#of course i'd begin with this ending

[july-19th-club]

love season 2. i'm concussions! and i'm psychic visions! the headache brothers

[jakeperalta]

I think a lot of hunger games takes that revolve around "the movies are exactly what the books were warning us against" or "people picking a side of the love triangle are ignoring the point of the books" just vastly underestimate the message. like the point goes so far beyond "oh the capitol people are bad for watching the games for entertainment"

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

"Do you not realize it? Do you... truly not see what this means?"

The next Destiny Bond update is in progress! ❄️✨ –> Check out the latest part here 🔷 –> New to the series? Follow from the start! 💜

[pheonix-inside]

Girl help I'm getting ambitious ideas for my book series that'll make book one probably take like twice as long to be ready to publish :(

[harrowscore]

Your point about the only thing Rey people being interested in was her relationship with Kylo and how that paralleled the Luke/Vader relationship is interesting. It would have added a lot of depth to the story if they'd been twins. Rey goes for the kiss. "No Rey, I'm your brother." lol. Awkward. Insanely awkward.

Hey, sorry but since I ship them and SW has already had enough soap opera-like "i'm your secret twin" last-minute revelations for my tastes I prefer them to be a romantic enemies to lovers pair - something that in SW (at least the movies; the EU was a bit different with Luke/Mara Jade and Revan/Bastila etc.) has never been seen before, so it adds an element of originality in what is basically Poor Man's OT. Same themes as Luke+Vader (love and compassion as a redemptive force) but not make it a family thing, please. That would have been uselessly redudant imo. What I meant with the Luke+Vader parallel is they're a similar brand of "the protagonist shares their most important relationship with an antagonist who turns to the Light thanks to their influence; said dynamic also challenges the main character's naive and black/white beliefs on evil&good, it challenges them to see the world under a different light". Rey didn't need to be a literal Skywalker, Kylo/Ben could have been enough for that as "one half of the protagonist/one side of the coin" - also because he has had to live with that legacy/lovable dysfunctional family for all his life while Rey struggled in a desert and Luke was "a myth" to her. She doesn't even know them; Vader&co. mean nothing to her (that's one of the many reasons the Rey Palpatine revelation feels so hollow - are we even sure she knew what a Palpatine was? lmao). The Vader Is Luke's Father plot works so well because he's the antagonist Luke has been fighting since Film 1, and Luke has been idolizing his dead dad since forever. This forces the kid to grow up - his world shatters, so he has to find a new sort of belief code. Similar to what her relationship with Kylo does (or should do) to Rey, but in a romantic key. Maybe a romance that redeemed the original star-crossed space lovers (Anidala) - this is all about Vader's legacy after all. In fact, it's all about that and how Leia couldn't (understandably) cope with it, and her son getting targeted by Snoke. Anakin's ghost should have definitely made an appearance in TROS and had an overdue talk with his grandson and his daughter but alas, "Palpatine somehow returned" but Anakin can't be bothered about his family I guess lol (that's deeply OOC of him - I'm saying this as a fan of the character).

But I agree with your point about Rey never failing/fucking things up/needing others' help. That's one of the reasons the audience feels like she's never really matured and changed. She needed to face her own demons, not someone else (specifically a man)'s. The angst about her parents abandoning her and treating her like shit should have sufficed: if she's shown her parents were Good People All Along and they were really coming back for her - well, that only reinforces her childish beliefs and never really puts her in the position to challenge them. Same as if Luke's dad had been a good guy, like he dreamed, and not literally Satan's right hand man. That's How To Write Protagonists 101 but I don't think Disneylucas ever cared about creating a somehow coherent story.

[thepandalion]

I need you guys to remind me when it's morning that I want to make a post for pinned post that actually. Does stuff. Like explain my sideblogs and ongoing projects.

Also entirely relevant in the meantime any house md fans plz send me ideas for things to write for the werewolf wilson au (currently named the www.au in my brain for ease of access) because I got a great name for a fic and I want to make it a oneshot collection because I don't have those as a skill yet and what better way to polish a skill than with a fandom I'm dubiously and cautiously entering at 45 minutes after my bedtime on a weekend

[rayveneyed]

nanami kento is the kind of man that makes people swoon without even realising it.

he's the kind of man to walk into a luxury store after work, suit jacket folded over one arm and a bouquet of flowers in the other -- his blonde hair still mostly perfect from the high-end pomade he uses. he scours the shelves, frowning to himself, while the attendants whisper and giggle amongst themselves near the tills -- an argument over who will be the one to talk to him, because he's intimidatingly pretty.

("just look at him," one whispers. "he's definitely buying something for a girlfriend."

"a wife," another disagrees. "c'mon. he's giving husband vibes."

someone hums. "but i can't see a wedding band."

"his mother, maybe?" says one other. "oh, i love when guys come in shopping for their mother."

"nobody's mother is getting a bouquet of a hundred red roses--")

eventually, one of them is volunteered as a sacrifice -- smiling and sweet as all attendants should be, she clears her throat. the others, crowded around the till, watch the exchange closely. "excuse me, sir. is there anything we could help you with today?"

her mouth is dry and her hands are clammy -- and when he fixes her with those narrow, burning eyes, her throat bobs.

"ah, yes." and his voice is deep and gravelly and drawling, and her stomach turns. she can only imagine what her coworkers are thinking -- hell, she can only imagine what she's thinking. her mind has stopped short. "my girlfriend likes this brand quite a bit. i thought i'd pick her up something..."

disappointment brews in her stomach -- and it's stupid, she knows it's stupid, because obviously a guy like that is taken. and -- she glances down at the roses -- obviously he treats her super fucking well. of course he does, because why wouldn't he? "oh, perfect! do you have anything in mind?"

"well, actually..."

he ends up buying one of the priciest gift boxes available -- fancy body care and perfume laid out in their signature boxes, decorated with ribbon and dried lavender -- no argument, no fight. he doesn't look for something cheaper, doesn't try to haggle or remove something to decrease the price. he adds, and adds, and adds -- and when she mentions a special offer at the till, a little add on for an extra 2000 yen, he accepts it readily. he inserts a black card into the card machine (of course, a black card), takes the beautifully wrapped bag, and thanks the girls for their services -- and just as he's leaving, his phone rings.

of course he answers the phone with hello, darling. of course he begins to ask his girlfriend about her day, the girls think with some amount of annoyance -- of course. maybe the curse of retail isn't entitled assholes expecting you to wait on hand and foot for them -- maybe it's the handsome men coming in to splurge on their girlfriends while you're painfully single and working for pennies.

[comradecowplant]

going absolutely insane looking at indeed for a side job where half the openings are for positions like "trash valet" (bringing trash from someone's house/apartment to the actual collection area) or "pet waste removal" (self-explanatory)... idk if this take is "spicy" but unless you are physically disabled, take your own fucking trash out!!!! pick up after your own fucking dog!!!!!

[joycrispy]

Awhile ago @ouidamforeman made this post:

This shot through my brain like a chain of firecrackers, so, without derailing the original post, I have some THOUGHTS to add about why this concept is not only hilarious (because it is), but also...

It. It kind of fucks. Severely.

And in a delightfully Pratchett-y way, I'd dare to suggest.

I'll explain:

As inferred above, both Crowley AND Aziraphale have canonical Biblical counterparts. Not by name, no, but by function.

Crowley, of course, is the serpent of Eden.

(note on the serpent of Eden: In Genesis 3:1-15, at least, the serpent is not identified as anything other than a serpent, albeit one that can talk. Later, it will be variously interpreted as a traitorous agent of Hell, as a demon, as a guise of Satan himself, etc. In Good Omens --as a slinky ginger who walks funny)

Lesser known, at least so far as I can tell, is the flaming sword. It, too, appears in Genesis 3, in the very last line:

"So he drove out the man; and placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life." --Genesis 3:24, KJV

Thanks to translation ambiguity, there is some debate concerning the nature of the flaming sword --is it a divine weapon given unto one of the Cherubim (if so, why only one)? Or is it an independent entity, which takes the form of a sword (as other angelic beings take the form of wheels and such)? For our purposes, I don't think the distinction matters. The guard at the gate of Eden, whether an angel wielding the sword or an angel who IS the sword, is Aziraphale.

(note on the flaming sword: in some traditions --Eastern Orthodox, for example-- it is held that upon Christ's death and resurrection, the flaming sword gave up it's post and vanished from Eden for good. By these sensibilities, the removal of the sword signifies the redemption and salvation of man.

...Put a pin in that. We're coming back to it.)

So, we have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword, introduced at the beginning and the end (ha) of the very same chapter of Genesis.

But here's the important bit, the bit that's not immediately obvious, the bit that nonetheless encapsulates one of the central themes, if not THE central theme, of Good Omens:

The Sword was never intended to guard Eden while Adam and Eve were still in it.

Do you understand?

The Sword's function was never to protect them. It doesn't even appear until after they've already fallen. No... it was to usher Adam and Eve from the garden, and then keep them out. It was a threat. It was a punishment.

The flaming sword was given to be used against them.

So. Again. We have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword: the inception and the consequence of original sin, personified. They are the one-two punch that launches mankind from paradise, after Hell lures it to destruction and Heaven condemns it for being destroyed. Which is to say that despite being, supposedly, hereditary enemies on two different sides of a celestial cold war, they are actually unified by one purpose, one pivotal role to play in the Divine Plan: completely fucking humanity over.

That's how it's supposed to go. It is written.

...But, in Good Omens, they're not just the Serpent and the Sword.

They're Crowley and Aziraphale.

(author begins to go insane from emotion under the cut)

In Good Omens, humanity is handed it's salvation (pin!) scarcely half an hour after losing it. Instead of looming over God's empty garden, the sword protects a very sad, very scared and very pregnant girl. And no, not because a blameless martyr suffered and died for the privilege, either.

It was just that she'd had such a bad day. And there were vicious animals out there. And Aziraphale worried she would be cold.

...I need to impress upon you how much this is NOT just a matter of being careless with company property. With this one act of kindness, Aziraphale is undermining the whole entire POINT of the expulsion from Eden. God Herself confronts him about it, and he lies. To God.

And the Serpent--

(Crowley, that is, who wonders what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway; who thinks that maybe he did a GOOD thing when he tempted Eve with the apple; who objects that God is over-reacting to a first offense; who knows what it is to fall but not what it is to be comforted after the fact...)

--just goes ahead and falls in love with him about it.

As for Crowley --I barely need to explain him, right? People have been making the 'didn't the serpent actually do us a solid?' argument for centuries. But if I'm going to quote one of them, it may as well be the one Neil Gaiman wrote ficlet about:

"If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization." --Robert G. Ingersoll

The first to ask questions.

Even beyond flattering literary interpretation, we know that Crowley is, so often, discreetly running damage control on the machinations of Heaven and Hell. When he can get away with it. Occasionally, when he can't (1827).

And Aziraphale loves him for it, too. Loves him back.

And so this romance plays out over millennia, where they fall in love with each other but also the world, because of each other and because of the world. But it begins in Eden. Where, instead of acting as the first Earthly example of Divine/Diabolical collusion and callousness--

(other examples --the flood; the bet with Satan; the back channels; the exchange of Holy Water and Hellfire; and on and on...)

--they refuse. Without even necessarily knowing they're doing it, they just refuse. Refuse to trivialize human life, and refuse to hate each other.

To write a story about the Serpent and the Sword falling in love is to write a story about transgression.

Not just in the sense that they are a demon and an angel, and it's ~forbidden. That's part of it, yeah, but the greater part of it is that they are THIS demon and angel, in particular. From The Real Bible's Book of Genesis, in the chapter where man falls.

