#I have more thoughts and ideas for this but id rather write / draw them eventually | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

faulty-writes · 5 years ago

Note

Hiii! I’m new here but I just loved more than I imagined, that college AU scenario where Mirio is volunteered in an art class to pose as a nude model for the reader... so... could you write a part 2 where they go on that date and they pose together, but the reader takes of her clothes too... 👀 Id LOVE a NSFW but you do as you want

[ I’m probably late in saying this, but welcome! This sounds like it’ll be fun to write. Let’s see what I can do. This turned out so much longer than I thought it would. ]

WARNING: Sexual Acts, Vaginal Sex, Fingering. 18+. You get the idea.

Part One Located Here.

You still couldn’t believe you had agreed to this and thinking back to what led up to it was a little amusing. You still flushed thinking about the way Mirio had pulled you into his lap, his arms around you and his heat brushing against you while you somehow focused on drawing yourself and him from the reflection of the mirror. How did he even get you to do that in the first place?

Most would consider themselves lucky to be in that situation, of course, it was a little different for you. It was one thing to admire someone from a distance, but you knew Mirio up, close, and personal. Sure he was attractive, you could admit that. But ever since that day, you got butterflies in your stomach whenever you were near him.

You tried to convince yourself it was only because you had agreed to go on a date with him, which meant there was the potential you could become more than friends. Though in a way you had already crossed that line, still. As the days ticked away until the agreed date, you couldn’t help but find yourself shying away from Mirio.

Every time you saw him in the hallway, you couldn’t help but blush and act shy. It was unlike you, to be so nervous around someone. In a way it bothered you, but you knew there was very little that could be done. On the day of the date, you had trouble picking out an outfit. Mirio had suggested that he bring the food and drink, that way you could snack between art pieces.

Still, that led back to the same question. What the hell would you wear? Eventually, you settled on a lazy day outfit which consisted of a plain shirt and sweatpants. There was no use in wearing anything but casual clothes, especially if they were bound to get dirty from whichever art supplies you decided to use. Still, you looked yourself over before heading out of your dorm room.

The butterflies in your stomach seemed to increase the closer you got to your destination, which was the art department of the school. Luckily, while you passed by plenty of students on your way there. It seemed like the art department was empty and you lifted your head when you noticed Mirio was waiting outside the door for you.

He was leaning against the wall, his head was toward the floor and his foot kicked up dirt. There was a wooden basket hanging from his arm as well, which you assumed held the food and drink he had talked about. He was wearing a baggy shirt with a white and red-colored jacket. He also wore plain blue jeans and sneakers.

When he heard you approach, he lifted his head and smiled. “Hi there, sunshine!” he called as he walked over and you lifted your hand to wave at him. But you noticed his steps seemed rushed as if he hadn’t seen you in years and his arms were spread out.

“Oh no…” you knew what he wanted to do and braced yourself, despite that. You let out a squeak when his arms wrapped around your legs and proceeded to lift you into the air. You reached out, clasping onto his arms as if to steady yourself and even though he noticed this, he chuckled. “You look so cute today.” he commented, something that caught you off guard and caused you to blush.

“I uh...I do?” you replied, almost dumbfounded. But Mirio only nodded and was tempted to lean close and nuzzle against you. But he decided that maybe such an action was best left for later. Instead, he turned and walked to the door. Still holding you in his arms, “Hold on a sec…” he said before reaching for the door handle, the door itself gave a rusty squeak as it opened.

You looked over your shoulder, noticing that the classroom was pitch black. However, light filled the room as soon as Mirio stepped inside. He closed the door with his foot and the sound of it slamming made you jump in his arms. “Whoa, easy there!” he said, you were never a fan of loud noises. “I didn’t mean to scare you, sorry.” Mirio looked away, a little embarrassed but it was okay. It’s not like he had ruined the date, with that in mind.

He lowered you back to your feet and you shyly rubbed your arm. “So uh…” you trailed off and looked around the room which was surprisingly empty. Usually, there were easels everywhere and chairs. But everything looked as though it were cleared, the smell of paint and glue still lingered in the air. “Hm, is something wrong?” Mirio said as he leaned down to hover over your shoulder.

You jumped again and turned to face him. “Oh!” you exclaimed before clearing your throat. “Uh, heh. It’s nothing. Just looks empty.” you said and Mirio leaned back up with a chuckle. “Well, we can fix that! After all, this is an art date. So, do you wanna try to draw me again?” he questioned and you felt your mouth go dry.

You reached up to scratch the back of your head, feeling a sort of warmth course through your cheeks. “With...your clothes on?” you replied before folding your hand into a fist and lightly tapped your forehead. Okay, maybe that was a stupid question. Still, Mirio laughed in response. At least he found it humorous, guess that was a good thing.

“Well, I could always take them off if you want,” he said as he slid his jacket off, such a simple action sent your heart racing. “Uh! I mean...well you don’t have to, uh...I think I’ve seen you enough without your clothes.” you replied, shyly glancing at the floor. Mirio tilted his head before shrugging in response.

“Well, that might be true. Though at this point, it almost feels weird to have someone draw me with my clothes on.” you shyly glanced back at him, you somewhat understood what he meant. He seemed pretty shameless when it came to nudity, but once again you found yourself blaming his quirk for that.

“R-Right...well, why don’t you...um, why don’t you try to draw me?” you suggested and Mirio looked confused, his eyebrows lowered as he looked at you. “Me?” he repeated as he jabbed a finger into his chest and you nodded, “Yeah, come on. It could be fun, I can’t be the only artist on this date.” you said before chuckling, “Well I...I mean I could give it a try if it makes you happy, sunshine.” he said before walking over to the table and setting the basket down.

He then looked around, he wasn’t sure what he could use. An easel was usually reserved for painting and he knew he wasn’t a good painter. So maybe...he walked over to the charcoal sticks and picked up one, it was messy but definitely easier than painting. You smiled as you watched him, he almost looked cute. “Do I get a kiss if I do a good job?” he teased as he continued to gather his art supplies, though his words made you blush.

“Uh...y-you...want a kiss?” it was a strange thing, usually people didn’t ask for kisses. But Mirio seemed like the type that would always want consent and that wasn’t a bad thing. Still, he walked over to the table and pulled a chair up. “Of course I do! After all, I like you! So why wouldn’t I want a kiss? This is a date after all and I’m super eager to see what we can create together!” you nervously chuckled and scratched the back of your neck.

“R-Right.” you looked over, Mirio seemed happy with the large piece of paper in front of him and various charcoal sticks that looked to be of different sizes. “So, how are you going to pose for me?” he questioned and you took a step back, “Pose? Oh uh, right…” you hadn’t actually thought of what poses you could do.

Though laying down might be the most comfortable considering you didn’t know how long it would take him to do the drawing. Mirio’s eyes were on you as you walked to the center of the room and proceeded to get onto your knees, “Hm.” Mirio was a little eager to see what you were planning to do. Though the sight of you on your knees was quite interesting, he tried to keep his mind from wandering and focused on the blank paper in front of him.

However, he felt a little cheeky and looked back at you. Feeling his mouth go dry as he watched you lay on the floor, you decided that laying on your back would be the most comfortable position. He swallowed and looked away, what was wrong with him? He normally didn’t have thoughts like this and it was almost silly how dirty his thoughts could get when he was around you.

Regardless, he tried to clear his mind. “Um, just...let me know when you’re ready,” he said, glancing at you once again and watched as you squirmed around a bit before laying your hands on your stomach. You couldn’t really see anything but the table and Mirio’s legs that were stretched out underneath it. Those butterflies continued to swarm in your stomach, but you took a deep breath.

“Okay...I’m ready,” you said, trying your best to keep still and closed your eyes, believing that it was easier than trying to keep them open. Especially if you were on the floor where the dirt and dust would irritate them. Mirio found himself blushing, you looked rather peaceful and cute. He had a sudden urge to walk over and cuddle you, forget about the drawing altogether.

But he had promised you he’d try to draw you and well, he never went back on his word. Still, it was a little difficult to do the outline of your figure. He could only see your head and part of your upper body from his position. Your arms seemed a little tricky to draw, and he was nervous about how well he could do your portrait justice.

The most frustrating thing he found to draw however was your shirt. It covered most of your body and seemed to be a touch too baggy which meant it concealed some of your curves. He latched onto his lip, tapping the charcoal stick against the paper that was already a smeared mess. “Uh, sunshine.” he said, “Hm?” you peeped one eye open.

“Yeah? Is something wrong?” you asked and Mirio looked down, his feet seemed to be tapping against the floor which was often a nervous habit people displayed when they were feeling insecure. “Could you...maybe, take your shirt off?” he questioned and while his words seemed innocent, you couldn’t help but feel surprised.

Your eyes went wide and your heart almost bounced right out of your chest. Such a simple question had you flushing, “T-Take my…” you trailed off, reaching up to press your hands against your face. Your cheeks were warm and you were almost afraid that Mirio might notice how red they were.

You cleared your throat and reached down, your hands curled into the bottom of your shirt. “Why?” you asked and Mirio looked down, “Um...well,” he began, unsure of how he would explain himself. “Well...it’d be easier to draw your beauty that way, I don’t want anything separating it. Also...you’ve seen me naked plenty of times, so maybe it’s only fair I get to see some of your skin.” he concluded and you frowned before crossing your arms over your chest.

