly hands Jaskier his satchel, still trying to process this new discovery. Come to think of it, Geralt knows precious little about Jaskier's family. Sure, that's probably on him for never asking, but Geralt has grown so used to Jaskier oversharing every aspect of his life that he never needed to ask his bard anything. Jaskier just… never talked about his family. Or his childhood, or his upbringing. His life story seems to always begin when he was a student at Oxenfurt.

Geralt is growing curiouser by the minute.

"When did your father pass?"

"Oh? Uh… good question. Maybe a few years after I went to Oxenfurt? I'm not sure. I received a letter from the bank notifying me that a share of my father's wealth was deposited in my account."

Geralt frowns. "You never went back to find out what happened?"

"No."

Well, that's an oddly abrupt response, and Jaskier doesn't seem like he's got anything to say on the matter. Which only makes Geralt feel more curious about the whole thing.

"Why not?"

"Geralt…" Jaskier heaves a sigh before putting on a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, too tense to be genuine. "My father and I didn't get along. I felt no need to go mourn him with the rest of my noble family in Lettenhove when he passed. That's it. That's all there's to it. I was not a good enough man to refuse my share of the inheritance, either, despite my non-existent relationship with him."

That's a lot to unpack. Geralt always assumed that Jaskier had a good childhood. Then again, he would think that, wouldn't he, considering Geralt spent his own childhood being tortured by magnanimous and sadistic mages. Where most children got to spend time outside helping out in the fields or playing with their friends, Geralt was put through drill after drill, after drill… until he was physically unable to walk so much his muscles hurt.

"Wait… did you say your noble family?"

"Hm?"

"In Lettenhove… there's nothing in Lettenhove. Only the Viscount and his family live there on a large esta-" Geralt's mouth clicks shut as realisation dawns on him. "Your father was the Viscount of Lettenhove?"

"Yes. And since I'm the oldest, after he died that title passed onto me. But I much prefer being a bard, so I graciously devolved my duties to my younger brother, who now manages the estate. Are we done with this conversation?"

"I didn't mean to make you mad…"

Geralt watches Jaskier stop dead in his tracks, his shoulders briefly tensing at those words, before exhaling loudly through his nose. Jaskier anxiously rubs the back of his neck as he straightens up and offers Geralt a sheepish smile, that one warmer and softer than the previous one.

"Sorry, dear heart. I didn't mean to be so short with you. It's just… well, there's a reason I don't bring up my family all that much."

"Hm." Geralt gently taps the spot next to him on his bedroll, and Jaskier doesn't have to be told twice. Soon, Geralt has one arm wound tightly around Jaskier's shoulders. Not quite a hug, but the intention is there all the same, and Jaskier eagerly melts in the embrace. "I shouldn't have insisted. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. You did nothing wrong." Jaskier nuzzles the crook of Geralt's neck sweetly before depositing a featherlight kiss just over his pulse point. "Do you want to ask me anything?"

Geralt ponders over that question far too long before whispering an answer in the air pocket between them.

"Did he hurt you?"

Jaskier hesitates.

"Not physically, no. He didn't approve of my aspirations and choices. He didn't support me. I suppose it hurt a little when he didn't see me away to Oxenfurt at the age of 15, but he never raised a hand on me."

"Hm." Good, Geralt thinks. No child should ever have to suffer at the hand of an adult. Geralt earned plenty a beating at Kaer Morhen, some justified and others not so much. Just because he went through this doesn't mean he condones it.

"At least I get to spend his money on someone I love," Jaskier offers softly, eyes as blue as the deepest ocean glancing up at Geralt through dark lashes, “That, at least, the old man can’t take away from me.”

A happy little rumble bubbles up Geralt's chest, despite the blush gracing his cheeks.

"I never thanked you for the gifts." Geralt blushes a deeper shade of red at the realisation. "Sorry. It's been a long year."

"Well, good thing we're heading North soon then, hm?" Jaskier straightens up so he can cradle Geralt's face in his lute-calloused hands. Their eyes meet then, amber seeking out blue, and Geralt thinks that he must be the luckiest son of a bitch in all the Continent.

"Yes," he agrees in a whisper, tilting his face to place a kiss on the inside of Jaskier's wrist, "good thing, indeed."

Request a prompt

[jarofstyles]

Crush

A/N: this one.... biiiitch.... giving you all a little college!harry, he’s so cute 👉🏼👈🏼 enjoy hehe 😈 - n + d

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send feedback and requests here 

masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: smut. FILTH. 

word count: 9.7k

Harry felt a bit creepy. 

It wasn’t as if it was on purpose! No... but she was at all of the places he went. At first he had thought it was a coincidence, but as he developed a routine for his classes, he found that they were often around each other for similar reasons. And usually? He would try and go up, introduce himself, and make a friend. The problem was... she was pretty. 

Not like normal pretty. Pretty as in, holy fuck you make me so nervous and perhaps I’ll word vomit, pretty. He was shit at making the first move. She was in his Monday and Friday classes and sat not far from him, he noticed. And they always ended up at the Coffee Bean on Tuesday and Thursdays, sitting not too far from one another again. She got tea with a few cookies, and he got a black coffee and an orange scone. They’d work on their coursework and Harry would wait for her to leave and see her make it to her car before he would leave, not wanting to make it seem like he was following her. He’s found out her name through friends stopping in to see her. It was Y/N. Gorgeous, just like her.

Funny enough, Harry wasn’t the only one who had a bit of a crush. Y/N realized in the second week of classes that Harry was in fact one of the most intimidatingly cool and attractive men she’d ever seen. College boys weren’t supposed to look like that, but he was all soft in his sweaters and baggy pants. She wasn’t sure how he pulled it off so well, but she could admit she was jealous. 

Seeing him at the Coffee bean was a relief because well, he walked in after her every time. She assumed it was because he had a class that ended later or something, but it didn’t go unnoticed that  he was there. Usually it wasn’t too busy or loud so she could glance at him from the corner of her eye as they sat at one of the big tables. She felt like it would be too weird to talk to him, he seemed so... quiet. She’d never heard him speak, hell, she’d only ever locked eyes with him for milliseconds. Y/N wished she could be one of those girls that could effortlessly flirt, ask for a pencil or something, but she knew she’d freeze up and forget her rehearsed line. 

