#was thinking to myself: huh. pen isn't that bad.

[tsuncda]

so am i right or am i right in my assertion that bridgerton doesn't actually do character work, it just rebrands it's main characters before their season begins and tries to recontextualize them as poor little meow meows.

[pablitogavii]

Something sad with Pablo but it ends in fluff

Exhaustion

You overwork yourself again 🥺

Pablo came back from training only to hear sobs coming form your shared bedroom. He was petrified that something bad happened to you so he threw the bag to the side and rushed inside.

He found you on the floor surrounded by papers, notebooks, and markers crying your beautiful eyes out.

"Que pasaba mi amor? Why is my girl crying huh??" he stepped over your "work" sitting down besides you and scooping you in his strong arms.

"Um..I don't have enough time..and I can't find my red pen..and..um..I feel so sick right now" you were mumbling anxiously and Pablo knew exactly what was going on. You were overworking yourself again and if he doesn't stop you right now you will bring yourself to a panic attack.

"Alright. Let's get out of here, vale?" he said raising you up in his arms and carrying you out of the stuffy room and into the living room. He sat down on the couch with you small in his arms nuzzling your face into his neck.

"Have you eaten anything preciosa??" he asked already knowing the answer to this questions. When things get overwhelming you stop taking care of yourself and Pablo hated it!

"Um.." you didn't say anything knowing Pablo would get angry at you like always because he gets so scared when he sees you like this.

"And how many times have I said you must eat at least something before I come back from the training!?"he was stern with you because he knew that's the way to take hims seriously and you did as your eyes filled with tears.

"I'm sorry P..Pabs" you say but he wasn't just going to forgive you and let you ruin your health like this again. He would die if anything happened to you because you were the love of his life so he wasn't about to take this lightly.

"And what if I come home next time seeing you passed out on the floor!? Sorry isn't enough amor!" he said and you started to cry into his chest while his hair was caressing your hair. You needed to know that he was angry because he wasn't about to lose you!

"Estas bien princesa..shh..shh..we'll fix this vale?" he was praising but you were spirling thinking Pablo wanted to break up with you because you're such a mess.

"Please don't break up with me..I..um..I'll be better I promise..I won't overwork myself again and I'll eat my meals..but..but don't leave.." you were sobbing and Pablo furrowed his eyebrows realizing what you were assuming right now. He grabbed your face making you look up at him before crashing his lips on your passionately.

"Amor, I'm not going anywhere! Hey, please trust me vale? I'm not going to leave just because things get hard sometimes..te amo preciosa..te amo muchisimo" he was kissing away your tears but you were still panicking since everyone in your life left when things got too hard.

"Um..y..y..yo te amo..Pablito" you were mumbling through tears and he pulled you close as you laid on his chest and listened to his even heartbeat.

"Lo siento amor if it sounded like I wanted to leave..I was just a little angry that you weren't taking care of yourself..porque te amo muchisimo and it hurts me to see you like this." he explained and you were starting to calm down a bit although still a little shaken up.

"Estas bien..just..um..hold me a little longer vale?" you say with a shaken up voice and Pablo smiles kissing the top of your head and pulling you close as you rested up against him.

"For as long as you need preciosa mia..I'm right here with you" he whispered and it helped to hear that and feel him close at that moment.

When you had your rest, Pablo helped you finish your work then making some dinner so both of you can fuel up before having some well deserved cuddles on the couch 🥰

IK it's short but I didn't have more time lol😊

[iamnmbr3]

Cursed Child rant? as a treat? 👉👈

Oh god. Where to even start. Listen, I know some people enjoy CC and I say more power to you. I'm not here to be the fun police and say what people can and can't like or write fic about or derive meaning from or whatever. But for me, personally, Cursed Child is an absolute mess of the worst kind that irritates me on a profound level.

First off, it's completely inconsistent with the canon characterizations and established rules of world building (and JKR didn't even do that much world building so there wasn't that much to keep track of and yet, they couldn't even bother to do that). I mean, Cedric, who tried to give the Triwizard Cup to Harry doesn't win and that somehow causes him to become a Death Eater??? Huh? It's not just ooc. It's bad storytelling. I mean, even if he was a hugely sore loser why would losing a tournament cause him to join an extremist blood purist paramilitary group? That has nothing to do with him losing. It's stupid and childish and nonsensical and SO bad.

And really? That's the best you can come up with? If the point of that whole thing was the tired trope of 'time travel goes wrong and makes things worse' they could've just had the gang expose Crouch earlier but instead of Voldemort not returning he just ends up returning but not using Harry's blood which allows him to do his original plan of growing his power in secret. And idk. Maybe then he takes over and he kills Harry and Harry doesn't come back. I didn't even put any effort into that. It's a bit dumb and inelegant but it gets the job done without wild character assassination and a lack of logic so profound it would insult the reasoning abilities of a fungus.

But ok, let's judge it as its own vaguely Harry Potter inspired thing rather than as an actual sequel to the canon series. You know what the result is? IT'S STILL BAD. It's just. SO BAD. I don't understand how it's a real thing.

It's like a parody of a bad play. It can't possibly be real. Harry suddenly has a phobia of pigeons? Why??? It's so...stupid. And I'm supposed to take that seriously? What? And the dialogue. The dialogue. "Bad" doesn't even cover it. The fact that "Wow. Squeak. My geekness is a-quivering" is a real actual line in the actual play causes me physical pain. WHO WRITES THAT?! AND THEN LEAVES IT IN THE FINAL DRAFT?!?!?

And Delphi. WHAT EVEN?! She's literally like a parody of a bad fanfic Mary Sue. Down to the blue streak in her hair. But we're supposed to take her seriously? As a villain? Tf? She's like a bad Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way knockoff. The whole play is like an unfunny parody of bad writing. But it's not supposed to be. It actually pretends to be a genuine drama. Which is so much worse. I truly think My Immortal is better. And way funnier.

No effort at all went into the story construction. Characters act incredibly childishly and unrealistically and simplistically. The story doesn't feel like it was written by adults. There's no feeling or depth or emotion. It's all plot contrivances and nauseatingly simplistic writing. It isn't a story. It's just some stuff that happens. Because the writers were just like 'eh it's Harry Potter it'll sell.' And that's not art. That's just churned out content. And it bothers me on such a profound level that they did it and got away with it.

I would be embarrassed to write that for myself, let alone to turn that in as a professional writer. It's so inconsistent with the original story that I legitimately think the 2 guys who wrote it didn't even read the books. They just glanced at the wiki and decided they were good to go. Despite being PAID to do this. How sloppy is that? Not to mention Harry Potter meant so much to so many people who were ecstatic to get more content yet the two clowns who wrote this just skimmed the wiki and then vomited out some of the worst lines ever penned in history and called it a day.

[penroseparticle]

Penrose Song Of The Day Day 40: Hell of a Year by William Bolton

Happy Birthday, Me.

Whew. We are all kind of going through it aren't we? I don't think anyone has had an idyllic, easy year this year. Or any year. More and more I'm realizing that all we can be is kind, because, good or ill, better or worse, we keep being in situations and they keep going to shit. So like. Shouldn't I do what I can to make things a little less bad? Even if that kindness isn't deserved?

One story that really stuck with me posted on here was the story about volunteering at a soup kitchen. I'll see if I can track the post down. But they had to keep cleaning the bathroom because it kept getting trashed. An important lesson was learned by the OP of the post- The homeless people who went to that soup kitchen had precious little they could control. The bathroom was being trashed because it was one of the few places in their life where they could exert their will- even if it made things worse for everyone, even themselves. In distress, you will cause damage. But the thing I learned is that. I don't know. Would being mean to them help? Would I not clean the bathroom after a certain point? They made the mess, they "deserve it" right?

And obviously not. It wouldn't make volunteering for them more pleasant, it wouldn't make their situation different, and it likely wouldn't even feel good. The only thing that helps is the slow, arduous, unlikeable truth that the way to make things better is to help, and do right, and work with someone going through it, even if they are not fun to be around. It might not be "just", but it might just be the thing that works.

Flipwise and reversed though, I have issues with foresight- I do not think things through and I don't always get my just desserts for that. I think I am afforded a lot of latitude and grace for meaning well, which is great if a bit guilt inducing. But that's kind of what I believe everyone deserves, right? Aren't I part of everyone? Shouldn't people be kind to me too? If I think everyone deserves kindness, even when they're not "deserving", I'm part of everyone. I'm a person. I get that same grace.

And isn't grace always unearned? "Deserving is fake" and well, kind of in some of the most important ways it is. Maybe someone "deserves" the bad things coming to them, but in the ways I care about, the ways I'm trying to be, I can't let that be the end. That's not how the story is going to go, not when I'm writing it. And I am writing the story of my own life. Joint authorship with the world, but I'm first author. Pick up the pen!

I often have to remind myself that feeling guilty is a start, not a state, and that I am thankful and grateful I get to fuck it up all over again. It sucks. I have an overdeveloped sense of guilt, in that I think. And I need to pay it forward and walk the walk. Be kind if nothing else.

So instead let's look back at all the shit that's gone down and say WOW! That was wack, huh. And maybe steer next year a little differently this time. Every day is a new day, a new iteration of what I am. Who I am. So I'm gonna try and be a little kinder. Be the change. Gandhi that shit. idk.

This is me telling you to let it go, by the way. Guilt is cancerous, it only grows, and it weighs you down. Let's give ourselves that little bit of grace too, if we can.

Anyways, it's been a hell of a year, hasn't it? Back on track, I found this song years ago. A little bit of a chill, easy pop song. Some cutesy ornamentation, a simple drum loop, and a smooth delivery. I have my good friend Al to thank for this (The Algorithm), he gifted me this song on my Recommended for You playlist on spotify. I like it. It was a nice gift.

It's a little melancholy but it's not all doom and gloom. It's sort of quietly hopeful? Some bad things happened, yeah, it's also a bit of a triumph- he conquered his fears! He traveled the world! The time is now, make some memories! Live your life. Incremental progress.

There's been some bad things, and some good things, but it's your life baby. You gotta live it. I still haven't made it but I'm not that far. What a year.

See you next one.

And hey, as always. You could be dead right now. Go listen to something you love.

[yuseonghqs]

🌊 GREETINGS FROM YUSEONG BAY !

JUST LANDED: AHN, KIHA. / / FROM: SOUTH KOREA. / / AGE: 27.

–––– ( FOLLOW ? ) / / ( READ MORE ? ) / / ( MAILBOX ? )

hey, grandpa,

how are things there in the farm? are the tangerines growing well this season too? is kihwan hyung helping properly? we all know he means well but it isn't just because he makes grandma laugh a lot that you should let him get away with his pranks, let kijun hyung scold him properly if you can't do it; and talking about which, how is kijun hyung? is he still having trouble trying to flirt with mrs. kim's granddaughter? i always try to ask him but he refuses to tell me about it. i don't know if it's because he knows i'll tease him about wanting nephews and/or nieces or if it's because he's embarrassed about making no progress because of how he always looks like he's in a bad mood and because he knows i'll nag him about it.

do you think if i write a song for him to serenade her he'll do it? genuine question, hehe.

i know you're curious about the reason why i'm sending you this letter when we've talked on the phone just a couple of days ago or how i could just make another call or ask kijun hyung or kihwan hyung to help set up a video call but i might've done something that makes me a little embarrassed to see you or hear your voice. your favorite grandson might've done something disappointing. shocking, right? i know that you're probably reading this and shaking your head because how could your baby kiki do something to disappoint you, huh?

( kiha heaves a sigh, staring at the paper for a long pause while fidgeting with the pen in his hand. he ponders if he should start a whole new letter, too tempted to cross out all of that last sentence — or even the whole paragraph — and also because now he feels stuck, unsure how to continue writing the rest of it; perhaps because it finally got to the whole reason why he was contacting his grandfather this way or simply because he's still struggling to organize his own thoughts and feelings. kiha feels a ghost pain on the knuckles of his right hand. )

grandpa, have you ever felt like you made a mistake but only realized it too late? or that you told a lie that started so small that it felt like it was the truth and then it just kept growing and growing until it became too big but by then everything else was already ruined so now you have no choice but to cling to it for dear life? because if you admit that it was a lie— that it was a mistake then it feels like all the things that you did, everything you sacrificed was in vain? was it? were all the parts of myself that i threw away for the sake of my dream in vain? were the tears that i swallowed down, all the pain and burden that i endured on my own were worth nothing in the end? was music even

( kiha lets out another sigh, one as shaky as his hands suddenly are while he thinks about his career— about fourteen years old kiha going to seoul to chase his big dreams, how he failed once but then tried again; how he thought this time it'd work— how he was determined that this group would work; how he turned twi5t into his whole world because he was the leader and therefore their failure was on his shoulders as the leader; he thinks about how he watched everything fall apart, crumble into pieces that could never be put together, not when they were barely holding it together anyway. then he remembers all the times that he bowed his head and was the target of scoldings for mistakes that weren't his own; then he remembers a taunting smile and even more malicious words spoken just because they knew that they'd trigger him into breaking their nose. )

i'm sure you already heard about the news by now and the rumors that followed right after, but i also know that you'll respect my time and wait for me to bring it up first, that you and grandma and kijun hyung and kihwan hyung will always want to know my side of the story before anything else and i'm very grateful for it, i really am.

( "even if i don't deserve it." kiha comments under his breath, but keeps that part out of the letter. )i promise i'll explain everything and apologize properly, but would you let me be selfish one more time? i was thinking that this might be a good time to spend some time in yuseong bay again, help you and grandma and my brothers too, maybe get kihwan hyung to behave and kijun hyung to get a date with mrs. kim's granddaughter; but i also honestly hope that i'll help myself there too, that i'll turn back into the grandson that always brought you nothing but pride and joy. ps: i'll bring a friend with me as well. i won't even ask if it's ok because you probably know who it is anyway and are already telling grandma to prepare the guest room and that extra fruits basket, aren't you? if i didn't know any better, i'd say that he was your grandson not me.

hope to see you soon.

from your second favorite grandson,

ahn kiha.   

[actualbird]

how do you think giann-vyn and marius-vyn interactions differ? like vyn's thoughts on the brothers and etc.? if marius and giann were both over at vyn's how would they interact? one of my favorite hc rn is vyn sometimes having to force himself to remember that "Marius isn't Giann" whenever Marius does/says something Giann would do.