Part of you was nervous to take your shirt off, you were modest, and although this was a date. You wondered just how much of a gentleman Mirio could be. Then again, he did have a point. He had been a nude model for a while now and you had certainly seen more of him then he had seen of you. “Well…” your hands trembled slightly before you let out a sigh, thankfully you had worn a bra today.

Mirio sensed your hesitation and smiled before standing up. “Here.” he offered before pulling his shirt over his head. He could have used his quirk, but what would be the point of that if he just wanted to take off one item? “So you don’t feel alone,” he said, however, you hadn’t expected him to do such a thing and your eyes glanced over his shirtless form.

He was quite muscular, though you heard stories about how much he worked out. You looked away, “F-Fine.” you said, despite your cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. You hesitantly pulled your shirt off. You trembled as the cool air hit your skin causing goosebumps to rise. How did Mirio do this? You shrugged at the thought, trying to ignore the small amount of excitement you felt as you laid your hands back on your stomach.

Mirio chuckled, happy to see you semi-shirtless. His eyes took in the shape of your chest before he went back to drawing, though you still felt somewhat embarrassed. The feeling seemed to go away as the minutes ticked by. It seemed like an hour had passed before Mirio finally spoke. “Finished!” he said as he held the paper up, his hands were smeared black and he had gotten some fingerprints on the portrait of you.

But it was clear he was still proud of his work and you rolled over before standing on your feet. You grabbed your shirt and eagerly walked over, “Let me see.” you insisted and Mirio smiled before holding the drawing up, you tried not to laugh and covered your mouth. Snickers still escaped and Mirio frowned, “What’s wrong? Is it that bad?” he questioned before looking at it once more, he wasn’t an artist and the lines were jagged and he made you look more like a messed up cartoon than an actual person.

But either way, he had tried hard and you lowered your hand, “Sorry, heh. Sorry Mirio.” you said as you reached up to touch his arm, which felt muscular and tensed up. “It’s great, you might be an artist yet,” you said, trying to cheer him up. He turned to you with a smile and nodded, “Heh, maybe but I think I’ll stick to being a model.” his eyes looked you over, he swallowed and once more focused on your chest.

That bra hugged you just right and the temptation to pull it off was there, but he restrained himself. Gees, where were these thoughts coming from? “So, I guess it’s your turn to draw me. Unless you wanted something to drink, you must have gotten thirsty laying on the floor for that long.” you chuckled in response and shrugged your shoulders.

“Hm, well I guess I could use a drink.” Mirio smiled, “Coming right up!” he said before turning to walk over to the basket that was still sitting on the table. He opened it and reached inside, feeling for the bottle of cold tea he had. “Here you go.” he chuckled as he handed it over and it only took a moment for you to unscrew the cap before taking a long sip.

You licked your lips after and noticed Mirio was no longer in front of you. “Hm?” you turned around, seeing he was now standing in the middle of the room. His hands were on his hips and he turned to look at you. “Hm?” he tilted his head and his lips formed a pout. “Sorry, I was just thinking of what kind of pose I want to do. But there’s something I gotta do first,” he said before smiling at you, but somehow you didn’t trust that smile.

Your eyes widened as you watched what remained of Mirio’s clothing fall through his body and he stood there completely nude, giving you the thumbs up. You tilted your head and quickly averted your eyes when he walked over to you, your cheeks looked so red but Mirio secretly enjoyed knowing he had such power over you. “Hey,” he said as he placed a hand on your shoulder, using his other to lift your chin up gently.

Though you didn’t want to look at him, you found yourself lost in his eyes nonetheless. “Uh w-what?” you replied, feeling your cheeks burn all the more. “I have an idea, if you’re up to it,” he said, and you raised your eyebrow in question. “An idea?” you repeated, almost too afraid to know what it was. Mirio was...rather different when it came to ideas, but he nodded.

“Yup! This is supposed to be a date right? If you don’t mind the strange vibe it gives, well I was thinking...maybe I could lay my head in your lap as you fed me?” his tone shifted as he asked the question and you stepped back, cradling your hands to your chest. “You don’t think that’s too weird?” you questioned, though Mirio just shrugged and rubbed his stomach.

You followed his hands though quickly glanced to the side as they were above a rather forbidden area. “Well, I’m kind of hungry and I thought it’d be neat. You can draw my portrait as I lay my head in your lap and have you feed me, after all. It’d be nice to be fed by a Goddess.” you nearly choked at those words and looked at Mirio wide-eyed and curious. Did he really think that highly of you?

It was a little too much, no one had ever complimented you like that before. Honestly, it was kind of nice. “Well...if you put it like that.” you looked over your shoulder at the basket before turning your attention back to Mirio. “Okay, I can do that,” you replied, sounding a little more confident than you had before. Still, he seemed pleased with your answer and watched you walk over to the basket.

Soft ruffling filled the air before you pulled out a container of fruit, it was filled with strawberries and mango chunks. You turned back and walked over to Mirio, “Will this do?” you questioned and Mirio’s eyes lit up at the sight of the container. He laughed and gave you the thumbs up. “Looks great, now there’s just one more thing.” he said as he reached over and grabbed your hand, you blinked.

What else could there possibly be? Mirio chuckled and pulled you close to him, causing a gasp to escape. His arm reached down to snake around your waist, “I know this may be a little inappropriate and I’m not trying to be a pervert, no. Just sometimes it’s hard to control myself around such a beautiful person and well, you are topless.” his eyes drifted down to your chest before gazing back at you.

“Well, almost.” your stomach twisted once more and you squeezed your thighs together, the way he was looking at you made a strange warmth begin to build. “What...what are you saying?” you questioned, almost afraid of the answer.

“Well, I’d feel more comfortable if I wasn’t the only one in my birthday suit. Plus it’ll give you a chance to feel what it’s really like to be a model! I mean, your artistic skills are amazing and well, I’m sure one day someone will want to capture your shining essence on paper so...well…” another chuckle left his lips, God he was so nervous.

You knew what he was implying, what he wanted you to do. You had already taken your shirt off for him, wasn’t that enough? Then again, he did raise a good point. He was standing bare as if it were completely normal and yeah, maybe one day you would get asked to model. You groaned and looked around the room, no one else was here.

It was just the two of you and you highly doubted there were cameras around. Still, you’d feel a little shy if you took your clothes off. Yet, Mirio, while he seemed somewhat insistent, wouldn’t force you to do anything and it might make drawing his portrait a little more interesting if you did go through with his suggestion. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself not to be nervous. Easier said than done.

“Okay.” you replied, which surprised Mirio, “Really?” he questioned and you nodded, “Yeah, so you want to sit your head in my lap right?” you questioned and Mirio smiled, “Yup!” he replied, “So...let’s find a comfortable position together.” you suggested as you stepped away from him.

You shyly scurried to the art supply table, grabbing a few pencils and a sketchbook before returning to him. You lowered yourself to the floor and sat on your knees before placing your art supplies on the floor. You then opened the container of fruit and placed it by your side. Mirio followed your lead and lowered himself to the floor as well, smiling at you the whole time.

“Are you sure this is okay with you?” he questioned and you nodded, “Yeah just…” you looked to him before feeling your face light up once more. “Just look away when I undress okay?” Mirio looked confused for a moment but did what you asked nonetheless. He covered his eyes with his hand and turned his head the opposite way. It was a little entertaining, still, you felt nervous even when he wasn’t looking at you.

But, you gave him your word and reached up to slide your bra off, you could feel your nipples harden due to the cool air. You tried to ignore the feeling and leaned back, taking your shoes off before wiggling out of your sweatpants. The last remaining item was your underwear and you latched onto your lip before looking over at Mirio.

He looked so content sitting there, as if being naked was natural. Maybe it was in a way, you closed your eyes and hesitantly pulled your underwear down. You folded each item before placing it into a pile, you shivered and wrapped your arms around your naked body. Gees, you were tempted to turn the temperature up. But you highly doubted that would help anything, so instead, you turned to Mirio who still had his hand over his eyes.

“Okay...you can...look now.” you replied, though your arms were still covering yourself. Mirio did as you said and the moment he saw your naked body. His eyes widened and a soft blush came to his cheeks. “Oh wow…” he said and you ducked your head, your face burning red.

“W-What...I know I’m not much to look at-” you began but Mirio interrupted you, “What? Sunshine, you’re beautiful! I just...I guess I feel lucky that I get to see you like this.” he replied, smiling as brightly as ever before laying on his back.

He nuzzled his head into your lap and smiled as he looked up at you before grabbing one of your arms. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to hide your...chest,” he said softly and you groaned in response. You felt embarrassed yet excited, almost as if this out of the norm situation caused something inside of you to tick. You shyly glanced down at Mirio, he looked so innocent laying in your lap like that.

The scent of strawberries caught your attention and you had almost forgotten that you had opened the container to begin with. You looked over, and honestly, the fruit itself was making you a little hungry but you said you were going to feed Mirio. You reached over, flipping the sketchpad to a fresh page before grabbing one of the strawberries, “Open.” you said as you brought it to his mouth, Mirio smiled before complying with your order.

Taking a bite of the strawberry and its juices splattered, staining Mirio’s lips and chin. You looked at him before grabbing your pencil and with one hand, you began to sketch a rough outline of Mirio. You lowered the strawberry, allowing him to take another bite. But you shivered when you felt his lips brush against your fingers and his tongue licked at your fingertips.

It was an odd sensation, “Uh…” you wanted to say something, but tried to focus on your sketch instead. You continued to feed Mirio the fruit and it certainly made the portrait interesting, though it changed slightly every time you looked at him. You had recreated his image almost perfectly, in addition, you had almost forgotten the fact that you were naked as you were too focused on your art.