Today however, when Y/N arrived, Harry was already there at his usual spot. Okay, Y/N... act natural. She thought to herself, going to order her usual before walking to boldly take a seat across from him. It would have worked out fine if her tote bag didn’t accidentally catch the corner of one of his books, sending things flying. 

“Shit— sorry, I—” Y/N swore, setting her bag on the table before bending down to get the book and a few papers and a pen. Real smooth.

Harry was slightly startled when his shit went flying, but when he saw who had knocked it over, his heart picked up. Oh, shit. 

“Oh— it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Harry’s voice was a bit gruff from not using it much today, pushing his chair back and bending down to grab the stuff with her. “S’my fault for putting it so close to the edge. I used to do that at home and my cat would knock it all off.” 

Great. Already rambling. 

Y/N didn’t register it at first, but he was british? Fuck. If she wasn’t already on her knees she would dropped down anyway, biting her lip to stop any noises that could have escaped. She giggled when he said his cat used to knock things over, “mine too.” She mumbled and went to stand up, feeling a tug at her arm. 

“Ah, shit.” Harry had caught his ring in her sweater, pulling one of the threads. “Damn, I’m so sorry.” He blushed slightly, knowing how annoying it was to have a pulled thread. His collection of sweaters was immense, thanks to his nan— and he felt terrible. Damn his chunky things. “They always get caught in mine too but I wear them anyways. I can replace the sweater, if you need.” Damn it. He was trying to come off as smooth... not so nervous. But he was. She was so pretty and she was up close, she smelled like peaches and vanilla and a bit of sweet mint and her hands were so soft.

“Oh no, It’s fine! it’s old anyway— I can just cut it off or tuck it in or something.” Honestly, Y/N would figure it out. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel bad, it was an accident after all. She let him untangle it, holding her hand still though it seemed like he needed some help. “Smaller fingers...” She mumbled, using her nails to get the thread gently off of the ring. “‘s a nice ring.” Y/N complimented, finally meeting his eyes and feeling the breath leave her lungs at the close proximity. Her lips parted naturally, scanning his face for any signs of discomfort.

She was beautiful Harry though he may get sick because wow. Wow. He had imagined holding her hand and kissing her but this exact moment he hadn’t a clue on what to do. So he improvised. 

“Are you in the 8 am psych class on Mondays?” He tilted his head. “I know I’ve seen you before.” Oh, he had seen her a lot. Especially in his dreams, day and night. It had been a bit intoxicating, really. At her nod, his grin came on his face. “Sick. S’that what you’re gonna study for?” He didn’t bring up the other class because... it would be embarrassing if she hadn’t noticed him before and he knew all too much. He needed a refill of his coffee though so he grabbed his cup, gently taking her things and placing them on the table next to his. “At least let me buy your stuff though. I feel awful about your sweater.”

“I’m actually just waiting on them to finish making mine, I was on my way to secure a spot but—” Y/N blushed, realizing the mess she had made. “Could you get it for me while you’re up there? It’s for Y/N. I can sit here and watch your stuff.” She felt like that was a subtle way for her to tell him her name. 

This was the most she had ever spoken to him and it had been about a month or so that she’d been eyeing him up. She knew he was in her English literature class as well, but psych was her major. Y/N wondered if maybe he too was a psych major, maybe that’s why they sort of had the same schedule? Regardless, she felt a bit nervous making conversation so she spent the time he was away coming up with what she was going to ask him and how she was going to keep the ball rolling. Hopefully she didn’t interrupt his studying, if anything she’d leave him alone.

“Y/N?” He tested it on his tongue out loud for the first time. It tasted good. “Yeah. M’Harry. I’ll be back.” He nodded, going towards the front. His heart going a mile a minute, he couldn’t believe how quickly his luck had changed. He ordered an extra cake pop today, for her. she had said it didn’t matter but to him, it did. Eventually he hoped he could buy her a replacement. Or... maybe she could wear his around. Wow. That would stroke his ego and his fragile heart to the core. He could already see her on his lavender fishermen’s sweater, in front of his fireplace back at home. She would be so cute. The voice calling her name snapped him out of the fantasy, Harry grabbing it and then his own shortly after before returning to the table. “Here. I got the last cake pop for you. Don’t tell anyone I’m the offender.”

“Ooo you’re a dead man if they find out.” Y/N said, looking around before gently taking it from him. “Thank you... that’s sweet.” She blushed, taking a bite of it before taking a sip of her chai latte. Now that she had stuff to fiddle around with she could take a breather and not have to worry about filling space. “But um.. did interrupt something? Don’t want to distract you...” Y/N nodded over to his laptop, secretly hoping that he wasn’t up to much so that she could chat to him. She just wanted to know the basics, literally anything would satisfy her craving. Harry was quite literally her wet dream, she’d been looking all around campus for someone like him to come around. “I uh... I think I’m also in your English lit class? I feel like I see you around often.” Y/N spoke, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “What’s your major?” She felt like this conversation was light, something that would eventually lead into other things like... if he was single and looking for a girlfriend.

“Oh, you’re not bugging me. I’ve kind of been staring at the screen and zoning out if m’honest.” Harry chuckled, embarrassed a little to admit it. But everyone could relate to that, right? “And yeah... actually I think so.” He smiled lightly before taking a sip of his drink. Victory! She had noticed him too. He wasn’t the lonely creep who stared at the first who had no idea who he was. She knew who he was, kind of. He gently drew his sweater over his hands like little paws before going to her question. “English. I want to write and stuff, edit maybe. My dad has a publishing company so, I’m lucky I like a bit of the family business.” He tried to joke, looking at her. God. It was unnerving how beautiful and also, how fucking comfortable she was to be around. What a contrast. “And you? What major?” He took a nibble of his scone, not wanting to make a mess.