It's the sort of thing you write and laugh. And then you look at it. And you think. And then you frown, and you sit up a little straighter. And you think.

And then you keep writing.

And what emerges hits you like a goddamn truck.

(...A lot of Pratchett reads that way. I believe Gaiman when he says Pratchett would have been happy with the romance, by the way. I really really do).

It's a story about transgression, about love as transgression. They break the rules by loving each other, by loving creation, and by rejecting the hatred and hypocrisy that would have triangulated them as a unified blow against humanity, before humanity had even really got started. And yeah, hell, it's a queer romance too, just to really drive the point home (oh, that!!! THAT!!!)

...I could spend a long time wildly gesturing at this and never be satisfied. Instead of watching me do that (I'll spare you), please look at this gif:

I love this shot so much.

Look at Eve and Crowley moving, at the same time in the same direction, towards their respective wielders of the flaming sword. Adam reaches out and takes her hand; Aziraphale reaches out and covers him with a wing.

You know what a shot like that establishes? Likeness. Commonality. Kinship.

"Our side" was never just Crowley and Aziraphale. Crowley says as much at the end of season 1 ("--all of us against all of them."). From the beginning, "our side" was Crowley, Aziraphale, and every single human being. Lately that's around 8 billion, but once upon a time it was just two other people. Another couple. The primeval mother and father.

But Adam and Eve die, eventually. Humanity grows without them. It's Crowley and Aziraphale who remain, and who protect it. Who...oversee it's upbringing.

Godfathers. Sort of.

[dawnwriterimagines]

Traitors among us

Simon 'GHOST' Riley x Fem!Reader Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

PART 2

Part Three: The Guilty Plea

Part Four: The Verdict Due

Summary: You're a rat, a traitor. At least that's what Task Force 141 believes due to the evidence and claims scattered against you. It doesn't matter what you say, everyone's against you, ready to end you for it...until the truth comes out.

Warning(s): Torture, Heavy Angst, etc.

If you liked this would you Buy my a Coffee?

---

Drip.

Drip..

Drip...

Your shoulders seize up involuntarily as freezing droplets continue to hit your skin, eyes squeezed shut to try to ignore the sound that had been going on for who knows how long.

Another drop of water hits your spine from the faucet placed above you, it's cold as it runs down your bare skin. It feels like ice. Hitting the same spot over and over and over...

Drip...

Not even able to take a deep breath, you release a strained cry, it can hardly leave you, not that you hadn't cried enough already. You could feel the dried blood, tears and snot still on your face and a testament to your torment. You haven't been able to get the metallic taste of your blood of of your mouth since you got in here.

You breathe slowly, trying to relieve the pain in your chest. Body positioned downwards, chest pressed down to your knees, a leather buckle holds you down and over a metal stool. Wrists torn open by old shackles and stretched upwards to connect to the steel pipe in the middle of the room.

The stress position had been Johnny's idea, putting you in it to begin with. The bastard...

Kyle had been in and out to collaborate with Price on the interrogation, he didn't have the heart to do you any harm like his Captain. But, that didn't stop him from stomaching your screams as he turned the handle up, piercing cold crashing down atop you, it beats down on your back, by the time it's done your shaking, and your skin a bruising purple hue. It goes on like that for hours, even as you beg. He reads you the files again.

Price would then take the baton from the corner of the room, the side of your face already swollen from the last strike, you were seeing red out of your left eye and soon you wouldn't be able to see out of it if the swelling continued.

"Please..." you shivered, miserably.

"Over in a jiff, love, but i need somethin' from you, you know that." Was his reply, he tapped the baton against the metal below you, the reverb makes you jump each time, leaving you to stare at it as you watched his boots walk around you.

"Cap'n, It's not...It's not--me..." you tried, breathless. "I'd never.."

The steel baton came down on your shoulder, first. There was an immediate response from your constricted muscles, limbs that had all tensed up at once despite their numbness. Pulling at the shackles that kept you in place, the hit shocks you, nearly silencing you completely, it hurts, then it burns. Mouth open in a silent scream, you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to block out the pain that crawled through your shoulder. "It's not me!"

You've been suffering from hypothermia for a few days since then. Your shoulder crushed right out of place or just plain broken, you weren't sure. It's not like you could feel much of your arms in this position.

It hurt. Not just the painful strain that this position was currently putting on your muscles, but everything else...

Of course, you've handled torture alike this before. Captured and tortured by enemies, ransomed for pay and fought tooth and nail to live, then found your way from that hell...only for the men who you'd kill for, to do the same thing to you with no remorse.

In the quiet of the empty room, you sobbed in agony. Squeezing your fists, but you couldn't even feel them, as far as you knew your fingers could only twitch in response to your demand.

You weren't sure what you were doing here.

Well, you knew. There was a mole, all evidence pointing to you, whatever it was had completely stunted their mission earlier in the week, left them hiding in a safe house for days until they were picked up by evac. Apparently, you'd leaked mission details to some hostiles over seas, you weren't sure which ones, they were hoping you could tell them. You had absolutely nothing, lost.

Of course, they didn't believe you. Although you expected to have at least a sliver of trust, someone to speak up against these claims and believe you...

It must've been too much to ask.

It came out of nowhere, at first you had been in bed with Simon, your fucking Fiancé, then that meeting with Price, then just...they'd cornered you in that room. Knocked you out without even an explanation, woke you up strapped down, confused, stripped of your uniform and feral as you demanded answers. Nobody listened to you.

That first night you thought you were gonna die. The second night you thought you had. The third night you were just convinced this was your hell.

You were soaked to the bone, and unable to stop shivering. The only sound you could hear was your own chattering teeth in this never-ending void of darkness.

It was so fucking dark in here, your eyes darting around to every corner, hoping for even a measly crack of light that your eyes could adjust to. Every sound, scratch, scrape or click made you jump, you couldn't see shit in here, so just about everything made you hyper aware. You couldn't help your anxiety as the sound of the faucet, the constant drops against your spine, the jingle of your shackles and the whimpers that echoed against the walls as you struggled to comfortably breathe. Maybe it was the thought of a mouse crawling up the stool and along your skin, or someone in here just staring at you in the corner, or the door finally opening for Price to start slicing into you demanding answers you didn't have.

You were on the cusp of losing your mind. If you hadn't already.

But it's been a few hours since then...

Maybe even a few days...

It could even have been a week.

You weren't too sure.

Simon had been the last one in here. He'd pulled the strap loose around your neck, hauling you up to an upright position by your jaw, eliciting a whimper from your lips. Able to breathe a bit easier, your lungs finally decompressing and you gulp down air greedily, "Simon..." this had been the first time you'd seen him since. He wears his balaclava, he is Ghost, not your Simon Riley.

As your bloodshot, swollen eyes raise to look into his cold ones, so unfeeling. You hadn't even realized you were so hopeful for his trust in you until then, looking at you like you were absolutely nothing to him, the same look he always had before pulling the trigger. "Simon, please, stop this..." your words slurred by your shivering, exhausted. "You know me...please."

Your tears slide over the leather of his gloved hands, while he holds tight to your face and cuts your pleads short with a painful squeeze. "Shut up," he says. His eyes are blank, but his voice is low and seething. "Shut the fuck up!" Simon harshly grits out to you, jostling you harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut, weeping miserably, throat closing up to your agony.

He had to know that you would've never done this to him. He should've known that. Given you the benefit of the doubt at least. You'd have never done this to him...

"I'm sorr-" you try, he squeezes harder to silence you swiftly, and snatches a tiny bowl off the tray he'd brought in. Raising your jaw a bit higher, he pours down a chunky broth into your mouth, letting it all just fall down to your throat. It's disgusting. He doesn't ease up for even a second as you toss and turn your head to breathe.

"Don't say a fucking word," he seethes, his hand enveloping your neck and keeping your head raised upward. "As if I should believe you..."

He then takes the next cup to do the same, your eyes bloodshot wide and you jerk away from him as you choke, unable to stomach anything, but he doesn't let you. This time you inhale accidentally, blocking your airway, eyes watering as you writhe for oxygen, your shackles clang violently as you attempt to retaliate, the first fight you've put up in days. His grip doesn't let up, even as you struggle and start to vomit up whatever he decided to shove down your throat.

When he finally lets go, you curve over and heave up whatever's left in your mouth, hyperventilating as you empty your guts on the floor. Hacking up whatever you can, it hurts, your throat burning from the sobs that leave you in between coughs. "If you love me, if you--ever had--" you spat at him. You'd given him everything, every part of yourself, nearly given him your life in the battlefield, and yet...it wasn't enough. "You would fucking believe me!" your voice cracks with the effort it takes to scream at him, to curse him to hell.

"My trust? That's what you want," Hollow eyes stare back at you, his attention flickering around to the uncomfortable shift of your shoulders in those cuffs. Your swollen left eye that had been hit so hard, the white of it had filled with blood. The black and blue littering your sides and your spine, the loss of color in your skin from the stress position and the cold that had you uncontrollably shivering. "You've had it before. You must've sold that to them too."

Your head drops to the stool again, releasing a heavy breath. "It wasn't worth much, if it was so easy to lose..."

Usually it's not very easy to set Simon off, you've known him always to be quite mellow, besides the barely concealed rage he had settled in his chest since you've known him. But, today, you were an exception.

Fisting a hand in your hair, Simon yanks at it, pulling you upwards for your to face him. His other hand coming up to wrap around your throat before your tortured scream can even manifest. In that moment, it feels as if he'd snapped your spine in half, having not used the muscles to stretch that area in over a week. Your shackled wrists shifting in the cruel position.

His eyes are wild and rageful, the balaclava that covers him twists just the same, his grip very telling to his violence as he squeezes down any chance at air or even a sentence. "Easy to lose..." he repeats, spitting in your face as he strangles you. "Easy t'lose your life! If you don't tell me the fucking truth," he pulls out the knife you'd seen him slit so many throats with before, you hear the familiar sound of it first then its cold steel pressing into the side of your ribs. "I'm gonna carve out your heart, and I'll take it real slow, let you feel every little thing I do to you in here," he shakes you harshly as a startled cry escapes you, your tears are burning hot against your cheeks. "You don't get to cry. Or whine. Or beg!"

"Stop--" you try to squirm away from him, to get as far away as possible, from this place, from this moment.

"Just tell me the truth," Simon's face twisted in agony, for just a second, his thumb drags along your jaw, meaningfully. "You'd be doing us both a favor..."

As his vast hand finally loosed around your neck just enough to hold you up, awaiting the bitter truth. Simon's knife catches on the protrusion of your ribs, nicking the skin, drawing blood on purpose. You stare up at the ceiling, the flickering old lights, the dripping faucet that's tormented your already fragile state for weeks now. "The truth..." you spoke, hoarsely. "You've all shown me...it doesn't matter to you. If it ever... Believe what you want--" you close your eyes, you're exhausted. Sleep had evaded you for days. "You and your truth and this team, you can all go to hell."

And finally he lets you go, letting your fall forwards, unable to find the relief of a cold floor but back to the strenuous position you'd been placed in. "AH!" nearly popping your shoulders out of place, or maybe they had, you bite down on your tongue, shaking in silence.

If you could see Simon's face, you could've relished in the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the sudden doubt that led his knife back in its holder and his nails to bite into the flesh of his palms. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing leaves him, instead he stands there.

You can't say a thing to him now, everything that's happened was just a little reminder that whatever you said, whatever you did, it didn't matter. Their minds had already been made. You really would die here.

Simon stands there a little longer, he doesn't say anything, you're not sure if he stays there to watch your suffering a little longer or to wait to say another heart-wrenching thing. Maybe he's just there to wait for you to die. But, he just watches as you wretch and cry in a ball atop that stool.