However, when the realization came. You wanted to cover your exposed chest once more, but Mirio quickly sat up and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. Licking his lips of the remaining fruit juice before pulling you close, you squeaked and felt your cheeks flush once more. “Let me see.” he insisted before grabbing the sketchbook.

He smiled as he glanced at your drawing, clearly impressed. “You’re always so good at this, I’m jealous,” he said as he lowered the sketchbook to the floor and turned to face you. However, you were looking away from Mirio. Too embarrassed and self-conscious, despite the fact that both of you were naked. He seemed to catch on and leaned closer, you gasped when you felt his warm lips against your cheek.

It only lasted a few moments before he pulled away and reached over to grab your chin, turning your head toward him. “I know this might be a weird date, but I wouldn’t want it with anyone else. You’re my special someone and I wasn’t lying when I said I liked you a whole bunch.” he chuckled and you looked down, you remembered when he confessed his feelings to you.

But you never imagined that it would lead to this. You swallowed and found yourself nodding, “Y-Yeah, I uh...remember.” you replied, unsure of what to say. “Hey…” Mirio smiled as he leaned over and picked up the container of fruit, he could still taste the sweet substance on his tongue. But he turned to you and while you expected him to speak, instead a laugh escaped him.

“You should draw us again like you did last time in the mirror,” he said as he handed you the container, which you nearly dropped in surprise. “What?!” you exclaimed and once more you found yourself blushing, it was a miracle that you hadn’t passed out yet. Mirio only smiled, determined to have you bend to his will as he quickly stood up. You watched from your position on the floor as he pulled a chair over.

He then grabbed an easel that was lined with paint and brushes. He walked over to grab a blank canvas which he made sure was straight after he had placed it on the easel. The last thing he grabbed was the large mirror, the same one he had used last time. “M-Mirio...I don’t think…” he looked over his shoulder at you, “Hm?” you swallowed as you took note of his expression.

The abnormal way he styled his hair up and the way his blue eyes always seemed innocent of any crime, his lips which were currently puckered up. Almost as if he were confused about something. “Don’t think what?” he questioned as he approached you and you expected him to pull you close. Touch you in some way, however instead he leaned over and picked up another piece of fruit.

He brought it to his lips and took a bite and you couldn’t help but become hypnotized as you watched those juices drip down his chin. His tongue came out and swiped across his lips. He then held his hand out, which you took before standing on your feet. He brought the half-bitten fruit up to your mouth, but you hesitated to open. You knew he wanted to feed you, but you couldn’t help but look at him and that smile he always wore.

The echo of your heartbeat sounded in your ears, which was paired with the butterflies that continued to fill your stomach. Maybe they were just a sign to lower your defenses around Mirio, after all, there was nothing to fear when it came to any feelings for him. He seemed pretty confident in the way he felt about you and honestly, you could see him as potential boyfriend material.

You felt him push the piece of fruit past your lips and you hesitantly used your tongue to pull it inside. Your cheeks were rosy as you began to chew, though you nearly choked when Mirio leaned closer. Hovering in front of your face, his eyes drifted to your lips, and slowly, he cupped your face. You paused, the half-chewed fruit still in your mouth as Mirio guided your head up.

You knew what he wanted, but you didn’t pull away as he leaned close and pressed his lips against yours. You swallowed what was in your mouth and reached up to grab his shoulders if anything to keep yourself from falling. Your legs were trembling, Mirio’s lips felt soft and a certain warmth carried with them. The taste of strawberries lingered and you pulled yourself closer, though the container of fruit remained as the distance tool.

Pressed between your body and Mirio’s but regardless, Mirio seemed to enjoy the fact you were melting into his advances and reached up to place his arm against your back. You heard the sound of the floor squeaking, the source was caused by Mirio shifting his legs just before he pulled away. “You...k-kiss really good, sunshine...um…” you tilted your head, though your lips were tingling from the kiss.

Was Mirio nervous? It was odd seeing him act like this, “Here, let’s try to create another masterpiece so we can...remember this date forever.” he insisted as he took the container of fruit from you, “Uh wait...I…” you began to speak but Mirio had already turned to walk over to the chair. He sat down, crossing his legs over one another as if he were trying to hide something.

You shrugged and walked over, making sure you had all the supplies you needed before you looked at the mirror. You squeaked and briefly covered your chest, remembering once again that you were naked. It was funny, Mirio had distracted your mind enough to the point where you had actually forgotten you weren’t wearing any clothes. Still, this would be interesting.

You took a deep breath and turned back to face Mirio, his attention was turned to the container that sat on top of his leg. “So...I guess you don’t want me on your lap like last time,” you said, which caught Mirio's attention. “Huh?” you chuckled, “Oh uh, you can! Sorry, guess my mind was elsewhere.” he said before taking a strawberry out of the container and placing it down on the floor.

You raised your eyebrow but didn’t question him, maybe he just wanted something to munch on while you painted. “Um, okay...so…” you walked up to him, shyly looking away which made Mirio chuckle. He reached out, grabbing your hand. “Hey, it’s okay just uh...be careful of my willy, okay?” you flushed, the way he referred to it as “willy” was both cute and slightly entertaining.

“Uh…” your hands tightened into fists but you nonetheless nodded, “Right, I’ll try to be careful,” you said as you hesitantly took a step closer, and with Mirio’s help, you climbed onto his lap. Though your heart raced and you felt a certain tingle course through your sex, you noticed your thighs were slick with something. You tried to deny the cause of it and avoided Mirio’s gaze, though he was smiling.

Mostly due to the fact that he had you in his lap and you were still holding his hand. Your nerves made you tremble as you pressed your hand against Mirio’s rather thick thigh and turned around so you faced the mirror. Your back was now against Mirio’s chest and his hand snaked around your waist, pulling you close. You gasped in response and tried to clear your throat. This was just an art date, nothing more.

Nothing more than having fun and creating art, even nudity themed art. Once you were comfortable in his lap, you reached over to grab one of the many pencils that laid on the small stand attached to the easel. Though you repeatedly averted your gaze in the mirror, which made it difficult to sketch the outline.

You weren’t used to this and you wondered how long it took Mirio before that certain shame and embarrassment left him. Then again, Mirio was confident as a person so that could have something to do with it. Still, once you had the outline, which took longer than you thought. You shifted in Mirio’s lap, “You okay?” he asked and you swallowed, trying to find your words.

“Oh yeah, fine.” you replied and Mirio chuckled as he looked over your shoulder. “You did a good job! Well, you always do a good job actually. I’m sure it’ll make a wonderful contribution to the art world!” you almost wanted to roll your eyes, you really didn’t want anyone to see this. Still, you picked up the paintbrush and began to fill in the background, though you didn’t draw it.

You decided to make the background abstract using the colors that were reflected in the mirror. Mirio smiled as he rested his head on your shoulder, you wondered for a moment why he hadn’t released his arm from your waist. Was he waiting until you were done? “Uh Mirio, I think we can get dressed now. I can paint in the colors by memory,” you said and it made Mirio frown.

“But I like having you close.” he replied before finally taking a bite of that strawberry he had been holding, “Besides,” he began, talking with his mouth full. He nuzzled against you before pressing soft kisses to the back of your neck, you gasped and squirmed in his lap. “Mirio!” you warned, his name leaving your lips with a hiss. “Heh sorry, was that too much? Your skin just looks so kissable,” he said before swallowing.

“In fact,” he smirked and grabbed your arm to place over his shoulder, something that forced you to turn your body. You were about to speak, demand was he was doing. But instead, he brought the bitten strawberry up and you gasped as he smeared it across your breast. The juice left a light red trail and you latched onto your lip when he circled it around your nipple.

“You look good enough to eat.” he purred, tossing the strawberry to the floor before leaning forward. His lips clasped around the hardening nub and once more you tried to bite back the noise that threatened to escape you. “M-Mirio…” you whined his name and felt his legs spread, causing your body to slide into the open space.

“W-What are you…” Mirio parted his lips and wiggled his tongue around your nipple before gently squeezing it between his teeth. A moan escaped and you wiggled in response to the building pleasure, Mirio smiled before he pulled away and his hand slid over your thigh. You placed your hand on his chest, your other arm remained across his shoulder.

Your face was tinted red and soft pants came from your lips. Your body was beginning to feel warm, more than likely a sign you wanted more of Mirio’s advances. “Sorry…” he said, catching you off guard. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but well...you kind of got me excited.” he said before his arms wrapped around you and he lifted his hips.

You shivered when you felt his willy, it was warm and felt a little moist. It was somewhat soft, though you couldn’t help but wonder how big he was when fully erect. You wiggled in his lap, and Mirio hissed in response as you turned your body. Allowing your legs to dangle off the sides of Mirio’s lap and properly face him, “Sunshine,” he said, looking into your eyes. “I...I’m okay with it,” you said, though you were nervous.

Mirio had started this, so he should take responsibility. But then again, this was just as much your responsibility and you were willing to take the consequence for it. Mirio looked surprised, “R-Really?” he questioned and you nodded, “Yeah…” a smile came to his face before he reached over, grabbing onto your hips. “Then... in that case,” he smirked and began to grind against you causing your clit to throb.