English? He’s a writer? Goodness. She was going to lose it. 

“That’s cool, any specific genre you like to write?” Y/N asked curiously because well, it would actually tell her a lot about him and the kind of person he was. “I picture some mystery or possibly poetry, could go either way.” She said and squinted her eyes as she looked at him, pretending to size him up. “I can’t say I’m all that interesting, a psych major. Just like every other artsy person who doesn’t exactly want to commit to an art degree.” Y/N chuckled, “still deciding between criminal justice or counseling but... either way I’d be happy to get to pick someone’s brain. She did have the habit of analyzing people but only so she could understand them better. Y/N knew that all people wanted at the core was to be understood and loved for who they are, for the most part. Harry seemed reserved, calm and relaxed, secure in himself that’s for sure. It was extremely attractive.

“Oh? That’s really cool though.” Harry was genuinely interested in what she had to say either way. The major didn’t matter in his interest in her but it gave him information and something to talk about. If she was marketing or math he would be just as interested. “Criminal seems particularly interesting. Like that criminal minds show then? You’ll learn how they work and all of that?” He didn’t really know what it meant or why she had chosen it. “But close. I write romance novels.” He blushed fully. “Don’t judge me for it. But s’easy for me and I’m good at it, or so I’ve been told. I’ve been writing for a while.” He felt himself loosen up as they talked. Even if she intimidated him, she was really nice and sweet. “Poetry too, lots of it. But romance is my main thing, I’d like to do novels and that sort of stuff.” He could see she didn’t think it was lame, rather interesting. Which was a major relief. He wanted to impress her, so so badly.

“Sorta, yeah. Like... being able to predict a criminal's next move, psychologically.” Y/N explained and shrugged, “feel like it’s really fun and interesting but terrifying all at once. Dunno if I could actually interview a criminal without feeling like it was going to cry.” She let out a laugh, knowing she was quite soft. Her face lit up when he said he wrote romance novels. Wow. Well, as if he wasn’t a character right out of a romcom himself! She felt like that’s what this was. A romcom. Bumping into him at a coffee shop like a scene straight from one. “Really?! So you’re a proper romantic then? Buy the last cake pop for every girl, hmm?” She gave him a bashful smile. The very last thing she was doing was judge, she was more so thinking about their wedding. Yep. Already. Daydreaming because she swore she’d hit the jackpot. Wasn’t even sure if he liked her yet, but she was hopeful. After all, she’d turned on her charm.

“I guess I am.” Harry smirked to himself slightly at the good reception. Damn. He had been so worried and hesitant- he should have just talked to her. She wasn’t... that scary. Only a little bit. 

He let her talk a bit more about her degree and Harry went on to speak about his favorite authors, and then the conversation shifted towards their classes and how he had been struggling slightly in psych— which led to her offering to help. Harry was shocked because honestly he hadn’t expected it from her, but he was pleased. He was happy to have an excuse to hang out with her more. See more of her and be able to teach himself to relax properly around her. He felt like a damn wind up toy, giddy and excited. 

“That would be so helpful, if you could. And if you don’t mind.” He stressed. “I have a place off campus, if you’d want to go there? I’ll buy you some pizza or something for your help.” He was a giver and if it meant getting a $20 pizza for her because he wanted good quality, then he would!

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Y/N was practically jumping up and down with joy in her mind, this was a turn of events. She went from secretly crushing on him to being invited over his house in only a few hours. “I can never say no to pizza, but it’s really no problem. They say if you can teach it to someone else then you truly understand it so it’ll be a good test for me. Y/N also knew that they wouldn’t just study. Come on. It was a Friday night and study was practically code for hook up, especially considering he had invited her to his place and not the library. She had to prepare, had to make sure she looked cute and everything. She’d shower before hand too, the whole nine. “I can be there around 6?” Y/N suggested, checking her calendar app even though she already knew when she could come. She had to at least look like she wasn’t jumping at the idea.

“That’s cool. Uh— here, if you want I can put my number in your phone and whenever you want I can text you the address?” Oh, fuck. How, how the tables have turned. He had gone from wistfully staring at her every day to having a scheduled study session with her, the girl he’d been practically having wet dreams about. Having a full conversation and then her having his number! He was giddy and playing with the sleeves of his sweater as a result of the excited nerves. “Do you have any allergies? I do have a kitten at home.” He wanted to make sure he wouldn’t have to put Marie away. He loved his baby but he wanted to try something and see if she would be cool with him in a private setting. It would be less hard to talk about deeper things without people around. He took her phone from her and typed in his number, adding his name with a little  📚 after it. That wasn’t too much, right?

“Aw you do! I have one too, well... he thinks he’s a big boy.” Y/N shook her head at the thought of her sweet little Milo. Despite not doing anything she planned to do at the coffee shop, it still felt like a productive day in her eyes. Finally getting to chat with Harry felt like a breath of fresh air and he wasn’t all that scary now that she got to chatting with him. She took her phone back and smiled at the cute little emoji, sending him a text to let him know it was her before hesitantly getting up. “Alright well, I gotta get back to my kitten... but, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Y/N smiled, watching him stand up as well. The two of them walked out of the coffee shop and to their cars, Y/N being bold enough to give him a hug before opening her car door. “Night!” She was surprised with herself. Y/N was proud, completely over the moon and honestly she wasn’t sure how she was going to sleep tonight.

-----

Harry laid out on the bed that night with Marie on his chest. He had told her all about how the pretty Y/N had met him and that she would be coming over. The pretty cat was a long haired white kitty, and she purred along with Harry as he spoke. She liked hearing Harry be happy. It made him want to squeak when he heard his phone buzz and a little text from her popped up— he saved her as ‘Y/N 🌼’ because he felt like it fit. Part of him wanted to put a heart but he would be mortified if she saw and thought it was weird. She wore a yellow flower shirt one day so he figured that’s what he could excuse it as. 

‘Hey, happy to hear from you! :) I hope your kitty is doing well. I meant to ask, you aren’t vegetarian are you?’