He leaves not long after, he didn't bother to strap you down this time. He left the old light on, but it must've been older than you thought.

The single bulb fizzled out completely hours ago. Not unless one of them decided to cut the silence and turn on the light to start another 'questioning', so suddenly being able to see more than darkness wasn't anything to be excited about.

They'd leave you in the dark until then, to await the next moment any of them would grace you with their presence.

To be honest, you'd imagined you'd be stronger than this. But, there was nothing to hold onto, so what did strength matter?

It was too late anyway.

They'd broken you days ago.

---

The truth had come out, two days later.

"Oh god..."

"Oh my fucking God," Simon rushed down the corridor, Price tailing right behind him. "Oh my God!" his normal monotone voice now a mess of fear and panic, breathing harsher, on the cusp of hyperventilating with every stride as he ran faster than he ever had in his life.

Finally getting to the interrogation wing of the department, he bangs his fist on the plexiglass of those silently monitoring the rooms, "Open the fucking door!" he's buzzed in before he can pull on the handle another time.

Rushing down the hall to the now green lit room, lights flickering to life with every step closer down the hall of empty rooms. He nearly rips the door off its hinges as he bursts inside, the lights of the your tiny prison don't come to life as they should. Light spilling into the cell, to hit your limp figure first.

He doesn't deserve to say your name. "(Y/n)," Simon rushes over, to his knees instantly. A puddle of vomit, water and spoiled broth soaks through his uniform.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he sobs out his mistakes, unhooking your chains and cutting through your buckles as fast as he could. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he catches his fiancé as you collapse, turning over and off the stool, your legs having lost all sense of feeling. You fall into his arms, catching you carefully. "Price!" he cries out, desperately.

"They're on the way!" Your captain assures, he sees the medical team rushing down the hallway, a stretcher, a box of medical supplies. Christ.

You're freezing to the touch, your skin a hue of blue, not to mention the bruises, the cuts and the swollen areas throughout your face and spine. You suddenly inhale, sharply, coughing terribly. You're sick, breathing shakily, "Simon...?" you breathe, confused. You can't see. Your eyes swollen shut from your torture at their hands.

"It's me, it's me," Simon assured, although he knew it probably brought you no comfort. He snatches the blanket offered up by Price, your captain a mess of himself, holding himself together at the doorway, nails biting into the steel.

As Simon wraps you in the first glimpse of warmth you've had in days, you ease up a bit, fingers twitching upwards to pull the threads closer around yourself. "It wasn't..." you shiver, Simon listens intently as he rises with you in his arms, running off to meet the medical team halfway. "It wasn't me..." you gasp out. "It wasn't..."

Simon can't say a thing as he hears your tormented voice stutter in fear of him, lips pressed tight together, heart sinking and as the nurses take your body, he collapses to his knees.

Part 2

[loriache]

"I've been waiting for ages for somebody to unmask them."

This moment tends to elicit negative reactions in a first read through, and I've got some opinions about why where Kabru is coming from here actually makes a lot of logical sense. So I thought I'd elaborate on that.

I think people hear this and go, "He thinks they must be hiding something because they gave money to someone? What a cynic." Or "he dislikes them because they did charity?? What's wrong with this guy!". And obviously, a lot, a lot is wrong with him. But I think this makes more sense than it seems at first glance! What people evaluating this judgement miss is why Kabru is paying attention to Laios and co to begin with.

Kabru knows of the Touden siblings because (he's a little bit of a stalker-) he is keeping an eye on all the relevant parties in events developing on the island, in order to be able to guide them to his preferred outcome. This includes adventurers because they are the ones actually exploring the dungeon! He's well aware that something as minor as internal tensions between party members could be key to the historical events that are developing. (He would love the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand.)

His desired outcome is that whatever the rewards are of breaking the dungeon's curse, whether that's kingship or the ancient elven secrets of dungeons, are claimed by:

A) a short lived person

B) Someone who will be a good, effective leader and/or use those secrets and the power they carry wisely, with foresight, and to establish a political bloc for short lived people.

The person he can best trust to do this is, of course, himself. But due to his PTSD regarding dungeons and monsters, he's not able to develop the necessary skills to conquer the dungeon. Once he realises this, he starts looking for someone else who he can support to that end.

But most of the adventurers don't have any intentions of conquering the dungeon, don't have the skills, or are unsuitable in other ways. In fact, it seems like some potentially suitable people are the Toudens. There are a lot of good rumours about them going around - they actually seem to have a very positive reputation! That's what Kabru means when he says "unmask".

So when Kabru is observing something like them giving money to an old comrade from their gold-peeling days, he doesn't consider it a problem because "they're giving money to this person who doesn't actually need it" or because they must have some dark secret if they act superficially nice. I think he actually understands this situation and what it implies about Laios (in particular) perfectly well.

Laios and Falin gave money to an old comrade who got injured and couldn't work. That person then healed up but kept taking their money. Then he used the money to start smuggling illicit goods to the island.

The key is that for Kabru, the problem here is the same as with the corpse retrievers - people using the dungeon's resources to fuel dangerous, selfish, or violent pursuits cause problems for the island, attract more criminals and people with motives other than breaking the curse, and increase the chances of the whole situation ending in tragedy.

Kabru is willing to work with the Shadow Lord of the island if it gets him to his goal - he isn't scrupulous - but the criminal element of the island increasing is something he sees as a major issue.

Also, when you're evaluating someone as a candidate for power, riches, secrets, potentially kingship - then being curious about how the money you give to people is going to be used is kind of a relevant trait!

Interpersonally, Kabru's actually very easygoing - I mean, Mickbell isn't exactly an upstanding guy, is he! But Kabru likes him and they get along well. These traits wouldn't be a problem at all in a friend, or a comrade, or someone Kabru was confident he could use. But he can't get a handle on Laios, and Laios is someone who has the potential to be a major player!

On Laios' end, this is the same as with the marriage seeker who joined their party. She kept asking for things and he gave them to her, because he tries to be nice to others. He even gives her money! It's the exact same thing.

That's fine, but it became a problem because he basically wasn't interested in her motives, didn't notice she was trying to manipulate him, and it also didn't occur to him that the other party members would notice or be affected. We can assume the situation with the gold peeler is the same. When Kabru says that "It's not that they're bad people, they just aren't interested in humans," he isn't wrong.

The extent to which this is true of Laios is linked to his autism imo, (because it isn't just disinterest - he genuinely isn't able to notice nonverbal cues that people are lying to him or have ulterior motives) but to a greater or lesser extent I think it's a very common trait. Most people aren't actually that interested in other people who aren't close to them. Kabru is the weird one here. It isn't an issue except as a leader - which is why we see an immediate comparison to the Island's Lord, because that's how Kabru is evaluating them.

And disinterest in/lack of ability with people to the extent Laios exhibits it, it does, actually, make him a worse leader... it's just that as we see in the story, people can help him out. The rest of the party tell him the marriage seeker is taking advantage of him so he tells her he can't give her special treatment anymore. They're pissed and it's a crisis point - he couldn't have recovered their trust without Marcille and Falin - but that's exactly the point. With Marcille and Falin, he was able to recover their trust.

And he has other good traits that make up for it, such as his intelligence, strategic knowledge, open-mindedness and sense of fairplay.

Kabru doesn't disqualify Laios as a candidate based on what he sees about him from afar, though - he still tries very hard to get close to him, obviously hoping that if he manages he can steer Laios to defeat the dungeon and make up for his lack of people-skills in the aftermath. (Which... he does eventually achieve that goal!) He completely fails until the events of the story, so... definitely I think "They just aren't interested in humans" could also partially be a stung reaction to Laios' complete disinterest in him.

Anyway, that's my read on what exactly Kabru's "issue" with Laios is. Obviously, once he does find out what Laios' true nature is like - about his love for monsters - he develops an entirely new set of fears about Laios' priorities. But since Laios kept that a secret until the start of the story, he has no idea of that yet.

Given all that, I think it's interesting that he says that he doesn't think that the Toudens are suitable to defeat the dungeon, and that he's hoping they'll turn out to be the thieves. As some of his few potential candidates, people who he thinks may play a big role in the island's future, you'd think he'd hope they would be good people!

I suppose it's better, in his eyes, because it means that he's involved in something "interesting". They haven't just had their stuff stolen by regular criminals (boring, puts them further away from his goal) - they've been caught up in the beginning stages of "a historic event". The desperate and dwindling group forgetting morals in their quest to retrieve their lost comrade probably appeals to his sense of melodrama. Because he also just... loves drama.

Despite it being "uglier than anything he was expecting", he still pursues Laios as the person he wants to conquer the dungeon pretty much as soon as it becomes clear that he won't be able to do it himself and they are out of time. That's because... well, to be fair, there aren't any other options. And he fits standard A: he's short-lived!

and Kabru still hopes he can fit standard B, too, and be persuaded to use the power he wins for good. No matter how many nightmares he has about Laios, or whether he thinks about killing him. He doubts him, but ultimately he puts his faith in him and seems happy after the manga's ending that he made the right decision.

[zoomclown]

thinking about Jonathan Sims and Samama Khalid.

Thinking about how, by all laws of Horror Story Trope, Jon should not be the protagonist. If I'd never heard of tma and you showed me a lineup of the archives crew and asked me to guess who died first I would have pointed to Jon. He's the paranoid professor archetype. The one who dies discovering some crucial bit of information at the beginning to push the plot forward. He's unfriendly, cowardly, insecure, and makes other people do his investigation for him for all of season 1. He doesn't do anything even remotely heroic until the second half of the show. He has no interest in romance for the first half of the show. The audience wasn't even aware Jon had a dark past until he starts telling us about A Guest for Mr. Spider. But he is *Chosen.* Despite the fact that he has no actual qualities of a hero, he's chosen as the eyes special boy. Over the course of the show he starts to become more and more like an actual protagonist. He starts trying to save the world, resist the eye, all that jazz. For one reason or another, being the Archivist turns Jonathan "definition of a side character" Sims into the main character.

Then we have Sam. Sam starts acting like a horror/mystery protagonist almost immediately. He is young, charming, has a mysterious past (that we are made aware of pretty much right away) and a curiosity that causes him to frequently put himself personally in the path of The Horrors. He pokes around where he doesn't belong and looks for clues. He's the center of an office love triangle for goodness sake. He has a strong sense of duty to others and will put himself in harms way to protect those he loves. He exudes main character energy. He has everything a horror protagonist needs to push the plot along. But Sam wasn't *Chosen.* Despite being exactly the person you'd expect the plot to follow. And I can't help but wonder if, in the same way that the narrative made Jon important, it's going to make Sam unimportant. Irrelevant. If, with his rejection from The Magnus Institute, Sam is going to disappear completely. Become a mystery.

Because at the end of the day, so much of your life, your impact on the world, your relevance, has absolutely nothing to do with you. So much of it has everything to do with those in power, and whether they decide you're important.

It all comes down to your own rotten luck.

[loserboysandlithium]

Drunk Dial: Eddie Munson blurb

18+ Minors DNI

"I just wanted to tell you something, as a friend." Eddie goes on. You've been on the phone for 15 minutes now. You can tell he's had one too many beers. His words running together a bit, his voice a little louder than usual.

"Of course." you tease, a giggle falling from your lips. You had just finished a joint when your phone rang, Eddie insisting he had something important to tell you.

"Your body is bangin.”

"Bangin' huh?" you giggle, your cheeks reddening immediately, grateful that he wasn't standing in front of you.

"Listen.. even friends can appreciate their friends uh-parts." he slurs, a little giggle slipping his lips.

"That skirt the other day, baby. Fuuuck." He groans dramatically. "Your ass.. your fucking curves."