Your juices already stained the inside of your thighs, but you weren’t fighting the pleasure. In fact, you leaned close. Mirio smiled and slammed his lips over yours. You shivered at the feeling of his thick moist tongue as it probed at your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You happily parted your lips, trembling as his tongue slithered inside your mouth.

Once more, you could taste the hint of strawberries on his tongue as it brushed and wrestled against yours. His hips continued to grind against you, the tip of his hardening willy briefly brushed against your dripping slit causing you to gasp and break the kiss. “Hm? What’s the matter?” he questioned, though a smirk on his face as he continued moving his hips.

One hand retracted from your hip and reached down between your thighs. You threw your head back, moaning as you felt his fingers graze along your slit. Collecting your juices which continued to drip from your sex, “Wow...you’re really wet.” he replied, somewhat making you feel embarrassed. But such a feeling was quickly forgotten when he leaned close and peppered your neck with kisses.

You felt yourself clench around nothing when Mirio fingers circled around your throbbing clit and pressed down on it. “It’s kind of cute, I didn’t expect to have this much power over you.” a groan left your lips as you slumped over his shoulder. A thin layer of sweat was forming across your skin and your body involuntarily jumped when Mirio slid a single finger inside.

You clenched around him and leaned back, your arm shot out desperate to grab onto something. However, the closest thing happened to the easel and you grabbed onto the ledge. Your fingers dipped right into the paint jars, staining them a rainbow of colors. But you didn’t care, more so you didn’t mind the feeling of paint on your skin.

Even though it went unnoticed during your moment of pleasure. Mirio chuckled before he leaned forward, once more clasping his mouth around your nipple. Above all else, he didn’t want to hurt you. Especially as he added another finger, slowly scissoring your dripping cunt. He wiggled his fingers, allowing that unmistakable wet sound to echo. You whimpered before leaning forward again and you grasped onto Mirio’s shoulders.

Your hand smeared paint onto his skin, and the outline of your fingers were present as you dug your nails into his shoulder. Your legs were trembling, yet you found yourself moving against his fingers. “Don’t...stress yourself too much...sunshine,” Mirio replied as he released your nipple, you whimpered in response. “I...I-I’m not...please Mirio…” you begged, knowing that he was hard.

You could feel his willy poking against your inner thigh, covered in thin lines of your juice. Mirio caught onto the hint of what you wanted and you reached up to touch the side of his cheek. Though it too became stained with paint, “Hm?” Mirio retracted his fingers, which were moist with your essence and grabbed your wrist, “Oh? You got a little paint on you.” he chuckled before releasing your wrist and placed his hands back on your hips.

However, they moved to slide over the curve of your ass where he eagerly squeezed each cheek. You gasped and impatiently moved in his lap, missing the feeling of his fingers inside you. But it seems like Mirio had other plans and squeezed your backside once more before he stood up. You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck as he took a step forward and kicked the chair away.

It hit the floor with a loud bang and you were worried that someone might hear and come rushing, but Mirio seemed absent of any such thoughts. Your grip on him tightened as he got onto his knees, lowering you onto the floor. You shivered as your back touched the cold tile of the art room and crossed your arms over your chest when Mirio leaned back up.

His hard-on bounced between his thighs and you couldn’t help but notice how big he was, though you were a little nervous. Could you fit Mirio’s length inside you or would it break you? “Thinking about something or are you looking at my willy?” he questioned and your thoughts were broken. “W-What...I...I was…” you glanced away in embarrassment.

Though Mirio laughed, “That’s alright.” he said as he turned his attention to the easel, more specifically the paint that you had stuck your fingers into earlier. He smirked and reached over, dipping his own fingers into the different colors. He pulled back and smirked as he watched the paint drip down his fingers, much like your pussy juice had earlier.

You blinked, a little confused as to why Mirio was playing with the paint. However, he turned back to you and with his free hand. He pushed your legs apart, comfortably nestling himself between them. He reached down, stroking his cock. “You like playing with paint huh?” he teased as he reached two fingers out, he pressed them against your stomach and proceeded to draw something.

You latched onto your lip, trying your hardest not to laugh as Mirio decorated your skin. “There,” he said, grinning at the large heart he created. Then he grabbed one of your ankles with his paint-stained hand, guess you’d be taking a shower after this. He guided your leg to rest over his shoulder and you moved your own leg to rest over his opposite shoulder.

“You comfortable, sunshine?” he questioned and though you felt your clit twitch, your juices seeping down to create a small mess on the floor. You nodded and Mirio smiled, “Great, then don’t mind if I...make you scream out.” you moaned at his words and eagerly moved when he rubbed his cock against your slit, he loved teasing you. “Mirio…” you whimpered and your nails dug into the floor.

“Okay, okay. Take a deep breath,” he warned before slowly guiding his cock inside you, though you were tight and instantly clenched around the intruding member. Mirio hissed, “Gees…” he commented as he continued to push, filling you in the most delicious way possible. Though it ached, Mirio was kind enough to rub your clit with his thumb. Providing some mix of pain and pleasure which felt amazing, you couldn’t help but squirm in response.

Though that only caused more of your thick juices to escape, Mirio didn’t seem to mind as the slickness made it easier for him to finally nestle himself inside you. For a moment, you lost your breath. A dull ache coursed through you and you were almost too afraid to move as you felt so full. Mirio might as well be pushing your stomach up, your toes curled and much like Mirio, soft pants escaped you.

“So...tight...and warm, feels so good,” he commented before leaning over you, taking note that your eyes were watered over. The sight made him frown, “Are you alright?” he questioned and you hesitantly nodded, despite your trembling legs. “Y-You’re really...big..” you said and Mirio dipped his head down before rubbing the back of his neck.

“Uh, well thanks…” he said, looking at you once more. “I’m going to start moving okay?” he warned and though you looked scared, perhaps nervous. You nodded, but as soon as Mirio began to pull back. You hissed, though Mirio continued to rub your clit. Giving you more pleasure as he snapped his hips forward, you let out a cry and threw your head back.

Closing your eyes as your body succumbed to the pleasure, the pain shortly subsided and you could hear the wet slaps of Mirio’s balls against your dripping wet cunt. Moans escaped you and every time Mirio pushed back inside, your walls desperately clenched around him. Your thighs were soaked and the essence dripped from Mirio’s cock and stuck to the small amount of pubic hair he had.

The noises coming from his mouth echoed through the empty room and drowned your own out, which wasn’t surprising. Mirio’s face was red and sweat was beading down his skin, but he chuckled and reached over. Taking hold of your wrists and pulling them, forcing your breasts together. “Look at me, sunshine...I want you to see when I come.” your body arched at his words, wiggling impatiently before you slowly lift your head.

The sight of him between your legs made you moan, but he only smiled. He loved hearing those noises from you, especially knowing he was the cause. Without warning, he began to thrust and it took everything in your being not to lay your head back. Instead, you watched as that thick cock entered you over and over again, your breast jumping with each assault Mirio made on your body.

But it felt wonderful nonetheless, giving yourself, your body over to Mirio. Having someone else claim you, “Mirio…” you whimpered the man’s name, “Y/n! Y/n! Say my name...again please…” Mirio begged, feeling his cock twitch eagerly. He was holding back, but damn he wanted to fill you to the brim with his seed. But he knew that would be irresponsible, so he had another plan in mind.

“Mirio...Mirio!” you moaned, the sound of your lust-filled voice filled the room before Mirio gasped and pulled out of your warm pussy. “Sunshine!” he cried out as he stroked himself, his fingers pulling at his cock with ease thanks to your soaking wet cunt. He dipped his head back, his body trembling as he continued. He was so close, damn. “I...I think I love you, Y/n!” he suddenly shouted and you gasped as that thick hot semen painted your body.

Splattering across your pelvis and stomach, he groaned and fell forward, but used his arm to keep himself from completely using you as his cushion. His face was red and uneven panting sounded from him. You whimpered and pressed your thighs together, feeling your own orgasm slowly drip down and add to the mess you had already created, that is the small puddle underneath you.

“Mirio…” you said as you reached one hand up and pressed it against his cheek which was sweaty to the touch. “That...t-that was...amazing.” he said in between pants and you chuckled in response, “It was.” you agreed and Mirio smiled before leaning down, you closed your eyes. Taking a blissful moment to enjoy the soft kiss before Mirio suddenly pulled away.

“Oh wait!” he said, turning his attention to the paint that still sat on the easel. He smiled and dipped one finger into the yellow paint cup. Though the paint that was already present on his fingers was dried out, he turned and looked at the heart he had painted onto you earlier. Though the lines were smeared and small amounts of his cum were mixed in with it.

“Try not to move.” he said before he began to write his name on the inside of the heart. ‘MIRIO’ was written in a sloppy fashion, but he smiled at his artwork. “I think you’re my favorite creation,” he said and his words made you blush, though you tried to hide it by turning your head to the side. Mirio took this chance to lay on top of you, despite ruining what he had just painted on you.

He noticed your body was sticky and wet, then again so was his. Still, he didn’t mind leaning over to kiss your neck and resisted laughing when your body jumped in response. “It’s okay, don’t mind if I mark you.” he commented, “M-Mark me?” you replied before feeling his teeth sink into the side of your neck, you wiggled and your hands reached up to squeeze his arms.

Especially when he began to suck, effectively creating a bruise and ‘marking’ you as he said he would. When he pulled away, you could feel the bruise pulsing and almost glared at him. However, he spoke. “So…” he began as he reached over to grab your chin, guiding your head back to look at him.