Y/N smiled at his text and attached a photo of her gray kitten laying across the top of her head while she laid down. 

‘Yes, he’s quite cozy.’

‘I am actually! But I’m not too fussy.’ 

She couldn’t help it, she loved animals and she couldn’t bring herself to do it anymore. Occasionally, she would indulge in a chicken nugget or seafood, but for the most part she didn’t feel like she had to. 

‘I’m going to get some sleep though, Good night Harry 💓’

That wasn’t too much was it? It was just a heart! She sent them to everyone. Y/N stayed up for a good ten minutes just digesting the day. Tomorrow would be even better, she had a feeling.

——

Harry was... well, he wasn’t sure how to describe the emotion. When Niall inevitably quizzed him on why he was acting strange, the best he had come up with was a mix of nerves and giddiness, also terror and extreme happiness. He was going to hang out with the girl he had been silently crushing on— and they had been texting quite frequently in the short time they had each other’s numbers. Was this going to be a regular thing? Was it going to blossom into more? He knew that he had wasted time before, not talking to her. She wasn’t scary! No... she was so sweet and kind and beautiful and everything she said made him a literal heart eye emoji. She had taken to sending him random photos, even so quickly in and it felt comfortable. He had even sent her a shot of Marie on the counter this morning, on top of his school notes. It was odd. The excitement he felt when he heard the bing from his phone of the vibration in his pocket... it was incredible. He liked this feeling. Damn it. This was such a new thing. He wanted to do more. 

He saw her in class, watching as she crept in a bit after the last call should be with a sheepish smile on her face. He waved to her silently and watched her climb up, his heart beating quicker when she chose a seat closer to his than before. She wanted to sit near him? He clutched the rainbow patchwork sweater by the sleeves and fiddled with the cuffs, nerves and excitement swirling in his tummy.

If class wasn’t already on, Y/N knew she would have tried to spark up some conversation with Harry, but for now all she could manage was passing him a note. 

‘I like your cardigan :)’

It was really cute. Most of Harry’s wardrobe was and in her dream world she already stole a few to wear. English literature wasn’t exactly the most exciting class, but Harry seemed invested. Y/N enjoyed watching him focus and take notes while she mostly doodled some random flowers and bears in her notebook. Her mind was thinking about what she was going to wear to his house and how she definitely needed a shower before and that she had to put on the lotion that matched her perfume. Was she overthinking this? Maybe. Of course it was just a study date, but you could never be too sure where things could go. And if they did— she wanted to be ready.

He knew that he needed to contain himself but his smile made it hard. She liked his cardigan. The random compliment had him feeling mushy and happy and there was definitely a blush on his cheeks as he clicked his pen and wrote back to her. 

‘Thanks :) my nan knitted it for me. I like your little head band.’ 

He passed it back before opening his notebook back up. Her stare could be felt and he wanted to smirk a little at it because, well, who wouldn’t? She was so great, and he wanted to experience more of her but he was trying to not rush shit. He was a romance writer after all. All of it felt so in tune with his own wants and he had a hard time believing it was real. Sweet little Y/N wanted to hang out with him and she complimented his cardigan!

‘Awe!! That’s cute and thank youuuu 🥰’ 

She drew him a little smiley face with hearts around it, felt like it was very on brand for her and her emotive texting. Y/N felt all giddy because she had made a new friend but she was really hoping they wouldn’t just be friends. 

Y/N knew she was hard to read because she was generally nice to everyone and honestly, Harry seemed to be the same way. She could only assume he liked her because he asked her to hang out so quickly. And he’d bought her a cake pop and was planning on buying pizza tonight. Was it a date then? Gosh, she needed to stop reading into it. Her leg kept bouncing up and down, mind trying to refocus and thankfully, their professor was discussing something she too had noticed in her reading. She still managed to steal quick glances at Harry for the rest of the class, giving him shy little smiles. It wasn’t till class ended that she ended up speaking to him, but even that was quick. She needed to get home and get ready.

Harry had gotten a quick hi, and a ‘see you tonight!’ With her hand brushing his arm before she skipped off to.. wherever she went. And that had him nearly sprinting home. Cleaning top to bottom, vacuum, scrub, vacuum again. Changed his sheets— why, he wasn’t sure— put his laundry in the basket, filled up Marie’s food and water, fluffed the pillows, cleaned the windows and coffee table... he did it all. Even cleaned out the fridge! Like she would care? Harry didn’t know. All he did know was that he was finally showered and smelled nice, hair fixed and the pumpkin patch candle was lit! The tv was on low because he was nervous and needed some filler noise to keep himself from overthinking.

Y/N was doing the same, not cleaning her apartment but cleaning herself. She stripped out of her clothes when she got home and immediately got into the shower, taking one of those full maintenance ones for good measure. Once she was positive she was squeaky clean and smelled nice, she jumped out to take the next steps. God, she really wanted to impress him. He’d been her crush for a while and she needed this. She wanted to look like she didn’t put in my effort when she did so she decided to put on some light makeup and chose an outfit that was more laid back. Usually, she was seen wearing sweaters and jeans, nothing too fancy, so that’s exactly what she settled on. Y/N wanted to look warm and inviting. 

Milo mewed beneath her feet as she collected all her study supplies, rubbing against her ankles in need of attention. “I’m sorry bubs, I know I didn’t get to spend lots of time with you today but don’t be too mad.” Y/N pouted, picking him up and giving him a cuddle for a few minutes. She held him up to her chest as she finished up, deciding she needed to leave now.

‘Leaving now, be there in 20 ✨’

She sent, hopping into her car with nerves bubbling up in her stomach. God, she really hoped tonight went well.

——

When Harry heard the knock at the door he shot up, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants before forcing himself to be slow, walking to the door. And when he opened it, it really did feel like being hit in the gut. Seeing someone so beautiful, so up close? It got to him. He had to admit that. Y/N has this natural beauty that he drooled over. That felt like a hit. Every time he saw her he swore she got more beautiful. 

