#pre-unknowing

[melandrops]

any plans for the weekend? yeah i'm gonna be sitting on my floor staring at the walls thinking about how tim killed himself for nothing. yeah the ritual would have failed whether he was there or not. tim could have lived. he could have learned how to love again. anyway yeah that's me, what are you doing for the weekend

[saintbleeding]

[ID: Digital comic depicting Jon and Martin from TMA at some point during season three. Martin is shorter and fat with short, wavy hair. He is drawn in blue and wears circle-framed glasses and a collared shirt. Jon is taller and thin, with long, curly hair tied in a low bun, and scars across his face, neck, forearms and hands. He is drawn in red, and wears rectangular glasses and a rumpled shirt and tie.

Martin sits at his desk, reading a paper document intently and chewing on a fingernail until Jon interrupts by clearing his throat, then says “Erm. Hi. Brought you a sandwich. If- if you wanted to have lunch with me. I- I mean. Obviously you can, erm. You can keep it. Either way, I mean.”

Martin stares at him in perturbed silence for a moment before saying “Um. O...kay?”

In the next panel, they sit opposite one another at Jon’s desk, Martin eating the sandwich and Jon watching him intently. Jon says “You--aren’t in trouble or anything.” to which Martin replies “Oh. Hah. Um. Good?”

Jon continues “I- just... haven’t seen a lot of you this week.” Martin awkwardly agrees, then, after a pause, says “Um. Thanks. F- For the sandwich.”

Jon blusters ahead, saying “Mm. I- can I tell you something?” to which Martin says “Uh... y- yeah?”

The next panel shows a close-up of Martin, with Jon’s diatribe surrounding him. Only the first sentence is fully legible; it says “Martin I just want to say that I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable on Friday night.” The profuse apology continues, fading at the bottom of the panel into “blah, blah, blah”.

The next three panels show Martin sadly lowering his head as a blue fog descends around him. His thoughts are visible as he thinks to himself “Oh. Well. (caps) Obviously (end caps) he doesn’t actually like you, stupid.”

In the next panel, the fog has faded, and Martin runs a hand through his hair, giving a fake smile as he says “Hah, Jon, it’s fine. Don’t worry. I get it.”

Jon stares back in perturbed silence, before also giving a fake smile and saying “Right. Yes. Good. Um. Thank you.”

The last panel shows them both, smiling at one another. Martin’s hands are in his lap and Jon has his fingers steepled in front of his mouth. Martin says “It- it’s fine. Let’s--just--forget it happened.” Jon replies “Er. I- w- yes. I- I expect that’s probably for the best.”

End ID.]

hi i have continued the crime i commenced the other day here. god forbid men confess their feelings for each other in a straightforward manner ig.

[scandalouslamb]

I love that the filters on my Ao3 profile are in genuine disbelief about how much I've written about Felix Ravinstill.

The first two photos on the left show Ao3 claiming that I have 4 fics tagged with Coriolanus Snow but only 3 tagged with Felix Ravinstill, but then wouldn't you know it? Once you filter to see all my Felix fics, you'll find that I have 4 tagged with him.

Also Ao3 currently hasn't acknowledged the President Ravinstill & Volumnia Gaul tag as a common tag, but it was acknowledged the Festus Creed/Felix Ravinstill/Original Female Character(s) tag and the President Ravinstill & Felix Ravinstill tag as common. This is very funny for me as the only author currently in those tags.

Apparently the toxic besties don't deserve rights. (Also note that being designated a common tag doesn't mean it's actually commonly used. It's just the default version of a tag rather than synonymous with the common tag. I still find it funny.)

[theflyingfeeling]

I hope everyone's having a nice Sunday, and if not, I hope I can make it more less terrible with the third chapter for my fic let me down slowly, now on AO3 ✨

again, huge thanks to anyone who's been reading this 🥺 the final chapter will be up at some point next week

[southfarthing]

I ordered a second-hand copy of Tree and Leaf a couple of weeks ago, and it arrived with a signature from Michael G. R. Tolkien (JRRT's grandson), dated 2 May 1989. I have to admit I don't know much about him, but it turns out that he delivered a lecture about his grandfather that day for the University of St. Andrews Science Fiction and Fantasy Society – so I'm guessing someone must have taken this book with them and asked him to sign it.

It's amazing to me that this book then ended up in my hands. Surely it was a thing of memory and fondness for its previous owner, and I can't imagine them willingly giving it away for it to sit in a warehouse somewhere before being sold online for cheap. And yet it has made the journey, and I'm even more excited to read it than before, now that this introduction to Tolkien's philosophy itself has been touched by history and memory.

An excerpt from the 1989 lecture that made me smile:

'I am delighted to be able to continue a family connection that goes back 50 years to the Andrew Long Memorial lecture of March 1939, though I am sorry to note in the official biography of my grandfather that this commitment was described as one of the "endless distractions that prevented him from working at The Lord of the Rings!" However, it is clear that this lecture was not just a sidetrack; it subsequently formed the basis for the remarkably astute and often characteristically witty, prejudiced and uncompromising Essay on Fairy Stories, known as "Tree and Leaf" [...] It helped to clarify his purposes and sense of direction in The Lord of the Rings and it could be seen as an indispensable guide to the art and concepts of Tolkien's fantasies. So what may have seemed a distraction was actually a reinvigoration and gave him more confidence as to what kind of audience the undertaking might presuppose.'

[k7tt1]

.

[istherewifiinhell]

Weekly* movie: ikiru. Im in shamblessssss

[*Last week. Sometimes i go into overtime]

[clementine-kesh]

so much of western horror perpetuates colonial ideas of the americas as this vast tract of unknowable untouched wilderness that will swallow you up the moment you step outside “civilization” and it’s like. for millennia pre-contact that was just someone’s backyard. there’s probably still evidence of indigenous cultural practices on the landscape if you know how to look

[rumplereids]

wonderstruck.

part one. tags: spencer reid x fem!reader. tech analyst!reader. early-s1!spencer. a/n: tech analyst!reader won’t leave my little brain. i hope u like this :) masterlist. requests are open !

You were 21 when you got recruited into the bureau. Barely a graduate, and already on a FBI watchlist. Honestly, the only reason you’re under their watchful eyes is because of a lapse in judgment.