“I said I loved you earlier, which might have confused you. But...in that moment with you, what we were doing. What we just did, it really felt like love and it’s okay if...you don’t feel the same way. But...just know that I really do think I love you, Y/n. Even if that’s moving too fast for the first date.” your heart accelerated, Mirio was so meaningful with everything.

Did you love him back? Honestly, you weren’t sure. But the connection you just made with him, honestly you wouldn’t regret it. So this must be more than a feeling of just liking someone. Still, you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck. Pulling him down for another kiss, which said more than enough about your feelings. “I really...like you Mirio…” you said softly as the kiss ended and your words seemed to make him happy.

“I’m so happy you feel that way! I promise, I’ll make our next date uh...a little less messy,” he said as he pulled you in for a hug and you happily returned it, nestling your head into his shoulder. “Uh...that is if you’re willing to go on another date with me.” you chuckled and tilted your head to whisper in his ear. “I’d love to.” you said, “But, maybe just a regular date will do,” you said and Mirio chuckled.

“Don’t you worry! I’ll plan something casual.” he said before looking at you, though you were both naked with sweat and paint covering you. He still leaned his forehead against yours and nuzzled against you. “Maybe we should get dressed,” you suggested and Mirio shook his head. “Let me cuddle my sunshine for just a few more minutes,” he said before finally laying his body against yours and nuzzling into the crook of your neck, you rolled your eyes.

But complied with the overgrown teddy bear of a man, though you couldn’t help but think how an innocent art date turned into this. But once more, you didn't regret what you had done. The unfinished canvas continued to sit on the easel and you couldn't help but turn to look at it.

The thick outline you had done was still there, as well as the background you had managed to paint before your attention shifted to something else. Maybe you’d finish it later, it’d be a nice contribution to the memory of what occurred on your first date with Mirio.

#mirio x reader #togata x reader #bnha requests #chimichangagirl

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black-streak · 5 years ago

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Saturday night's alright for fighting (but Sundays are meant for rest) - Curious New Hobbies

Part 11!

My god this took a while to write! Special thanks to @st0rmy-w1th1n and @mysnis (hope this is your correct Tumblr) for bouncing ideas with me and @kceedraws for giving permission to use her breakdancing au as inspiration for this!

Tagsss: @persephonebutkore @emjrabbitwolf @mystery-5-5 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @fandomkitty8 @dast218 @silvergold-swirl @shizukiryuu . @my-name-is-michell @kurogaya913 @elspethshadow @thecatnipmademedoit @shamefullove @ladylucina28 @crazylittlemunchkin @rayray384 @cassiejaydee @yuulxd @ladysblackcat @naclychilli @caffeinetheory

~---~

They had meant to go the arcade for their date tonight. In fact, they'd even walked in and started scoping out games to play, but alas it wasn't to be.

Within moments of arriving, who else but Damian would single Mari out and immediately tell them to leave.

And of course she protested. In response, Damian only pointed at Jon over at the pacman machine (how dare he, that's the game Marinette was searching for!) and mentioned his lack of ability to keep secrets and suddenly she turned and dragged Tim right back out the door.

Walking down the sidewalk, he side eyed her, considering the best way to start his interrogation.

"So. You trying to keep me secret then?"

"No! Of course not. Just might've forgotten to mention something like… over a month ago."

"And it involves not letting Jon know we were there?"

"Only because he's a nark who would've ruined the fun. And heaven knows Damian and I wouldn't be satisfied with a void bet."

"You made a bet about our relationship with Damian?"

"About your family," she partially corrected.

"Do I even want to know."

"Was supposed to tell you a bit ago so you wouldn't ruin the stakes, so probably not, but im telling you anyways."

Sighing with false exasperation, he gestured for her to continue.

"We have an ongoing bet over how long it'll take everyone to figure out that you and I are together and not Dami and me."

With that, she relayed all the details of their bet and his part in it, manic grin spread across her face as her gait gained a small skip to it. Tim couldn't help but shake his head at her antics, amused despite an itch in the back of his mind saying this wouldn't end well.

"Alright, I'll play along. Honestly, I think you'll both lose. Your predictions are too specific. Too many potential outlying factors."

"True, but we did give set time frames. So at least one part of the bet will absolutely be clear on who won. Plus, I find victory in the fact that Damian didn't think of that possibility. That we'd both be wrong."

"On another note, we need to find a plan b. Anything in mind?" He asked, reaching out and snagging her hand to draw her closer.

Shrugging, she looked about them, seeing if anything caught the eye. Suddenly Tim stopped, accidentally yanking her back when she kept walking. She let out a sound of protest only to see his eyes locked on the building across the way with a considering look.

The building was gray brick with no windows, however a neon purple sign to the right of the black wood door declared it "The Underground", a well known club amongst Gotham dancers and while neither were necessarily that, word had gotten around enough for both to have heard of the place before from word of mouth.

"How do you feel about checking it out?" Tim asked, a curious look about his eyes, studying her.

"I'm not opposed to the idea. Little surprised you're interested though," she commented, letting him lead the way inside.

A quick ID check and they were in, the room dark with neon tube lights flashing across different surfaces and strategic spotlights placed to bring attention to the various raised platforms. It was strange actually. The wall directly to the left of the hall they entered from held the bar on a raised level only to slide into a ground level dance floor which was normal enough, however in the opposite corner was a raised platform where different people would hop up to take advantage of the spacing to show off both freestyle and blatantly choreographed moves. Another few spotlight platforms raised up randomly in the floor, but the main focus was a rather large circular one in the center of the place, raised just enough to make it easy to see from anywhere in the place, but not so high as to block the view across the way. These places were the most lit up, allowing the anonymity to the dancers below while allotting the attention to those who choose to step up. Beyond that, there were many crevices and alcoves holding tables into the walls and a small hallway across the way presumably heading to the bathrooms. An upper balcony held only the DJ.

While Mari took in her surroundings, she felt Tim lead her out into the crowds, before turning back to her with a questioning look. Leaning in she spoke into his ear, a spark gleaning her eyes, "You've been before, haven't you?"

"A few times. It's the perfect place to destress without the nonsense of keeping an image. As long as you stay in the crowd, no one cares who you are," he replied, spinning her around before stepping in so her back pressed to his chest. His hands ghosted down her sides to grasp her hips, starting to guide her into the beat.

For a while, they stayed like that, separating slightly and coming back together to follow different dances as the music flowed and changed around them. Turns out Tim was a surprisingly good dancer.

Cheers broke out as a new song turned over, the first beats of Bum Bum Tam Tam coming over the speakers drawing attention towards the main platform as a pair jumped up, starting to get into the beat, working around each other only to burst into perfectly synced choreography at the first breakdown, resulting in more cheers. The two dancers would break away after that into a more freestyle, only to flow back into more rehearsed moves once more.

"Wait is that," she trailed off to a groan pressed to her shoulder.

"Yeah. That's them. Didn't know they came here."

As the song came to an end and the two on the platform jumped down, they could only stare as none other than Dick and Kori unknowingly made their way towards them. Tim pulled back from Mari subconsciously, not quite comfortable being so fully on display in front of people who actually knew them. Which made exactly zero sense when considering how much they cuddled in the manor.

Finally the two spotted them, their grins widening and a new energy emerging as they rushed over.

"Timothy! Starshine! You guys are here!" Came Kori's exuberant greeting, grabbing them both up in a hug.

"Hey, Mar, Damian not like dancing enough? Had to drag Timmy out?" Dick teased.

"Dami's at the arcade with Jon. And actually, coming here was Tim's idea," she answered amicably, conforming to the rules of the bet and not correcting Dick's obvious assumptions. "That was amazing by the way. You two looked great up there!"

Tim smirked down at her, seeing through her antics, especially now that she'd let him in on the rules of her game. Doesn't mean he couldn't play into it himself, he thought as he wrapped an arm around her waist and placed his chin atop her head.

"She's a great dance partner," Tim mentioned after both Kori and Dick had thanked and waved off Mari's compliments. "Considering learning something more structured with her, myself. Maybe give you two a run for your money."

"You definitely should! I can help with figuring out a style for you two if you'd like!" Kori offered immediately as Marinette turned to look at him in excitement.

"She has to agree first. Who knows, maybe this was a fluke and Mari will never dance with me again," he sighed in defeat.

Marinette turned, practically bouncing in anticipation, "Are you kidding? I'd love to! I want to come here again too."

"Even if you don't take my help with the dancing, I can record you two so you can look back and see for any needed improvements? That's what Richard and I do," Kori further offered up, Dick jumping back in right after.

"Oh yeah, it helps immensely. Especially if you were wanting to perform it on the platforms here."

Tim and Mari met eyes, before coming to an agreement, "Yeah, we'd appreciate that actually."

"Great! We'll set up some time here soon. In the meantime, I could definitely use a drink," Dick stated, looking back towards where he'd originally been headed. Kori grabbed onto Marinette instead, leading her back into the fray of dancers.

"We should invite Stephanie next. She would make a most interesting dance partner," Kori rattled on, suggesting a girls night that Mari agreed to immediately before getting back into the music with her new dance partner of the moment, Tim and Dick rejoining them shortly after.

The night continued on this way, the four trading off between them, two not aware that it'd become a double date by this point. Eventually parting ways from the two, Tim and Mari made their way back towards his apartment, breathless and happy despite the unexpected interruptions to their night.

"How come we never end up at your place?" He asked suddenly.

"Because my apartment has become workzone number 2. Seriously, the place has essentially become a studio for my work that just so happens to have a kitchen and bedroom. Among other secrets not meant to be divulged… yet."