“Hi.” He spoke with a smile, opening the door up for her. “Come inside. Marie is wandering around so I have to close the door. A little escape artist, she is.” He joked, letting her scurry in and close the door behind her.

“Hey! Oop— okay!” Y/N giggled and stepped past him into his apartment. It was very cute and very tidy. Y/N felt a little flutter in her belly, it was freshly cleaned. She stepped out of her shoes before further examining the decor. The style was something she very much expected for Harry, it was cozy and artsy. Lots of earth tones and that sweet autumn smell coming from the candle made her feel that much more excited. “It’s so nice in here! I love the pillows.” Y/N complimented, liking how some were fluffy and some had funky patterns on them. It was then that she heard a meow from below, Marie sniffing at her sock covered toes. “Oh hi there... sorry if you can smell Milo on me, gave me lots of snuggles before I left.” Y/N cooed down to the kitten, dropping down so she was closer to the ground and extended her hand for her to sniff and get used to. 

Y/N realized this was very real now, especially because he had gone out of his way to make his place look nice. Most guys wouldn’t care, but maybe Harry did this for everyone. When she stood back up and turned to face him, she got a whiff of him and noticed his semi damp hair. He showered too. Oh—

Harry smiled at her and Marie, happy his kitten seemed to like her. Usually she would sniff his friends and run off but she began to weave over her legs and beg for pets. He was in awe. Christ. She had him by the balls already. 

“Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got diet soda... apple juice, lots of teas. And water.” He hummed, going into the kitchen with her behind him. It was an open concept though, the kitchen the first thing near the door and it opened into a large living area, the hall down going to the master bedroom. It was simple but perfect for him in college. He gave her a moment to think it over as he looked at her. So cozy and... cuddly. He wanted to slide his hands under her sweater and feel her warm skin and nuzzle into the crook of her neck, let her fingers play through his hair.

“Apple juice sounds good.” Y/N smiled, having picked up Marie at this point to carry her into the kitchen with them. She had a feeling she’d get along just great with Milo if they ever got to meet. “You’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” Y/N cooed at the kitten, seeing her comfortably settled against her. “Does your Daddy spoil you with snuggles too?” She asked toying with her little paw before looking up at Harry with a smile. He had fumbled a bit with the lid of the juice at her words which made her giggle, “How are you? How was your day today?” Y/N was genuinely curious, deciding to make some small talk before actually sitting down. In her head she could already imagine the two of them hanging out here constantly, tangled up in one another, kissing and laughing and doing all the cute things that Harry likely wrote about in his stories.

“I’m— im good.” Harry’s mouth was dry. He knew that she hadn’t meant anything by it, but he heard her say ‘daddy’ in reference to him, and his stupid cock had jumped, tummy felt hot. Damn it. He wished he wasn’t so deprived but... she had been at the forefront of his mind. “It was a good day. I was happy to talk to you. You’re fun to talk to.” He meant it too. She was so interesting and funny and he was completely whipped and okay with it. Damn. He wished he had maybe a bit more restraint with his imagination but he didn’t. Not at all. “I have a harder time meeting people... i can be a little shy sometimes. I’m in my own head a lot you know? I have my core group of friends but... it’s hard to get to know people. I want to know them.” Her. That translates to her.

“Yeah?” Y/N felt her heart jump. He was happy to speak with her even just a little bit? He wanted to talk to her and get to know her? It wasn’t just a one sided thing. They were both making an effort in their own way and she was thinking someone had to break the tension. “I’m happy you think so.” Y/N blushed, “I um... I also like talking to you.” She had her little friend group as well but she never thought she’d actually end up being friends with Harry. Listening to him explain how reserved he was definitely made her feel special though. He chose to open up to her, she was special enough for that and that made her cheeks grow warm once again. “I’ll tell you just about anything you want to know.” Y/N smiled, hesitantly placing Marie down before taking a few steps closer to him to get her glass of apple juice.

“Ooooh, a little daunting. Anything? Your social security number?” Harry was joking. Trying to clear the air and make her relax because she was a bit shy too and he wanted her to be comfortable here. This place should be a good spot for her. He motioned for her to come sit on the couch with him, Marie trailing after Y/N. Little traitor had a new favorite already but... he couldn’t say he could blame her. “I dunno... it’s hard sometimes, in this age to make genuine friendships. Feels like everyone’s already got their friend groups and you don’t want to infringe upon them yeah? And... I write a lot. I’m not a partier. Not to sound cliche but again.... I’m a writer.” He chuckled.

“I said just about!” Y/N chuckled, shaking her head to herself at his joke. She felt like she was an open book, she was pretty open with the things she liked and generally she aimed to spread positivity and love where she could. Her hobbies included lots of things, music, knitting, reading, gardening. That kind of stuff. “But yeah, I get that... I’ve been pretty content with my group of friends, though I think most people are open to making new ones. At least I am... I am a bit shy though.” Y/N took a sip of her apple juice before setting it down on the coffee table again. “Yeah, you said. Romance novels.” She smiled and leaned back into the couch, getting comfortable. “What sorts of romance novels?” What? Could you blame her for wanting to know what sort of content was in them? Maybe it could give her some insight on what he wanted.

“Oooooh. Hard hitting stuff.” Harry huffed out playfully. “I’m... it’s a variety, I think. I’ve done supernatural, classic tropes, historical romance was very fun. I am partial to enemies to lovers or forbidden romances though. They’re the most fun to write.” Y/N genuinely looked like she cared so he continued. “I’ve been trying out different stuff but....” he blushed again. “I’m... looking at erotica right now.” It wasn’t something he usually would blurt out but hey, she seemed trustworthy. Plus she didn’t seem like she would judge either. It was a new favorite of his. The rawness of it and writing sex scenes... it was amazing. Reading it, writing it, he thought he could do some on the side and sell it under a pen name. It would be a fun thing to try.

Erotica. This man sat down and wrote detailed sex scenes, likely kinky, for fun? Thankfully she didn’t have any juice in her mouth because it surely would have been spat out. 