OHHHHH THIS IS SUCH AN INTERESTING ASK, I LOVE THISSSS and im especially glad i got this after i played marius' personal story 4 and i got that one giann crumb line from austin that i Cannot stop thinking about, this one

which REALLY made me rethink how i interpret my free-real-estate characterization of giann. and also uh...made me tangent into just a whole long response about some other stuff so

a headcanon post that got out of hand: vyn & giann vs. vyn & marius: similarities, loyalties, differences

wc: 1.5k (sorry, i didnt know this would get this long either)

-

like, okay, for starters, i do wanna talk about their similarities

it's already canon that giann has a playful prankster side to him just like marius does, shown in SSR Will Of The Trees where giann told tiny!marius his rash was from a poisonous plant and not just a common rash ajhksvjhfvaksKJGK. i rlly loved that bit, i think this is true for all von hagens, theyre all little shits

more on an hc side now though, i like to think marius and giann have a lot of smaller similarities in small habits simply by virtue of being siblings and small habits very easily crossover to one another. stuff like maybe they both fidget with pens in similar ways or they both have the tendency to focus v much on work or a task that they forget to sleep. what giann does, marius sees, and year after year some of those things he not only learns but ends up doing himself as well.

tiny aside related to above bullet point, i think theyd have similar ways of Talking. like, the cadence and word choice and stuff. this is wholly just cuz i myself have 3 siblings and we all talk with similar syntaxes jhavksjhfvkahjsfva

now, with those in mind, it's super obvious that either brother could remind another person of the other brother!

which......might be a sore spot for both vyn and marius during the Giann Is Missing era

for marius, well. i already spoke at length here and here about a possible inferiority complex that could totally mess him up if he lets it take root and grow

and for vyn.....ive been thinking a bunch about vyn's relationship with giann. like, in the whole brewing nxx civil war of team giann vs team neil (irt whos the bad guy! who sold out the other!) clearly marius is on team giann and artem is on team neil and vyn seems....largely neutral, fittingly playing the adjudicator before mc and luke join the team

but hes not neutral. cuz he Knew both neil and giann before they disappeared, the vyn-giann-neil trie Were the nxx team before the others came in (mentioned in main story 6.1 or 6.2, ive got a bad memory).

and with that in mind, vyn actually seems to have his loyalty towards a certain direction already: to the von hagens

vyn seems closer to giann and/or seems more aligned with the von hagens cuz

most obvious: //gestures at GIANNOVYN MENTAL HEALTH RESEARCH CENTER my god u guys rlly could not think of a better name but just mushing ur names together?? im never getting over that jkhvkajhsvfkjas

2nd most obvious: hes currently marius' tutor. honestly at this point i almost forgot about this bit, are they still having classes?? SO MUCH ELSE IS GOING ON RN FOR THEM AJHVFAJK

probably wasnt obvious at all but it has always been living in my mind rent free since september of last year: in the very first scene Mysteries of the Lost Gold where the team squabbles, vyn said he could easily just call austin if marius didnt wanna give him an invite to nosta. very funny moment, i love that bit so much. but also huh, vyn is close enough to austin von hagen that he can call the dude?? and it wasnt a bluff, becaue marius reacted in a way that implied vyn totally had the capability (and that marius didnt want it to happen). so vyn must have some kind of communication/acquaintance with austin that vyn could call about something completely unrelated (sidenote: this is hilarious now that i think about it. can you imagine being marius. ur tutor who is also ur work colleague who is also somebody ur kinda a bitch to and hes a bitch right back at you, this person can cALL UR DAD?? rip marius lol)

i went on a tangent there, i was sposed to focus on giann but then i zoomed out but YEAH. vyn has some level of closeness with the von hagens

and i think that started with giann

SO LIKE, working backwards....vyn moved to stellis in 2028. on The Same Year, he also co-founded the research center with giann.

and, my god, from a purely logistical standpoint, that was fast!! but from a trust standpoint, that was also fast irt vyn connecting with another person since we all know he can be a cagey motherfucker. so giann must have been one really frigging charming person to get vyn richter of all people to be his friend (at most) or trusted colleague (minimum)!!! and vyn, for all his elegance and stuff, seems like a very ride-or-die friend once he admits to himself that he is indeed attached somehow to another human being. ive got a bunch of hcs actually on how they met but thats for a fanfic writing day, not this post

anyway, why did i bring all that up? mostly cuz i forgot what i was writing about. BUT ALSO just to hammer home the emotional stake vyn may or may not have in the Giann Is Missing ordeal.

cuz like...being annoyed at marius for being too similar to giann is one thing. but being annoyed at marius for being too similar to giann who could have most probably been the first person vyn managed to connect with on some level (be it professional or a friendship thing) well...thats a whole Other Thing Altogether

anyway, the key difference between giann and marius thats already So Much to explore was already said. austin's line, "[Giann] is too kind and honest. He is not as rational as [Marius]. [Marius] knows how to hide his joys and frustrations."

(SIDENOTE: of course we, the players, know that marius is very kind and honest and shows his joys and frustrations. but he doesnt show that face at first, thats only reserved for people he trusts. for everybody else, marius acts in whatever way gets him the advantage. which...sound familiar? the marius that austin describes has a lot in similar with vyn. hides things to protect the self or others, rational and thinking, keeps the heart not on the sleeve but somewhere more guarded. those are vyn qualities as well as marius qualities. and the flipside is that giann (as described by austin) could very well have been vyn's opposite)

so now with all that laid down, let me finally answer your question HAHAHJKSDHFVJKDSHA

vyn's reactions to marius during the Giann Is Missing Era

upon meeting marius for the first time, i assume vyn's reaction would be a mix of relief and disdain. relief because ah, this one is like how vyn expects most people to be. but disdain because this one wears a similar face to somebody who mattered to vyn, and he is so different that it hurts. marius has giann's hair color, giann's eye color, sometimes marius talks like how giann would or would joke like how giann would. but marius still could not be any more different than giann. so in these early days, the separation between the two brothers is clear. theyre not the same person at all.

of course, as vyn and marius spend more time together, marius' mask chips away due to trust and the wonderful magic of friendship. and then things get more complicated. because at this point, vyn is much surer that marius is his own person thanks to all the team has been through, all vyn has witnessed of marius, and the such. and once marius is comfortable showing his own honesty and kindness in a less guarded way, it hurts all over again for vyn. he knows logically marius and giann are different people but god, the similarities would make vyn miss giann even more

how vyn's interactions differ

we already know how vyn interacts with marius (i.e. elegant roasting, respectful when it comes to work, vaguely annoyed whenever marius is indeed being annoying) so i move on

vyn and giann...now this is something ive got no canon basis for since we dont have any canon scene where vyn interacts with giann like in a flashback or something, but given that giann was a more open person who entered vyn's life earlier, i figure vyn wouldnt be as....thorny. maybe a little more honest, maybe a little more comfy as well to indulge in some of the playful shithead-ness giann has.

how vyn would react once giann is no longer missing and he and marius are in the same room

vyn's mind just goes:

two of them

as you can see i lost steam towards the end here JKHVKJSHFKDSJ but i hope something in this response was interesting to read. thank you for the ask, anon!! :D

[miss-smutty]

Forbidden - Chapter 2

Summary- Jess couldn't stop thinking about the guy she'd met in the coffee shop, he was drop dead gorgeous, mature and everything she's always wanted but how would she find him again when she didn't even know his name?

Word count- 3.1K

Pairing- Prof!Chris Hemsworth x OC

Warnings- Swearing, slight smut talk

18+ only!

Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.

Posted: 13th August 2021

Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @jjpogueprincess @longlostinanotherworld @mostly-marvel-musings @darklydeliciousdesires @monet-belle

Chapter 1

The only thing was, he didn't know I was only twenty and I had no way of finding him again.

If fate did bring us back together, would he mind that I was still a student? That I couldn't even drink when we went on dates? 

Who am I kidding? Of course he would mind, he could get any woman he wanted, why would he want me?

"Morning, you feeling any better?" Ellie was awake before me as usual, she spent hours getting ready in the morning and was now sat at her desk finishing her make up.

"I suppose, can't beat myself up forever can I?" I was more the get up and go kind of girl, I could never understand why she'd take hours getting ready just to go to class but I suppose you never know who you're going to bump into.

"No you can not. Not when there's literally thousands of guys here to take your pick of." 

"Psh!" I finally pull myself out of bed after thinking about the thought of possibly bumping into my hunk again I changed my mind about making myself a little more presentable.

"What d'ya mean psh?" Ellie turns to look at you, her mascara wand in her hand and only one eye made up, she looked ridiculous. How could you take her seriously looking like that? 

"I mean I'm not interested in these childish boys anymore El, I want a man." 

"Fuck me, you spoke to the guy for two minutes and already you're acting like you've lost the love of your life." Wow, that hurt a little.

"I didn't say I was talking about him although it would be nice. I just meant I'm sick of playing all these childish games and never knowing where I stand. Don't you get sick of being the one who always falls deeper? Getting messed about and then being the one who's left hurt?" I joined her at the desk, putting on a little mascara and eyeliner. "I want a man who knows what he wants and treats me better. Don't you?"

"Well shit, when you put it like that I can't argue with you. It would be nice, hey I wonder if Mr Aussie has a brother?" She waggles her eyebrows at me, making me laugh. "I gotta go babe, what class you got?" 

"My first Comms class this morning." I did not sound excited at the prospect because I really wasn't. I'd put it off in freshman and sophomore years but thought I better get it over and done with before my senior year.

"Oh really? I didn't know you'd taken that class. I heard a load of seniors talking the other day and apparently the Professor is drop dead gorgeous. I was thinking about taking it up too just to see what all the fuss was about." 

"Well that should make the class a lot more interesting, maybe it isn't going to be as bad as I thought."

"See, every cloud and all that. See you tonight, fancy the bar?" She shouts over her shoulder as she walks towards the door.

"Sounds good, see you later."

I looked over my outfit I'd already chosen for the day, just some jeans and a plain t-shirt and realised it wouldn't do. Not when there's the prospect of a hot Professor to impress. My wardrobe desperately needed an update, especially now I was focused on finding myself a man and not one of these easily pleased college boys, that were happy with anything as long as I showed a bit of leg and tits. I settled with some tight black jeans with a black, lace-rimmed, cami body suit and a cute little cream, cropped blazer to finish it off. It made me feel confident when I checked myself out in the mirror and if I do say so myself I looked smoking hot. I checked the time on my phone, realising I was going to be late I quickly ran the curling tongs through the ends of my long blonde hair before grabbing my bag and rushing out of the door.

In the hopes of catching the eye of this new professor I'd completely forgotten about the hottie from the coffee shop, which was probably a good thing, it's not like I'm ever going to see him again. I kind of wished I would though, especially when I was looking and feeling this great but hey, on to bigger and better prospects.

I thought that being late would mean I'd be stuck with a lame choice of desk in class but luckily the back row was practically empty and I could hide in the corner of the lecture theatre. I laughed to myself when I realised that practically all the girls were occupying the front desks, obviously they'd heard the rumours too.

I pushed my hair behind my ears and fumbled in my bag for my pen and notepad, when I glanced to the door and caught the eyes of a student I hadn't seen before. I couldn't deny how attractive he was, with his bright blue eyes and floppy hair, oh and that smile. Wow! He smiled brightly at me as he made his way to the back of the class, his eyes glinting, shining like diamonds as he ignored the whispers from the girls at the front. The whole row of desks were free so when he chose the desk right next to me, my stomach fluttered.

I kept my eyes on my notepad, doodling on the front cover so as to avoid that eye contact with him again. I could see a cheeky glint in his eyes and I'd learnt from experience what that meant, trouble. I wasn't ready to get myself back into a situation like that again.

My eyes shot to the front as I heard the room erupt into wolf whistles, the girls at the front giggling and whispering to each other, I rolled my eyes at them, how embarrassing. 

Then I realised what all the fuss was about and my heart almost stopped beating, thudding against my chest at an alarming rate. How is this even possible? How the fuck could he be a professor? Surely he's not old enough. Oh fuck.

I sank lower in my chair, willing the ground to just swallow me up or maybe if I got low enough I would escape his notice. No such luck, his eyes scanned the class and when they fell on mine, his face lit up with anger? No not anger. A hunger. His eyes scanned my body, falling over my hair and down to my cleavage. I felt hot under his gaze, was I blushing? Sweating? Oh god, I've never wished for class to be over so much in my life.

My professor was the guy I'd been shamelessly flirting with in the coffee shop. I don't understand how this could be real, I know I wanted to bump into him again but this is such a cruel twist of fate. I'd never even suspected him to be a professor, he was so damn thick and muscly. The clothes he wore were so stylish and he looked way too young to be a professor. He must be so embarrassed that he'd been flirting with a student, I definitely was embarrassed that I'd been flirting with a professor.

I was so panicked, I didn't have a clue what to do in this situation. Squirming in my seat, trying to look anywhere but at the Professor but I could feel his eyes on me as he prepared for the class to start. People were still whispering amongst themselves and I risked a glance in his direction, that made me bite on to my lip to stop myself from screeching. His eyes were still on me, subtly glancing up from the pile of paper he'd just taken out of his bag, his eyebrows furrowed as he studied me. He certainly didn't look embarrassed infact he looked downright feral and the thought of it made my pussy clench, so much so I had to cross my legs under the table.

"I guess you're obsessed with this new Professor too, huh?" The guy next to me leant across his desk to whisper and fuck me if I wasn't imagining it but he was Australian too. Like have we just suddenly had a huge delivery of hot Australian guys arrive at the University? This was just downright unfair, how was I meant to cope?

"No, what makes you say that?" Why did I ask that question? Like it wasn't obvious how much I was sweating and squirming in my seat. Luckily he didn't have time to answer when my eyes were drawn back to the professor as he stood at the front of the class with his hands casually in his pockets and cleared his throat to get our attention.

If I wasn't mistaken, now he looked angry, the muscles in his neck more prominent as he glared between me and the guy next to me.

Was he angry that my attention had been taken away from him and was on another guy? Or because we were talking when we should've been paying attention?

"Now I've got your attention, we're going to use our first session to get to know each other a little better. You'll be doing quite a lot of speeches so it's best if you feel comfortable with one another. I'll start by introducing myself." That sexy accent makes me sweat even more, nevermind the fact that his eyes keep finding their way back to me. "So, I'm Professor Hemsworth and I'm originally from Melbourne in Australia." His eyes meet mine again, a knowing look in them.

"G'day mate." Some idiot from the back shouted, making everyone laugh and I couldn't help but join in a little. Professor Hemsworth smiled at the joke, his eyes creasing in the corners and his smile growing wider when he looked to me and saw me giggling.