"Is that pertaining to the mystery of your magic."

"Perhaps."

"Mmm, whenever you're ready, I'll be happy to keep them for you. Though I can't imagine anything bigger than holding two technical gods in your pockets at all times."

"Shhh, don't let them hear you say that!"

He only chuckled, leading her into the complex and up to his penthouse. Silence overtaking them until the door had clicked shut.

"You staying the night, sweetheart?" Tim asked, toeing off his shoes and walking towards his room to get changed.

"Mm, think I might," she replied, following him in and stealing a shirt before wandering into the bathroom to get first dibs on a shower. She still found it lucky that while he might be the shortest of his brothers, she was still small enough to be buried in his clothes. Made it easier for night like these.

Finishing up, she plopped herself on his bad as he went to shower as well.

Eventually, the door reopened, Tim entering in only pajama bottoms, hair still damp and in his face. She hummed her appreciation, enjoying the view and reaching out to tug him closer.

"Is it weird how comfortable we've become in so little time?"

"Only if you're uncomfortable with it."

"I'm not."

"Good."

With the affirmation, he picked her up only to lay her out further up the bed. Stretching out at her side, he pressed kisses to her cheek and down her neck, hand trailing against exposed skin, clearly enjoying having her in his home, in his bed, in his shirt.

'Hmm, what were two raging insomniacs to do with the rest of their night?'

…

Bonus:

Not a week later, after a long discussion with Damian to ensure that Kori was not included in the bet and swearing the alien to secrecy, they asked her to film something for them. A dance they had come with that was just for them. Not anything that could be performed in a club or for anyone to see. Maybe one day they'd post it somewhere or show Dick, but for now, it was theirs alone.

youtube

#timari #timinette #maribat #first one with video link #probably only one #lookbup bum bum tam tam on Matt steffinina youtube for Dick and Koris dance

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erekiosuncreativeideas · 5 years ago

Text

The Part-Time Puppeteer - Chapter 03

<= Chapter 2

Summary : Lukas gets to know his job a little better. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828971/chapters/57613633

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NEW CHAPTER, YOOO I bet you weren't expecting it this fast ! WELL TAKE THAT -okay, okay, just kidding- On a more serious note, this chapter was supposed to be longer but, heh, I love splitting my chapters into several parts.

I finished this chapter super fast, AND SAME WITH THE (extremely complicated) DRAWING ! I hope you will like them !

And gosh, THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT !! This fanfic has just begun and there are already so many people leaving comments or following the fanfic ! Again, thank you, it means SO MUCH to me and it's a HUGE help ! This is the first time I'm writing a fluff and slice of life fanfic ! It's a big change for me, so I'm really glad I'm doing a good job !

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Chapter 3 - “Welcome to hell.”

Mornings were never something Lukas looked forward to. There were several reasons for that, mainly the fact that he hated being woken up by the sound of an alarm clock. However, on that particular morning, the student had another reason to wish to stay in bed: the ache in his muscles from all the work he had accomplished the day before.

So, when his alarm rang that morning, cutting short whatever peaceful dream he had, the young man couldn’t help but whine from the very idea of getting up. He stretched under the cover, listening with annoyance the sound of his alarm clock resonating in his small studio apartment. God, he wished he didn’t have class. It was only six in the morning, much too early after the day before. He had no idea how many hours of sleep he would need to recover from something like that. Yet, he would need to go back to the movie studio right after finishing his classes.

No need to say that it wasn’t something Lukas looked forward to. Of course, the job was physically difficult, so this was one of the excuses, but it wasn’t the only one. As a matter of fact, his new job was also tiring psychologically speaking: there had been too many people moving around him, too much noise in the room he was in, and many people’s lack of manners (one of them in particular)…

And, obviously, he also had to put out a fire! Who does that on their first workday?

Lukas sighed and looked at his phone in discontent. The first semester had started only a few days ago and he already felt that this was going to be difficult. However, he managed to find an ounce of courage deep inside of him and stepped out of bed, wincing at the pain in his arms and legs. Yep, this day was definitely going to be unenjoyable.

Lukas’s apartment was quite small but it was more than enough for him. This was his first time living on his own and there were obviously a lot of pros and cons. Yes, he was finally independent, yet there were a lot of things he had no idea how to do, laundry being one of them. Thankfully, the Internet was full of tutorials, so it would only be a matter of time until he was fully able to take care of himself. Unless he caused a fire trying to cook pasta… Hopefully, living on his own would give him plenty of opportunities to learn how to cook without burning anything.

The student started his morning routine, trying to ignore how tired he was. He really hoped that Mike had talked to Kaleb, his boss, about his offer. The idea of joining a smaller and calmer team was suddenly very appealing to the young man. Well, he supposed that he was going to learn that later that day.

Studying law had always been Lukas’s dream, just as becoming a lawyer. But there were many small things making this dream a little bit harder to accomplish or, at least, making the way to it more tedious. Public transports were a part of it. Being in a crowded bus, having to smell people’s sweat was not what the student had imagined back when he was in high school. But, heh, this was a small price to pay to do what he wanted! And being in one of the most famous law colleges of the country, this had to be expected. Though that didn’t mean he took much pleasure in that.

Lukas went to class as usual after having prepared his bag. The ride to his law school was just as crowded and smelly as he thought, yet he managed to ignore it most of the time. The day progressed well and, despite his tiredness, the student was able to understand the majority of his courses. He didn’t know anyone yet so he chose a seat in an empty part of the lecture hall. The possibility of sleeping was very appealing to him but he resisted the temptation and tried to follow the teachers’ explanations and instructions.

And around four in the afternoon, his classes were over. But not his day, oooh, far from it. He still had to go to work. Suddenly, he felt very unmotivated at the idea. Yet he still needed the money to pay for his school fees and food. Luckily, his parents had decided to take care of the rent of his small apartment, so it was still something less on his mind.

The young man dreaded his return to the studio but still went on his way to it. Just like he expected, the bus ride was still crowded, though this wasn’t surprising at this hour of the day. He couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief once he got off the vehicle. As soon as he stepped outside, he felt the wind caressing his face. God, this was exactly what he needed after a twenty-minute ride in a tight space, surrounded by complete strangers!

His eyes looked up to meet the huge studio in front of him, on the other side of the road. It was quite modern, though you could see there were two different buildings: it was a vestige of the time when the Conductor and Grooves persisted to work alone rather than together as they did now. Though that didn’t mean they were friends or even got along, far from it. But at least they were trying to work together, which was a start.

The student crossed the road and braced himself as he entered the building, afraid of anything he might discover today. However, he was almost astonished to see the reception hall almost empty, without people running or screaming around like they did the day before. There were a few people here and there but it was way different. Was he late? Did he come too early? Lukas couldn’t help but let his anxiety put uncertainties in his mind. Normally, he would need to go directly to the movie shoot part of the building but he was too nervous for that. What if he had misunderstood something? The rational part of his mind was frustrated because, of course, he was too serious to misunderstand something… But what if? Sure, there had been a fire the day before, but still, what if? That was his anxiety talking. Not knowing what to do, he walked to the receptionist. The latter’s expression looked like he was way too tired for his job. Would the young man become like this after a while?

He cleared his throat and put his hands on the counter as he asked:

-“Huh, sorry… I was hired yesterday and I was wondering…” Lukas was making no sense and the man in front of him was now looking at him with a mix of curiosity and annoyance as the student was looking for his words. Eventually, he just decided to be direct about the source of his nervousness: “Okay, there’s no one here. Am I too late or too early?”

The other man squinted, trying to get what Lukas was saying. Then, it seemed to hit him as a look of realization crossed his features. His expression changed suddenly from exasperation to laughter. In front of him, Lukas remained unmoving, not knowing if this was a good sign or not.

-“Ahahaha, well…” finally replied the receptionist after laughing a bit: “We don’t have incidents every day, you know. Uh, though, now that I think about it, it happens fairly often. But today, everything’s fine.”

Lukas sighed from relief. He felt his anxiety settling down inside of him, waiting for the right moment to crawl out again. At least, it was under his control now.

-“Right…” continued the student with a sour laugh: “Anyway, thanks!”

He was about to enter the shooting part of the building when he heard a muffled “good luck” behind him. He froze instantly and stared at the receptionist in bewilderment, though the latter was now reading a magazine and wasn’t looking at the young man anymore. He was messing with him, right? Surely, this man was messing with him! Lukas gulped down and took his courage with both hands as he left the room, hoping to be right.

The student was, in fact, not right.

After a few rooms, he found the one where his boss, Kaleb, was. When seeing him, the older man gestured him to come. When Lukas arrived in front of him, he didn’t even get the time to greet his boss. The latter simply started talking without even greeting him:

-“Mike talked to me yesterday and he said his team could use some stagehands. His boss agreed so I have no reason to refuse since you just arrived and don’t have a real purpose in my team yet.”

“Yeah thank you, you prick,” thought Lukas, still doing his best to keep an impassive face despite the man’s words about him. Well, it was true, though there were much better ways to say it.

-“Anyway, the auditions for your new team’s show started today, so you’re going to have a lot of work in the following days. The rest of the stagehands probably finished setting up the scenery for the auditions, but there is still a lot of stuff to do. They’ll probably show you everything you need to know, so, yeah.”