To celebrate the semester ending, your roommate decided that you both needed to get drunk. Being a psychology major with a pre-med roommate leads to tequila shots in your own dorm room. It’s the convenience and comfort of your own space that got you so drunk. This situation led to this: you admitting to your roommate, with heavy eyes, that you can “hack, you know. I learned when I was 15.”

She sat up from her place on the floor.

“Really? I don’t believe you!” she giggles, and then hiccups.

“I so can!” there’s indignation and a want to prove yourself in the tone of your voice.

“Okay, show me!”

Shuffling on heavy feet, you plop down in front of your laptop. A few clicks and the comforting clacks of your keyboard, and then a window pops open. You look at the wide-gaped mouth of your roommate. “What are you hacking?”

You hum, “I don’t know.”

And then you remember the talk from a few days ago. Two agents from the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit came over to your college to talk about criminal profiling to psychology majors and anyone else interested.

Completely inebriated, you manage to hack into their database. Your hazy mind doesn’t forget to compliment the beauty and intricacy of the codes and firewalls you broke down.

At Quantico, Virginia, Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia rushes into her unit chief’s office.

“Sir, somebody is attempting to get into my system. I think they’re trying to communicate?”

Hotch follows Garcia into her office, the quickness of their steps catching the attention of Dr. Spencer Reid who was seated at his desk, skimming over a case report.

When Hotch gets into Penelope’s ‘lair’, his eyes squint, adjusting to the dimmed lights and bright screens. On the main monitor, a window displaying the barebones of a text chat is open.

<ATHEN411> ????

<ATHEN411> hiiiiidfgsd

<YOU> Who is this?

<ATHEN411> ohymgofd i didnt think anyonewould alsnwer

<ATHEN411> wh o it sthis?

<YOU> BAU Section Chief Aaron Hotchner.

<ATHEN411> omfdg i know uuu !! jason mentoined u

<YOU> Jason?

<ATHEN411> yhuhh jason digeon or sumn omg i cant tpoye

<ATHEN411> sorry

<YOU> Jason Gideon? How do you know him?

<ATHEN411 disconnected.>

You’ve completely forgotten about the conversation. Until, a few days later. You’re turning the corner of the hallway to get into your dorm. Backpack slung on a shoulder, arms full of your laptop, binders and a soft-bound copy of your final paper. You stop in your tracks when you see two men stationed outside your room’s door.

One man was in a shirt, jeans, and combat boots. He also had sunglasses on. The other had a permanent furrow to his brows, dressed formally in a suit and tie.

“Hi, can I help you?” you ask, hand reaching into your hoodie pocket for your keys and pepper spray.

The one in sunglasses holds up a badge and ID.

“FBI. I’m Agent Morgan, this is Agent Hotchner. Are you Y/N L/N?”

You gulp, wondering why they knew your name.

“Um, yeah. Why?”

“Can we talk somewhere private?”

Your bring out your keys, and you notice how Agent Hotchner eyes the pepper spray keychained to it.

“Um, yeah. We can talk inside? My roommate’s still out.”

You unlock your door and walk in, the agents following in after you. Dropping your bag on your desk chair, you turn to ask the agents, “How can I help you?”

Agent Hotchner asks, “Are you familiar with the name athen-four-one-one?”

You look up at them guilty.

“It’s athena-eleven.”

“So, it’s you?” Agent Morgan clarifies.

“Yes. How did you find me?”

The two men share a glance. A silent conversation passing with you unknowing.

“Two nights ago, you hacked into the BAU’s database.”

You look at them in suprise, “I did?”

“Yes,” Agent Hotchner says, passing a folder to you. Inside are images and a transcript of messages shared between a ‘P.GARCIA’ and ‘ATHEN411’.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, realizing what’s happening.

“I was drunk off my ass two nights ago! I’m so sorry,” that catches Agent Morgan’s attention.

“You were drunk?”

“Yeah, my roommate and I were celebrating our exams. I didn’t… Am I in trouble?”

Agent Hotchner raises a hand in a placating gesture, “You were drunk when you hacked into the bureau’s database?” Confusion and slight amusement evident in the tone of his voice.

“Yeah,” you confess, “It was just a dare! I don’t even remember much of it.”

Agent Morgan looks as if he doesn’t know what to think about the situation. You feel the same. Agent Hotchner extends a hand to get the file back from you, and you give it to him easily.

“Would you go with us back to the station?”

“What? For what? Am I being sued?”

“The opposite. I would like to conduct a proper interview.” Agent Hotchner explains.

“An interview? For what?”

“A job as a technical analyst at Quantico.”

You look at them, eyes furrowing in confusion and disbelief, “What? I can’t!”

“Why not?”

You gesture toward your desk, “I still have a paper to pass!”

Meeting Penelope Garcia was like a dream come true.

“I should have realized! The triple-stacked firewall should’ve been so obvious! The Black Queen signature!”

The blonde’s eyes sparkle, happy to meet a match.

“Athena-Eleven! I didn’t even notice you were in my systems until you sent your first message.”

You feel your chest puff up at the indirect praise.

“You were one of my idols,” you admit, “Your exposé on Griffith Industries was just… stunning! Absolutely flawless. You had a section in your code that I used to build my private server—” Agent Hotchner interrupts your spiel.

He gestures to the rest of the room, where agents were seated at a round table.

“This is Y/N L/N, the unit’s newest technical analyst. ” he says, and you give a shy wave. You get a wave back from the agent wearing glasses. He’s cute. Have you seen him before?

“This is Jennifer Jareau, our communications liaison,” you shake her outstretched hand. She’s so pretty, you start to think, gorgeous blue eyes too.

“You’ve met Derek Morgan,” Agent Hotchner says, and Agent Morgan gives a two finger salute, his hands wrapped around a coffee cup.

“Agent Jason Gideon,” you return his handshake, mumbling a shy; “Hello, sir. Nice to see you again.”

And then, “This is Dr. Spencer Reid—”

“Oh! You were with Agent Gideon at the seminar! You talked a bit about geoprofiling, and how an unsub’s subconscious can’t help but stick close to home, which helps you triangulate the—” Agent Hotchner lets out another soft cough.

“Um, yeah. I did. Nice to meet you,” he gives another small wave, smile close-lipped and awkward. Endearing. He’s really cute. “I don’t really shake hands.”

You nod, “I get that, germs and stuff. It’s actually, weirdly, safer to kiss.”

You don’t see the way JJ and Derek look at each other, nor do you notice when Penelope whispered, “Oh my God, there’s two of them.”