"Yeah, very original. Alright, alight, settle down now." His voice is so commanding and authoritive, it's such a turn on. "So, I haven't been here for very long and I'm still getting used to how different things are here. The weather for one." He earned a couple of laughs from people. I couldn't keep my eyes off of him, he was so mesmerizing. The way his face animated as he spoke, his eyebrows raising and lips curling.

"I was going to ask you all to go easy on me but that's not going to happen is it?" He got a couple of head shakes and sympathetic looks from the girls. "No, I thought not. Well now it's my turn to torture you. I'll start alphabetically, stand up and tell everyone something about yourself." I swallowed back my fear, this is the reason I'd put off this class until now and as if it wasn't hard enough talking in front of a whole class I now had to do it in front of Professor Hemsworth too.

"Claire Abbott." Fuck. He'd started, at least my name would be one of the last ones.

"Hi I'm Claire." The tall blonde at the front stood up, twirling her hair around her finger and giggling like a child. I rolled my eyes at her and caught the Professor smirk in my direction. "I erm… I don't know what to say?" She looks up at the Professor questioningly.

"Just anything about yourself that we might find interesting, the first thing that comes to mind." He replied.

"Well I own four horses and I'm the cheer captain." I rolled my eyes again, scoffing quietly and Professor Hemsworth had to hold in a laugh as he looked in my direction.

"Talk about predictable." The guy next to me leaned over to whisper to me again.

"Totally." I laughed back at him and when I looked back at the Professor he was glaring straight at us again, his face set sternly.

"You two at the back, we'll wait for you shall we?" Professor Hemsworth said sternly, everyone turned around to look at us but I barely noticed, I was too focused on the way his stern voice made my cunt flutter when he called me out.

I didn't speak for the rest of the class, although I had the urge to, just to hear the way his voice sounded when he was angry. I couldn't concentrate on what the other students were saying, too focused on watching the way the Professor's face changed everytime he looked my way, which was pretty often, to my suprise.

"Jake Hudson." In my peripheral, I saw the guy next to me stand and when he did, Professor Hemsworth's eyes narrowed.

"Hi I'm Jake." He pushed his hands in to his pockets cooly, glancing at me as he did. "I'm also from Australia." He looked at the professor slyly, a smirk forming on his lips, laughing at the other students shouting G'day mate. "I was forced to move here but I'm glad I did because I've just met the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." The class burst into rounds of whistles and cheers as Jake sat down, smiling at me cockily. I could feel my cheeks blushing, I was flattered, he was absolutely gorgeous but hadn't I sworn of boys my own age?

Professor Hemsworth looked even more angry now as he loosened his tie a little, that black tie that draws my view down, like a arrow pointing straight to his cock. I tried to keep my eyes down on my desk, doodling in my notebook so I could avoid that hungry gaze, anxiously waiting for my turn. What the hell was I going to say?

"Jessica Watson." Shit. I stood slowly, trying to give myself more time to think, I couldn't stand everyone's eyes being on me especially the Professors and Jakes.

"Hey, I'm Jessica." I smiled nervously, tucking my hair behind my ear. "These last couple of days have been pretty eventful for me." I looked away from the chalk board so I could search Professor Hemsworth's face. "I'm living the life of a romance novels heroine and I'm excited to see what the next couple of days bring." I sat down keeping the gaze of the professor, I'd forgotten I was in a room full of people until I heard the ooh's and ahh's and my cheeks turned scarlet. The Professor's eyes glowed with heat as he watched me sit down before shaking his head and turning back to the class. Jake also caught my eye as I sat back at my desk, my cheeks still burning, he smiled at me, the kind of smile that crinkles your eyes. I felt kind of bad that he probably thought I was talking about him when in fact I was talking about our professor.

"I hope we all feel a bit more comfortable with each other now, some of you shared some pretty revealing things." He looked at me again. "Some of you, not so much." He raised his eyebrows at a group of guys. "I'll have a schedule for you all next time I see you, anybody that has any questions can see me after class, everyone else is free to leave." His eyes scanned me as he turned around to sit at his desk, I watched a couple of girls approach him predictably.

"Are you going to the party at our frat this weekend?" I had to reluctantly pull my eyes away from the Professor while Jake spoke, so he was a Alpha Kappa, not surprising really.

"Yeah, I think so. My roommate mentioned it."

"Oh good, I'll see you there then. Jessica." He smiled, standing from his seat.

"Jess." I corrected him. I hated being called Jessica, it was so formal.

"Well Jess, I'll see you around." He winked at me as he pulled his backpack on to his shoulder.

There were still a couple of girls taking up the Professor's attention and I wasn't sure yet whether I wanted to sneak past or wait to speak to him. I thought about it for a minute my fingertips drumming against my desk when the girls left and he was alone. As soon as the door closed, his gaze was on me and I could hear the silence in the room like a ringing in my ears. We stayed like that for a couple of seconds, staring at each other, no one saying a word until her cleared his throat. I blinked a couple of times, realising how stupid I must look before getting up from my seat and packing my things away.

"Did you need to talk Miss Watson?" I could hear amusement in his voice as he sat back on his desk casually, his arms folded across his chest.

"I erm…" I walked towards him, my legs feeling like jelly all of sudden and trying not to fall down the stairs. "I wanted to apologise, I had no idea you were a Professor." I said as I reached the bottom of the stairs, I didn't know what to do with myself but I was nervous about getting closer to him. He made the atmosphere feel tense, like if I was to reach out and touch him I would burn my fingers so I stood awkwardly at the bottom of the steps.

"There's no need to apologise Miss Watson, I also had no idea you were a student but I was hoping to bump into you again. Funny how things work out isn't it?" He cocked his eyebrow at me, still looking amused as he watched me squirm. When he said he'd been hoping to bump into me again it made me feel more confident, like I wasn't imagining the way he'd been looking at me for the last hour.

"I think fate can be rather cruel Professor Hemsworth." I smiled at him as I finally closed the distance between us, watching his eyes flare with hunger when I called him Professor.

"Oh really? Why is that Miss Watson?" His eyes narrowed, his Adams apple bobbing in his throat as I got close enough to touch him, I didn't though. I didn't dare break that boundary, not yet.

I smiled at him through my lashes, biting on to my lip. "I was hoping to bump into you again too, only now the thought of what could've happened will have to remain a fantasy." Wow! I was not expecting that, did I sound like a slut? Shit. I looked back up at him and caught him gulp, that hunger in his eyes shining, his pupils blown with lust, he loosened his tie even more and I caught a glimpse of his smooth chest and chickened out. The tension was way too much and I was about to do something I was going to regret, I could live with being a huge tease instead.

"I better get to my next class, we can't have anyone thinking I'm your favourite now can we?" I smiled to myself when I noticed the muscles in his jaw tense as he ground his teeth together. Turning to leave I looked back over my shoulder and his eyes were glued to my hips, watching them sway as I walked and I realised I had him exactly where I wanted him but was it worth the risk?

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

RESISTERE TENTATIONEM: CAPITULUM II

TĒCTUS: Covered, concealed, hidden, having been covered, hidden or concealed

Pairings: Damian Priest x Reader

Warnings: +18, mature content

Editor: @thenightmareismyreality

Tag: @ziasaph , @theworldofotps , @alyhull , @bellalutionn , @aerynscrichton , @serpantscorpio8497 , @ava-valerie , @omegasshyghuleh6661ghosts , @squirreledelman , @cazxcx , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @bayley-no-friends , @waywardwrestlewritingwaif , @sassymox

Notes: I would like to thank @letsgivethisonemoreshot , for not only being my partner in crime with this trilogy but also being one of the best friends someone could ever have 😘 This is fully written in Damian’s POV. If you’d like to check out my previous works, you can find them on my Masterlist

Want to hear a joke that’s really in poor taste? The Mother Superior of the famous Mary Magdalene Convent (isn’t that ironic) is being accused of hosting ‘parties’ to the oh so loving convent donors. And you know who isn’t invited to those parties? Jesus Christ. Because the Devil sure loves to be a part of them! Drugs, orgies, alcohol, prostitution, even black masses... you name it! Everything that is unholy happens in the so-called house of holiness, and if that isn’t a bad taste joke, I don’t know what is.

So here I am now, driving towards the Devil’s den: the Mary Magdalene convent for three torturous days of interviews. Out of all of the reporters from The New York Times, of course I was the one who drew the short straw and got assigned this article. Some people see this as a career changing opportunity... a blessing, but me? I see it as a fucking curse! I don’t like religion, I don’t like churches, I don’t like priests and I sure as hell don’t like nuns! Anything that has the word “holy” in it, I prefer to be as far away as I possibly can from. But today was not my lucky day….no, today was the day that I was going to be tested. The only thing I’m hoping for is to not fail.

I knocked on the convent’s door and a young lady answered me.

“Hi, good morning. I’m Damian Priest, reporter from The New York Times and I’m here for an interview with” I looked down at my notepad “Mrs. Y/N L/N? Whom I believe is the Mother Superior”

The young girl only nodded once and motioned for me to follow her, without saying a word.

I followed her in, mesmerized by the size of the convent, the whole place was fancy as fuck on the inside. Art pieces from famous painters were displayed on the walls, modern furniture, dim lights that made the place look cozy and inviting. *What a scam* I thought to myself. The young lady in front of me suddenly stopped walking and pointed towards the door in front of her before turning around and leaving.

Presuming that it was the Mother Superior’s office, I knocked on the door twice before someone told me to come in. You see, when they told me I was going to be interviewing the Mother Superior of a convent, the last thing I expected was for her to not only be beautiful, but young (considering I was under the impression that women in that position were around sixty years old). She was breathtaking to say the least! Soft features, her skin had an angelic glow to it and there was something in her eyes that trapped you in them...something you could not turn your gaze away from no matter how bad you wanted to.

“Mr. Priest, please sit down” She smiled

I nodded and sat on the chair in front of her desk

“Thank you for taking some time out of your busy schedule to speak with me, Mother Y/L/N-“

“Please, call me Y/N” Her sultry voice spoke

“Y/N” I tested the word on my lips and it sounded oddly pleasant

She smiled softly and...fuck she’s gorgeous! Her beauty was a painful and constant reminder of what you couldn’t have, couldn’t touch, couldn’t-“

“Mr. Priest?” She said softly

“Damian”

“Damian, would you like something to drink? Coffee, water, juice, tea perhaps?”

“No, I’m good. Thank you” I answered, while grabbing my notepad and a pen out of my backpack. Clearing my throat, I said “Can we get started with the pre-interview?”

“Of course” She smiled widely and reached for a cigarette pack on top of the table, which made me raise an eyebrow

“We all have our dirty little secrets, don’t we, Damian?” She asked, licking the cigarette filter before sucking it

*Am I going crazy?* I thought to myself

“Damian? Your first question is?” She giggled

“Ummm” I cleared my throat once again “Y/N, recently the convent was involved in a huge scandal involving drugs, prostitution, orgies and black masses. Would you like to clarify why an institution that’s deeply connected to the church is in the middle of something so profane?”

She grinned “God is in the most profane things, Damian. After all, the sinners are the ones who need Him the most, aren’t they?”

“I’m not sure if I follow-”

“You see” She took a long drag on her cigarette and walked towards me “God is our Lord and savior. He forgives us from our sins, grants us forgiveness to our most foul actions” She sat down on the chair beside me “If you steal from someone and repent; He’ll forgive you, kill someone and repent; He’ll save you, cheat on your wife with the hot, young next door neighbor and repent; He’ll brush it underneath the carpet and pretend it never happened” She shrugged “God doesn’t judge, Damian. He only forgives” She leaned forward on the arm of the chair, until she was uncomfortably close to me “So if the big boss himself doesn't judge anyone, then why should I?”

“And what does judgment have to do with drugs, orgies and sin?”

She smiled “How can God forgive you if you don’t sin, Damian?”

“And how can God forgive his so-called followers who incite others to sin, Y/N?”

“Incite others to sin?” She chuckled “Are you talking about the allegations, the donors or yourself?” She smirked

………………………………………………….......................

Since we’re so far from town I was informed that I would have to spend the night at the convent. They showed me my bedroom and it looked pretty fancy. King size bed, Egyptian sheets, expensive furniture. Everything was oddly normal, except for the weird dream I recalled having. I was at the convent, lost, calling for help because I somehow ended up locked in here. I was inside what looked like a large basement, the room was only lit by red lights, a faint smell of leather took over my nostrils as I heard someone moaning softly in my ear…a woman. And the weirdest thing was that I could’ve sworn I felt her breath against my ear. Needless to say I woke up with my dick as hard as a rock and had to spend a solid thirty minutes trying to get rid of a very painful boner, which did not leave me no matter how many times I came. Half hard and inside a convent...yeah, I’m definitely going to Hell!

“How did you sleep, Damian?” Was the first thing I was asked when I walked into the Mother Superior’s office in the morning. Something in her voice told me she knew exactly what I had done underneath the shower.

“Good”

“I bet you woke up feeling much better after a good night of rest, right?” She smiled devilishly and I just nodded

“Would you mind if we took a tour through the convent at some point?” I asked, quickly changing subjects

“Of course not! Let me know when you want one”

I nodded and began to ask my questions

“So, why do so many men keep coming and going from this convent? Seems like the place men shouldn’t be”

“The only men who come to the convent, Damian, are maintenance, the donors for the ‘thank you parties’ we host and now you” She smiled

“How do you get so many people to keep donating?”

“We don’t oblige anyone to do anything. People are still kind enough to see the work we do for those in need and they get touched by it. So God is the one who inspires them to donate, Damian. Not me”

“I’ve noticed a lot of fancy things here. Shouldn’t the money be going to something else?”

“The ‘fancy’ things you see are gifts from the donors. Things they felt in their hearts they should give us freely. We don’t buy things for the convent, apart from food. That’s one of the rules”

“Speaking of rules” I looked at her “Why are you smoking? Isn't that not allowed?”

“We don’t have rules against smoking here, Damian. The choice to do it or not is personal, but there are no rules for it. It’s not forbidden or a sin. Now, if you think nuns shouldn’t smoke, I suggest you pay a visit to the convents in Rome and give them a piece of your mind about their choices regarding health”

I chuckled at her comeback

“Why so cynical about our good intentions?” She licked her lips

“Because you don’t have any” I spat

“We live for helping those in need, Damian” She pointed towards my visible bulge

“Helping those in need, huh? And what do you get out of it?”