"Eddie." you whisper, barely able to speak as compliments continue pouring from his lips. This wasn't the first time Eddie had said something like this but he wasn't usually so blunt.

"Shhh! I'm just trying to tell you." he chuckles again, "I would have bent you over right then and there if you woulda let me." his playful tone darkens in an instant.

"I-" Suddenly you wished he was standing in front of you.

"Mmm.. I can picture it now." he hums. "Pushing your skirt above your hips. Teasing you first. Do you like to be teased, sweetheart?"

"Fuck, Eds." you breathe out, your heart pounding in your chest, your pussy beginning to throb from his words.

"Shit, sorry baby.. I'm a little," he pauses to hiccup loudly, "a little drunk."

"It's okay.. I-I do like to be teased, by the way." you whisper into the phone, not wanting the conversation to end. Your high giving you a little boost of confidence.

"Yeah? Can I tell you what I'd do first?Hypothetically.” he rasps.

"Please." you whimper.

"Shit.. yeah, okay. First I'd bend you over.. like we talked about." he says giddily.

"Mhmm."

"Then I'd run my fingers up your thigh slowly until I reach your panties. I bet they'd be wet. Would they be wet, sweetheart?"

"So wet." you purr, escalating the situation further, resulting in a deep moan from Eddie.

Fuck, he's hot.

"I would bring my fingertips to your clit, starting slow. Teasing you just a bit. Then I'd move lower, feeling your soaked panties."

"Soaked?" you egg him on.

"Fucking drenched." he groans.

"What next?"

He chuckles lustfully at your eager tone. "I'd slip them to the side.. what color are they, baby?"

"Red. Lacy."

"Fuck me. Mmm.. okay. I'd slip the lace to the side, finally feeling you on my fingers.."

"Fast or slow?"

"Slow, in and out, I bet you feel so fucking good.”

“How many fingers?" he moans growing hard at the thought.

"Two?"

"Two.. yeah.. two sounds good. I'd start slow, gliding them in and out, speeding up, listening to your sounds.. finger fucking you real good, sweetheart. Make you cum all over my hand. God, know you'd be so wet."

"So wet for you, Eddie. My pussy would be so wet for you." you purr, surprising yourself with your words.

"Sweetheart... you're gonna make me cum." he blurts out at the same time that you blurt out your own sentence. "Do you wanna come over?"

"Yes. God, yes." he answers hastily.

"Wait, Eddie.. I don't think you should drive right now."

"No, no, no. I'm not driving. Stevie here is gonna drive me. Aren't ya buddy? Oh, here. You wanna say hi?" You hear a rustling on the other end of the phone. Oh god.

"Uh.. hi." Steve mutters awkwardly through the phone.

"Heh.. hi Steve." your face blushes profusely as you realize Steve must have been there the whole time.

"So. uh- need me to bring him?"

"Mhmm.. yeah. Please."

"I'm about to fuck your brains out." Eddie's voice comes through the phone again. CLICK.

[foone]

AAA games? Pfft. Indie games? Double pfft.

I only play games from the alternate history where Hillary Clinton was elected in 2008 and banned all video games. You can only imagine how weird their underground gaming scene is. People like to call unlicensed games "bootlegs" but they've got actual bootlegged games! I've played games about helping your grandmother in hospice care realize she's a lesbian by reading Sappho to her, at 2am in a speakeasy in Baltimore. The cops raided it the next night, hundreds of Gamers were arrested. They posted pictures all over Friendster of the Baltimore PD destroying the arcades with axes.

I nearly got busted once because I was imaging old disks from a 386 and someone tipped off the gaming cops that there was a copy of Commander Keen in there. I had to prove that I didn't know it, I was imaging the disks blind and then indexing them later, and I would of course turn over any contraband to the proper authorities.

I was already on a watch list because I'd been known to have some gamedev-related activities pre-ban. They can't arrest me for making games back in 2007 when it was still legal, but they do want to keep an eye on me since I have the skills to break the law.

Anyway that universe's bootlegs are mainly PC games. Can't really have console games if there hasn't been a console release since the Wii/PS3/360 era. At one point Nintendo threatened to release the Wii SDK so game devs in the US could make unlicensed games, but that didn't happen as there were quickly no functional Wiis left in the US, except for very rare holdouts that never move. PC games are easy to distribute samizdat and hide on a USB stick or CD-R labeled "nickelback".

Japan's games industry is still going, so the later Nintendo and Sony consoles still exist, but Microsoft got out of the business of course. They sold the franchise to Sega who were hoping to release the 360 successor (the Xbox One in our universe) as the Sega Phoenix but it never materialized, either through their own financial incompetence or because of pressure from the US. There's a lot of international treaties that the US has pushed "and this aid only goes through if you ban games" clauses into. That would have been an official UN resolution if the USSR hadn't vetoed it. For once, thank God for the security council, eh?

I mainly get my gaming news through Japanese gaming sites (through a set of VPNs, since they're blocked at the border firewall), and some tor onion site run by a weird guy in Minnesota who is obsessed with documenting all the underground US games.

There's a lot being worked on, but it's always a tricky trade off. Too much attention and the police might be able to track down the creators, and it's basically impossible to fund underground games, as the VISA/PayPal etc funds get seized immediately. There's a whole task force for that.

Anyway one of the weirdest differences between our two time lines is that they've gone back and edited out gaming from a bunch of movies. Those that they can, of course. War games was just banned because they couldn't remove the tic tac toe ending. The Net just removed the scene at the beginning where she's playing Wolfenstein 3D, by recording some new screen footage and a new voice over. She's fixing a spreadsheet in the new edition.

(Yes, I've seen The Net from this alternate timeline. On Laserdisc, of course. I'm just that kind of person!)

They even edited Star Wars. You know that scene where R2-D2 is playing holochess with Chewie? They edited it to be a board game instead of holograms, because that made it too "video gamey".

Technically it's not illegal to show gaming in a movie, but it needs to be an 18+ film and you have to show the deleterious effects of gaming and/or the gamesters coming to a bad end.

This has affected films less than you'd think, to be honest. They were never great about showing video games even before they banned them.

Anyway, go have fun playing your AAA games with hundred-million-dollar budgets. I only play indie games made by people under a constant threat of arrest for their art.

[zebuie]

TEACHERS PET.

❁ཻུ۪۪ ⋅ READ THIS. # DAILY CLICK ➹

# ☆ PAIRINGS ☆ ;: teacher!ellie x teacherspet!reader

# ☆ SYNOPSIS ☆ ;: college student develops a small crush on her philosophy teacher—but is it really small? soon, one thing leads to another. as feelings grow, they grow a secret romance.

# ☆ WC/CW ☆ ;: 9.2k, smutsmutsmut! , age gap between reader and ellie ( r is 20 and ellie 24 ) , cursing / swearing , situationship? , kissing , fingering ( r receiving ) , eating from the behind ( r receiving ) , tit sucking ( e receiving ) , strap on usage ( r receiving ) , pet names ( princess , baby , baby girl , babe ) , aftercare , lmk if there’s more.

You trudge into the school building, dreading the upcoming lecture. The hallway is packed with students milling about, creating a chaotic scene. "God I'm already fucking dreading this." you mutter to yourself as you try to make your way to the classroom.

Finally arriving at the door, you take a deep breath and enter the room. 

It's even more crowded than you expected, with people jostling for seats. As you scan the room for an empty spot, your eyes land on a woman writing on the chalkboard.

She turns to face the class, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. It's Ellie Williams, the notorious philosophy teacher. 

Her sharp jawline and piercing green eyes make her look more like a biker chick than an academic. 

She's got a fit, muscular build evident even under her tight shirt. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to today's discussion on existentialism," she says in a commanding voice that leaves no doubt who's in charge.

As you slip into an empty seat, you can't help but stare at Ellie as she begins the lecture. Her confidence and authority are undeniable, and you find yourself drawn in despite your initial reluctance.

You sit entranced as Ellie begins to expound upon the meaning of life, her husky voice and commanding presence washing over you like a warm bath.

 The way she struts across the front of the classroom, hips swaying, makes you imagine her strutting across your bed; demanding your total surrender. 

Her words echo in your mind long after the lecture ends - "existence precedes essence"...a fitting philosophy for a woman who seems to exist solely on her own terms. As the class files out, you find yourself lingering, drawn to Ellie like a moth to a flame. 

You clear your throat to get her attention, and she turns to face you, eyebrow raised in query. "Yes?" she asks, all domineering authority and sensuality. "I was wondering if you could...um...provide some extra guidance on the reading," you stammer, trying to play it cool. Ellie smiles - a slow, sultry curl of her lips. "Of course, I'd be happy to help. Meet me in my office after your next class." The way she says it, it sounds less like a suggestion and more like a command from your new mistress.

The rest of the day drags on in a sensual haze. You can barely concentrate in your other classes, your mind constantly wandering back to Ellie and the promise of her "guidance". 

Finally, it's time for your next class to end. You pack up your things with feigned nonchalance, all the while sneaking glances at the clock. 

As soon as the final bell rings, you're on your feet, eager to keep your appointment with destiny. 

Making your way to Ellie's office, you take a deep breath and knock on the door. "Enter," comes her response. 

Pushing the door open, you step inside the dimly lit room, the door closing behind you with a soft click - as if you're being locked into place. Ellie looks up from her desk, a gleam in her eye as she takes in your nervous figure. "Shut the door and come here," she commands. 

You obey, your heart racing as you approach her. She rises from her chair, looming over you with an air of quiet power. "So, you wanted some extra guidance, huh?"

"Yes, if you could just explain the chapter on existentialism in more depth, I'd really appreciate it," you reply, trying to sound casual despite your racing heart. 

Ellie nods, her eyes roaming over your face. "Of course. Have a seat." She gestures to the chair in front of her desk. 

You sit, suddenly very aware of how small and confined the space feels with the two of you alone. 

Ellie leans back against her desk, arms crossed over her chest. "Existentialism is all about taking responsibility for your own existence," she begins, her voice low and hypnotic. "It's about recognizing that, fundamentally, you are alone in the universe. No one else can live your life for you." Her gaze intensifies, boring into yours. "Does that resonate with you?" The way she asks, it feels more like a test than a question. You nod, swallowing hard. "Yeah, I think so. I mean, it's like, we have to choose our own meaning in life, right?" Ellie nods, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Exactly. And that's a scary thought, because it means you have the power to create your own meaning. But it also means no one else can control your life for you." She pauses, studying you intently. "Does that set you free, or terrify you?"

"It's freeing, in a way," you venture, trying to sound braver than you feel. 

Ellie leans forward, her elbows on the desk. "It's the most freeing thing in the world," she agrees, her voice dropping to a purr. "But it's also terrifying. Because if you're responsible for creating your own meaning, then you have to confront the possibility that you might get it wrong. That you might waste your life chasing things that don't truly fulfill you." Her eyes hold yours captive, searching. "So, what do you think you're doing with your life right now?" The question hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. 

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, suddenly aware of how small and confined the space feels. "I...I don't know," you admit. "I mean, I go to class, I study, but is that really living? Is that what I want out of life?" Ellie watches you wrestle with the question, a knowing glint in her eye. "You seem like a smart girl," she says finally. "I think you have the potential to create something truly remarkable with your life. But first, you're going to have to take a leap of faith."

Just as Ellie is about to continue her line of questioning, her phone suddenly rings, shrill in the otherwise quiet room. 

She glances down at the screen, her expression unreadable. "Excuse me a moment," she says brusquely, grabbing the phone and stepping away from the desk. 

You sit in awkward silence as she takes the call, trying to ignore the sense of rejection that washes over you. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Ellie ends the call and returns to the desk, her eyes avoiding yours. "I apologize, but I'm going to have to cut our meeting short," she says stiffly. 