“H-how are you finding it?” She asked, reaching for her apple juice because she felt like she couldn’t sit still now. How else was she supposed to go about things when all she could think about was sex. Sex with him specifically. Y/N wasn’t blind, she knew that Harry was very attractive and very much gifted with beautiful hands. She could only assume he would have a wonderful cock as well. She knew there was no way someone so quite couldn’t have the filthiest of minds, she knew hers was. Her fantasies were where she roamed free.  

“I mean... I do like it a lot, actually. I hope that doesn’t come across as creepy or pervy but I like to be able to write something like that. It’s freeing, in a sense.” Harry couldn’t really properly describe why but, he was a kinky dude. You’d never think it. He was soft and wore sweaters a lot and drank tea at home from a kitty mug but he was.... a kinky fucker. And he loved sex. There was just something about it. He wanted to try more and more of it but he had a tendency to get attached to his partners, even hook ups... so he had put that on a hault. 

“I’d like to read some...” Y/N felt like at some point, she’d want to read his writing. If he felt comfortable now she didn’t mind. It was just writing, wasn’t it? 

“You want to?” She looked at him with bright eyes and her a fast nod so Harry decided to say, fuck it. If they were going to work as friends... or lovers, which is what Harry really wanted... she would need to accept this side. He grabbed his laptop and boosted it on, letting himself grab the latest completed scene. “Here. You can read this, i'll order the pizza.” There were obvious nerves in his belly from letting her read filthy smut from his computer but Y/N... she was different. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but she was.

They were meant to be studying. 

That was long forgotten though as Y/N nodded and got comfortable on the couch with his laptop sat in her lap. It felt a bit taboo, but she figured she could separate the writer from the story. 

The scene was from a male character’s perspective, describing him having a long and hard day at work where all he could think about was his partner. Y/N felt her face get progressively warmer as the character spoke about his partner, she couldn’t help but imagine this was how Harry was when he was horny and needy. 

Y/N knew that if she was his, she would certainly brighten up his mood after a tough day at work. Seeing her own name in the document however proved that Harry thought the same. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head, her eyes lifting from the screen to look up at him as he ordered the pizza completely unaware of her discovery. 

This is what he imagined? This is what he wanted to do.... with her?

Harry ordered two cheese pizzas and some cinnamon dessert thing because there was a a special going on. He had thought about getting more but he didn’t want to go overboard with it, so he finished the order. Thank god for online ordering.

“Okay... it’ll be here in 25 minutes I think.” He hummed, looking up and freezing slightly. She looked blushy and her eyes wide as she read the post and he wondered why she looked a bit startled. “Hey... y’alright love?” He asked quietly. God damn it. Had he freaked her out too much? Was it just too much in general for the first time they properly hung out? He couldn’t remember exactly what scene he had pulled up. Just that it was recent, a billionaire type of thing.

Y/N casually moved the laptop on to the coffee table without answering his question. She didn’t think twice before she climbed on to his lap, hands settling on his shoulders. Sure, it was a risky move, but after what she’d read? She felt like she had to make her move. She wanted to be just as hot and sexy as he had imagined her to be. Harry’s shocked expression made her smile, hand going up to cup his cheek. 

“You left my name in the document...” Y/N’s voice spoke low and slow, thumb brushing over his now parted lips. Never did she think she could be so bold so soon, but fuck did it feel good. She felt so powerful, so sexy, and so so horny. “Thought about me riding your cock so much you wrote about it?” Y/N whispered, leaning in to kiss the skin just below his ear before nibbling at the skin. “Noticed me before we properly met... thought about me... is this what you wanted, baby?”

Harry blanked. 

Oh. fuck.

He hadn’t expected her to climb into his lap. Climbing on and straddling him, cupping his cheek, talking in that hot little voice that had his cock filling a bit. Holy fucking shit. 

“Oh—” He was cut off by her thumb over her lip. She was into it, into him. How had this happened? He had to be dreaming. But... no. Her heat was too real to be a dream. Her eyes too clear and dark, her smell too real. It was real. “Y-yeah...” He whispered, gasping when she kissed his skin, hand grabbing her waist. Oh, hell. Under his pants, his cock was quickly hardening. You couldn’t blame him, his dream woman, his crush, was straddling his lap and kissing his neck. Talking like this. 

“Thought about it ‘lots.” He muttered. She was so bold for this and that was something he found so sexy. When her teeth scraped his skin and bit down a bit harder, a dark groan left his mouth, hand on her waist tightening. “Holy shit... Y/N.”

“Hmm... feels good?” Y/N questioned, licking over the spot that she bit before moving to a new one. “Think I can make you cum in 25 minutes?” Y/N felt like she could take on the challenge, his cock was already hardening beneath her and she was a bit of foreplay away from being completely soaked. “Wanna try all of it, yeah?” Y/N muttered, nipping at the spot just where his jawline met his neck. “Riding your cock.... you bending me over, can choke me too. Please do...” She moaned at the thought, her hormones completely taking over. He still seemed to be frozen, despite his hand now on her waist so she moved her hips forward a little bit and tugged at his hair. “Wanna make you feel good.” 

Y/N had a kink for giving but it seemed Harry did as well. She expected a needy hook up, rough touches, quickness, pure lust. It’s exactly what she needed. It’s been a while since she’d hooked up with anyone and she was desperate for Harry to break her dry spell.

“Ah, shit.” Harry hissed. The tug at his hair sent a shock of hot arousal down his spine. That got him going so quickly. She wanted to fuck? Right now? He would be a fool to say no, and he wasn’t raised a fool. “Yeah? Y’want to ride my cock?” He asked lowly. “Fucks sake... I didn’t know you were so dirty.” He never would have guessed it from her either but... they were here. And he was snapped out of his shock by the tug, and now he was ready to do whatever the fuck she let him. “What did y’want the most, love? Tell me.” He had taken into account that she wanted to be choked, raising a hand to gently cuff her throat, bringing her close to his face. The confidence was soaring now, and all because she was leaking it. She wanted it, desperately. “I said, tell me.” He gave a quick squeeze to her throat. “Want to know what you need.”