She walked towards me “Satisfaction in its purest form” She lifted one hand up and caressed my lower belly over my shirt “It’s incredible how much providing relief to others can trigger the biggest pleasure in our bodies...to see their eyes semi-closed in...relief is so rewarding to me”

I cleared my throat and shifted uncomfortably. “And just how needy do these people have to be?” I was speaking in financial terms of course

“Very needy” Her hand toyed with my jeans button “Some even have trouble sleeping due to their neediness, so you can see how a helping hand goes so well in this case...even the right mouth, you know to profess the Lord’s word”

“And just how many of these ‘charitable acts’ have you been involved with?” I felt my cock grow harder and harder

“Directly? Only when things get too hard, Damian” Her hand brushed against my hard bulge “That’s when I offer my help, so things can stop getting so hard and painful”

I gulped as I tried to shift away from her touch “So what, you just have all these other poor girls do your dirty work for you?” I try to keep my serious composure

“I’m not afraid of getting dirty, Damian. The girls do what they can, what they’re instructed to...but sometimes things get so hard that I have no other option but intervene” She pulled the fly of my jeans down “Then, once the seed of evil is finally spilled, things can go back to being soft again” She leaned in closer “Would you like a demonstration, Damian? I’m sure you have some kind of evil inside you that needs to be released” She asked with a sinister smile reaching her hand into the waistband of my boxer briefs

“I’m just here for work, Y/N, I have nothing to donate”

“Don’t worry about it. My girls will not be involved in this...it will be our little secret”

“I would like the tour now, please”

She smirked “Of course” and stepped away from me “This way” She went out the door as if nothing had happened

“Psycho bitch” I whispered to myself, as I pulled the fly of my jeans up and tied my hoodie around my waist to cover up the boner.

“This way we have the nuns bedrooms” She pointed towards a hallway “Kitchen, restrooms, archives, laundry room, storage for cleaning supplies, pantry” She explained each room, until we were outside “The patio, garden; where we cultivate flowers, fruits and vegetables, garage and the chapel is this way”

She walked towards a medium sized chapel in the middle of the garden, it looked like a regular chapel on the inside. It had an altar with a bible on it, a pulpit, a big cross, devotional statues of catholic saints, wooden benches and a confessional. Candles were lit up all over the place and everything looked normal. Scarily normal, until I noticed a few nuns who were sat on one of the benches staring at me with a weird look on their eyes

“Why are they looking at me like that?” I asked Y/N

“Like what?”

“Like, with...” I trailed off

“With desire?” She whispered in a mocking tone

I looked down at her speechless

“One could say that you’re a little too obsessed with the lust theme, Damian” She smiled “It’s all you can think about ever since you got here, dear. You should be careful” She licked her lips and pulled me by my hand towards her office again.

………………………........................................................

Later that night while I was trying to get some sleep, I began to hear some mumbling. Muffled voices kept saying something unintelligible and filling up the bedroom with mainly female voices. But one of the voices sounded too familiar to me...

I stood up from the bed and began to search in the room where those voices could be coming from, and as I almost gave up, I found it. A small hole of the size of a coin, in the concrete wall in front of my bed. Scooting closer to the wall, I knelt down and peeked through the hole, but weirdly enough, the room was pitch black. The mumbling started again and they soon became moans. Above all the moaning voices, one stood out to me. It was Y/N’s voice, she moaned softly while she said something I couldn’t quite understand. Her voice was filled with lust, her moans were pornographic and I could swear she was moaning my name. It both frightened and turned me on, so I did what any wise man would do. I returned to the bed, laid down and jerked off before falling into a deep slumber.

..................................................................................

“Wake up” Someone softly whispered in my ear

I quickly opened my eyes and my heart was beating at a frantic pace due to the fright.

A young girl was sitting down on my bed “Please, follow me” was all she said before standing up and leaving my room

I was so confused that I didn’t even bother to grab a t-shirt, so I just followed her down the hall barefoot and only with a pair of sweatpants on. Looking outside the hallway windows, I could see that the sky was still dark, which could only mean it was the late hours of morning.

She took me inside the laundry room and pressed a button underneath the folding clothes table. A door opened and a red light lit up the dark wooden stairs. I continued to follow her down the stairs, and we began to walk down a long hallway that looked more like a basement. The whole place had only red lights as the lighting source, so it took my eyes a while to get used to it.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, but only received silence as a response

We walked for what felt like ten minutes until we reached a black wooden door with an iron door knocker. She knocked on the door four times and left.

“Is this a prank?” I asked myself, after five minutes of standing there alone. Suddenly the door opened, but I couldn’t see anything other than darkness ahead

“Hello?” I called from the doorway, but no one answered back

The thing that made me such a great reporter was my utter curiosity, and even with all my senses screaming ‘don’t go in there!’ I decided to listen to my curious side instead, and went into the room. As soon as I stepped a foot inside, the door behind me closed shut.

The room was pitch black and I stumbled across a few items. I placed my hand on top of what felt like a table so I could try to guide myself through the room, at least back to the door again so I could leave. When suddenly I felt several pairs of soft hands on my torso pulling me back.

“What the fuck?” I gasped in shock

But before I could make a move, my wrists and ankles were tied to a wooden surface and a red light turned on in the room

Five nuns were in front of me, staring silently at my body

“Leave” Someone said from behind me, and the nuns obeyed and left

“I would be lying if I said you weren’t a beautiful sight” Y/N said, and and walked in front of me

“You psycho bitch” I growled and pulled at the restraints “Let me go!”

She smiled “Oh Damian...You don’t want that!” Her nails softly scratched my lower belly “And neither do I”

“You’re sick! Let me go, you fucking-“

“Na ah” She slapped me across the face “I’m done playing these pretending games” She lit up a cigarette “Pretend you didn’t jerk off to my moans, pretending you don’t want to fuck me...that gets tiring” She dipped her hand inside my sweatpants and found my semi hard bulge “You’ve wanted to fuck me ever since you laid eyes on me” She giggled and I licked my dry lips

“Those sinful, filthy, thoughts you’ve had, Damian” She closed her fist around my erection “You wanted to know what we do here, right? We purge that demon out of you” And scooted closer until her lips brushed against my own with every word she spoke

“We send him away, so he can’t bother you anymore” She freed my cock from my pants and began to pump her hand up and down “We release you from the seed of evil”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I panted

Y/N knelt down in front of me and darted her tongue out, licking my slit “Give me the seed of evil, Damian” and gave an open mouth kiss on my tip “Feed me with it” Licked the underside of my shaft “Release yourself from what’s been bothering you ever since you got here” Darting her tongue out “Use me to purify your soul” And opened her mouth wider.

At such a sight I had no other option but to buck my hips forward…

And chase for my cleansing

If you’re comfortable with it, please let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

[nakachuchu]

Bunny | Armin Arlert

SYNOPSIS: Modern AU - He has a crush on his friend's crush.

READER: female

WORDS: 1556

WRITTEN: 03/08/2021

"Hey, Armin," you greeted as you leaned down, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"H-Hi, Y/N," he replied, eyes glancing to the textbook pressed against your chest and your pretty smile.

"Can I sit next to you again? You're a lifesaver when it comes to taking notes."

"Oh, yeah, definitely," he said as he scooted to the side, allowing you to sit next to him in the lecture hall.

You often sat next to Armin because he had good handwriting and his notes were easy to understand.

You often blanked out, thus missing part of what the professor said. He once asked what you were thinking about, and you winked at him before making a zipper gesture on your mouth.

It was always a struggle when you asked to sit next to him. He had to fight himself to pay attention to the professor and ignore the little devil on his shoulder who kept telling him dirty thoughts about you.

If you didn't sit next to him, he wouldn't have to worry about how good his notes were because you wouldn't need them.

It wasn't like you didn't take notes. You simply got distracted sometimes. You would be taking notes, and the next time Armin decided to glance at you, the end of your pen would be in your mouth, tongue swiping at it mindlessly.

Armin was in constant trouble whenever you were around. You were pretty on your own, but the way your teeth nibbled on the cap and how soft your tongue looked made his brain short circuit.

It was the second year you had the same class with Armin, and he didn't know if he wanted to be thankful or not.

The first encounter he had with you was on moving day. He dropped his pink pen that had a bunny as the clicker. It was given to him by his mother who had been sobbing when he left for college.

You picked up the pen and called out to him. He was absolutely embarrassed and dizzy that someone saw the pen, let alone a pretty girl picking it up for him.

You laughed at how red he was and stepped forward to put the pen back into his front pocket, patting his chest before waving goodbye and walking away.

"Armin," you called out, "class is over, bunny."

God, the nickname you gave him always made his body hot. It was a simple, shameless nickname. It was obviously from the pen he dropped, but he couldn't help but fantasize that something deeper was in the works.

"R-Right. Thanks, Y/N."

You smiled. "Of course. Text me your notes later?"

He nodded.

"Great. I'll see you around. Make sure to eat lunch."

He nodded. "You too."

Once you left the room, he sighed and banged his head onto the desk. Even your kindness in reminding him to eat made him like you even more.

He eventually packed up his stuff, walking to the same table outside the lecture hall that his friends claimed since the first day of school.

"How'd it go?" Eren asked.

He knew about Armin's crush on you, but the question was easily hid as "How was the lecture?"

"It was good," Armin replied, which translated to "I made a fool out of myself again."

"Did you see Y/N? What was she wearing today?" Jean asked.

"Uh—You know, the same," Armin said with a wince.

Jean sighed wistfully. "She's so damn beautiful."

"She'd never go for you," said Eren with a glance at Armin.

"Huh? You wanna fucking fight? We'll go at it right now!"

"HUH? Did you say something, twerp?" Eren retorted, standing up from the table to slam his foot onto the bench.

"HUH? You're shorter than me, you fucking midget," retorted Jean as he got into the same position as Eren.

The two boys began to fight as Armin awkwardly laughed and sat down. He was royally fucked. What was he supposed to do when Jean seemed so smitten with you?

"I'm gonna do it," said Jean as he let Eren out of the chokehold.

Eren gasped for air, then punched Jean on the shoulder. "Do...what?"

"Ask Y/N out," he said as he walked off.

Armin followed the direction he was walking in, then saw you crossing the lawn with one of your friends. His shoulders slumped as he realized he wouldn't ever be able to date you.

Eren and Mikasa glanced at each other before glancing at Armin who was watching the exchange between you and Jean.

You whispered something to your friend as Jean began to talk. You stood there with a smile on your face and occasionally nodded at whatever he was saying.

"I—Um—I'm gonna go back to my dorm. I have studying to do," murmured Armin as he grabbed his bag and walked away.

You laughed at something Jean said before nodding and waving goodbye to him. He walked back and sighed heavily as he sat on the bench.

"What happened?" Connie asked.

"She likes someone else, but hey, she called me cute. That accounts for something, right?"

"Do you think—"

Mikasa nodded at what Eren was implying.

Jean looked between them. "What?"

"You see—"

"Hey, if that dumb ass can ask you out, you can ask Armin out," your friend encouraged.

"Me? I don't have the guts for that," you said.

"No, but you got the tits and that disgusting kindness going for you."

You rolled your eyes. "None of that is true. Besides, I don't know where he is."

"Call him."

"I'm not going to ask him out through tech. It's not sincere," you muttered.

"So you need to do it in person? I got you."

"W-Wait, where are you going? Come back!" you shouted as your friend ran out of your room.

You sighed, a dreadful feeling settling in your stomach. You chewed your lip nervously as you turned to your notes to study, trying to ignore your fantasies of dating Armin.

You put your earbuds in, turning up the volume so that you wouldn't have to think. You drummed your pencil on your desk while reading the notes you took, even though you knew the information wasn't staying in your brain.

You let out a shriek when someone yanked your earbuds out. You spun around in your chair, ready to smack someone until you noticed Armin standing by your door nervously.

Your friend stood in front of you and smiled. "Good luck," they whispered before walking out and closing the door.

"Armin," you breathed out.

He raised his hand slightly before folding them together in front of him again. "Hi. Um—Your friend said you needed to talk to me?"

You nodded, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you come out here. My friend is impulsive."

"It's okay," he reassured. "But isn't it bad if someone notices us alone in your room? What if Jean hears?"

You tilted your head to the side. "What about him?"

"Well, aren't you—aren't you two dating?"

You blinked before laughing. "We're not dating. I don't like him. I like you."

"Oh, I see. You don't like—You like me?" he repeated.

You smiled. "Yeah, I do. I really, really like you."

"Oh. Oh, this is—Oh, I never thought—" His face went red and his mind was playing fantasies of you again. "I—Uh—I didn't think you'd ever like me. I've liked you for a while now and I mean, you're so pretty, and I'm me."

"I like you, bunny," you reassured. "I like that you're you."

"I've never—I've never had a girlfriend."

"That's okay. It doesn't matter. Do you want to be my boyfriend?" you asked.

"Yes!" he exclaimed. His shoulders slumped after a moment. "But I would be a bad friend if I did that. Jean's liked you for a while and I can't betray him like that."

You smiled softly. "I understand. That's—"

The door burst open, hitting Armin in the back and sending him flying forward. You got up from your chair and wrapped your arms around him so that he wouldn't fall.

Armin was dizzy. His face was shoved into your breasts and all he could smell was you. Your arms were wrapped around him for safety and his hands were dangerously close to your ass.

You looked up to see Armin's friends crowding your door. They were all breathing heavily.

"Say yes!" exclaimed Jean. "Why didn't you tell me you liked her? I just thought she was hot!"

Armin said something, but it was muffled by your breasts. You wiggled around at how ticklish it felt, before helping him move away.

He blinked at you before slowly looking up at you. His face was incredibly hot and he couldn't think straight.

"Armin?" you called out.

Oh, your voice was so pretty.

"Armin, are you okay?" you asked.

"Huh? Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Um—I—Yes?"

"Yes?" you repeated.

"I want to be your boyfriend," he said. "Is that okay?"

You smiled. "It's more than okay," you said.

"Thank God," muttered Eren as he turned around with a hand latched onto Jean's collar. "Team, roll out!"

Mikasa followed him silently, dragging Sasha and Connie with her.

"What should the first thing we do as a couple be, bunny?" you asked.

"Um... Food?"

You smiled. "Sounds good."

[butcherknives]

The Holidays with the Sparda Men

Prompt kinda got away from me and became more of a pre-game than an actual holiday moment, but hopefully it’s fun and enjoyable all the same.