“Your code name, it’s for the Athena, right? The Greek goddess of wisdom, warfare, and handicraft?” Dr. Reid asks you, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Yeah. I love greek mythology.”

He gives you a smile, “I do, as well. I’m wondering about the eleven though. Does it mean anything?”

You tsk’d through your teeth, “The angel number 1111’s often seen as a spiritual wake-up call and awakening. I thought it was fitting, and I was 15 when I chose the name, okay? Excuse little old me.”

“That’s cool,” Dr. Reid admits. If he remembers your file right, you were barely 17 when you became a trademark and known name in underground hacking circles. He can’t properly meet your eyes, struck in awe. Athena. It’s perfect for you.

“Y/N formally starts her job with us in three days,” Hotch informs the team, “Be kind.”

With a final word, Gideon and Hotch start to return to their offices.

Derek straightens from his position on the office chair. “I am very kind!”

“He didn’t say anything about you,” Penelope teases.

“Ooh, that says a lot, Morgan. It says so much,” JJ teases back.

You smile at them, your new co-workers, taking the seat JJ was gesturing at for you. The three continue bickering, you start to tune them out as you make eye contact with Dr. Reid. The apple of his cheeks blush red, and you can’t stop the grin on your lips from getting wider. He’s downright enchanting.

[livelaughlovesubs]

Sucking off a pretty bf with pretty expressions~

(Dom!gn!Reader x sub!male!character)

It didn’t really matter where or why you two would do it, since he’d always listen to you anyway. All because this love-starved little thing’s so eager for any shred of your affection on a daily basis, following you around like a lost animal. That makes him so fun to bully!

Just pin him against the nearest wall or make him sit down wherever possible. Hovering above the ground or spreading his pretty legs while you teasingly tap his bulge. Once, twice, maybe squeeze it a little or blow hot air against it, all to get a reaction out of him. Watch that bulge twitch all excited, so easy to understand compared to his broken words.

Oh, what’s this? He’s already hard for you~ take it a liiiittle further by kissing his clothes sex, looking up at him to see him on the verge of tearing up. Chest heaving as he throws his palm over his mouth. That’s is? He’s already feeling it so strongly? How was he going to handle you? Well, you don’t mind breaking your toy once in a while.

“H-hurry… please.” Look how naive he is, so unknowing. He’s so cute when he starts begging you with a muffled voice, so pretty and whorish when he hesitantly pulls down his pants and underwear with a trembling hand. Gosh, if you were to take it any further, won’t this pathetic little boy cry? Wouldn’t his mind turn to mush already?

And when you finally start teasing his tip, maybe even giving him loooong and intimate licks along his shaft, be prepared to hear the sweetest moans and whimpers ever! The blush on his cheeks are spreading to his ears and chest, and his sensitive dick is leaking so much pre already! You haven’t even began properly.

If you were to bless him with your mouth, he’d first melt due to your touch. The feeling of your hot mouth and wet tongue on his lewd cock is so erotic, so perverted! He can’t control his voice, it’s all leaking out, “ah- ohh, nghh, ahh-UhmM♡♥︎!!”

What a cute but pathetic thing, already screaming ‘cummin’ m’cummin’!!’ When all you did was suck him off a little. This won’t do, it doesn’t matter if you’re in public or not, this is simply too early for it to be fun. Pulling back just to tell him ‘not yet’. Now he’s crying and whining about how you are too cruel, how he desperately needs you :(

Poor boy, guess there’s no other way huh? He’s so helpless in situations like this, he needs your guidance! At this point you’ve taken pity on him and decided to let him cum, cooing at him, praising him, but since you are sucking him off he can only make out quiet humming sounds.

On the other hand, the vibrations of your voice is driving him crazy, it’s adding so much more pleasure to the already overwhelming batch, it’s so intense he was itching to grab your hair and feel more. Luckily he remembered not to, he knew the consequences, he didn’t want to disappoint you.

That sweet and obedient man is now moaning so loudly you can call him ‘your woman’. Head thrown back as he tried to warn you with broken sentences, “cu-mHMmiiinng!! I’m cu-cuuuu cumminnnng! ♡～”

Not long after he’s shooting his thick and disgusting cum into your mouth, squirming and withering. This won’t do though, you didn’t feel like swallowing it on that day. So instead, you commanded him to open his mouth all wide and to stick his tongue out. Yanking on his hair to make it easier, lining your lips adobe his, slowly letting it drip down from the tip of your tongue.

You don’t even have to order him to and he’s already gulped it all done. Such a good boy, right? Your good boy, your very best and most obscene boy toy. Just to make sure, he’d ask, “Did I do good? I hope I pleased you♡”

Your favourites!

[lowkeyrobin]

Heyyy hope you’re having a wonderful day! I wanted to request a Sparrow Ben Hargreeves one shot where like Y/N is oblivious to his feelings while he’s trying to drop hints?? (but failing because something always happens)

If not that’s totally fine!!! No pressure :3

oooo okay okay I can definitely try!! ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy 🫶 ; alsonsorry this is so bad idk y I flopped on this 😔

SPARROW! BEN ; damnit

summary ; ben's always being cockblocked

warnings ; language, mentions of alcohol

disclaimers ; takes place post s3 - pre s4

word count ; 881

masterlist

You stand in the kitchen with Luther, making dinner with him for the family. Everyone, aka the Hargreeves and Lila plus their kids, had come over for a little reunion for their birthday. You weren't a Hargreeves, nor did you have powers, but they were your only friends, and they each saved your life at least once.

Ben approaches, leaning on the counter where you chop up some green onions, a pot and pan on the stove behind you.

"Hey" He smiles. "Whatcha up to?"

You shrug. "Chopping up some onions. What's up?"

"Nothing, really. Allison picked out a really dumb movie to watch and I can't stand it anymore" He answers.

You'd tuned out the family in the living room just a few feet away, focused on your meal prepping / creating. You look up at the TV, seeing the family sprawled around the furniture, kids playing with toys on the floor.

"Ben, stop, this movie is so good" You reply, turning back to your cutting board.

"It's some cheesey Hallmark movie?"

"Hush"

The two of you are silent for a moment before he speaks again.

"Your hair looks really nice today-"

"Fuck!"

The siblings quickly shoot up from their spots, Ben jumping a bit as you rush to the stove.

You'd accidently lit the chicken on fire. Somehow.