"I have another appointment." She stands, indicating that your audience is at an end. You gather your things in a daze, feeling the sting of dismissal. As you reach the door, you can't help but steal one last glance at Ellie - who is already focused intently on her computer screen, pretending you were never there.

As you trudge back to your dorm, your mind is a whirlwind of confused emotions. 

Part of you is thrilled at the prospect of getting to know Ellie better - but another part is terrified of the consequences. What if she doesn't feel the same way? What if you get hurt? Lost in thought, you don't even notice your phone buzzing in your pocket until several hours later. 

Pulling it out, you see a call from Lana - your best friend and confidante. "Hey, girl!" she greets you, her usual bubbly self. "How's the first day back going?" You settle in, ready to offload everything that happened with Ellie. 

As you recount the story, Lana listens with increasing amusement.

Lana's laughter echoes through the phone as the mysterious student recounts her tale of woe. "Aww, you've got it bad," Lana coos, her voice dripping with amusement.

 "Seriously, you need to loosen up! It's just a crush." You sigh, the sound carrying clearly over the line. "I know, I know. It's just...there's something about her, you know? The way she carries herself..." Lana snorts, cutting in. "Says the girl who's never had a real relationship. Trust me, I know the type. Ellie seems like a total fuckboy, anyway. You'd just end up getting hurt." There's a pause, and then Lana's tone turns thoughtful. 

"Although...we should maybe make you feel better. Go out, have some fun, get your mind off things. I say we hit up that new club downtown. You game?" You hesitate, uncertainty clear in your voice. But Lana's enthusiasm is infectious, and soon you've both made plans to meet up later that night. "Just relax and let loose, okay? Don't think about Ellie at all. We'll get you forgetting all about her in no time!"

You agree to meet Lana at the club later that night, hoping a night out will take your mind off your crush on Ellie. 

The rest of the day passes in a blur of classes and studying, but eventually it's time to get ready to go out. 

You meet up with Lana, who's already dressed to the nines in a tiny dress and heels. "Gorgeous, let's go!" she says, dragging you into the night.

The club is pulsating with music and lights. You and Lana make your way to the bar, ordering drinks as you scan the crowd. 

It's a sea of unfamiliar faces - until you spot a group of girls from your sorority waving you over. 

You make your way over, laughing and chatting as you down your first drink. 

Gradually, the worries about Ellie start to fade away, replaced by the thrill of the night and the company of your friends.

Hours pass in a whirlwind of dancing, gossiping, and letting loose. 

By the time the club starts to close, you feel rejuvenated - your earlier heartache all but forgotten. As you and Lana are getting ready to leave, a boisterous guy approaches, asking for Lana's number. 

She plays hard to get for a bit, but eventually relents with a wink in your direction. You smile, feeling happy for your friend even as you can't help but wonder what Ellie is up to tonight.

You take a seat at the bar, ordering a strong cocktail to help take your mind off things. 

The night wears on, and you find yourself getting lost in the music and the company of a friendly stranger who joins you at the bar. 

Her name is Jenna, and she's charming and easy to talk to. As the hours pass, you find yourself growing more and more tipsy, laughing and joking around with Jenna as the night wears on. 

At some point, you both decide to hit the dance floor, moving and grooving to the pulsing beat. You're having a great time, but as the night wears on, your inhibitions lower. 

You find yourself getting more and more suggestively flirtatious with Jenna, pressed up against her and grinding together as you lost in the music. Just as things are really starting to heat up, you feel a sudden jolt of recognition. Turning, you lock eyes with a pair of piercing green ones across the bar. 

For a moment, you wonder if you're hallucinating - but then you see the familiar fit physique and messy auburn hair. It's Ellie. Your heart skips a beat as you realize your philosophy teacher is staring you down...

Your heart races as you realize Ellie is watching you closely from across the bar. 

you consider waving her over, but then you remember how the night started - with you confessing your crush to your best friend. 

You also remember Lana's words of wisdom about not wanting to get hurt. 

But then you see the way Ellie is looking at you - like she's undressing you with her eyes. Your resolve weakens. 

Grabbing Jenna's hand, you pull her behind you, pressing her against the bar as you rub up against her boldly. 

You catch Ellie's eye, holding her gaze as you grind against the other girl. 

Jenna laughs, assuming you're just playing around, but you can't help the thrill that shoots through you at the prospect of making your teacher jealous. You lost in the moment, feeling bold and reckless. Who knows what will happen tomorrow - but tonight, you're going to enjoy the thrill of the chase.

As you and Jenna put on a provocative show for Ellie, the philosophy teacher's expression grows more and more dark. 

Her eyes narrow to slits, and her jaw clenches visibly. 

You can practically hear the steam coming out of her ears as she watches you. 

Finally, she appears to reach her limit. Tossing some money on the bar, she storms off into the night, disappearing into the crowd. 

You breathe a sigh of relief, assuming the coast is clear. 

Turning back to Jenna, you grab her face and pull her in for a deep, messy kiss. She kisses you back eagerly, and you lose yourself in the moment. 

As you make out with Jenna, you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement at having made your teacher jealous. 

But as the night wears on, things start to get a little fuzzy... You remember snippets of making out with Jenna, dancing, and doing shots with new friends. 

But by the time you stumble out of the club in the early hours of the morning, you can barely remember your own name.

The sunlight streaming through your window feels like razor blades in your brain. 

You groggily sit up, your head pounding. 

The events of the previous night come back to you in hazy flashes - dancing, drinking, making out with a stranger. 

You feel a wave of shame wash over you as you realize how far you went. Did you go too far? You try to piece together the details, but your memories are fragmented and hazy. 

Just then, there's a knock at the door. It's Lana, looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed despite the early hour. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" she says, bouncing into the room. "How are you feeling?" She looks at you with concern as you wince at the light. "I take it things didn't go exactly as planned last night?" You shake your head, feeling mortified. Lana sits down next to you, taking your hand. 

"Hey, it's okay. We've all been there. But maybe next time, drink more water and less vodka, yeah?" You manage a weak laugh. 

Lana helps you stumble to the bathroom to take some painkillers and splash some water on your face. 

As you're brushing your teeth, you can't help but wonder what Ellie is thinking this morning.

Lana helps you tidy up your room, putting away your clothes and picking up the remnants of the night before. 

As she works, she keeps you company, chatting amiably about everything except the previous evening. 

By the time she leaves you to get ready for classes, your head still throbs, but you feel a bit more human. 

You head to Philosophy 101 with trepidation, wondering how the day will go after your drunken antics last night. As you take your seat, you keep an eye on the door, waiting to see if Ellie will mention anything about your behavior. 

But she says nothing out of the ordinary, launching straight into the day's lecture. You breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that the situation hasn't become awkward. At least, not yet. 

As the lecture goes on, you can't help but sneak glances at Ellie, wondering if she knows about your encounter with her last night. 

Does she think you're just another cheap drunk? Or did seeing you with another woman make her question her own attraction to you? You try to focus on the lecture, but your mind keeps wandering. One thing's for sure - this is going to be an interesting semester.

As the days go by, you try to put the drunken escapades of the first day behind you. 

You focus on your studies, determined to prove to yourself and everyone else that you're more than just a party animal. 

But no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to get Ellie off your mind. In class, you keep stealing glances at her, wondering if she's noticed any changes in you. 

Sometimes you catch her looking at you, but whenever you meet her gaze, she quickly looks away. Is she avoiding you? Ignoring you? It's impossible to tell. 

You try to talk to Lana about it, but she just laughs and tells you to stop overthinking things. "She's your teacher. It's never gonna happen," she says, rolling her eyes. 

But you can't quite shake the feeling that there's still a spark there, no matter how much Lana denies it. 

One day, as you're packing up your things after class, you notice Ellie's door slightly ajar. 

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you peek inside. She's sitting at her desk, grading papers. Your presence must surprise her, because she looks up with a startled expression. "Can I help you?" she asks, her tone stern but her eyes revealing a flicker of—something.

You hesitate in the doorway, unsure of how to proceed. Ellie's gaze bores into you, expecting an explanation. 

"I just...I wanted to apologize for last week," you stammer, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. "I was way out of line, and I'm really sorry." Ellie considers this for a moment, then nods. "Apology accepted," she says simply. 

You breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that the tension between you seems to be dissipating. As you turn to leave, Ellie clears her throat. "Actually— Can you stay after class today? I have something I want to discuss with you." Her tone is still professional, but there's a hint of something else in her eyes. Something that makes your heart skip a beat—lust. Pure lust in her eyes.

After class, you head to Ellie's office, your heart pounding in your chest. 

What could she possibly want to discuss with you? You knock on the door, and when Ellie invites you in, you take a deep breath and enter. 

The office is bigger than you expected, with bookshelves lining the walls and a desk in the middle. Ellie sits behind the desk, leaning back in her chair.

 "Close the door and have a seat," she says, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. 

You do as you're told, trying to calm your nerves. Ellie studies you for a moment, her eyes roaming over your face. "I've been noticing you in class lately," she begins, her voice low and measured. "You seem...different. More engaged. More curious." She pauses, searching for the right words. 

"I have to admit, I was worried about how you'd handle last week's activities. But you seem to have handled it with maturity." You feel a flush rise to your cheeks at the memory of your drunken escapades. "Thank you," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Ellie leans forward, her eyes locking onto yours. "I think you have the potential to be an excellent philosopher, But it requires dedication, hard work...and a willingness to challenge yourself." She pauses, studying you intently. "Are you up for the challenge?"

You nod eagerly, determined to prove yourself. "Absolutely," you say, meeting Ellie's gaze with a fierce look of your own. "I won't let you down." A small smile plays at the corner of Ellie's lips, and she reaches for a pen and paper. 

"Good," she says, scribbling down her phone number. "In case you need to reach me...or want to discuss some of the ideas we cover in class." She slides the paper across the desk to you. 

You take it, feeling a rush of excitement. Before you can react, Ellie stands, indicating that the meeting is over. "Think about the ideas we discussed today," she says. "And feel free to call me if you have any questions." You leave the office in a daze, the slip of paper clutched tightly in your hand. 

As you walk across campus, you can't help but stare at Ellie's phone number. 

Should you really call her? What would you even say? But then you remember her words - she wants you to challenge yourself. To grow. 

And what could be more challenging than asking out your philosophy teacher? Taking a deep breath, you pull out your phone and dial the number. It rings once...twice...and then Ellie answers. "Hello?" her voice is smooth as silk. "Hi, it's me." There's a pause, and then Ellie laughs. "Of course."

"It's nice to hear from you." Ellie says, her voice warm and friendly. You can almost hear her smiling over the phone.

 "What's up?" You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. "Well...I was hoping maybe we could grab a cup of coffee sometime and discuss some of the ideas from class. You know, challenge myself like you suggested." There's a pause, and for a moment you fear you've overstepped. 

But then Ellie responds. "I'd like that." You feel a surge of excitement, trying to keep your cool. "Great so um, when were you thinking?" How did you go from asking your philosophy teacher for coffee to making plans with her? You're not sure, but you can't help the thrill that shoots through you at the prospect of spending time with Ellie.

 "How about tomorrow afternoon?" she suggests. "There's a cafe just off campus. I know the owner, so we can get a quiet table if you'd like." You agree on a time, and hang up the phone with a huge grin on your face. 

You can't believe it - you're actually going to have coffee with Ellie. And who knows what might happen after that.

The next day, you arrive at the cafe early, nursing a nervous energy. You spot Ellie outside, looking even more finer than usual in a casual grey sweater and jeans. 

She smiles as she sees you, and you can't help but return it. 

Inside, the cafe is cozy and quiet, just as Ellie said. 