Ft. GN! Reader from the Devil May Cry series

> SFW

At first you believe that holidays aren’t exactly his “thing.” That it’s painted by a religion that isn't his, and it’s too bathed in traditionalism where Dante is anything but, between his attitude, his appearance, and his lifestyle. You think this, yet as the holidays grow closer, you notice that his mood seems to weaken and crumble. He isn’t irritable or sour. No, that isn’t it at all. You know Dante and his facades; this you recognize as depression.

You live within your perplexity only for a short time before you decide to ask. Side by side on the worn leather couch, your knee pressed against his as he reclines in a languid arch, you pose your observation with as much tact as you can muster. “You seem down.”

Without turning his head, his eyes slide toward you. He sweeps over your expression and you can feel the way he’s analyzing – likely approximating what you’ve gleaned. With quiet huff though his nose, he closes his eyes and leans his head back. “Well, damn. And here I thought I was the embodiment of ole Saint Nick.”

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

The silence that stretches is full of rumination. Dante is weighing his options, isn’t he? Considering if it’s worth telling you the truth. Your heart hammers in your chest as he measures you, weighs you, and finds you...

“I always feel kinda eh around the holidays.”

...worthy.

You wait with hopeful patience, quelling your thoughts and over-eager questions because there’s a physical shift, one there beneath the immediate surface, that tells you he has more to say. You rest your hand on his thigh and tip forward, attempting to remain a source of comfort.

He cracks one eye open to peek at you. The look you offer makes him sigh, sit up, and shake his head on a roll of his shoulders. “I guess it reminds me of my family. You know, sad little boy stuff.”

Oh.

What had the holidays been like before tragedy? And what had they been like prior to your arrival? You simmer on this for perhaps too long because Dante is visibly retreating into himself with that sideways, self-deprecating smile that warns you precisely where he’s about to bury his emotions. You rise to your feet. “Your family!”

He tips his head, lips flattening into pulled confusion-mirth-weariness that makes you switch your hips on a sheepish laugh.

“Yeah,” you continue. “What about your family?” The light has yet to click on. You continue with swelling emotion. “Vergil and Nero? And Lady, and Trish...” You bounce on the balls of your feet. “We could invite them over and do something fun. Like... Like a party.”

There’s slow realization dawning like the sunrise across Dante’s face and it’s equal in beauty. The sparkle in his eyes; the smile curling at his lips as he drops his forearms into his lap and leans forward until he’s grinning with silent, crinkled laughter. “A party, huh?”

“A holiday office party,” you say with an eager nod.

This does make him laugh. “You might just be onto something.”

“So, what do you think?” You watch as he rises to stand in front of you, his hand combing through his hair. “I think we could pull it off together. It could be a lot of fun.”

“Alright,” he says with an exaggerated shrug. “What the hell?” As lackadaisical a response it is, you can see his happiness. “You wanna decorate? I’ll send out the invitations.”

You agree with a grin, tipping forward to kiss his scruffy cheek, and as you saunter off toward the desk to gather a piece of scrap paper and a pen to start your planning, you feel much lighter than you had before.

“Hey,” he says and you spin to look. “Think we could get Morrison to dress as Santa?”

You laugh.

Vergil doesn’t seem to care that the holidays are around the corner, nor does he indicate any desire to celebrate. You’ve been mulling over how to breach the subject, not from fear but rather uncertain of what judgement he may pass. Surely, if you find any importance in the season, Vergil will indulge you to the best of his ability; you know this and yet you find yourself wondering if he’s fully against them in their entirety. He’s shown open disinterest in religion – Fortuna, you deduce, left a bad taste – but you think, perhaps, he might be open to a bit of spirit. At the very least, you’d love the excuse to have him spend time with the rest of his family.

Your answer comes in the form of a red wax-sealed envelope delivered to your home. Perplexed, you study the writing on the worn paper and see there is no return address listed. Curiosity guides your hands to the seal yet you stop yourself, deciding to share this moment with Vergil.

You find him in the study with several opened books across his desk, exactly as he had left them the night before. The door is open yet you knock to announce your presence. He doesn’t look up as he waves you in.

“I’ve yet to decipher these texts,” he says as you plop into the armchair across from where he stands. “I’m afraid the language may be too far removed from more recent demon tongue.”

“It’s fascinating how even demon language evolves.” He raises his gaze and you smile, lifting the envelope for him to see. “By the way, this came in the mail today. It’s got a wax seal. Think it might be important?”

Vergil’s attention flits to the envelope, then back to you. “Ominous.”

“Mm,” you agree. “Could be some wild invitation to battle to the death. Shall I open it?”

He nods, gesturing with a hand to carry on. You find anticipation builds as you peel back the seal and remove the folded letter within. The handwriting is scrawled, the penmanship overly decorated, but the words are thick, black and bold, as if written with an inkwell.

“Might need some more books to decipher this text, too,” you say with a snort, flashing the paper at Vergil who rolls his eyes in amusement. “Well, let’s see if I can read it.” You clear your throat with theatrics and shake the letter out, settling into your chair. “Dearest brother,” you start before you laugh. “Oh, spoiler alert.”

Vergil pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dante...”

“Ever the showman,” you answer. “Okay, here we go.”

Dearest brother, I hope this letter finds you in good health and with haste, as time is not on our side. With the change of the season, I find myself longing to indulge in what has been described to me only as “holiday spirit.” It is for this reason that I cordially invite you and your love to my humble home for drink, company, and merriment. Sincerely, Dante

There’s a silence that follows during which Vergil rises to his full height. He closes his eyes while he folds his arms across his chest. You’re biting back your delight. “He sure knows how to make an entrance,” you say.

Vergil shakes his head before he holds out his hand, and without hesitation, you give him the letter. He scans the paper with pursed lips and brows drawn, then exhales a long-suffering sigh. “My brother has a propensity for theatrics.”

“And you don’t?”

He turns to you and for a moment, he seems scandalized. He flattens his expression. “It seems as though you already have an opinion.”

“The correct opinion.” There’s a playful thread between your banter and you can’t help but smile. “But so...” You tip your head and pull an accent that isn’t yours, “What say you?”

Vergil stares. For a moment, you think he’s going to admonish you, and yet his smile simmers with a telltale gleam. Your heart soars.

“Shall we respond in kind?”

You’ve decorated your shared space with lights and a tree, filled the living room with cheerful music, and hung stockings above the heater where you’ve joked that it’s the closest to a fireplace you have. You do this, and never once has Nero complained. He’s even assisted with stringing the lights around the top of the wall, further than you can stretch. Despite not being quite as enthusiastic about the holiday, you appreciate his acceptance of yours.

Beneath the glow of the flickering multi-colored lights, you’re placing a new ornament on the tree when Nero enters the front door. Clutched in his hand is an open envelope, familiar prickled irritation in the line of his shoulders.

“Welcome back.” Your brows knot in surprise. “What’s that?”

“Something stupid,” Nero answers. “It’s from Dante.”

You grin as you rise to your feet, clamoring over to the entrance while he’s distracted with shutting the door. He gets out a quick, “Hey!” before you snatch the envelope from his grip, spinning out of immediate reach.

“Oh, a seal? Fancy,” you’re saying as you slide the letter from its confines. Nero is following behind you, but each half-hearted swipe has you dodging. It’s a joyous dance that makes you giggle and you know that Nero isn’t truly angry; it’s for show when he throws his hands up and lets out a long groan, collapsing in a chair in front of the television like a cut marionette. “Did you read it yet?”

He sighs, jiggling his knee. “Got as far as the first line.”

You grin. “Then let’s read it together, hm?” Moving to stand behind him, you drape your arms around his shoulders and orient the letter in front of you both, resting your chin on the top of his head. “Oh, his handwriting is...”

“Fucking awful?” Nero supplies.

“Ornate,” you agree with a laugh. “Well, let’s see if I can read it.”

Dearest nephew, I bid you and yours good tidings! I am writing to cordially invite you and your loved one to join me at my abode for a holiday celebration this solstice. Fret not, for I will provide accommodations during your stay in the city of Red Grave. Sincerely, Dante

“What –”

“A party!” You unravel yourself from Nero’s warmth to sidle around him, beaming. “We’re definitely going.”

Nero stares at you and you stare back. There’s silence while his expression works into exhaustion. Nero breaks it with a click of his tongue. “Why’d he have to invite us to a party like an old vampire?”

“Why not?”

He snorts. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Just never would’a taken Dante for a family holiday kinda guy.”

You tilt your head with a patient stare, considering. “Well, Dante hasn’t really had a family until recently.” Nero quirks a brow. “I mean, you only got real confirmation a few months ago and Vergil –”

“Yeah,” he interrupts, waving his hand. Right, you think. Still a sore spot. “So you think Dante’ll invite him?”

You nod your understanding, slow and careful. “I think that’s likely.”

Nero’s lips mesh together as he nods, eyes falling to the floor, faraway in thought.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you say.

It takes Nero a moment to regain focus, but when he does, he’s looking at you with heavy deliberation. He’s reaching for your hands, drawing you into orbit until you’re standing between his knees. His thumbs rub small circles into your skin and you bask in his warmth. “You wanna go, right?”

“Could be fun,” you answer.

His chest fills on a deep inhale before he’s accepting his fate with surprising ease. “Okay, then can ya do me a favor and grab me the phone? I’ll let ‘im know.”

You grin. “You got it.”

[yuvon-writes-letters]

Hey guys,

Yu, Rai and both Jakes.

Actually..If I talk about my feelings I'm pretty well. Don't tell Jake I said that, but I couldn't be happier about our situation. I mean, we can talk again. Without me being kidnapped and finding a weird Tumblr profile of him. (Which we think was a set up by one of the entities of my world since he obviously doesn't have one. Jake thinks it was goldies doing, I on the other hand don't believe that. Don't ask me why, but it feels like goldie wouldn't do that. And it didn't help me either but only made problems. I was distracted because I was writing the profile (you read it, right Yu? I don't know about the others) and angry. Like, really angry.)

Putting that aside, Jake called me, like he promised :) And it was the longest phone call I had for some time. Most of the time I talked and he didn't get distracted once, just listened to me and everything that happened. And then he started cursing, which is kind of understandable. He apologised for being into stasis. And for this other version from before the 'time setting back' thing. Because I don't find a name I'll call it TSB from now on.

The only problem I have now is going to work, I guess I'll take me some vacation...But at least I'm not as scared of the raven-ass anymore. I mean, I still am, but in the moment I know his steps. And I am not alone.

Jake, I intentionally write the next part in red, please don't read it. That's for Yu.

I know you think that Jake sees you as a threat. If it still is like you wrote in the letter. Jake knows that, too and he doesn't like it. You know him better than I do, of course, but without saying too much...I think it's quite the opposite. Talk to him about that. Even though it's probably not the best circumstances I think he enjoys being with you :)

The next part, purple (damn, I need more coloured pens), is for you Jake.

You already told me that you don't like that Yu thinks you see her as a threat. I only have to say one thing, if it still is like that, talk to her about it. Earlier than later.

The new thoughts about the blood ritual are really interesting. But please don't put yourself in this danger (or not, but I think it's understandable what I mean?) if it isn't necessary. But I also agree with Rai, I thought the same thing for a while. That you desired having someone, Jake, with you. It sounds plausible.

What more was there...Wait, let me reread the letters.

Oh yeah, Rai! One, till now my crow crew seems to still be in stasis (Jake realised that now, too) and two..Please try to take care of your health, yeah? I'm worried for you.

Lis🐾🔥

Ps. Damn...I'm writing this exactly when I wanted to leave the house (I mean, I sadly cannot hide my face forever).

Two new things...I got a message. I mean, it was a threat (because I am the obviously the bad girl that kidnapped Hannah), but I don't care. Maybe that means the stasis is slowly dissolving!

But number 2...I didn't get the vacation. My boss called me almost immediatly. "Under no circumstances [a word is blacked out] Liska. We have July and Alice, Tim and Jenny all want to take free time, too. You are one of our best workers and we can't afford you leaving now. You have no children so you have to wait. Also Max told me that you don't have any problems in family."

So long story short: He wants me to be there tomorrow. Argh, if he would pay me like he's talking that would awesome. And I'll kill Max when I see him next time. (My cousin that thought it was fun to try and steal my work so we both got the rank of 'one of the best workers'. The only problem: Max' title is official. -.- Overall, I'm so much more annoyed than some time earlier. Maybe I should ask Jake for help

Lis,

Okay, the Crow Crew drama is fading a bit, so I'll answer this now. Sorry if I seem disjointed at all, I'm probably going to be going back and forth from conversations to this letter a lot. I can't afford to have them all think I'm compromised, I need to focus on getting out of here and I don't want to deal with their pressure on top of everything else.

Yeah, I don't think the Tumblr profile was Goldie either. Goldie seems to try to be very much a "hands off" sort of entity, like my own. The Tumblr profile thing seems a little out of character for at least my Jake. At least, publicly answering your submission certainly was, though he may have panicked since you sent it in on anon and answered publicly without really thinking about it. I guess I could see him having a Tumblr profile for purposes of following people on social media and watching what they post, though. And then deciding he likes the media and posting a little bit of impersonal things that can't lead back to him. Probably my Jake will say something about that when I hand this letter over to him, stay tuned.

Yeah, I at least read some of the things you sent that profile, and I showed what I had to my Jake too. I'm not sure if I read all of it, since it was a bunch of printed-out screenshots in an envelope, but I read the ask where you told him you hated him (fair at that point but ouch that's got to have hurt) up to when you said you'd found Hannah. After that you sent me your letter telling me time had turned back and the Tumblr screenshots ended.

I'm glad you and Jake managed to talk things out. I was sort of worried about how he'd react, but it sounds like he took it pretty well, considering. I'm... not exactly sure he should be apologizing for the stasis, though. Or the TSB!Jake. Maybe especially not the TSB!Jake. Jakes seem to be oddly different from timeline to timeline, just based on what I've seen of them. TSB has been one of the most different so far.

Oh. One thing I should mention that you might not have seen from the profile: The MWAF used your phone to mock the TSB account, and mentioned that TSB wasn't the only person who could hack, and the MWAF blocked TSB from finding your location. Might want to warn your Jake about that.

A vacation sounds like a good idea :/ It's really hard to go back to normal life right after tragedies or trauma. It feels like the world keeps moving on and you're still stuck in place, and you just want to scream at them that they need to slow down, can't they see that the world is

Good. I'm glad you don't feel alone. It's easier to deal with this stuff when you're with someone else, even if it's not physically.