You quickly slam a lid over the pan of chicken, not wanting to fuel the grease fire any more than you had. You quickly shut off the burner, slowly looking back at Ben.

"Could you go get me more chicken from the store? I'll give you the money, I just need to look over all this stuff, sorry for asking on your birthday-"

"Yeah, sure!" He quickly replies. "Anything for you"

"Hey, Y/n" Ben smiles, "I brought you flowers"

"Awe, thank you!" You reply, accepting the gift as he enters your home.

"I kinda wanted to talk to you about something-"

Your phone rings, the number being the one of your workplace. You grab it, looking to him before accepting the call.

"I gotta take this really quick, sorry"

He nods, watching you trail into the other room, flowers still in hand. He stands by the door, unknowing of what to do in the moment. He soaks up his own silence, listening to your unintelligible speech behind the walls.

You return swiftly, a sorry expression on your face.

"I'm so sorry, Ben, I need to go in, it's urgent. Uhm, we'll talk later, yeah?"

"Uh, yeah, sorry. Be safe"

As he quickly exits your home, he mutters to himself.

"Damnit"

"I dunno, maybe I'm crazy," you chuckle, picking up another piece of food with your fork.

"I don't think you're crazy." Ben shrugs. "I think you're overworked and tired"

You both sit in a booth at a restaurant, a bright light shining over the table, warm food on your plates. You were eating out because you both didn't want to cook dinner at home tonight. Being alone sucked for both of you. If only you both had the balls to talk to each other.

But that's your problem, you oblivious fuck.

You shrug at his response. "I dunno, I think being alone, living alone, is slowly driving me insane."

"I mean, you could live with me," He mumbles, picking at his food.

"Hm?" You hum, having not heard him.

"Oh, nothing"

"...You sure?"

"Yeah"

The silence blankets you once more as you listen to the nearby commotion. The other families eating, the bustling workers, the music over the speakers.

You listened to everything but him, didn't you?

Today was the day. Ben was going to ask you out and he was not going to let himself or anything else get in his way.

Well, maybe red wine ruining his shirt would.

Why did he decide to take you to a bar in the first place is what we're all wondering. It didn't take much for him to get at least buzzed, which was his current state.

You decided to walk him back home, not wanting him to walk in the dark all by his lonesome. The walk is quiet, considering his slightly bruised ego. Jesus, he'd never get the chance to ask you at this point.

He slumps onto his bed as you lead him into his home, yelling into his mattress. You stand behind him, silent, finding this normal, because it was.

"What're you mad about now?" You sigh, throwing a pair of pajamas on him which you'd gotten from his dresser.

"I wanted to ask you out, and I have for a while, and every time I try it gets fucking ruined!" He slurs, yelling into his mattress once more.

You blink, confused. "What?"

"I like you, Y/n, Jesus," He groans, rolling over to look at you.

"Oh"

"'Oh' what?"

"I didn't realize" You shrug.

"I know. That's why I was trying to hint at it and even tell you, but you're oblivious, and things always have to go sideways at the wrong time," Ben speaks.

"I mean, I'd go out with you"

He raises an eyebrow. "Actually?"

"Yeah" You shrug. "Why not?"

"Oh my God, that took the biggest weight off my shoulders." He rolls off the bed on accident, landing on the floor.

You laugh.

"Damnit"

[strvberrydoll]

Omg i absolutely loved rosemary!!! Also the fact it’s based on a Sierra Ferrell song is amazing. That brings me to my request to maybe an Arthur fic based on her song “I Could Drive You Crazy” 🤭🤭🤭 I feel like that song is so Arthur and his darling girl coded

I COULD DRIVE YOU CRAZY

cw: fluff, hunting, pre-canon, two idiots in love, arthur is crushing so hard it’s actually embarrassing

wc: 3,3k

a/n: the way I SCREAMED when I saw your request anon !! i loove Sierra Ferrell she’s one of the few artists i have constantly on repeat. Sorry I took my sweet time replying but I had to make this piece good. This is a little insight on Arthur and his darling girl pre-relationship dynamic ! Thank you for requesting and I hope you like it <3

The late noon sun bathed the camp in a cold, bright light, casting the long shadows of the nearby douglas fir trees stretching all around you as it began its slow but steady descent behind the rolling hills of the Tall Trees region as afternoon approached. The smell of woodsmoke and simmering stew filled the air, mixing with the earthy scent of pine and the faint aroma of freshly turned earth. You stood beside Pearson, by the cooking wagon. Your hands busy chopping vegetables while the man stirred the stew pot, his gruff voice occasionally muttering to himself as he adjusted the few seasonings Miss Grimshaw desperately requested to add into his infamous venison stew. Abigail stood nearby, cleaning the dishes used in the morning. Her laughter light as she shared stories about young Jack with you.

“Jack’s been askin’ after you,” Abigail said with a fond smile. “Ever since he learned how to say your name he’s been saying it non stop. Makes me miss the time when the only things he could say was ‘mama’ and random bubbling noises”

“He’s a sweet kid,”

“Yes, and a spoiled one too. No matter how much I try, he refuses to go to sleep until he hears your voice telling him a goodnight story”

You chuckled, feeling a warmth in your chest at the thought of the boy’s eager face. “I’ll have to think up a good one for him tonight, then.”

The sound of approaching hoofbeats drew your attention away from the conversation. You glanced up just in time to see the men returning from their latest job. Dust and sweat clung to them, their faces weary but carrying the unmistakable look of men who had just succeeded at their mission. Among them, a particular figure caught your eyes. Arthur Morgan dismounted with practiced ease, his broad shoulders slumped slightly by the fatigue of the day’s event. Even from a distance, his presence was commanding, a strong aura following him as he led a tired Boadicea toward the hitching post.

Even from a distance, there was something about Arthur that drew your eye—his quiet strength, the way he moved with precise purpose, his steady presence that always seemed to bring a sense of security to the camp. You watched as he handled the reins, hitching Boadicea and patting her dark brown mane, undoubtedly praising her for a job well done.

Was it possible to be jealous of a horse ?

His gaze briefly scanned the camp before it landed on you. For a fleeting moment, your eyes met, and you felt a flutter in your chest. You quickly returned your attention to a particular interesting piece of tomato you had cut, wishing for your burning cheeks to calm.

“Mister Morgan!” Pearson’s booming voice cut through the air, making you wish the earth would swallow you whole. “We’re runnin’ low on meat. Reckon we’ll last two more days with what little I have.” Pearson’s voice lowering to a more quiet tone as Arthur inched closer to the wagon. “Can you head out and bring somethin’ back before it gets dark?”