You take a seat at a small table by the window, and Ellie joins you a moment later, sliding in across from you. "So," she says, leaning back in her chair. "Tell me more about what you liked about last week's reading. What stood out to you." You launch into a discussion of the finer points of existentialism, surprised at how easily the conversation flows. 

Ellie listens intently, interjecting with insightful questions and comments. Before you know it, an hour has passed, and you feel like you've barely scratched the surface of the topics you want to discuss. 

Glancing at the clock, you realize you've been talking for over two hours. 

Ellie laughs as she catches you checking the time. "I guess we got a bit carried away," she says, smiling. "But I have to say, I'm really enjoying this. It's not often I get to have such thoughtful discussions with my students." You feel a flutter in your chest at her words. Is this a date? Or just a fun intellectual exchange? Either way, you're not ready for it to end.

As you finish up your coffee, Ellie glances at her watch. "I suppose I should let you get to your next class," she says, a hint of reluctance in her voice. 

You stand up, gathering your things, and Ellie does the same. Outside the cafe, she falls into step beside you as you begin the walk back to campus. 

The sun is setting, casting long shadows across the sidewalk. "I have to say, I'm impressed," Ellie remarks, glancing at you sidelong. "Most of my students wouldn't bother showing up to a coffee date dressed like that." You feel a flush rise to your cheeks as you realize you're wearing the same outfit you had on the first day of class. 

Ellie must have been checking you out. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. 

As you walk, the conversation continues, flowing easily between you. You discover shared interests and favorite authors, bonding over your love of philosophy. 

By the time you reach your dorm, the sky is dark, and stars are beginning to twinkle overhead. Ellie pauses at your doorstep, looking up at you. "I had a really great time today," she says softly. "Would you like to do it again sometime soon?" Her eyes search yours, and you can't help but wonder what she's looking for. With that, she leans in and presses her lips to yours in a sweet, brief kiss. It's chaste, but filled with promise.

The next few weeks pass in a blur of coffee dates, long walks, and deep discussions about life, philosophy, and everything in between. 

You find yourself falling for Ellie, hard. She's brilliant, passionate, and genuinely interested in you and your thoughts. 

You discover a sexy side to her, too - the way her eyes smolder when she's excited by an idea, or the way her hands move when she's gesturing enthusiastically. But even as you grow closer, you can't shake the feeling that there's something holding Ellie back. 

She's always quick to deflect when you try to get too personal, and there are moments when her expression shifts, just for a second, into something guarded. One evening, as you're walking back to your dorm after another amazing date, you decide to confront her. "Ellie—" you pause for a moment. "what are we?" you continue.

Ellie pauses, looking up at you with those intense green eyes. 

For a moment, you think you see a flicker of fear in their depths. Then her expression smooths into a mask of calm.

 "What do you mean?" she asks, her voice even. You take a deep breath and plunge ahead. "I mean...we've been seeing each other for weeks now. 

We have all these deep talks and go on dates. It feels like more than just a friendship to me. So...what are we?" Ellie looks away, staring up at the stars twinkling overhead.

 "I care about you, Really deeply. But..." She pauses, seeming to struggle with her words. "My job is to teach and mentor you. That's a pretty big power imbalance, and I don't want to compromise your academic experience." 

She looks back at you, her eyes searching yours. "I'm scared that if we keep going down this path, it will complicate things in ways I'm not sure I'm equipped to handle." Your heart aches at the vulnerability in her voice. 

But then Ellie does something unexpected - she reaches out and takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "But I enjoy your company more than anything else in my life right now. So...let's just see where this goes, okay? We'll take things slowly and figure it out as we go. Deal?"

You nod eagerly, not trusting yourself to speak. 

Ellie smiles, squeezing your hand once more before letting go. 

"Good," she says simply. As you continue walking, the weight of her confession hangs in the air between you. 

You're not sure what the future holds, but for now, you're content to enjoy each other's company. When you reach your dorm, Ellie walks you to the door, just like she has every night. 

But this time, instead of kissing you goodbye, she leans in close, her forehead pressing against yours. "I really like you," she whispers. "More than I should." You can feel her words vibrating against your skin.

 "I know it's not ideal, but I don't care. I want to be with you." With that, she pulls back and waits, looking up at you with those deep green orbs. 

You realize this is a turning point. You can walk away now, preserving the status quo. Or you can take a chance on Ellie, and see where this forbidden connection takes you.

You look into Ellie's eyes, seeing the sincerity and vulnerability there. You feel the same way about her - more than just likes and crushes. 

This is real. And as much as you know you should be careful, you can't bring yourself to let her go. "I really like you too," you whisper, mirroring her words. Ellie's face lights up at your response, and she leans in once more, her lips brushing yours in a sweet, tender kiss. 

It's not a chaste kiss this time - there's heat and promise in it. As you pull back, you realize that this is the start of something new. 

Something that terrifies you, but also fills you with exhilaration. "I'll see you tomorrow?" Ellie asks, her voice filled with hope. You nod, smiling. "Definitely." 

As you step inside your dorm, you can't help but glance over your shoulder at Ellie, who's still standing there, watching you. 

You know that you're taking a risk by being with her. But right now, you don't care. All you can think about is the fact that the woman you've fallen for wants you too. And that's worth fighting for.

It's the week before finals, and you're running on fumes. 

Between classes, work, and your blossoming relationship with Ellie, you're stretched thin. 

You've been putting off studying, hoping you could somehow magically absorb all the material through osmosis. 

But as the pressure mounts, you know you need to buckle down and focus. 

The problem is, you don't know where to start. You consider hitting up Lana, but you know she'll just tell you to chill out and study with her later. 

You need help - and fast. So who do you turn to? Your philosophy teacher, of course. 

You're nervous about asking Ellie for help, but you're more desperate than ever. 

You send her a nervous text. "Hey...I know this is last minute, but would you be willing to help me study for my exams? I feel totally overwhelmed and I know your class is key to understanding a lot of the material. I really appreciate you, and I know this is a big ask..." You wait with bated breath for her response.

You nervously wait for Ellie's response, your phone glued to your hand. 

After what feels like an eternity, you see her name pop up on your screen. "Heyyy, no worries at all, Of course I'd be happy to help you study. 

When were you thinking? How about tomorrow afternoon, we could meet at the library and go over some key concepts together?

also how are you holding up, honestly? Finals week can be really rough. lemme know if u need help with anything else:))" You feel a rush of relief and gratitude at her response. 

You quickly type back a thanks and a confirmation of the study session. 

As you set your phone down, you can't help but smile. Even when you're being a mess, Ellie is there for you. 

She's not just your teacher or your girlfriend - she's a true friend. 

The next day, you meet Ellie at the library and dive into your studying. 

Having her guidance and support makes all the difference. As you work together, you can't help but steal glances at each other, both aware that this is more than just a study session. 

It's a moment of intimacy, of teamwork, of shared goal-oriented effort. And it only serves to strengthen your bond. 

By the time you wrap up your studying, you feel confident and ready for your exams. Plus, you got to spend quality time with the girl you love. It's the perfect outcome. 

As you finish up your studying, Ellie glances at her watch. "We've been at it for a few hours," she remarks. "How about I walk you back to your dorm?" You agree, gathering your things, and Ellie leads you out of the library and onto the quiet campus streets. 

It's a chilly evening, and you can see your breath misting in the air. 

But as you walk alongside Ellie, you don't feel the cold at all. You're too busy stealing glances at her, admiring the way her hair falls in loose waves around her face. Eventually, you arrive at your dorm. You pause at the door, unsure what to do. 

Do you invite her up? Do you kiss her goodbye? Before you can decide, Ellie leans in, her lips finding yours in a searing kiss. 

One moment you're standing there, the next you're wrapped up in each other, hands exploring, tongues entwined. 

The kiss deepens and lengthens, until you're both panting, pressed up against each other. 

Ellie breaks away, her eyes dark with desire. "I want you," she whispers, her voice husky. "Right now." You don't need any further invitation. You lead her inside, your hands roaming, your hearts racing.

Ellie steps inside your dorm room, her eyes adjusting to the dimmer light. She looks around, taking in the scatter of books and clothes, the general chaos of a student's space. 

But her attention is quickly drawn back to you, as she takes a step closer. "Can I...touch you?" she asks softly, her fingers hovering against your cheek. 

You nod, your heart pounding. Ellie's fingers trace the line of your jaw, your neck, slipping beneath your shirt to feel the curve of your shoulder blade. 

Each touch sends shivers down your spine. As her hand explores your body, you can't help but touch her in return - running your fingers through her hair, tracing the shape of her breasts through her hoodie. 

The air between you crackles with electricity. Ellie steps closer still, until her body is pressed up against yours. 

You can feel every curve, every ridge - the swell of her hips, the jut of her collarbone. 

It's like fitting together two puzzle pieces, so perfectly do you mesh. Ellie's head dips down, her lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck. She kisses you there, and then suckles gently, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. 

One of her hands slips under your shirt, fingers splaying across your stomach. You can feel her warm breath on your skin, her heartbeat pounding in time with yours.

As Ellie's lips trail down your neck, her hand slides further under your shirt, her fingers teasing the waistband of your pants. 

You can feel your heart racing, your breath coming in short gasps. The sensation of her touch, so soft and feather-light, is driving you crazy. You want more. 

Need more. With trembling hands, you reach down to grip Ellie's coat, pulling her closer still. 

Her body presses up against yours, and you can feel every inch of her, from the curve of her breasts to the line of her thighs. It's overwhelming, in the best possible way. 

Ellie's head dips lower, her lips finding yours in a searing kiss. Her tongue slips inside your mouth, tangling with your own. You can taste yourself on her, musky and intimate. As you kiss, Ellie's hand slides further down, fingers brushing against the front of your pants. 

She cups you there, her thumb swiping over the sensitive head. You arch into her touch, a needy little moan escaping your lips. Ellie breaks the kiss, her eyes dark with lust. "Clothes off," she whispers, her voice rough. "Now."

Ellie's words send a jolt of electricity through you. Without breaking eye contact, you reach back and pull your shirt over your head, tossing it carelessly across the room. 

Ellie's gaze rakes over your bare torso, her eyes lingering on your nipples, hard and betraying your arousal. She takes a step closer, her hands coming up to palm your breasts, feeling their weight in her hands. 

You let out a shaky breath as she leans in, her lips finding yours once more. 

The kiss is deep and hungry, tongues tangling, breaths mingling. With a strength you didn't know she had, Ellie pushes you back towards the bed. 

You fall onto the mattress, Ellie looming over you, her hands still on your breasts. She leans down, her lips brushing your ear as she whispers, "I've wanted to do this since the first moment I saw you." With that, she claims your mouth once more, even as she reaches down to start undoing your pants.

As Ellie undoes your pants, you realize you haven't asked her to undress yet. You reach up, grasping at the hem of her hoodie. 

"Take this off," you manage to gasp out between kisses. Ellie nods, breaking the kiss to pull the hoodie over her head, revealing the sports bra beneath. 

Your eyes are immediately drawn to her nipples, visible through the thin fabric, straining towards you. You can't help but lick your lips, the sight arousing you further. 

Next, you work on the drawstrings of her pants, pushing them down along with her underwear. 

Ellie steps out of the puddle of fabric, now wearing nothing but her sports bra and socks. You drink in the sight of her, from the toned curves of her arms and shoulders, to the flat plane of her stomach, to the juncture between her thighs. She's beautiful. Perfect. 

You sit up, grasping at the back of her head, pulling her in for a deep, devouring kiss. As you kiss, your hands roam - tracing the lines of her muscles, feeling the dips and curves of her body.

As you kiss Ellie, your hands explore her body, mapping out every dip and curve. 