(Jake, my Jake I mean, if you're reading over my parts of these letters skip to the ||| now please.) I'm not saying he doesn't also enjoy my company. I can tell he does. That doesn't make me not a threat. Like how early on I suspected Thomas, but still thought he was a nice guy and enjoyed talking to him. (Obviously I don't suspect him any more XD ) Still, if you think I should talk with him about it, I'll try to find a tactful way to bring it up.

Yes, because obviously tact is my greatest strength. Sigh.

Like I said to Rai, the underlying desire thing is definitely possible. That'd either mean I'm more obvious about how I feel for Jake than I think I am (very possible, I'm not great at hiding how I feel in person) or the entity has some level of telepathy/mind reading. The reason is that chessboard. Since Jake likes chess, it's clear at least to me the entity expected him to come here at some point. I THINK, if the underlying desire thing is true, I can manipulate myself into wanting specific things by doing things like writing it over and over and repeating it out loud when doing the ritual, but I'm not sure.

|||

It's probably good that your Crow Crew is in stasis, like how it's objectively probably good my outside life is going on without me. Less drama, less pressure.

Huh. The harassment is definitely a promising sign. Maybe you should try contacting Darkness again, same way as I suggested near the beginning? That feels so long ago, but it really can't have been much more than a week, can it?

You... didn't get the vacation. Fucking hell. Is there ANY way you can convince your boss? You really should have time off. Maybe your Jake can help you come up with ideas.

Or at least maybe he can come up with a way to have your boss give you a bonus for your trouble -_-

Oh shit Cleo's interrogating me I'm gonna hand this to Jake now

(The handwriting changes to Jake's.) Hello, Lis.

I agree with Yuvon: "TSB" acts markedly different from myself. There would be no benefit from me promising to be there to find you in the moment, and indeed I would have been falling for a very transparent trap. Even in my possible state of panic, I cannot see myself being there physically, much less revealing myself physically to authorities in the process, unless I was playing the role of bait in a counter-trap. While it is plausible that this was TSB's plan, TSB gave no indication that Yuvon or I could tell that this was the case. Of course, I would have done my best to be there physically in the aftermath of the kidnapping, but not in the moment.

I also agree that the Tumblr profile seems to be out of character for both myself and for "Goldie", though I hesitate to judge TSB's actions by what I myself would do. I seem to vary in surprising ways across universes and even from timeline to timeline, based solely on your current Jake's reactions thus far. I do actually own a Tumblr profile for the exclusive purpose of following social medias I wish to track, but I used a random username generator website for the username and not my own name, and I certainly never posted anything.

The news about the MWAF being able to hack is new to me; I must have missed that the first time I read through the screenshots. That is quite troubling. I suppose I will need to be more careful in future.

I am sincerely sorry your request for a vacation was rejected. I do not know how much you intend to separate your personal life and the Duskwood case, but if your stasis is truly wavering, you may be able to reveal some measure of the danger you are in to convince him to let you flee the area for a small while. Especially since you mentioned in your Tumblr post that you saw a raven note in your wor

Oh.

You need to leave that place. Now. Do not inform your employer of the danger you are in, reveal nothing to him or to anyone, take unpaid time off if you need to. Get your cousin and anyone else you care overly much about out of there too. Invalidate any information you can your employer or coworkers knows about you. Do not tell the truth to anyone, even your cousin. Make up any excuses you need to, ask your Jake for help with ideas if you need to. You may also wish to check that the coworkers your boss listed who are going on vacation are ACTUALLY going on vacation.

This is a priority, Liska. You need to tell your Jake all of this too, especially the part with the note in your workplace. You need to get out of there.

Good luck.

—Jake & Yuvon

(The letter tucks itself into the paper clip with the others.)

[kellys-book-corner]

Title: This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

Prompt: 1) Most Recent Purchase. 2) Claravoyance: Read a five star prediction for the Royal Weekender.

Page Count: 192 Pages 📚

Rating: 5 Stars ⭐

Synopsis: Among the ashes of a dying world, an agent of the Commandant finds a letter. It reads: Burn before reading.

Thus begins an unlikely correspondence between two rival agents hellbent on securing the best possible future for their warring factions. Now, what began as a taunt, a battlefield boast, grows into something more. Something epic. Something romantic. Something that could change the past and the future.

Except the discovery of their bond would mean death for each of them. There’s still a war going on, after all. And someone has to win that war. That’s how war works. Right?

---

"But when I think of you, I want to be alone together. I want to strive against and for. I want to live in contact. I want to be a context for you, and you for me.

I love you, and I love you, and I want to find out what that means together."

---

This is not a sci-fi book.

Sure, it has time travel, and AI's, is set in the future and has all those lovely and juicy sci-fi elements.

But it's actually a romance. And I wasn't expecting that.

I knew going in that it had romantic elements, and I knew it had a f/f relationship at the forefront and I was stoked about it, but this is a lyrically beautiful story about the blossoming romance between these two women set over a myriad of years told only in their letters to one another. The sci-fi is just the back drop, the set dressing; It is the love story that takes centre stage.

And what a love story it was. I've read some reviews of this book that are annoyed about the vagueness of the world they're in, and I can absolutely see why, I had absolutely no idea what was going on. How are they sending letters to each other? Why are they enemies? What year is it set it? What year are they in now? Is it the same year or a different one? What future, exactly, are they fighting for? Why is it so bad for them to communicate? What massive time war, what happened?

After having finished the book over a week ago, I still don't know the answers. And I suppose that's the point. It isn't about the Time War, it isn't about The Garden (no idea) or the Strands of Time (huh?), it's about Red and Blue and their story and I'm still not really over it. It was beautifully and poetically told and moved me to tears more than once. I found myself reading passages to my girlfriend (trying to read her own book, I'm sure I was annoying) but I just found certain passages to be so beautiful that I couldn't not share them with someone, especially someone that I love just as fiercely as the protagonists loved each other. And that's just it, I knew that to be true, even if I didn't understand they context they were in, I believed in their connection to each other, and the fact that they whole hearted loved each other. Once I accepted that, I just let go of my questions and enjoyed the stunningly beautiful journey that this book took me on.

I read this for the Bookie Trials Royal Weekender for the prompt Read a 5 Star Prediction and I was so right. I read it in a few hours and was blown away by it. If heavy romantic, queer time-travelling pen pels (who could potentially remind you of Marceline and Bubblegum from Adventure Time) are your thing, I'd pick this one up, you won't regret it.

[pentopello]

hiya! thanks for doing this ask meme :) If it isn't too much trouble, i'd like to request number 12 and 13, please! Thanks again in advance ❤

thank you!! and sorry for taking so long! finals are done at least, and i should be able to get back to writing now!

12. things you said when you thought i was asleep

13. things you said at the kitchen table

12.

(in a hotel room while on a case; pre-relationship)

Michael’s just on the brink of sleep when Allen starts talking. It’s nothing more than murmuring at first, a little bit of added narration to the notes that he’s taking and the calculations he’s making. It’s really just a reflection on the day’s events, nothing vital, but Allen had told him that he’d needed to get it all down before he could go to sleep tonight and that Michael needn’t stay up.

So Michael had gotten in his bed and under the covers but hadn’t focused too hard on sleeping. Sometimes it was nice just to close his eyes and let things be.

Allen stops after a while, and Michael hears him close his notebook. Michael figures he’s done and about to go to sleep as well, but then Allen sighs and starts talking.

“It’s beautiful out tonight,” he says quietly like he doesn’t want to wake Michael up. “New moon, clear skies. The stars are probably radiant. I bet if I walked outside, went out to that clearing, I could see the Milky Way.”

There’s a pause again, but Michael doesn’t really hear anything except for Allen’s breathing, so it’s a safe bet to assume Allen’s just sitting there, not really doing much beyond thinking. It’s a little odd that he’s talking to himself, but Michael doesn’t dwell on it. Allen’s Allen.

“Can’t help but wonder what you see when you look up at the sky,” Allen says barely above a whisper, and Michael has to strain to hear him over the rattle of the heater. “I’ve got my perspective, of course, but you’ve been there, up in the sky. Closer to the stars than I’ll ever be. Our experiences are so…different.” The sound of fabric shifting briefly. A minuscule change in position meant to aid the process of thought.

“I want to know what you feel,” Allen continues, still quiet. “I want you to understand the same wonder that I do what I track the stars across the sky, delve deep into the great unknown. How at home I feel beyond the atmosphere as you must feel among the clouds. I don’t know why I want that so bad, but I do.” He trails off, emotion entering his voice, which he attempts to balance out by what Michael presumes is him tracing patterns on the surface of the wooden table. It’s another faint sound, continuous but new.

“There’s already so much going on,” Allen says. “It’s a little strange to give small things like that—little wants, little impulses—the time of day, but I keep coming back to them.” Another pause. "You told me that you’re better when I’m around. Do you still feel that way?”

Michael wants to sit up, to tell him yes, absolutely, but with the way the question is posed, he knows it’s not meant to be answered. He probably shouldn’t be listening, because he’s not meant to hear this, but there’s no way for him to give Allen the privacy he needs.

“I want to be the kind of man you see in me, Michael,” Allen says, “but I can’t help but feel like recently I’ve been doing all the wrong things. How can I keep you honest if I can’t even keep myself honest?” He sighs. “I feel like I’ve been lying to everyone—even myself. I told Mimi it was the job, you know. That I couldn’t just walk away from the work I was doing here, but it’s not just that. I tried to deny it for a long time, but I couldn’t walk away from you either, and I don’t know what that means. I think I’m falling in love with you, but I don’t know! I’ve never felt this way before, and it’s a little terrifying.”

Allen’s silent for a moment, and Michael can’t tell what he’s doing, but then he hears him set something down on the table, probably his pen, and the resettling of fabric, Allen leaning back in the chair.

"I guess I’m saying it now because I’m too scared to say it when you’re awake.” Allen sighs, light and resigned. “I wouldn’t even know what it would mean if I had the courage to tell you. What it would change. What I would want it to change. Maybe I’m supposed to keep it to myself. I don’t know.”

It’s silent, then, for even longer, but then Allen stands and walks towards the door of the hotel room. “Good night, Michael,” he says softly and then he’s gone.

Michael waits for a few minutes to pass after he hears the door lock shut before he sits up and stares at the table where Allen has been sitting. He’s probably out in the parking lot, stargazing as he often does.

It’s really a strange opportunity that’s fallen into his lap, to learn that his feelings towards Allen are reciprocated. Kind of. He can’t just act immediately though. Too early and Allen won’t be ready. He’ll react poorly, and then things will be even worse. Too late and he’ll have missed his chance. He scrubs his hands over his face and groans. There’s no use trying to figure it out now. He’s too tired, and any plans that he comes up with won’t be any good. He flops back down onto the bed and tries in earnest to fall asleep.

He’ll figure this out. He has to.

13.

(living together, at least part of the time; established relationship)

It’s a cereal kind of morning. It’s the kind of day where they don’t have any early obligations, so they get to eat breakfast together, but it’s also the kind of day where they still have to go to work, so there’s no time for them to prepare anything particularly fancy.

Allen presses his spoon into the wheat mush in his bowl, the individual pieces now formless in the milk. It has no personality, but it doesn’t really taste bad, so he tries not to think about it.

Across the table, Michael loudly crunches away at his own bowl, dry. His milk is kept separate in a glass on his placemat.

It strikes Allen, suddenly, how surreal this whole situation is. He’d never even imagined having something like this strange domesticity in his life when he’d first started developing feelings for Michael. He hadn’t even imagined it when they’d just begun to navigate their then-fledgling relationship. It colors so many of their interactions now, even the things that aren’t explicitly intended to be romantic, and Allen hadn’t even realized it for months.

Now that he has, though, he can’t stop the flood of questions from entering his brain.

What happens if someone gets suspicious? How have expectations changed on him as a partner? Is the normalcy of the relationship supposed to feel this normal? And what about the future? Where are they headed? Are there going to be the traditional landmarks? Or do they just keep going as they have?

"What do you think is going to happen to us when this is all over?” Allen brings up the question aloud.

Michael freezes and then slowly lowers his spoon into his bowl. “This?” he asks cautiously.

“Project Blue Book,” Allen clarifies. “It’s going to end someday. It has to. Either it’ll be terminated or we’ll be removed from it, but one way or another, we’ll stop being colleagues.”

Michael rests his arms fulls on the table. “I suppose that is something of an eventuality. If we don’t die first, of course,“ he says, humorously. "What’s your point?”

Allen sighs and really tries to think about it. What is his point? “I guess it’s just that as long as we’re working together, it’s easy to spend most of our time together, but that gets a lot trickier if we’re not.”

“Huh,” Michael says and chews his lip thoughtfully, but he doesn’t provide any other response.

“Do you have any thoughts?” Allen asks a little impatiently. “Is this something that’s occurred to you before?”

“I suppose so,” Michael says with a shrug.

“It didn’t bother you?” Allen asks.

“I like to live in the present,” Michael says, but he doesn’t quite meet Allen’s eyes.

“And when the present changes and things aren’t as easy as they are now?” Allen asks.

“I wouldn’t say they’re easy now,” Michael says, “but I’d like to think that I’d do what’s necessary to make it work.”

What’s necessary.

It occurs to Allen, then, that this is absolutely something that Michael’s thought about before. He’s too careful to leave things up to fate, and Allen wouldn’t be surprised if Michael’s carefully plotted out each possible future and figured out ways to counter each adversity their relationship might face.

Michael is confident in his preparedness, and that’s why he isn’t worried. Allen figures that maybe he shouldn’t be either, then.

“Look. I love you,” Michael says. “You know I do. I’m not with you just because it’s convenient.”

Allen reaches across the table and takes one of Michael’s hands in his own. Maybe it’s a little too soon, a little too early in their relationship to be thinking about forever, but it feels a lot more tangible now than ever before. He leans over to press his lips to Michael’s knuckles.

Michael lights up, any residual tension draining from his shoulders, and Allen knows that Michael understands he feels the same.

[kbstories]

And with this third chapter, the fic is complete!

Only Lost The Night

Tags: Recovery, First Kiss, Fishing (non-graphic)

No additional spoilers apply.

>>Read on AO3

<<First Chapter

<<Second Chapter

The coffee comes out of the pot piping hot, quickly warming his mug and filling the morning air with its scent.

Arthur downs it in big gulps, wincing as it burns down his throat. The bad taste in his mouth is gone, though, and his queasy stomach settles with something to digest. The cold sweat he wakes up in every morning, or the tremor in his hands, well – recovery, as it turns out, is one tough son of a bitch, much more so when your alcohol supply is out of reach.