Arthur looked over at the stew pot, his face churning with an unreadable expression, then back to Pearson with a nod. “Sure, Pearson. I’ll head out now.”

As he turned to leave, something inside you stirred. You weren’t sure if it was the desire to escape the mundane tasks of camp, to immerse yourself in the unknown beauty of the wilderness or, more than that, the desire for a chance to spend time with Arthur, to learn from him, to be close to him. Nonetheless, before you could second guess your action you placed down your knife, stepping forward, the words hurriedly leaving your lips as in fear you might stop them if they took a second longer to pronounce.

“Mister Morgan,” you called out, your voice a little hesitant. “May I come with you?”

He paused, turning to face you fully. A faint hint of surprise washed over his face. His aqua eyes, always so full of depth and intensity, softened slightly as he considered your request. “You sure ‘bout that? Huntin’ ain’t exactly a walk in the woods.”

“I’d like to learn,” you insisted, your heart beating faster as you met his gaze under his worn gambler’s hat. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a gesture that seemed almost shy. He nodded. “Alright, then. Let’s get goin’.”

It took an immeasurable amount of strength to refrain yourself from smiling brightly at the man in front of you. You promptly returned to your cutting station, untying your apron in quick movements. Abigail came closer to you, taking the apron from your hands and putting it on ready to replace you in your work. As you two locked eyes, a knowing smile adorned the brunette’s face, making you flush.

Your steps were quick as you followed Arthur to the hitching post, your Hungarian half-bred just a few feet away from Boadicea. You gently pat her, giving her a stalk of celery you stole from Pearson. Circling around to tighten the strap of your saddle you felt the heavy gaze of the outlaw follow your every move. His muscular form already mounted on his horse. You mounted your horse, not wanting to trouble Arthur and make him reconsider his decision. He cleared his throat before speaking,

“We’ll go through the woods on the left near the lake,” he stated, tutting at his horse to move forward “Mac told me he found a few deer tracks down there.”

You simply nodded, not trusting your voice to give away your feelings.

The air was cooler than the already crisp air in camp. Beneath the canopy of trees, the sun’s rays filtering through the needles of the pine trees in dappled patterns on the forest floor. The smell of pine and earth was much stronger here, mingling with the fresh scent of moss and the faint musk of animals that had passed through earlier. Arthur led the way, silent and sure, while you followed close behind, too occupied by taking in the view to initiate a conversation.

Passing through a particularly steep path Arthur signaled you to stop. He hopped down from his horse, walking a few feet forward before stopping. You copied his action. The ground beneath your boots was soft, a carpet of moss and pine needles that muted your footsteps.

“First rule of huntin’,” Arthur began, his voice low and steady as he crouched down to examine a set of tracks in the soft dirt, “is patience. Animals can sense when somethin’ ain’t right, so you gotta move slow and stay quiet.”

You nodded, kneeling beside him as you peered at the tracks. They were faint, just a few indentations in the earth, but Arthur pointed them out to you with practiced ease. The proximity of him, the way his voice dropped down on to a near whisper, sent a thrill through you that had little to do with the hunt and everything to do with the outlaw beside you.

“There,” he said, his hand brushing against yours as he pointed. “That’s a deer track. See how the hooves dig in? Means it was here not too long ago. We follow these, and we might just catch up to it.”

His touch was fleeting, but it left a warmth on your skin that lingered long after he pulled his hand away. You nodded again, trying to focus on the task at hand, reprimanding your mind for wandering to such thoughts. But it was difficult with Arthur so close, his presence almost overwhelming in its quiet intensity.

Together, you moved through the woods, following the tracks with Arthur’s guidance. You moved in silence. The woods offered you the calm noises of the rustling of leaves, the distant call of a bird, and the soft crunch of your boots on the forest floor. Every now and then, Arthur would pause, his head tilting slightly as he listened for any signs of movement, his sharp eyes scanning the space surrounding you.

Finally, after what felt like hours to you but was probably only a few minutes, you spotted the deer—a lone buck grazing in a small clearing, its head down, completely unaware of your presence. Arthur’s hand came up in front of you, motioning you to stop and you both knelt down behind a fallen mossy log, using it for cover.

He handed you his rifle, his hands steady as they helped you position it against your shoulder. His touch on you gentle, guiding you with the same care and precision he used in everything he did. You could feel his breath on your neck, making the small hairs on your nape stand up. The brim of his hat grazing your hair as the heat of his body so close to yours made your heart beat so violently that you were sure Arthur could hear it.

“Alright,” Arthur whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in even close. “Here’s where it gets tricky. You gotta stay calm, keep your breathin’ steady, and line up your shot. Don’t rush it. As long as we don’t make a sound the deer will be there. Let the moment come to you.”

“Steady now,” Arthur murmured, his voice low and soothing. You took a deep breath, the crisp air filling your lungs. “Just like that. Breathe in… and out. Always pull the trigger on empty lungs”

You tried to focus, tried to steady your breath as he instructed, but the closeness of him, the deep rumble of his voice in your ear, made it difficult to concentrate. You aimed at the deer, your finger brushing the trigger, but your hands were trembling ever so slightly.

“Breathe,” Arthur reminded you, his hand coming to rest lightly on your shoulder grounding you, steadying you from the imminent recoil of the rifle. “You’ve got this.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest, and then you squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, echoing through the trees.

A second passed where it was deadly silent, you opened your eyes to check on your target but your aim had been off. The bullet whizzed past the deer, embedding itself in the trunk of a nearby tree. The deer’s head shot up, and in an instant, it bolted, disappearing into the underbrush before you even had time to lower the rifle.

Your shoulders slumped in disappointment, and you let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry, Mister Morgan,” you muttered, gloomily handing the rifle back to him.

But Arthur wasn’t upset. Instead, he gave you a reassuring smile, his eyes warm as he shook his head with a strange myrth. “Don’t be sorry. You did good for your first try. Takes time to get the hang of it. Deer’s easy to track but a damn tricky target, especially when you’re just startin’ out.”

His words were kind, but you couldn’t help the sense of failure that settled in your chest. You had wanted to impress him, to show him that you could be just as capable as any of the men in the gang, but instead, you had let the moment slip away making a fool of yourself in front of him. You lowered your gaze to your lap, playing with a stray cotton strand of your blouse.