You can't get enough of her, and you pull her down onto the bed with you. Ellie lands on top of you, her weight a comforting pressure. 

She shifts, straddling your waist, her sex aligning with yours. You can feel the heat of her, even through the thin fabric of her sports bra. 

Ellie breaks the kiss, her eyes dark with desire. She reaches back, deftly takes off her bra. It falls away, revealing her breasts - full and heavy, topped with pink nipples. 

You reach out, taking one in your mouth, suckling gently. Ellie throws her head back, a soft moan escaping her lips. 

As you kiss Ellie, her hands start to roam over your body as well - slipping her hand under your panties to cup your pussy.

She breaks the kiss, her eyes dark with desire as she pulls you back down onto the bed. "On your hands and knees," she orders, her voice husky. 

Obediently, you flip over, presenting yourself to her. Ellie settles between your legs, her hands spreading you apart. 

You can feel her hot breath on your most intimate areas, making you shiver. Her tongue dips out, licking through your folds, finding your clit. 

You let out a choked cry, your back arching off the bed. Ellie laughs, the sound vibrating against your skin as she continues her ministrations. 

She pays special attention to your nipples, rolling the sensitive buds between her fingers and sucking them deep into her mouth. You're lost to the sensation, your hips rocking against her face as she brings you closer and closer to the edge. 

Just when you think you can't take anymore, Ellie stops. She flips you over onto your back, her body looming over yours. "what d’you want princess? hm?” she whispers, her eyes burning with need.

You look up at Ellie, your lips parted, your chest heaving. 

You can't form words, not even a whimper. All you can do is point to your pussy, pleadingly. 

Ellie gets the message. She settles between your legs once more, her hands holding you open. 

This time, she doesn't tease - her tongue dives in, licking up your wetness, circling your clit. 

You feel yourself getting close, your walls clenching around nothing. 

Just as you think you're about to tumble over the edge, Ellie stops again. This time, she's got a finger poised at your asshole. 

"Like this?" she asks, looking into your eyes. 

You nod, too far gone to form words. Ellie presses her finger against you, pushing past the initial resistance. 

You feel her digging deeper, curling her finger inside you. It's a weird sensation, but not unpleasant. 

As she fingers you, Ellie leans down, her lips finding yours in a deep, hungry kiss. 

She tastes like you - musky and intimate. You can feel yourself getting close again, your body tensing. 

This time, when you crest, Ellie is there with you. She licks into your mouth, swallowing your cries as she brings you both to climax. You collapse back onto the bed, Ellie half on top of you, both of you panting. Ellie pulls her finger out of you, licking it clean. "Fuck,"

As you catch your breath, Ellie starts cleaning you up with gentle, soothing touches. 

She wipes the sweat from your brow, the saliva from your lips. Her fingers trace patterns on your skin, calming you. 

You feel like putty in her hands, pliant and relaxed. Eventually, you're both clean and comfortable, curled up together in a tangle of limbs. 

Ellie presses a soft kiss to your forehead. "Goodnight princess." she whispers. You smile, feeling happy and sated. Ellie pulls away, slipping out of bed. 

She gathers up her clothes, stepping into them one piece at a time. As she leaves, she turns back to kiss you once more, her lips soft and warm against yours.

 "I love you," she murmurs. Then she's gone, closing the door quietly behind her. 

You're left alone in the dark, a satisfied smile on your face, her words echoing in your mind. You love her too. More than you ever thought possible.

The next morning, you wake up feeling refreshed and happy. 

You can't help but smile as you remember the previous night's events. 

You're still on cloud nine when you head to philosophy class. But as soon as you walk in and see Ellie at the front of the room, 

all your good feelings evaporate. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks as you realize how inappropriate your relationship is. How could you do this with your teacher? You take your seat, keeping your eyes fixed on your notebook. 

But as the class progresses, you can't help but sneak glances at Ellie. She seems distracted too, her usual enthusiasm dampened. 

Eventually, class ends, and you file out with your classmates. Ellie hangs back, waiting for you. 

As everyone else leaves, she steps closer. "Hey—about yesterday... I know this is complicated. But I care about you so much. I don't want anything to ruin what we have. Can we just pretend class is cancelled today? Spend some more time together?" She looks at you with those earnest, hopeful eyes. 

You feel your resolve crumbling. What could a few more hours hurt? "Okay," you find yourself agreeing. "Let's go for a walk."

As you walk with Ellie, you can't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. Isn't this just repeating itself? You're just delaying the inevitable, aren't you? But the warmth of her hand in yours, the sparkle in her eyes when she looks at you, make you forget your misgivings. 

For the moment, anyway. You walk and talk, enjoying each other's company, trying to ignore the fact that you're alone on campus on a weekend day. 

Eventually, you find yourselves at the edge of the woods. A path stretches into the trees, dark and inviting. 

Without a word, Ellie takes your hand and leads you down it. The canopy of leaves blocks out the sun, casting the forest floor in cool shadows. 

Ellie pulls you into a clearng, the center of which is taken up by a small pond. In the center of the pond is an old stone fountain, dry and cracked. 

Ellie lets go of your hand and walks over to it, running her fingers over the worn surface. "I used to come here a lot when I was a student," she says softly. "It was my escape." She looks at you then, her eyes dark with emotion. "I know this is wrong, I'm your teacher, and you're my student. But I can't help how I feel. And I don't want to lose you." She takes a step closer, her hands reaching out.

As Ellie steps closer, you can see the desperation in her eyes. She wants to touch you, to hold you, but she's holding herself back. "I think... I think we need to take a break," she says softly.

 "Not from each other, from all of this. From the secrecy, from the taboo. It's eating away at me, wondering when someone is going to find out. 

When this is going to blow up in our faces." She takes a deep breath, her shoulders slumping. "I don't want to lose you, but I also don't want to do something that could ruin your life. You're too important to me." You feel a pang in your chest at her words. 

She's right, of course. But the idea of giving up what you have with her is impossible. You reach out and take her hand, squeezing it. "No," you say firmly. "I don't want to give up what we have either. We'll find a way to make this work." Ellie looks at you, her eyes searching. "How, How are we going to make this work when everything is against us?"

Ellie's eyes darken with emotion at your words. She wants to believe you, wants to think that you can overcome all the obstacles in your way. 

But she knows, deep down, that it's unlikely. She pulls her hand away, rubbing her temples as if to ward off a headache. "I think... I think we need to stop seeing each other. Until we can figure out a way to make this work, we need to stay away from each other. For your own good, for both of our sakes." Her voice cracks on the last word, betraying the pain she feels. 

She looks at you then, her eyes pleading. "Can we do that? Can we stay away from each other for a little while, until we can come up with a plan?" You feel a lump rise in your throat at her words. 

The idea of not seeing her, not touching her, feels like a death sentence. But she's right, of course. You both need to take a step back and regroup. With a heavy heart, you nod. "Yeah," you say softly. "Yeah, I think you're right." Ellie exhales shakily, some of the tension leaving her body. 

"Okay, then. We'll do that. We'll stay away from each other until we can figure this out." She looks at you one last time before turning and walking back through the woods, leaving you alone by the pond.

It's been a few days since you and Ellie decided to take a break. The last few days have been a blur of sadness and loneliness. 

You've been lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, missing her more than you ever thought possible. 

Just as you're starting to drift off to sleep, you hear a soft knock at the door. You stare at it in surprise - who could it be at this hour? You shuffle over and open the door, finding Ellie standing there, looking pale and exhausted. "Can I come in?" she asks softly. You nod, moving aside to let her in. 

As she enters and closes the door behind her, you can't help but notice how different she looks from the vibrant, energetic Ellie you know. 

This version looks defeated, her eyes shadowed by lack of sleep and worry. "I've been thinking a lot about us, about this situation. And I think I know how we can make it work." She looks at you, her eyes pleading. "But we're going to have to trust each other completely. Can you do that for me?"

As Ellie finishes speaking, you feel a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, you can find a way to make this work. "Yes," you find yourself agreeing. "I can do that." Ellie's face brightens at your words, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Good. Because I don't want to live in a world without you in it, princess." She reaches out and takes your hand, pulling you towards the door. "Come on, let's go for a walk. We need to get out of this room." You follow her quietly, enjoying the feeling of her hand in yours. As you walk, Ellie talks, explaining her plan for how you two can be together. 

It's ambitious, and it won't be easy. But with Ellie by your side, you're willing to try anything. 

The walk eventually leads you to a quiet neighborhood, one you've never been to before. Ellie pauses in front of a small, cozy house. "This is my house," she says softly. “come inside with me?” You feel a blush rise to your cheeks, knowing what will likely happen once you're inside. 

But you want to be with her, no matter what. "Okay," you agree.

As you follow Ellie into her home, you feel a sense of nervous anticipation. You know what's likely to happen next, and a part of you is thrilled, while another part is terrified. 

Once inside, Ellie locks the door behind you, turning to face you with a serious expression. "Listen, princess," she says softly. "What happens next is up to you. If you want to stop, if you want to leave, just say the word. But if you're willing to take a chance on us, then...then I want to show you just how much I care." She takes a step closer, her eyes burning into yours.

 "I want to make you feel so so good baby girl. I want to show you that we can make this work." As she speaks, she reaches up and cups your face, her thumbs brushing against your cheeks. 

You feel a shiver run down your spine at her touch.

Ellie's words send a jolt of electricity through you, her touch setting you ablaze. 

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your breathing growing ragged. "Show me," you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible. 

Ellie smiles softly at your response, her eyes darkening with possessiveness and desire.

She guides you further into the house, leading you upstairs to a small bedroom. 

It's simply furnished, with a large bed taking up most of the space. Ellie walks over to it and sits down, patting the space beside her. "C’mere baby," she invites, her voice low and husky. 

You hesitate for a moment, your hands shaking as you remove your clothing. 

But as you climb onto the bed and settle beside Ellie, you feel a sense of rightness, of coming home. 

Ellie pulls you close, wrapping her arms around you and holding you tight. Her lips find yours in a soft, sweet kiss. 

 she kisses you, her hands start to roam - tracing the lines of your back, the curve of your hips. She rolls you onto your back, looking down at you with those earnest, adoring eyes. "I love you, princess, so so much.” she whispers.

As Ellie's lips meet yours, you feel like you're melting into her embrace. Her touch is electric, setting every nerve ending in your body on fire. 

You kiss her back with all the passion and love in your heart, your arms wrapping around her waist, holding her close. 

As she rolls you onto your back, you feel a sense of vulnerability wash over you. 

But it's a good vulnerability, a trusting kind. 

You look up at her, seeing the love in her eyes, and you know that everything is going to be okay. 

Ellie's hands start to explore your body, tracing patterns on your skin, tugging gently at your clothes. 

She undresses you slowly, reverently, each article of clothing eliciting a soft gasp from you as it's pulled away. 

Once you're naked, Ellie settles between your legs, her eyes feasting on your bared flesh. 

You feel her warm breath on your most intimate area, making you shiver. 

And then her tongue touches you, sliding through your folds, seeking out your clit. You let out a soft cry of pleasure, your hips arching off the bed as she begins to lick and suck at you.

After a while, Ellie slows down her ministrations, her tongue dragging lazily through your wet folds. 

She looks up at you, her eyes dark with desire. Without a word, she climbs off the bed and walks over to the closet. 

You hear her rummaging around in it for a moment before she returns, a long, thick strap-on dangling from her hand. 

Your eyes widen at the sight of it, a mixture of excitement and nervousness washing over you. Ellie looks at you, her expression serious. "ready princess?" she asks softly. 

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. You nod, your mouth too dry to form words. 