A sigh worms its way out his mouth, clouding white in front of him. There's precious little for him to do in camp – he can barely raise his left arm higher than chest height without pulling some wound or other – and most of the gang's inner workings come along well without his input.

This must be the longest Arthur's been off duty in... a while. It's disorienting, to say the least.

It doesn't help that, additionally to Miss Grimshaw's care – a duty she caries out with a gruff undertone in her voice but an indulgent glint in her eyes –, Charles has been watching him like a hawk, grumbling about his hard work going to waste otherwise.

Arthur would be the first to admit that drinking himself into a stupor a week into his mandatory bedrest was not his brightest moment. It definitely beat sitting on his ass all day long, doing fuck-all to earn his keep.

At this rate, he'll end up going to the dogs like Uncle. Isn't that a fun thought to entertain?

Even now he can feel the man's gaze on him, all the way across camp. Arthur raises his mug in the general direction of Charles's usual post, and plants himself on one of the logs surrounding the camp fire. See, I can be good, too.

A lazy salute is his meagre reward. Arthur shakes his head, only noticing the smile on his own face when he goes to light a cigarette. Drawing deep, he exhales slowly, finding himself enjoying the bite of nicotine on his tongue instead of merely going through the motions.

Maybe he can ask Hosea for one of them crime novels he's been so involved with lately. How was the author called again? Arthur flicks the excess ash to the ground, chasing the name on the tip of his tongue. Nope, gone. Never been his strongest suit, books, but Jack's seems interested too as of late, and with how things have been, the boy deserves some hero's tale or other to dream of.

… not one of Hosea's, then. God knows the kid sees enough blood and death as is.

Gaze lost in the fire and with nowhere else to go, Arthur's thoughts drift like smoke in the wind. To Jack, and how somewhere in this mess, he became Uncle Arthur to him. About that boy Kieran, so desperate for somewhere to belong it's painful to watch at times, and John, who had it all and disappeared who-knows-where all the same. Dutch and Hosea and that ever-shifting dream they keep chasing.

And yet his fingers itch for... something more, something to touch, to hold on to, like a pen or a gun or–

A genuine connection, to tether his very being to something bigger than himself. What if, Arthur thinks.

What if, what if.

He blows another puff into the sky and watches it disappear into nothingness.

*

“Okay. Hunting. Nothin' fancy, just a doe or two. Need practice with that bow, right? Takes a lifetime to master, an' all that–”

“No.”

“Oh for... One ride. To– to the general store in Rhodes, or, uh, to the tree line and back. A glimpse at the fields.”

Charles hitches his elbow on his knee, hand under his chin. “No”, he repeats, the low, serious timbre of his voice crumbling with veiled amusement. A searching gaze is leveled on Arthur, the kind to reveal every weakness hiding under his skin.

“Is that what it takes, Morgan? Two weeks in camp?”

“Ain't beggin' yet”, Arthur mumbles under his breath and throws Charles an unhappy look – Charles, who is currently sitting cross-legged on his saddle stand, confident as a king and entitled like one, too. Behind him, Dyani sniffs Charles's hair and pushes it around with her nose, rubbing his shoulder in the process.

It took Arthur weeks of constant work (and treats) to get the hang of the Andalusian's fickle temper and here they are, chummy like old friends. Traitors, the lot of them. Arthur's shoulders slump in defeat.

“Fine, have it your way.”

The statement isn't immediately followed by action, however. The mere thought of wasting more hours walking a line into the dirt, watching people come and go and feeling their sympathetic eyes on him is revolting to an almost physical degree. Arthur stares at his cot, just a few feet away, and can't bring himself to move.

“Arthur.”

Just his name, without pity. He closes his eyes and rubs his neck, staring at his boots as he struggles to find the right words.

“Just feelin' useless, is all. Can't do nothin' for weeks now an' with the O'Driscolls and whoever else breathin' down our necks... Ain't the man I am, Charles. To sit around an' wait for things to happen.”

A rustle of movement makes him glance up. Charles hops to his feet, easy as anything, and Arthur barely registers he's throwing something until he's grabbed it. A fishing rod? Arthur tilts his head with a frown.

“But you–”

“Teach me”, Charles says simply, and all Arthur can do is shut his mouth and nod, trying (and failing) to ignore how warm his chest feels.

*

Little by little, the smooth lines of graphite connect, fill in blank space, spill over the shadowed fold between the pages and beyond.

The gentle rocking of the boat, the rhythmic lapping of water against lacquered wood, the sting of a wound, still healing – it all fades into the background, there but muted as his attention is bracketed by the edges of his journal.

With the sun warming his back, Arthur draws.

In front of him sits Charles, leaning back just as he is, feet propped up against the boat's curved hull. Rod and line in place, his eyes are alert and search the surface of the lake for any movement, the very picture of endless patience. The breeze plays with a loose strand of his hair before he reaches up and tucks it away.

Charles fishes, and Arthur draws... him.

(Arthur's sketch of Charles by @ISpitznagel)

His shoulder doesn't allow him to sit as he usually does, legs folded close to his chest and journal balanced on his knees, angled away so nobody can see what he's working on. The members of the gang quickly learned that whoever tries is more likely to catch a fist to the jaw than a glimpse at his sketches. What is to others a collection of landscapes and animals and the odd person, to Arthur, well...

Things in his life don't have the best relationship with permanence, as it were. He'd rather commit what he can to paper before they inevitably disappear too.

Charles asks later, “What do you think of when you draw?”, when the light has grown too weak to keep going and Arthur reached for his pack of cigs to occupy his hands instead. Arthur, who drew in his lap instead of on his knees and knows that Charles saw.

He finds he doesn't mind one bit.

“Depends”, he mutters, stretching his legs out as far as the narrow boat allows, bumping against Charles's hip. “Sometimes nothin', sometimes somethin' I can't put words to just yet. Just keepin' track of things, in my own way. Makes 'em less unfathomable, if I may borrow one of them fancy terms.”

Charles snorts, “You may”, his grin there and gone in a flash. He's set aside the fishing rod – with the bucket they brought along filled to the brim with fish, there wouldn't be anywhere to put them anyways –, merely watching Arthur smoke now.

“Never was much the artistic type, myself. Looks all a bit like magic to me.”

Arthur grins back, offering him a cig of his own. Charles shrugs and takes one out of the box, leaning close to the match Arthur lights for him; his face is momentarily lit by its flaring tip, his eyes reflecting the embers' glow.

Their fingers brush and Arthur hums, exhales another smoke-filled breath into the night sky.

“Well I'd show you how, Charles, but if you take to it as quickly as fishin', what unique skills would that leave me with?”

Charles shrugs. “I can think of some”, he counters easily, another step in this dance of theirs that they slip into on nights like these. Teasing words wrapped around tender spots and soft-spoken secrets. Arthur takes the compliment for what it is, shaking his head fondly.

They smoke. Arthur tells Charles of the time he went fishing with Jack, months ago now; how hard it had been for the kid to focus on the fish, and less so on picking flowers.

“Seems the creative sort, you know? Better to let 'em make things. Kid's too young for all this crap we keep puttin' him through.”

“Does Marston know, though?” Charles sighs. “Some days it seems to me like you're more of a father to that boy than he is.”

Arthur frowns, rubs at his chest and that dull ache that, years later, is still there.

“Well, in some ways... Can't up and leave for a year an' expect things to remain the same, I guess. But John cares, or at least I think he does.” A pause. “'cause that's the thing, ain't it? Dutch taught us to give a shit 'bout family an' whatnot but, John an' I, we ain't got the same charisma he does. 's one of those things that's easier said than done.”

For a while, Charles says nothing. Just sits and smokes, looking into the distance. Turning some thought or other in his head, Arthur assumes. Eventually: “Guess you're right. Just doesn't feel good, seeing a kid on the run. Too much of that, as of late.”

“Ain't that the truth”, Arthur nods, righting himself to shake off some of the somber mood weighing on his shoulders. Smirking, he nudges Charles's knee with his own. “Just glad he stuck by that when them O'Driscolls got me. Didn't know I was even worthy of the best damn rescue squad we got.”

Charles's eyes snap to his then, narrowing a fraction. “Huh?”

“Dutch, I mean. An' you.”

“Oh.” That peculiar expression vanishes, Charles's face all-too-neutral. “Guess so”, he repeats, and Arthur draws back a little.

“Did I, uh–“ Glancing down, Arthur fiddles with the burned-out stub, staining his fingers with ash. “Didn't mean no offense, Charles. Been complainin' a lot but I wouldn't be here at all without you. Just wanted to let you know, 'm takin' none of that for granted.”

Suddenly Charles's hand is there, giving Arthur's a gentle squeeze. “Hey. That's not what I meant. Was just somewhere else, there.”

Automatically, Arthur squeezes back.

“Point still stands. Thank you.”

A quiet chuckle reels him back in, as it always does these days, “I'd do it again in a heartbeat, you know that”, and Arthur can't not look up at those words, searching his expression for– What, exactly?

What if, what if. The distance is gone, Charles's gaze warming further as Arthur's thumb brushes over the scarred back of his hand, feeling the calm rhythm of his pulse against his.

“What are we doing, Charles?”

The question is soft, said without any idea where it's headed: a road untraveled, missing from every map yet waiting to be explored.

Charles blinks, taken off guard. He opens his mouth, hesitates, admits, “Whatever you want us to”, sounding just as vulnerable as Arthur feels.

A split-second decision: Arthur tugs, Charles follows, catching himself against the boat. “Arthur”, he whispers, close enough Arthur can feel his breath on his face.

Arthur rasps, “Tell me to stop”, but Charles never does; he leans in, interlacing their fingers in the same moment their lips meet, tentatively – Arthur's eyes flutter shut, his fingers find the collar of Charles's shirt blindly, pull him ever-closer as he melts into it.

They barely part between one kiss and the next; Arthur murmurs Charles's name with the little breath he can catch, and “Fuck”, as Charles's tongue pushes into his mouth and he tastes smoke. His blood sings, throbbing in his veins in a dizzying rush, all the more prominent when Charles's thigh slides between his, caging him in–

The white-hot flash of pain comes so unexpected Arthur gasps, twisting his shoulder away from the pressure. Charles flinches, leans back, “Shit, sorry”, he pants out, mouth spit-slick and eyes wide.

Arthur can barely hear it over how loud his heart is, drumming away in his chest– “'m okay”, he says because Charles looks like he needs to hear it, but he doesn't let go, not yet.

“Come back. Please?”

Charles sways like he's drunk, nods – presses his forehead against Arthur's, noses brushing, but his tone is cautious, now. “We– This is not wise. You need time to heal.”

Arthur laughs, more than a little husky. “Do I look like I care about wise right now? Fuck, Charles.”

Charles's voice isn't faring much better; he hums a low “mmhm” before he kisses Arthur again, fleetingly. “Fuck me, indeed. I swear I had pure intentions with this.”

“You hate fishing. Dunno why you tried to convince me otherwise.”

“... I do, sorry.”

They share a smile, and Arthur shakes his head, tracing the curve of Charles's lips with his thumb.

“I don't mind. I prefer the alternative, too.”

>>Read on AO3

[gamegrumpiess]

Sleepwalk

I was listening to Sleepwalk by Renee Olstead, and I had this idea.

Grump: Danny (from now on, most will be Danny. Unless you request someone else, which I will be happy to do!)

Btw! I'm this plot, Renee didn't write the lyrics. You did! She isn't even a singer in this universe. Just a heads up.

-

Y/n's POV

I can't sleep tonight. It's been a month since me and Danny broke up, but I can't help but still mourn our relationship. It was mutual, at least that's what he thinks. I would've never called it off. I was so in love with him. I still am. We told the fans, and they were pretty supportive in what we did. A lot of them were really sad, as was I. Danny is a singer just like me. I do silly songs just like him. But he encouraged me to do a cover album or a cover song. I did one album, Cover Me Up was the name. It got a lot of love, which I am very proud of.

I turn on my phone to check the time. 4:23 am. The bold numbers shine at me in front of Danny's face. I couldn't bring it to myself to change my screensaver. It's not like anyone's gonna see. I miss him a lot, every night gets harder than the last. He was my world. I've known him since senior year of high school, he was a huge part of my life. And now... That's no more. He's probably living his best life. Being Danny Sexbang and all. He probably has girls flying at his feet, throwing him their panties and offering 'the night of his life'. I understand I might be over thinking, but I can't help it. He was mine, and now he's out there doing who knows what. I let a few stray tears fall down ontou pillow. It's so lonely here at night now. I love what I do, singing, dancing, having fun. It was just so much more amazing when I had someone to share it with.

I lay my head back a stare at the ceiling. I need to distract myself, so I reach for my headphones and plug them in, looking for my Oldies playlist. I click on it and the song that comes on is Sleepwalk by Santo and Johnny. Listening to the slow beat and light guitar, I cry even more. Just my luck, huh? I can't just lay here, I really should get up and something. Writing usually helps me calm down. That's when I get an idea for a song, it's a bit sad and people will know exactly who its about. But maybe that's what needs to happen. My feelings should be out there. And if something goes wrong, I'll accept the outcomes.

I pull up my pen and notebook and just start writing.

"Sleepwalk, instead of dreamin' I

Sleepwalk.

Cause' I lost you and now, what am I to do?

Can't believe that we're through.

Sleep talk. Cause' I miss you, I sleep talk.

While the memories of you wither like a soul.

Darling I was so low.

The night fills me with blame. I see your face, tears through my brain.

I know I miss you so. I still love you, drives me insane.

Sleepwalk. Every night I just sleepwalk. Please come back, and when you walk inside the door, I will sleepwalk no more."

I immediately went to my computer set up and staring out my own little version of Sleepwalk. More of like a piano and violin cover, rather than guitar and drum. Once I had it to where I wanted the beat and rhythm, I pulled up my microphone and started singing away.

Danny's POV

This morning was the worst. I couldn't sleep at all, I've been up since 3:30 am. I guess I haven't really gotten used to sleeping by myself. Without y/n's body near mine, it's hard to even get tired. I do miss her. A lot actually. I know it was my idea to call off the relationship, but I was scared of what would happen if I didn't have enough time for her. I have game grumps, starbomb, and ninja sex party. She deserves someone who has all the time in the world to give her all the attention she deserves. When we told the fans, I didn't expect them to be so sad. I even lost a handful of fans because of it. She agreed, but I knew her better. She was on the verge of tears when she left. She was trying to be strong so I wouldn't see that side of her, but I know better than that. When she left I broke down. Gripped and clawed at my hair, cried on the edge of the bed, wondering if I had made the right choice. I big-huge part of me was telling myself I didn't.