“Come on,” Arthur said, standing and offering you his hand. “Let’s see if we can track somethin’ else. We’ve still got some daylight left.”

You took his hand, feeling the roughness of his warm calloused palm against yours as he pulled you to your feet. The warmth of his touch, the easy way he smiled at you, made it hard to stay upset for long. There was something about Arthur—something steady and reassuring—that made you feel like everything was going to be alright, even when things didn’t go as planned.

You dusted off your skirt, it definitely wasn’t the best clothing choice for hunting but you had little to no time changing into a more comfortable outfit. You thanked whoever was above that this week wasn’t your turn to wash the camp’s clothes. Karen sure had a great load of work ahead of her.

The two of you mounted back up on your horses and continued deeper into the forest, the trees growing denser as the light began to fade. Arthur was patient, showing you how to look for signs of wildlife, teaching you how to move quietly through the underbrush without making yourself known to the animals you were tracking. His calm demeanor, his quiet confidence, made you feel more at ease, and slowly, you found yourself relaxing into the rhythm of the hunt.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting the forest in a soft, amber glow, you spotted something moving in the distance—a wild boar, its dark shape partially hidden by the underbrush as it ate the roots of a bush near a fallen log. You felt a surge of excitement, your heart beating faster as you pointed it out to Arthur.

“There,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you hopped down from your horse. “There’s a boar!”

Arthur followed you down his horse. His eyes followed your gaze as he nodded, his gaze narrowing as he assessed the situation. “That’s a good target. Boar’s got tough skin, but he’s not too fast. You ready to give it another try?”

You nodded, your grip tightening on the rifle as Arthur handed it to you once more. This time, you felt more confident, more focused. Arthur had shown you what to do, had taught you how to read the signs, how to stay calm and patient. You could do this. You needed to do this.

You crouched down behind a bush making sure you had a clear view of the target. Arthur stayed close, his presence a steadying force as you lined up your shot. “Remember,” he said softly, his voice just above a whisper, “breathe slowly, keep your hands steady, and don’t rush it. You’ve got this.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill your lungs as you focused on the boar. It was still rooting around, completely unaware of you and Arthur watching from the shadows. You steadied the rifle, your finger brushing the trigger, and then, with a calmness you hadn’t felt before, you squeezed.

The shot rang out, sharp and clear in the evening air. This time, your aim was true. The boar let out a sharp squeal, its body jerking as the bullet hit its mark. It staggered for a moment, and then it collapsed, its movements ceasing as it fell to the ground.

For a moment, you just stood there, staring in disbelief. You had done it. You had actually done it.

“I did it,” you whispered, a smile slowly spreading across your face as the realization sank in. “Arthur, I did it!” you said turning to face Arthur. You couldn’t believe yourself. You actually hunted down some game. A laughter came up to you, heartily and genuine.

Arthur’s face lit up with a grin, his eyes shining with pride as he clapped you on the back. “Good girl. Nice work. That’s some fine shootin’.”

His praise warmed you more than the fading sunlight ever could, and you felt a surge of joy and accomplishment. But it wasn’t just about the hunt—it was about the way Arthur was looking at you now, with a gleam in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, as if he was seeing you in a new light.

The two of you approached the poor boar, and Arthur knelt beside it, inspecting your handiwork with a nod of approval. “Perfect shot,�� he said, glancing up at you from under his hat with a smile. “Damn, you’re a natural.”

Your heart swelled with pride at his words, and you couldn’t help but brightly beam at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that had little to do with the successful hunt and everything to do with the man beside you.

As Arthur worked skinning the animal and preparing the boar to transport it back to camp, you found yourself stealing glances at him. Although he was now covered in blood you couldn’t help but find him even more attractive. You watched the way the fading light played across his features, highlighting the strong lines of his jaw, the curve of his plump lips, the intensity in his eyes that seemed to soften whenever he looked your way. There was something different about the way he was acting around you now, a quiet affection in his gaze, a tenderness in his touch that hadn’t been there before.

Once the boar was ready, the two of you began to head back to camp, the weight of the animal stowed on the back of Boadicea as you carried its pelt. The forest was quiet now, the sun nearly gone, leaving the trees bathed in the soft, dusky indigo light of twilight. As you rode, side by side, you could feel the connection between you and Arthur growing stronger with each step, an unspoken bond that neither of you had to put into words growing evermore.

“Thank you for teaching me, Mister Morgan” you said softly, stopping your horse just a few feet away as the camp came into view, the warm glow of the firelight welcoming you back. The distance giving you both one last moment of privacy. “I’ve always wanted to learn, but I didn’t think I’d be any good at it.”

Arthur glanced over at you, his expression thoughtful. “You don’t need to be so formal with me now, you can call me Arthur,” he started. “Besides, you’ve got a good eye,” he said, his voice sincere. “And you listen, which is more than I can say for most people in this godforsaken gang. You did real good out there.”

The praise made your cheeks warm, and you ducked your head slightly, feeling a little shy under his gaze. “I had a good teacher.”

Arthur shook his head at that, hiding his face under the brim of his hat as he mumbled to himself something you didn’t quite catch.

“Maybe we’ll do this again sometime,” he said, his tone casual but with an underlying amusement that betrayed his carefree tone

“I’d like that,” you replied, your voice soft as the two of you approached camp, the sounds of the gang's usual chatter welcoming you back. “I’d like that a lot.”

As you helped Arthur carry the boar to Pearson, who greeted you with his usual gruffness but a nod of approval, you couldn’t help but feel that something had changed between you and Arthur. There was a new understanding, a deeper connection, something that went beyond the simple companionship you had shared before when you occasionally chatted while you worked on the camp’s chores.

As the evening wore on and the camp settled into its usual rhythm, you found yourself glancing over at Arthur, who was seated by the campfire, his gaze occasionally drifting your way. And each time your eyes met, there was a spark—a shared smile, a lingering look—that hinted at something more.

And in that moment, you knew that this was just the beginning. The beginning of something special, something that neither of you could quite put into words, but that you both felt growing with every passing moment you spent together.

[sleep-0-deprived]

Dazai x male reader, sfsw and nsfw

Dazai x male reader nsfw and sfw head-cannons

Sfw

Dazai is a man who will always be touching you in some sort of way and he will definitely crack dry jokes making you dead pan looking over at him even in serious situations.