He then pointed to door Lukas went through a moment ago and explained him the way to his new team’s shooting set. Well, all that fuss for almost nothing… If Lukas had known he would come here just to hear that, they could have sent him a text, that would have been much quicker… However, just before the student left, his (ex) boss handed him an ID badge, on which Lukas’s name was written.

-“Welcome to hell,” concluded Kaleb, without any hint of a smile on his face.

Oh God, he wasn’t joking.

The student took the badge, forcing a smile as he did so. His anxiety was threatening to be out of control. He really hoped this was just a huge ragging, just something to scare him the first few days… However, deep inside of him, he could feel that they weren’t lying. Gosh, he wished he was wrong…

Lukas thanked him and left the room, once again looking for the right one to finally start this workday. He found it surprisingly easily after following Kaleb’s instructions as much as he could. The young man found himself in front of a door with a “13” on it, indicating which shooting set was inside.

Okay, so, now this was ridiculous. Lukas had gotten the message, karma hated him, what could possibly go wrong after that? Apparently, defying the universe was an enormous mistake from the student’s part. As soon as he opened the door, his eyes fell on many faces he didn’t know, Mike’s one in a corner of the room… And MJ’s jerky face. What was he doing here? Didn’t he have some movies to act in?

Oh, well, guess Kaleb didn’t lie when he said “welcome to hell”!

All people in the room stopped what they were doing to look at the newcomer with curiosity. The young man guessed that no one told them about him joining the team, or at least, maybe they just didn’t expect him today. Lukas couldn’t help but hold the strap of his bag tightly. So many stares on him made him extremely nervous and it absolutely didn’t help his growing anxiety. At this point, it was just waiting to engulf him whole.

Lukas moved forward, looking around him apprehensively. Which person was the team manager here? Who should he talk to first? Mike? Should he ask who was his new boss? To whom, though?

His fears were calmed as he recognized Grooves’s face among the stagehands, probably telling them what to do. How did he not recognize him through all those people? His haircut and excentric outfit should have helped to spot him.

Taking a deep breath, Lukas moved to Grooves’s direction, not without waving at Mike in the process. His new friend smiled back at him and gave him a supportive thumb up. Next to him was MJ, who only rolled his eyes in a mocking way. The student only glared at him in response. No matter how rich and famous that guy was, Lukas would not take his bullshit. The young man might have an anxiety problem, yes, but he absolutely refused the very idea of letting someone getting under his skin just for the fun of it. MJ’s only reaction to his glare was to scoff, which only made Lukas even more resentful towards him.

When Lukas arrived next to the director, he cleared his throat to catch the other’s attention. It seemed to work, as the director lifted his head to look at him, from top to bottom, before he recognized him.

-“Oh, you’re the new stagehand, aren’t you, darling?” he wondered, though it probably wasn’t a question from the tone of his voice.

-“Yea- I mean, yes,” answered Lukas, doing his best to stay polite. Standing in front of a celebrity without losing his composure was already quite a challenge!

-“Mike told us about you. The more people we get to help, the better!” His suave voice resonated in the room. The director had a real presence, a presence no one could match. His outfit had a lot of colours which immediately caught one’s attention. Just like usual, the man was wearing shoes with huge heels. How was he even able to stand on these?

-“You’re part of the team now, darling!” continued DJ Grooves, taking a pose as he spoke: “I’ll be managing the show… Alongside the Conductor, unfortunately.”

His voice changed from his usual glamorous tone to a mix of a disappointed and disgusted one at the mention of the Conductor. Yeah, Lukas was right to think the two directors were far from being friends, even when they tried to work together. It would be really funny… If the student didn’t have to work under them, that is.

Still, he couldn’t hide his astonishment at this idea: he would work directly under them? Under two famous figure of the showbiz? Lukas couldn’t believe it! And, quite honestly, his anxiety didn’t either, though it would happily create new sources of stress for the young man, now that he knew who his bosses were.

-“Anyway, darling, I think it would be best if you worked under another stagehand’s management for a while, so you can learn the ropes.”

Lukas nodded. This made sense, considering he knew nothing about this job in the first place, apart from putting out a fire apparently. At least, this was going much better than what he had first expected.

Grooves called someone from the team, a certain Tom, to assign Lukas under his care.

Now, Lukas’s job would truly start.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

I hope you liked that chapter ! We'll meet someone else in the next chapter... Does it have anything to do with the auditions...? PERHAPS. Anyway, thank you again for your support ! If you liked this chapter, don't hesitate to like or reblog it, it helps me A LOT !

See you on the next chapter, stay safe everyone !

Chapter 4 =>

#A Hat In Time #snatcher #dj grooves #MJ #mike #moonjumper #lukas #fanfiction #puppet au #The Part-Time Puppeteer #ahit #my art

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bothsandneithers · 4 years ago

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Day 3327

I need to hurry up and write this, because I am forgetting how miserable I was. This is not part of an effort to ensure that I don't repeat this process over again (perhaps as some may be tempted to do after childbirth). Instead, this exercise is consistent with my tendency to ask my friends to describe the most uncomfortable and unfortunate parts of their vacations. Who wants to hear a story that could more succinctly be conveyed within the narrow pages of a travel brochure? To adapt this question to the present situation: Who wants to hear a series of events that could be more adequately summarized by a few pages in a student handbook?

I’m sure that someone could have a field day by drawing parallels between giving birth to a child and writing a dissertation. While this is not my story to tell, I have described my experience by drawing upon the image of a mother who harnesses supernatural strength to lift a car off of her child. The listener is then immediately confused, and I then have to clarify that, in this metaphor, I am both the mother and the child, and that the dangerous, debilitating, threat of the car, is my dissertation.

It may be more effective if I am more direct: I want everyone to know that I (as the small child) was quite miserable, and I (as the mother) accomplished something that I thought was more than I could handle.

I imagine that if a car did end up on a small child, then the entire situation would invoke so much stress on the mother that she may not ever be able to recount exactly what happened during those subsequent moments. In a different way, of course, and for reasons I am still trying to understand, I too remember very little from the summer and early fall leading up to my defense.

In the place of memories, I find myself relying on artifacts to represent months and events that I cannot recall. One such set of artifacts are the six or so issues of The Atlantic magazine that have been set aside into a small pile; each one received a small verbal promise that I would open the pages after my defense. Now, as I review the covers, I imagine that they may never be read. Below are some of the stress-inducing cover stories of these abandoned issues:

How to destroy a government: The president is winning his war on American institutions.

How QAnon is warping reality and discrediting science.

The election that could break American.

How did it come to this? Why the virus won.

In the early days of lockdown, when the virus was beginning to take hold of its victory, I read this explanation for why most of us are not thriving right now: In order to flourish, one must be able to play several different human roles over the course of the day -- something that is arguably impossible when we rarely leave our dwellings.1

After reading this explanation, I starting clinging to the argument that the overwhelming reason why completing my dissertation had become so difficult was because of an absence of variability in my human roles. Even though none of my other typically played human roles were terribly interesting (commuter, friend, peer, coffee shop customer, gym patron), each one offered me respite from the singular human role that I was stuck with: The neurotic graduate student.

The neurotic graduate student human role was difficult to be around, because she was always worried about so many things: that her arguments weren't good enough, that there were errors in her code, that she should be able to understand certain concepts that were still evading her, that more time-intensive analyses were still required, and that overturning new stones would reveal that previous analyses or assumptions were wrong or incomplete. More simply, the neurotic graduate student human role was always worried that she was not good enough.

This persona can be debilitating, and I found that the act of writing a dissertation included a lot of time not actually writing, but rather, a substantial amount of time was devoted to sitting in paralyzing anxiety, not able to do anything.

Even though many of the weeks leading up to my due date were a blur, I do recall choosing this time to watch One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Perhaps I did this because misery loves company. I decided to view this odd movie choice in a particular odd format, whereby I watched the movie in 15 minute intervals, across several nights, as if savoring a segmented Toblerone.

I watched the first few segments in stoic sympathy with the characters, but I eventually found myself amused when Jack Nicholson realizes that almost all the residents are “voluntary”:

You can go home any time you want? You're bullshittin' me. He's bullshittin' me right? Cheswick, you're voluntary? Scanlon? Billy, for chrissakes you must be committed, right? I mean, you're just a young kid, what're you doin' here? … I mean, you guys do nothing but complain about how you can't stand it in this place here and then you haven't got the guts just to walk out?

I remember smiling for a few moments at this scene; it was a gentle reminder that I invited this stress into my life, and that I could, indeed, bring it all to an end if I really wanted to. The smile was fleeting, and felt similar to when you are crying, and your friend says something that is true and funny to try and make you feel better, and you laugh and it feels really good but it also reminds you of how bad you feel, and how far away you are from feeling like yourself.

Yet again, someone else might have a field day drawing parallels between today’s academic environment and a fictional mental institution from the 1970s. I can't do this, in part because, aside from that one scene, I don’t actually remember what happens in the movie.

I did, however, voluntarily lock myself in a hotel room to write, because the suffocating familiarity of my home was preventing me from generating any new sentences. A sticker had been placed between the room's door and its frame, denoting that the room had been thoroughly cleaned. Surely this was only intended to be a symbolic seal to provide some peace of mind that it was safe and acceptable to be outside of one's house.

Once inside the room (that seemed no cleaner than in the absence of a pandemic), I did not immediately initalize my plan to write incessantly. Instead, I desultorily found myself on a support group on reddit that was dedicated to "PhD stress." Feeling compelled to write anything that was not my dissertation, I made a post targeted at those who were also writing their dissertations during a pandemic:

What you are doing right now is really, really hard.