My phone buzzes, and I see its a text from Arin.

When you get here I need to show you something.

Oh what fresh hell does he have to subject my eyes to. Last time he said that, I had to watch 12 Days Of Elves... Don't ask.

I finally arrived at the Grump Space. I see everyone in their usual area. Ryan and Matt at the computers, Ross and Barry in the kitchen making coffee, and the only other people here this early is Arin and me. Everyone else usually is a little late. "Thank god you're finally here. You haven't felt your phone buzzing?" I give him a confused look. "Other than you texting me, no. You know I have notifications turned off for my social media. What's going on?" He turns on the computer in front of us. "You should hear this before anything. I promise you, it's important." I roll my eyes. "This better not be some stupid shit, Arin!" I say with a light laugh. He shook his head, and I knew from the look in his eyes that this was in fact important.

Once the computer was fully on, he went to YouTube. Looking up y/n's name, I felt my stomach turn. Did she have a new boyfriend? Was she sick? Did she die?! I understand that last one is a bit of a long shot, but I tend to over think a lot.

A video was uploaded at 7:00 am this morning? "' sleepwalk? ' isn't that an old song?" I say confused. But I'm not all that surprised. She always did love the oldies. He nods his head. "She added her own lyrics and tune to it. And I think you should hear it." I nodded and put on some earphones, pushing play on the video. Her voices comes on, and it feels so amazing to hear her voice again. Even if it is just an intro in a YouTube video.

"Hello everyone. I had this idea for a song at like 3 in the morning. I couldn't sleep, so I made this. I hope you like it..."

The video fades to black and then it shows her at her little office space she has in her room. The music starts up, and at this point I notice her eyes. They're a little red and slightly puffy. She did a good job covering it up, but I've known her since senior year. She can't hide that from me.

She sings softly yet with so much passion and emotion. The lyrics sink in, and I know why Arin wanted to hear this. Its about me. I scroll down to look at the description and comments, and they all say things along the lines of 'I fucken sad now.' 'Wow, Danny really did a number on her' 'DANNY YOU NEED TO HEAR THIS SHIT!' 'This makes me so sad because she literally couldn't sleep thinking about him... Danny get your girl back!' 'Damn that made me tear up... '

After the video ended, I look at my phone. Y/n's face still smiles at me from behind the screen. I didn't want to change it, I couldn't do it. I felt several tears hit my leg, I didn't even realize i was crying. "Hey Dan, are you okay?" Arin puts his hand on my shoulder comfortingly. "No... I'm not at all." I open up Twitter and see thousands of notifications to nsp and game grumps. All of which telling me to see what I just saw. I stood up slowly, feeling a little disappointed in myself. How could I let her walk out of my life so easily...?

Y/n's POV

After I posted the video, I decided I should really try to get some sleep. Especially since thousands of people will blow up my phone later on. Once in bed again, I tried to think of all the possibilities and outcomes of this. It could either go really well, or go really horribly bad. I guess we'll just have to see.

I wake up several hours later to my phone ringing. The sky is still a little bright to I assume it's not that late. 'Suzy <3' shines up at me. I smile, me and her always stayed quite close. "Hello?" I try to run the sleep out of my eyes. "Hey, are feeling okay? I heard your song, and I know it's about Dan. How are you, hun?"

It means a lot that she's not just calling about GET HIM BACK! She just wants to know if I'm okay. "Honestly? I feel so empty. Luckily today is just a lazy day so I don't have to adult today. But still.... I feel lost." I hear her sigh, "I know, y/n. It sucks. But you have me! And I'm way better than Danny!" She says jokingly. "Damn right you are! I'll call you a bit later when I'm more awake, okay?" We say our goodbyes and I sit up more in bed. I take a quick look at my notification bar and just as I expected, its blowin up. 'When will I stop being a pussy?' My thoughts we're interrupted by several rings of my doorbell.

Without looking through the peephole I open the door, only to see a certain curly haired man standing on my doorstep. "Danny? What are you doing here?" His eyes are glazed over and puffy as if he had just finished crying. He looked down. "I.... I heard your song. Was it... Was it about me? I'm sorry, I just need to know. I couldn't focus at all today during work. And on my way home, I just couldn't take it anymore. I have to know." My anxiety goes up a long shot. My eyes looking at everyone but him. "Y/n... I need to know." I slowly nod my head, still avoiding his eyes. "May I come in? I think we should talk.." I scoot to the side to let him in. "I'm sorry if I caused a lot of drama. I just thought... It would be better if I just made it into a song rather than.. Just telling you." I confessed. He grabbed my shoulders. "Don't be sorry, y/n. When we broke up, and you left. I broke down. I couldn't handle the fact that I just let you go.. I'm sorry."

"Then why did you do it? Why wait so fucking long to come to my house?! Why hurt me this bad, leaving me all alone when all I wanted was you! I hated knowing that YOU let me just walk out. And you looked like you... Like you didn't even give a shit..." I couldn't help it. I let all my emotions explode on him. "Why do you think I did?! Y/n, you deserve someone who has the time for you, who will give you all the attention in the world. Someone who will GIVE you the world! I want nothing more than to have you back again, but you don't deserve someone like me! I love with all my soul, hell, I'd give up everything for your dumbass! I didn't say anything till now because I thought you'd be mad, and I thought you'd moved on, hated me even!" He was standing pretty close to me by now. "Well no shit I'd be mad! You think I don't deserve you? Bullshit! You've already given me the world and more! Don't think that I don't understand about your job because I do the same fucking thing!!! I know it's hard, but I was willing to work even harder because I love you more than life itself! I deserve you just like you deserve me!" He rolled his eyes. "You're fucking gorgeous! You can have any man you want! What the hell is so special about me?" I got in his face once again, "because you are so much better than any other man I've met! We've known each other for YEARS and you think I'd just give all that up?! What kinda drugs are you on, Dan? Do you think I'm that fucken dumb? I haven't slept in weeks because it feels so horrible not having you next to me. That's some bullshit to say that I can have any man I want. I want YOU, dipshit!" I couldn't help it, I fell to my knees, shaking from trying to hold back tears. How he say that I didn't deserve him? He was my world, he still is my world. Nothing will change that.

He walks to me, and sits on the floor with me. I feel his arms wrap around me, and I lean into his chest. "I'm sorry.. I loved you more than anything. I still do. Can you please give me another chance..? Now, I won't ever think you don't deserve me. I won't think anything like that. You mean the world to me, y/n. Please don't forget that." I look up at him, seeing his eyes filled with new tears. "Well duh, how can i say no to this face?" I grab his cheeks and smush them together and laugh. "I love you too, Danny." He smiled and leaned in and gave me a much needed kiss.

[hazystroll]

So I've been listening to Rain covered by Mafumafu (which is originally sang by Sekai no Owari) and am aspired to write a songfic bout it (*˘︶˘*).｡*♡

do note that this'll be a miscellaneous pairing but let's see if I could note down what I had in mind whilst writing this at the end of the post!

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幸せなような　涙が出そうな

This is just like happiness but feels like my tears is flowing out

この気持ちはなんて言うんだろう

I wonder, what is this feeling?

ファフロツキーズの夢を見て起きた

(I ask), as I woke from a dream of a rainfall,

涙が頬で乾いていた

with tears that have gotten dry on my cheeks.

"(B)-san, you're spacing up again," said a person sitting across to the called up young male. It's not so often people reprimanded him for sequestering before he himself does. "You're good?"

It felt frustrating to have himself being picked out, he must admit, "Don't mind me, kindly presume." —it hurt the pride a bit.

"But (B)-san, you're shedding tears!"

Beforehand, he never thought how tardy his mind could get him. He thought he'll do better than this. "Hm? Is that so?" checking upon himself, there do exist several scants of salty water on both of his delicate cheeks.

"If you're not feeling pretty well, I think it'll be safe to say that today's study might be enough as it is," the second boy said, slightly leaning towards his opposite side of the table where (B) sat across.

"I wonder if that'll do the day enough," (B) replies him; pinning his arm on one side of his now not-so-damped cheek. "Didn't you ask me for a studying session at the onset?"

"I'll ask you for another day if today's been ill for you."

"Heh, bold of you to assume I have pretty enough time for you," scribble scribble, he started to dance the pen grace atop of the book with several question marks served before him now that he knows his consciousness wouldn't betray him for another time today.

".....you should've had an equestrian private class by this time, didn't you?"

"Then again, I think it's fine to skip a class for once, I always wanted to try it," he eschewed the hindrance, not even sure what to tell to express his storm, as well as almost finishing the equation (A) enquired him while he was spacing out.

The smaller boy falter back to his original seat, having a faint, minuscule clue to comprehend. "Recently you've been abating your tense, does that have any relations to this?"

'What a curious little head', the taller boy muttered to himself. "Are you here to intrude one's seclusion too or what?"

—oh, his bad. It wasn't meant to sound that harsh.

"I was asking nicely, though. If there's anything, at least perhaps I could help."

"You're shamefully certain with that," he paused as he's circling the end of the long formula he's been writing before. "To think that this turned out as a downfall session, I ought to dismiss myself. Take care."

He finished his duty for the queries and stood, walking away with no words aftermath leaving the guilty significance with the deafening hues of the heliac's afternoon grace.

"(B)-san, wait, I—"

Was it too late?

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真っ白な夜に　遠くを走る汽車の影

In the pure white night, the shadow of the train running in the distance,

静寂と僕ら残して過ぎ去っていく

passing by leaving both of us with the silence.

Day to day, life's been making jokes on him recently. Seven of the evening now, and the father has just texted him his chauffeur sir is picking up his whomever-it-is niece?

Surely, a 'You'll do fine going home by yourself, wouldn't you?' has exploit his temper like a cherry on top, but sadly he's worn enough to do any dumb act of expression; even walking sounds more troublesome than ever now. Better serves the old man sire right next time, then.

A railway, of course. The lamp sign isn't broken, right? A train wouldn't suddenly appear from the corner, ready to send him to join the cult of souls, right? Ding dong, ding dong, rest assured, 'he'll be fine', he assured himself.

Has this district always been this quiet? Even footsteps that's changing pace into a running one from a distance could vividly be heard.

Wait, footsteps? who's behind him?

The lone youth peeks his left, seeing nothing before the tap on his right shoulder making him stock still along with a train passing by, unnoticed ahead of time. "(B), I haven't seen you for several days. Is our school ground that spacious?"

The tone he knows become unimaginably low he thought he's in trouble. It's on his right.........right?

They trade each other's gaze few moments until the sound of the echoing train could be faintly be heard ever again, as one of them fell into consideration.

"(A), I swear I'm throwing you just before that train the second time you're doing that."

"Pardon, I just thought I wouldn't catch up on you if weren't to do that."

"Tell your business this instant."

"I don't have any."

"It's late enough to clown around, (A)."

"It's actually nothing but simplicity," the shorter male rummages his bag, smiling a bit as if he's glad the male before him would like to appreciate his presence. "Grandmother made me a few charm, would you like to take one as a gratitude for five days ago?"

"No." —or not. Seems like he's not keenly fond of it yet. "Life will revolves as it is with or without it around me. Why would I?"

Another sound of a train could be heard. The pregnant silence has took a quite moment, now that the long mech has already passed its way already; leaving them with nothing but a deem to each other's scrutiny.

"If you're giving me nothing but that pity worth look, you're wasting my rest time, congratulations." Mercilessly, he whomst been offered a kindness left, again.

"Oh, believe me, I couldn't really care how's the world will do you," the young (A's last name) is catching up again, wouldn't really give a thorough business of the upcoming consequences. "But I'm leaving this heartful omen guardian on that hands of yours, regardless." —but he managed, unlike the other time, it isn't him the one who's get left behind.

And just like that, he merges his steps counterway with no intention of making the slight niggled guy talks back.

Something new within the stance of two silences, huh....?

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逃げ出したいような　心踊るような

it feels like I want to run away, it feels as if my heart is dancing

この気持ちはなんて言うんだろう

I wonder, what's the name of this feeling?

鏡の前で顔を背けたのは

The times when I turn my face away from the mirror,

ずっと昔のことのようで

it already feels like a long, long time ago

'He's messing with my head.'

That (A's last name), is this what they call sorcery of the innocency?

Enough of this. As if he's one worth of importance. Certainly he has greater deeds on his to-do list, and none of them associates with the chants of that young male's surroundings.

Truth unfold, the lingering feeling did felt great; rejuvenating. A wholesome aid after weeks of tyranny he wouldn't even dare to complain for the sake of what he strives until present from his long chronicle.

But that's it, no more going lulled unless he wants to get himself dulled.

"If there's anything I can help, then please let me! You're concerning, to be less said."

Ridiculous. Now his voice rings as if they're crystal clear.

"(B's full name), it's not a joke."

A joke......?

"What are you doing here?"

He thought the class has died minutes ago?

"I'm personally not sure, but it seems like an unfinished notion brought me here today," (A) replies, not tagging his tender trademark along. Why though?

"I recommend you to stop barging into a 'mere friend's businesses. Not everyone is pleased by that, I believe?"

"Do you really think few spits of you generously giving off your time tutoring me just only got us as a stranger?" young (A's last name) asked (B)'s query back. "—what happened to your dignity that only serves only the person of your ought? I'm not being jested around, aren't I?"

Dear Luna, (B's last name) thought it wouldn't be anywhere near this. He miscalculated the impressions.

"Those minor gestures, tone shift? It is as if I'm studying you more than my lessons if they keep on appearing in front of me!"

Is the tricker being tricked? It was never intended to be this grave. Where was the tranquil atmosphere of brief salvation he originally yearned?

"It's a period here, (A). You'll proceed nothing but only vain to feed that forsaken meddling."

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虹が架かる空には雨が降ってたんだ

where the rainbow spreads in the sky

いつか虹が消えてもずっと僕らは空を見上げる

I won't forget, on a rainy day like this, we gazed into the sky together

Then in a sudden, a downpour arrives like a thunder in the midday, coating the radius within with fluids and humidity.

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虹はいずれ消えるけど雨は草木を育てていくんだ

the rainbow will vanish soon, but the rain will keep nurturing the plants

そうだ　次の雨の日のために　傘を探しに行こう

Yes, on the next rainy day let's look for an umbrella together.

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