Dazai is the type to take nothing serious but when he senses you tense or serious he’s oddly good at comfort even if he feels awkward about giving it he’s always good at it, always giving his boyfriend advice or comforting hugs, touches anything to show his affection for you.

He also needs comfort just as much as he gives it, dazai has very concerning self destructive tendencies and he always jokes about them never wanting to take them serious so often times he ends up having a mental health deterioration day where he needs and craves you and your comfort but unknowing how to ask.

NSFW

This man is the most teasing and joking person during sex you’ll find. Dazai’s not the type to be playful no he’s cunning, whispering dirty words about how your rim feels twitching around him as he plunges himself into your ass from behind.

Often times dazai loves sucking you off, enjoying how your body squirms and your eyes roll back arching as you despratly pull at his brown locks while he bobs his head up and down on your cock using his tongue swirling it just enough to place you on edge but not pushing you over just yet.

Dazai isn’t super kinky but he’s also far from vanilla. The kinks he does have he’s good at incorporating like his biggest kinks are overstimulation and edging he’ll either have you cumming til your cock is milked dry and your face in the pillows as he keeps rapidly thrusting his hips fucking into your prostate or your sitting in his lap wearing a cock ring as you ride him, your cock hard barely able to leak pre cum as it throbs needing your release so bad your on the verge of tears but that ring stays on you for hours til you physically can’t or you yell out the safe word.

[darknights-beloved]

cw; pining, (not specified) afab reader, loots of yearning yk, slow burn, pre relationship, nothing mentioned too explicitly- just diluc wanting to keep you safe, holding HANDS !!!

synopsis; diluc finds that the more these feelings grow for you, the more he wants to keep you safe. (and walk you home like the gentleman he is) wc: 1k

"You need not worry about me. I can handle myself."

Something Diluc had often heard leave your lips, stubbornly. All too rigidly. Words he should be accustomed to hearing by now, or at the very least, something that shouldn't affect him so deeply. Try as he might, he could not remain indifferent. And he is aware that if given a choice, he'd much more likely choose to accept the fact that he cares about you too much for him to bear sometimes than accept your words of dismissal for his concern.

However, the fire burns in him, equally stubborn as you are. Maybe more. A little prideful, if one may add, otherwise, it was a feeling Diluc hoped to avoid and push away. To care about someone meant you were bound to be vulnerable, to let your guard down. But Diluc couldn't afford to let his guard down. Not when his hands were so soaked, so roughened by blood and blade, while yours remained almost fragile in his. Small. Delicate. Undoubtedly, they would continue to be that way. Perhaps callous the skin on his fingertips even more. And that's why he shouldn't ever hold your hands in his dirty ones. He mustn't.

Tonight however, he couldn't help it.

He would never willingly venture forth, shouting out loud to the world of his affections for you outright. That secret remained deep within the confines of his heart, locked in a cage where the bright flames of his intensity for you ran rampant and wild. Your smile did nothing to soothe it.

Longing was painful, especially when the words reached nowhere near one's throat. The words he so desperately wanted to confess.

"It's far too dangerous at nightfall. And you, for one, aren't careful enough." No, you were. That was an excuse, a pitiful lie to accompany you home for just another night. Both of you knew that his words had no real bite.

your much great help in assisting him in barkeeping tonight has taken up both of your time. he feels guilty for not having dismissed you earlier, so you could reach home safely. but, yet again, the duke found himself rendered lost in your presence. distracted by the comfort of it.

"you know.." you began, unsure whether or not to be amused to him pulling out excuses like a magician would pull out rabbits from their hats. "You've used that excuse last time."

You knew Diluc to be a protective friend, his no-nonsense nature often expressing a seriousness that could be intimidating. Yet, in moments like this, you caught glimpses of a rare softness—an unexpected gentleness in his demeanor. Of course, this was always followed by his sincere care for you. You were a dear friend to him, just as he was to you, and although his concerns were consistent and understandable, you couldn't help but indulge in the thought that he used those worries as a guise to spend more time in your company. It was comical, really.

you chuckled when you noticed the noticeable flush of his ears.

Diluc averted his gaze away from you quickly.

"Do not tease me" he warned "I simply want to make sure you get home safe."

"just like every other night?" you raise a brow at him.

"just as every other night."

You sigh at his tense expression, though it does not ease him. Not infinitesimally. If anything you could only pretend that he assumed you were to continue your protest. "I insist, allow me to accompany you." He repeats. Had you wanted to argue further, you would not hesitate like this.

You're no fool. You can tell he is concerned as well, albeit unknowing of how deep that concern falls. And while you do not mind him accompanying you per se, you wouldn't want to trouble him either. Ridiculous. Diluc would scoff at the idea, had you expressed it aloud. You? A burden? The only annoying tug at his strings would be from being unaware of your current safety. It was a constant nag in his mind, to make sure you were okay. But not one he shunned from him. Quite the opposite, actually.

"Are you sure? I would hate to trouble you." It slips you, a little too quickly. A constant nag on your part to make sure you did not discomfort the man. "You've already done so much━" But Diluc hated the idea of you having to walk on eggshells because of him. No. Never would that be befitting for someone he cares too deeply about. Too deeply to admit.

"So have you." he interrupts, scoffing. Your shoulders relax at the unmistakable softening of his eyes as he turns back to face you. "Besides, it would put me at ease knowing you had arrived at the confines of your home securely." He speaks the words with serious sincerity, his vermilion eyes boring into yours with a hint of sternness.

"We both know how it gets at night-time." he continued, clearing his throat gently. And the more night he spends walking you home, the more gentlemanly he becomes. He takes a step closer to your figure. "This is also a handy way to repay you for all your work."

Another excuse. It causes a small flutter in your heart. Diluc Ragnvindr had once again let his guard down. For you.

the city of freedom would get breezier by nightfall━ accompanied by the low howls of the wind, the two of you stood across each other near the gates of the city. In the coldness of the night, you oddly felt warm in his presence. The lamplights of the Mond city were almost fully wiped out, casting heavy shadows across the paths and alleyways of the area. You looked into those vermillion eyes of his, illuminated by the soft moonlight.

"Fine." You relent for another night. Were you truly going to turn down his offer anyway? and the man almost sighs in relief. (you see how quickly he relaxes. He's not subtle, his eyes betray him) Though you can never win against him. You never have. "I enjoy your company, anyway." You smile and Diluc's own lips twitch up in response.