Ellie helps you move into position, her hands guiding your hips as she presses the thick head of the strap-on against your entrance. You feel a moment of hesitation, of doubt, but then the head begins to slip inside, stretching you in ways you've never been stretched before. 

You gasp, your body tensing as Ellie works the strap-on deeper inside you. Finally, it's all the way in. 

You feel full, so very full. But in a good way, like you're being filled with potential, with possibility. Ellie leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips. "We're gonna take it slow," she promises.

As Ellie begins to move the strap-on inside you, you feel a mixture of pleasure and discomfort. 

It's a lot to take, being stretched and filled in ways your body isn't used to. 

But Ellie is patient, letting you adjust to the sensation. 

She starts off slow, her hips rocking in a steady, rhythmic motion. You feel yourself relaxing into it, your body starting to crave the sensation. 

As Ellie picks up speed, you start to feel a building pressure inside you, a sense of anticipation. 

It's like your body is getting ready to explode, to release all the tension and pleasure that's been building. And then, suddenly, you're coming. 

Your whole body seizes up as your climax hits, your fingers clutching at the sheets, your toes curling. Ellie keeps thrusting through your orgasm, riding it out with you. 

Finally, she slows to a stop, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

You collapse back onto the bed, spent and satisfied. Ellie lies down beside you, pulling you close. "That was amazing," she murmurs. "But I know it was a lot. Are you okay, princess?"

You nod As you lie there, caught on the wave of afterglow, Ellie tends to you with gentle, loving care. 

She takes the strap-on out of you, cleaning you up with soft cloths and warm water. Her touch is soothing, calming any lingering discomfort. Once you're clean, she sets about filling you up with soft, sweet kisses. Her lips trail across your skin, dotting your body with tiny pecks. She pays special attention to your breasts, your hips, your inner thighs. Each kiss feels like a promise, a seal of love and affection. As she kisses you, she wraps her arms around you, holding you close. You can feel her heart beating against your own, a steady, reassuring rhythm. "I love you," she whispers, punctuating her words with more kisses. "So very much."

“I love u too Els.”

tag list— @youfoundheavenn @gaylittleellie @xaaaavleg @sleepy-sheep-things

[senseichaos]

hi hi! That one-shot you did with Alastor broadcasting his and reader's..."love-making" was rather delicious but I can't help but think of you know..aftercare. It was quite rough and I'd love to see Alastor being sweet and sorta guilty for going so roughly cause we both know...reader was bleeding after😭😭😭

Yess I love writing aftercare and when I saw this I was immediately wanting to write it ! Thank you

"Pathetic" But still a princess,

Summary: Alastor roughed you up quite badly in your last.. fornication session.. so as to make it a more happy evening he gives you some very much needed aftercare! (Part 2 to "Pathetic")

Genre: Fluff, romance, slight sexual undertones

Warnings: Swearing, blood, Alastor is kinda bipolar considering how much more soft he acts in this compared to the last part, love confessions, lmk if I missed any

NOT EDITED NOR PROOFREAD (YET)

______

Alastor carries you the entire way to his room, not wanting to rough up your brain by teleporting to his room. And oddly he sort of enjoyed the intimacy of it all. It's weird, Alastor is never really one to enjoy intimacy, but this odd time he feels nice giving you this comfort.

As he enters his room, he makes sure to lock the door behind him so no one comes in whilst he bathes you, and with a smile to you walks to his suite. The suite isn't the largest but it's big enough that when he places you on the side of the bath he can walk around you with ease.

"Alastor I think I'm bleeding," You say, looking at some scratches on your thigh as Alastor takes off his overcoat and folds it neatly. He gives you a soft look, placing his coat to the side.

"Well of course you are darling! My fawn had to learn her lesson somehow, hm?" Alastor says with a small chuckle, squatting down (his knees clicking as he does so) to turn on the water of the bath. You roll your eyes, fiddling with the fabric of your shirt as you contemplate taking it off.

"Take off your shirt, dear, it's nothing I haven't seen before," Alastor commands with a rather teasing tone, arranging the correct soap to put inside of your bath. You nod, pulling off your shirt and bra, discarding them onto the floor next to the bath. You almost cover yourself, but understand if you did Alastor would probably tell you off.

After the bath fills a bit Alastor taps the side of the bath, capturing your attention.

"You can get in now, fawn. It should be warm enough," He says, and you give him a small nod. Rather awkwardly with your pained thighs you manage to crawl yourself into the bath, Alastor does end up helping you a bit when you almost faceplant into the water, shifting you so you sit with a weirdly empathetic look for him.

"Now let's not fall on our face, shall we. I'd rather not have you more injured than you are already,"

You giggle, leaning up and squishing his cheek playfully.

"Awe you care about me, that's new," you say, and he takes your hand off of his face with a stern look.

"I wouldn't call it 'new', you just haven't seen it yet," He says, and you give him a confused look as he starts pouring some bubble soap into the bath.

"What haven't I seen?"

He laughs, shaking his head as he begins mixing in the soap with his hand.

"Me caring about you, silly doe," He chuckles, ruffling your hair with his wet hand. This causes you to shake the water off and give him an annoyed look.

"Give me an example,"

He looks up for a moment, thinking of an instance where he's shown care for you.

"Well, how about earlier today when I told you not to drink the tea because it was hot?" He asks, turning the water pressure on the hot water slightly higher. You roll your eyes, pulling your aching knees to your chest as the water around you rises.

"Oh so what, the bare minimum.. how caring of you Alastor,"

"Now don't get pissy with me, dear. I was only giving you an example of my caring for you," He chuckles, giving your nose a soft boop as he continues mixing the water. You notice his sleeve is dangerously close to the water, so you push his hand from the water slowly.

"Careful, you're gonna get your sleeves wet," You say, and Alastor smiles slightly wider.

"Don't worry about it, my dear. It's nothing I can't handle," He says, his green magic surrounding his sleeves and rolling them up to just above his elbows. "You shouldn't have to worry about something so small as my sleeves,"

Your eyes go glossy with tears at the odd affection in his voice. It's something you've never heard from him before. Sure there's the empty compliments, the empty pecks, but this is different. It's as if he loves you.

"Do you really care about me, Alastor?"

Alastor furrows his brows, turning off the hot water tap as the bath is full enough with water. He leans over, pushing his hand against your cheek as he leans there.

"Of course I do, my dear," he pauses, looking into the distance for a moment as if contemplating. "And I do apologize for being so rough with you today, you had to learn your lesson somehow,"

You giggle, pushing his hand away and leaning against the back of the bath.

"It's okay Alastor, I liked it more than I'd like to admit,"

Alastor rolls his eyes at this, grabbing a sponge from the corner of the bath.

"Charming, my fawn," He says, putting his sponge into the water and squeezing it so the soapy water fills it. He begins to scrub you with it, staring with your face as he pushes your hair from your face, holding you there by it.

"Fuck you, as if you didn't enjoy it either!"

He laughs, scrubbing your nose as you scrunch your eyes.

"Well of course I did dear, I wouldn't have initiated it if I hadn't, hm?" Alastor hums, moving to scrub your other cheek. You sputter on a cough, your eyes squinting at the way he scrubs you. He just chuckles, scrubbing your chin and jaw.

"Do you really have to clean the entirety of me?" You ask, biting your lower lip as he tilts your head back by your hair. Alastor continues to scrub your chin, moving to the other side of your jaw.

"Well of course I do, a clean fawn is a happy fawn." He says, pinching your cheek and cooing in a sort of cute fashion. Rolling your eyes you attempt to splash water at him, only for the water to be caught up in his green magic and placed back into the water.

"Now don't try anything silly, fawn,"

You moan in annoyance, hissing when his sponge begins to scrub the raw skin on your neck from the collar he had you in. The skin is bruised and even as a couple cuts from the force he used. You wonder what he thinks about when he looks at the damage. Does he find it funny? Does it feed a possessiveness in him? Does he feel guilty?

"What do you think about when you see the marks on me?" You ask out of the blue, against your better judgement.

Much to your surprise, Alastor just tilts his head in acknowledgement before speaking.

"Hm, well I feel a tad proud, and I feel a tad guilty. But, I also feel like I want to eat you up!" He answers, ending his sentence in a teasing manor. But you don't miss the slight hunger in his eyes at the thought. You narrow your eyes, speaking: "Please don't,"

"Oh I wouldn't, dear. It's just a tad fun to think about," He says with a humor in his voice, and you can't help but laugh. Alastor moves his hand from your hair, placing it on your neck as he pushes your head back with his thumb.

"Bet you'd get your rocks off to it," You chuckle, biting on your cheek uncomfortably as Alastor scrubs the back of your neck. His eyes darken slightly, tilting your head down to get better access to the back of your neck.

"Don't tempt me, fawn," He says softly, pressing the spong to your collarbone to clean the slightly bruised area. Hissing in pain you flinch away from Alastor as his sponge brushes onto a cut. He gives you a sort of stern yet understanding look, reaching out for your arm to pull you closer to him again as soft as possible.

"Sorry my dear, it's going to hurt," Alastor apologizes, setting his hand back onto your neck so he can scrub your shoulders. Once again you hiss when the sponge hits a sensitive area of raw skin, but this time you stay put.

"You know I don't think it's fair that you get to sit outside of the bath.. how are you gonna clean my legs!" You ask, Alastor just humors you with a chuckle.

"Like this,"

He spins you around gently so your legs are hanging off the edge of the bath, dripping water down to the tiled flooring below. He takes a hold of your left ankle and begins scrubbing your foot, causing you to begin giggling at the way he scrubs the ticklish area.

"Ah! That tickles..!" You laugh, clasping your damp hands over your mouth as he continues scrubbing your foot. Alastor doesn't acknowledge you, instead going to scrub down your calf.

"I still think this is unfair, what if I want to clean you!"

"I had a bath this morning, no point in bathing again," He says with an obvious tone. You roll your eyes, looking up at the roof as he continues to clean your left leg.

"Can I at least wash you another time?"

"Maybe If you continue to be steadfast in no longer entering my studio unprompted, fawn," He answers, leaning over you as he finishes your left leg, beginning to clean your stomach.

"I'm bored.." You groan, leaning your head back into the splashback of the bath. Alastor narrows his eyes, and suddenly a tentacle with another sponge appears behind you, pushing you before beginning to clean your back.

"What a needy thing you are,". He says, causing you to huff out in displeasure. To your surprise he leans over you even more, even slightly towering over you as he cleans your breasts. It makes you blush, really. Having him tower over you like this in almost a lascivious manor whilst doing the most domestic of things. He's just cleaning you, for Christ sake!

"Alastor,"

"Hm?"

You wonder. Does he love you? You want to ask it so badly. When he towers over you like this and cleans every crevice of your body does his heart clench? Does his body feel warm? Does he get those butterflies that you do? You wonder.

"Do you love me?"

He stops moving, both him and his tentacle which had started cleaning your lower back.

His eyes reflect a myriad of emotions, many of which you can't even begin to fathom. He seems almost on edge. As if your question had sent him into his brain completely.

"I.. I think I might in my own.." he pauses, placing his pointer finger against his chin in thought. "Immoral ways,"

"Immoral?"

He continues to wash you, along with the tentacle, seeming to have gotten his point across enough to continue what he was doing.

"I'm not a moral demon, dear. When I think of you I want to devour you, but, I also want to hold you,"

Devour you?

"Well, I love you Alastor.."

"I love you too, fawn. Now let's get to cleaning your hair, shall we?"

You groan, pouting in annoyance at the thought of spending another 30 minutes in this bath. Though Alastor just laughs to himself, squeezing your cheek.

"How cute you are when you're all mad at me, hm?"

You stick out your tongue at him.

Normal, well as normal as you can be, once again.