“Need your cock, daddy.” Y/N moaned out, eyes blown and glazed over with desire. Y/N could feel the tension in her bones, cunt throbbing and aching to be touched. “Need you so bad, please— wanted you for so long, please make me cum, please!” She pleaded, fully giving into the fantasy. Y/N was never one to hold back and from what she had read, he certainly didn’t want her to. Her body felt like it was on fire, hands grabbing fist fulls of his sweater in hopes that he’d just take it off. Y/N wasn’t sure what type of body would be beneath it, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to feel his warm skin, lick and kiss all that she could while she worked her magic. Y/N waited for his directions, falling into the submissive role easily despite her initial approach. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’re gonna have to re-write that scene.”

Harry was going to give this girl any fucking thing she wanted. He let her guide his sweater off, the cool air hitting his skin not even getting a chance because her hands and mouth were all over him. It was like she had fallen into a heat, and Harry.... he loved it. He placed his hands under her sweater, feeling her hands smooth over his chest as she kissed at his neck and over his jaw. Her skin was hot under the sweater, his hands gripping her waist and smoothing over her hips, going up and sip to her ribs where he realized— fuck. 

“Not wearing a fucking bra?” He hissed. “Jesus... you’re a little minx, aren’t you? Off with this.” He spoke lowly, grabbing the ends of it but barely had a shot before Y/N ripped it off of her body. Fucks sake. She was sexier than he had ever imagined. “My god... you’re so sexy, baby.” He whispered, sitting up and burying his face between her breasts. Kissing the hot skin between them, working his way up with the wet, open mouthed kisses to her throat.

“Oh Daddy...” Y/N’s body shuddered at the feeling of his mouth on her, head falling back as she let out a happy sigh. He seemed to like her hand in his hair so she happily gripped at his locks as he scattered kisses over her skin. “Come ‘ere...” She whined, guiding him up to her lips. “Wanna taste your mouth.” Making eye contact with him in this moment felt intimate. All those quick glances in classes and at the coffee shop, all the day dreaming, it all built up to this moment where she fully felt she could let herself let go. The both of them wanted this, it was so reassuring, this was a safe space and they could do whatever they wanted. Y/N’s body rolled forward, pushing him further back onto the couch and angling her hips so she could tease the both of them before she let herself have it. Fuck was he hard... and full. Another moan left her lips, sounding more like a plea and cry for more.

“Fuck me... you’re needy. I love it.” Harry hissed, pulling her mouth to his. It wasn’t soft. No, this kiss... it was hot. Heavy. Her mouth opened and immediately he dragged his tongue inside, meeting hers. She tasted like the apple juice and a bit of mint, and he could groan just from how good it was. Sweet little Y/N wasn’t too innocent at all. “Fuck— keep teasing me like that. S’like you want to end up crying.” He had a feeling now that she did. She wanted his cock inside of her pussy, thrusting in and out and letting herself soak him. Yeah... he wanted it too. “Keep calling me daddy. You’re so dirty. Who would have fucking... known.” He spoke between the kisses, hands going for her jeans. He wanted them off, like hours ago. He was finally going to get her. “M’gonna lay you out in my bed after... first m’gonna fuck you, but M’gonna clean out your cunt with my tongue. And then M’gonna take you again. Yeah?” She has come for studying but was staying for hot sex and he hoped to turn it into a nice marathon. He had all weekend and he was hoping she wouldn’t have to go. He had too many idea for her. “Gonna let daddy lick it up?”

“Fuck— yes, gonna let daddy have his way with me...” She kept her hips rolling against his slowly, keeping the rhythm in check with the passionate kiss they were sharing. Y/N already knew this was going to be the best sex of her life, the kiss alone let her know that. His tongue would work wonders on her cunt and she’d be more than happy to return the favor. Hesitantly, Y/N began to stand to get her jeans off, one of her hands staying put on the back of his neck so the kiss didn’t break. She let him fiddle with the zipper, feeling his fingers hook both her jeans and underwear before yanking them down to which Y/N let out a little squeal. 

Y/N knew she had to pull away from the kiss for air but she didn’t want to, waiting till the very last minute until she couldn’t anymore and went to get his jeans off.

“Come on. Be good.” He murmured against her lips, brushing his hips up so she could get his pants off. She tugged and easily they came down, Harry kicking them off as he pulled her back in his lap. His hands gripped her bare ass and groaned when she pushed into them, not thinking twice before pulling his hand back and smacking it the sound rang in the room and she let out the most sexy noise against his mouth, making him hiss. Fuck. He wanted her so fucking badly. This girl... she was everything. One hand went to feel and fuck. Fuck shit, motherfuck, it was wet. She was so, wet. “Jesus— you’re so wet. Baby— holy shit, you’re soaked.” He whispered. “S’cause of me? You wanted daddy’s cock this bad?” He pulled his fingers off slightly, the arousal still stringing to his fingers. He placed them at her mouth and pushed them in. “That’s it. Clean them up, sweet girl. You’re so filthy, y’know that? Precious little thing. So slick and hot, want cock so fucking bad don’t you?” He cooed, feeling her suck on the digits. “Now.... rub it against your pussy. Don’t put it in yet. get it wet.”

Y/N sucked at his fingers as if it were her job, making sure to treat it like she would his cock which included eye contact. She loved looking at him, seeing his hungry expression and his eyes that seemed to say so much more than he did. Even the feeling of her cunt sliding over his cock sent tingles up her spine. It had never affected her this much with other guys, but she assumed it was different with Harry because she had wanted him for so long. Y/N let out a whimper, feeling a gush of wetness accumulate when he pushed his fingers in farther. Harry was hot in ways she couldn’t explain, there were little things he did that just hit the spot and made her want to fuck him even harder. Y/N was practically bouncing on his cock, aching for him to let her have it inside.