"Thank you…" He breathes and extends a gloved hand out to you. Part of you don't know what he's thanking you for. You don't question it. he's letting his guard down. A little, maybe…or a lot. You graciously accept it. But as your hand holds his, he lets himself be soft. He can't win against you either. He can't fight this feeling. It pulls him in, like a moth to a flame. No, that's too cliche. Perhaps something deeper, more profound that words fail him.

When Diluc holds your hand, it will be gentle. A tender gesture. His roughened ones wrapped around your softer ones, as if shielding you from whatever harm may stumble your way and disposing of it immediately━ he cares. While his hands may never match the softness of your own, he shall use his roughness to wield the greatsword that he guards you with.

Even in the simplest, most trivial ways, he cares.

With him by your side, you've not a thing to worry about. Not even the chill of the night. He is already offering you his coat, just like every other night and more nights to come.

all rights reserved @eroxotckv @dcrkn1ght

a/n: i wrote this last night after somehow being able to overcome writer's block, a lil bit. its not that good but yeah. dividers @rookthornesartistry

[eyesxxyou]

sniffs

I SMELL A REQUEST BOX OPEN????

😈😈

loser!hobie & loser!reader just taking eachothers virginity

MUAHAHAHA

🥀

❝ heaven ❞ hobie brown x gn!reader

❝ contents ❞ loser hobie, loser reader, virginity taking, unprotected sex, kinda awkward

There was no telling who was more nervous. Kissing and heavy petting turned into something more. Clothes timidly removed, eyes shifting side to side without ever meeting each other's gaze. Could it be Hobie, who felt electricity with each and every sensually innocent touch he placed upon your exposed flesh?

“How– How should I touch ya?” Hobie’s hand timidly grazed over the length of your body, eye flickering to yours for any semblance of direction but you didn’t know what to do either. “Are you okay wit’ this?” He pressed his body against yours and you let out something of a gentle gasp as you felt his erection press itself to your stomach.

You nodded, words failing you, and positioned yourself to kiss tenderly at his neck as you had seen in the videos. It felt aimless, unsure exactly where you should be kissing and how, your hands fumbling nervously about his nude body. You shook like a wet dog, scared.

Would it hurt, you wondered as the two of you messily kissed each other and staggered over to Hobie's bed. Climbing on, you lay beneath him, shivering with each gentle tap of his cock against your belly, smearing pre across your naval. All you could do was plead for him to “Be gentle, please.”

“I will, luv. I will.” Hobie swallowed dryly, unsure if he could actually guarantee such a thing. He didn't know what “gentle” in this context looked like. He was just as much a virgin to this as you were, inexperienced and unknowing.

Hobie reached over and grabbed the lube he had bought specifically for this. He had heard it was supposed to help, from where, he wasn't exactly sure. He didn't even know if he got the right one.

It was sticky on his fingers, wet as he reached out and applied it to your entrance, cold when he applied it to himself. Each step closer to two cherries popped and a whole new world of untold pleasures.

Hobie slotted his way between your legs and immediately you looked your heels into the plush of his ass to bring him closer out of some deep instinct. He leaned down and let you kiss his lips tenderly, the only thing the two of you really knew how to do.

“I don'– know how long I’ll last.” He admitted sheepishly, tip teasing at your wet ring of unstretched muscles, never before used by anyone. Hobie was embarrassed to admit it but all you did was smile and kiss him again. “It’ll be okay.” You didn't care if you finished or not, just that your first time was with Hobie.

He nodded firmly and looked between your flushed bodies to alone himself before slowly easing himself into the softness of your love. His fingers dug into the plush flesh of your waists, his body trembled as he sank further into you, moaning softly.

You whined at the stretch, unsure if what you felt was pain or pleasure, maybe both. Your nails dug into his shoulders and you pulled him down to embrace him. Hobie didn't mind, couldn't think about much of anything other than the way your warmth engulfed him inch by inch and held him in a wet embrace.

Hobie babbled without thought or aim into your ear, his hips pushing forward until he bottomed out. You cried a little, whimpering as he settled deep within a part of you never before touched. “Hobieee!” You let out in a whiny moan as he began to pull back, dragging the thick of his cock against all your tender spots, making you see stars.

You two held each other, a tangle of limbs, panting into each other's ears words of devotion and adoration. Hobie kisses you feverishly, a sloppy mess of lips and tongue and love. His thrusts tenderly, unsure exactly where the threshold where pleasure crosses into pain lay. Were those sounds of satisfaction? Was he doing it right?

“Are you okay? Am- Am I doing okay?” His large hand came to cup your face, his hips rutting into your softness. You nodded, eyes fluttering, mouth seeking out his once more to kiss him. You wanted skin, flesh, the warmth of him holding you. Your heels dug deeper, pulling him closer and he conceded and melted into you.

His hands, aristocratic and beautiful, roaming for body with insatiable yet tender want. Hobie fucked you in sweet little thrusts, both an attempt not to hurt you and an attempt not to cum too quick. He needed you to go first, just to know your were satisfied.

So he clumsily stroked where you were most sensitive, only knowing how to touch you based on your response, how your dulcet moans rang out as your hips writhed to meet his.

“Hobie, Hobie, Hobie.” You chanted with the building of your orgasm, a prayer on your tongue. “Oh– God…” You grasped him, gasping for air as you shivered with the throes of your climax. It was subtle, soft, cradling you in its arms. Your walls fluttered, you were hot all over, seeing stars.

Hobie babbled incoherently at the feeling of your walls squeezing him. You watched with an eagerness as he came, eyes rolling as he firmly pressed his hips to you and let himself unravel within your tenderness. He whispered your name and you felt euphoria.

“Did I do okay? Did I feel okay?”

Hobie looked upon you softly. “You did- you felt- like fuckin’ heaven.”

taglist: @hobs-kiss, @hoe-bie

[good--merits-accumulated]

huh

It's like - Neil looking down and Todd looking up. Todd standing up on the desk. Neil falling down under the gun. Todd, outlined by sunlight. Neil, darkened under the shadow of the cloister. Todd going into self-understanding, which is light. Neil going headlong into the helpless unknowing which is dark. This dichotomy already outlined in the paint, years before they ever cross paths. In the moment of meeting each other’s eyes there do they know - is there a flash of pre-cognisance, some canny feeling? Does the painting say to them, Come here, I also know your story. Come here. Come here and I will tell you which of you must die.