“You’re such a good girl. Listening so fucking well.” Harry took his fingers from her mouth, smirking at the whine and slight chasing of his fingers when he placed it on her breast. She gave it all to him and honestly, he was ready to just... lose it. “Go ahead. Take what you want.” It was not even a moment later that he felt her begin to sink down. She was tight— so damn tight, and he choked slightly at just how good the squeeze was. He let out a hiss, head thrown back in the couch as the slick, hit cunt sucked over him, squeezing hard as she stretched open slowly. “Holy fuck.” He growled, gripping both hips now and looking at her with a darkness in his eyes. “You’re so bloody tight— Christ, you’re squeezin’ me so good.” He whispered.

“Daddy!” She whimpered as she slid farther down on his cock until she couldn’t fit anymore of him in. “I’m so full— feels so good.” Her eyes rolled back a bit as she began to bounce at a slowed rhythm. Small moans and little huffs came from her throat with every stroke of her hips, it wasn’t until she felt warmed up that she actually went for it. Y/N shifted so that she had better balance, keeping her hands on his shoulders before dropping back down on his cock. “Fuck!” She squeaked, making sure to clench one her way back up before repeating the action at a quicker pace. It felt incredible. He was touching every little part of her, feeling small waves of pleasure spread throughout her body. “Daddy! Fuck— feels so good ahhh!” Her moans were pornographic, whiny, desperate and needy. She didn’t even know she could sound like that, but apparently it was possible when she was as thirsty for cock as she was.

Never would he have guessed that this would be the outcome of their hang out. He had hoped, sure. Dreamed? Absolutely. But the reality was so much better. He had the hot, wet and extremely tight pussy gliding up and down his cock. She was moaning, tits bouncing in his face, and she was vocal. More than he could have asked for. The infatuation he had with her was only growing. 

“Fuck, you’re a good girl. Such a perfect little cunt. Like bouncing on my cock, hm? Knew you’d be the perfect girl for me. Keep going.” His hand squeezed her ass, encouraging her to work herself on him. “Feels so full, yeah? Such a big cock filling such a little pussy. A nice stretch for you hm? So eager to be filled up...” her face was of pure bliss and Harry couldn’t help but take a mental photo. He hoped this could happen more than this once. “Knew you’d be good for me. Throwin’ yourself in my lap and begging to be fucked. Never guessed you’d be such a little slut, but I love it.” He took his hand, bringing it down sharply on her ass.

“Fuck!” Y/N gasped, her own hand moving to cuff his neck. It wasn’t as effective as him doing it to her, but it got the point across. The both of them grabbing at each other roughly, him thrusting up into her each time she slammed down. It could only be described as pure ecstasy, surely the hottest sex she had ever had. She needed him, she needed him to cum. Y/N couldn’t stop herself from leaning down to kiss his mouth again, making a mess of the two of them. “You’re so fucking good— love your cock, daddy... fucking love it!” She moaned between kisses, increasing her pace just enough so she could fuck him hard and steady. “I want you to cum for me daddy, wanna feel it nice and deep.” Thank fuck for IUDs. “Want you to fill me up while I cum all over your cock, can you do that for me? Can you cum with me?”

He was panting, lowering himself so he could properly thrust into her sopping cunt. He hadn’t gotten any in so long but this blew any and everyone out of the water. No one could ever understand how good this was. All the pining and imagining had come to an even better conclusion. 

“I’ll do it... but you... gotta promise me.” He growled, giving a particularly sharp thrust inside of her, making her wail. “Promise me I can do it again. Let me have this pussy more.” He didn’t want it to end if it was the only time he could get it. It was too good to let go of. Drooling all over his cock and her soft whimpers and dirty words had him more worked up than anything else. “Promise, baby, and I’ll let you have my cum.”

“Promise— I promise— fuck!” She felt her breath get caught in her throat at the particularly hard thrusts Harry was giving her. “Please Daddy, please give it to me.” Y/N whimpered, moving her hands so they cupped his cheeks, keeping eye contact with him as they continued to relentlessly thrust into each other. There was nothing more satisfying, nothing that managed to hit every part of her both physically and spiritually and made her feel so alive. When you’ve wanted something for so long it makes getting it that much better and she knew that she’d always be chasing this high that only he could give her. “I’m so close, fuck, daddy—“ She mumbled between kisses, squeezing around him and continuing at her pace to bring herself to the perfect high. “Cum with me daddy, please— ah!”

Harry would work on his stamina next round. But after the whole thing, he was close to losing his mind. She was giving him the most tempting offer and he wasn’t going to give it up. 

“Oh— fuck me.” He thrusted in again and again before he let himself go. Feeling her clench up around him and sob against his mouth, he let out a deep growl as he buried himself deep. Hot cum shooting inside of her cunt, rocking his hips in to get it all in there. There was no doubt that this was some of the most intense sex of his life but he was almost ready to go again, as soon as it ended. Holding her shivering form, her orgasm was tapering, he could feel her clenching still. “That’s it. Take all of it inside of you. Good girl.”

Y/N gripped Harry’s shoulders, loud screams of pleasure coming straight from her throat. There were no words to describe the high, she almost felt out of her own body as he showered her with praise. With her body shaking and face contorting with a silent scream, she found it in her to come back down letting out a pathetic whimper.

“Daddy—” She swallowed thickly, mouth finding his messily, pressing kisses to his lips and his face. The two of them were both lightly covered in sweat, breathing heavily and enjoying each other’s company. Y/N was far too blissed out to think about what just happened, but blissed out enough to know there would be many more rounds of this tonight. Y/N smiled as she nuzzled against his neck, still sponging kissing to his dampened skin. “Better?” She mumbled, smirking against his skin a bit.

“Mm.” He hummed, hands holding her hips still. Holy hell. This was the beginning of an amazing weekend- because he didn’t plan on letting her out at all, if he could help it’ he wanted her to stay, to let him indulge in her. “So fucking good.” He muttered lowly, rubbing his hand up her back and smoothing over her skin. Fucks sake. This was paradise. Nothing could pop him out of this. 

At least, that was until the doorbell rang. 

“Ah, fuck. The pizza.”

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