Under "normal" conditions, you would be facing a sheer amount of uncertainty with your work (e.g., not knowing how analyses will turn out, not knowing what your advisor will think of your progress, etc). Under these new conditions, you are dealing with the uncertainty of the state of the world (pandemic), the government (upcoming election -- if in the US), as well as your dissertation! These are absurd conditions, whereby any one of these things would undoubtedly have negative impacts on your well being.

For many, you went from having an entire support group of peers, to sitting in your bedroom, day in and day out, trying to come up with novel ideas and effective ways to communicate these ideas.

As such, I urge you to take care of yourself. I urge you to give yourself permission to ignore unwanted criticism that, while in other circumstances you may work hard to address. Now, in this current context, just don't. Give yourself permission to stop perpetuating the idea that your work and your psyche should not be impacted by the fact that nothing is the same right now.

Defend your ideas, yes. And do good work (-- nah, do good enough work). But know that you are defending your work under surreal circumstances. Account for this when you wake up tomorrow, move four feet from your bed to your desk, and try to do the same thing over again.

Overnight, this became the most popular post in the subreddit’s history. Admittedly, there aren’t a lot of members in this particular community (it should also be noted that this post was recently surpassed in popularity by a post entitled, “PhD has destroyed my mental health”). Still, several users responded with something along the lines of, “Thank you. I needed to hear this.”

I needed to hear those words too -- that is one reason why I wrote them. But I was also desperate to play another human role; one who ambiguously could have already made it to the other side of the dissertation defense, and was able to offer encouragement to those close to the finish line.

Soon after my hotel stay, where I eventually did find motivation to write, I was set to defend my dissertation. This was met with the opportunity to transform into another human role: someone who was nearing the end of her graduate student career, and had no choice but believe that her work was good enough.

The dissertation defense took place via video conferencing. I sat at my desk in my make-shift office in my bedroom.

Five kind and smart professors asked me kind questions that made me feel smart.

And that was it.

After the defense, the stress began to fade away. I recalled the wise words that my therapist once said, “It’s remarkable how, after the defense, people just won’t need anything from you anymore.” I made edits to my dissertation and submitted my final version. I dismantled my “home office” and replaced it with a reading chair and a plant. A new issue of The Atlantic arrived in the mail, and now with time, cognitive space, and optimism that this issue would not be as depressing as the others, I started to read.

I opened to an article about a historian who predicts that the United States is about to experience a terrible decade. He blames this on the overproduction of elites. ("There are still only 100 Senate seats, but more people than ever have enough money or degrees to think they should be running the country.") These elites find alternative ways to disrupt the status quo to influence people; the elite overproduction "creates counter-elites, and counter-elites look for allies among the commoners.”2

Although the article was compelling, it did not feel like appropriate material, as one does not work tirelessly through graduate school to then be compared to Steve Bannon.

I continued to the next article which was about young adults (or old children) who post things to a social media platform I’ve never used (TikTok). Not only do they create short videos that are viewed by millions of viewers, but there is an entire industry of these individuals, and they curate their content together in the mansions that they cohabitate (I am yet to grasp the monetization of this endeavor).3

I settled into my chair. Finding myself enjoying my new human role as a casual observer to an unknown world, I thought: What an absolutely absurd life pursuit.

xx,

Amy, PhD

https://nplusonemag.com/issue-37/the-intellectual-situation/epilogue-for-a-way-of-life/ ↩︎

https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2020/12/can-history-predict-future/616993/ ↩︎

https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2020/12/charli-damelio-tiktok-teens/616929/ ↩︎

#phd

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echo-bleu · 5 years ago

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♥ - family headcanon - Malex

Thank you!!

Family is a loaded word for both Alex and Michael. That’s canon, not headcanon, so I won’t go back to the things we already know. We know about Mara, and we know about Jesse.

[note: I kinda went into meta territory here, but this isn’t intended as a meta. This is what I draw on to write fics about Alex or Michael, but most of it is headcanon, not canon analysis]

I have a couple of headcanons about Alex’s mother. I think she was terrified of Jesse, and abused by him (at least psychologically), and that she was distant toward her children, because she was too traumatized to be anything else. I think she watched Jesse indoctrinate their oldest sons into his own views of the world. She probably knew confusedly that Alex was different, but he was five or six when she left, too early for her to know how. She left to save her own life, and she knew that if she tried to take any of the children, she’d lose against Jesse because she was Native and penniless and he’s a “pillar of society”. But then she didn’t contact them much. Maybe Jesse didn’t let her. Maybe she didn’t try. Anyway, Alex feels like his mother abandoned him, and he resents her for that, even though now he understands why she did it. He doesn’t talk to her, though, no more than maybe birthday wishes (from her to him, not the other way around) and a card for the new year. A stilted phone call here or there. I think maybe her other sons didn’t feel as betrayed when she left, but they’re also not in much contact with her. (Whether she knows anything about Jesse’s work, I guess we’ll hear about that eventually.)

Alex brothers are mostly on Jesse’s side. I want him to have a brother who’s a bit nicer, but I don’t think any of them are really in contact with Alex. There’s too much history, too much pain there for all of them. They weren’t there after he lost his leg (being far away, but maybe they didn’t want to come). Jesse came to the hospital, and Alex absolutely hated that. The thought of being in a room with his father and not being able to move enough to escape makes his skin crawl, and is part of why he threw himself into rehab.

But the most important for Alex and for Michael is the family they choose for themselves. I would argue that Max and Isobel are Michael’s chosen family, in that we have no idea if they’re biologically related at all, and they did choose each other. Max and Isobel could have had nothing to do with Michael when he came back to Roswell, they had a family of their own by then and a good situation. But they stuck together, even in the face of great trauma and guilt. Even Michael and Max, who barely spoke to each other for ten years, they still stuck together. To keep to headcanons rather than meta territory here, I want Liz and Alex (and maybe Maria and Kyle) to join this little family eventually, when they get to a good place.

I posted this little fic last night, part of a series about Alex and found family. It’s about Mimi and Maria showing Alex what being a family is like, what that kind of love is like, and there will be a second part about Arturo, Liz and Rosa, and about the pod squad. They all become Alex’s family, in different ways. I think he’ll always have a place in his heart for Mimi, and he goes to visit her often once he’s back in Roswell, whatever his relationship with Maria is like. Arturo is important to him too, and @acomebackstory and I once discussed that Alex probably has a fake ID ready for him in case it’s needed, though Arturo won’t take it. Jim Valenti was a surrogate father at times, but growing up Alex saw that Jim was the only person who could have stood up against Jesse for Alex, and he never did, so he has mixed feelings. He understands the man a bit better when he finds out his involvement with Caulfield, but it’s still complicated.

The people his age, now. I think Liz and Maria are Alex’s friends from the past, and they’re hanging on to each other, but they need to get past that and start something new if they want to stay friends. I want them to, though. I want them to really discuss the fact that they didn’t see each other in ten years, that they’re different people now.

But Alex will have a hard time discussing things with anyone, because he struggles with identifying and expressing emotions. Where he grew up, emotions were forbidden. I think his emo style and love for music were a great rebellion from that, but then he enlisted and it was just as bad. Kyle’s friendship arrives in his life at a time where he needs to let things out (coming back to Roswell, discovering just how bad his father is, the stuff with Michael), and Kyle is exactly what he needs. I think he could become great friends with Isobel, out of shared personality traits but also common trauma.

Michael is already part of Alex’s family. In fact, at the end of season one, he’s at a stage where he truly believes that Michael is his only family−in the sense that matters. In Alex’s mind, Michael is the only one of the above (Mimi, Arturo, Maria, Liz, Kyle) who could possibly reciprocate that feeling, because of the pull between them and because Michael also doesn’t already have a family (he has Max and Isobel, but I’m not sure how much Alex understands of that). So the others will have to really show him that he’s loved for him to believe it.

Eventually, I want Alex and Michael to be able to build a family with each other, and will all their friends, and when they do (I don’t even mean in canon there, just in my headcanon) it will be glorious.

#caitlesshea #roswell nm #malex #alex manes #michael guerin #found family #echo's writing thoughts #this got long

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indomitablemegnolia · 4 years ago

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I have been dragging this coffin around, like Django, for a while now, and for some reason American politics has to just keep poking at a seeping infected wound; as a psychologist I know that the best way to deal with certain emotions and PTSD is to talk it out, if you can talk past the ragged breaths. Now I am not much of a talker but I do write; I was thinking that maybe letting this out into the world might help someone or perhaps not fatally wound them by reading. I just know I have been keeping all of this way too close for way too long. I am going to try to do this so those who don’t want to know can avoid. I do add a bit of fantasy into it as my own default coping mechanism; so it is not just a barrage of horror. There are triggers... physical pain, blood, rape, and political triggers...this is me screaming into the void. If anyone reads this, I would hope that I could inspire a kind word.

Good god, what fresh hell is this? I swear that sometimes I have to just kick this evil darkness, beat it back, strike out with every weapon I have until it bleeds sunlight; oh, and when that first drop of sun falls I have to keep fighting until I am bathed in that healing glow, smearing it over my face, rubbing it in to my soul; reveling in the warmth of the end of a battle well fought and valiantly one worth the effort. This is always a rough two weeks for me every year for well 19 years now… the tenth falls and it seems some note really minor catastrophe befalls me; there has not been a skip year, a stand out or a delayed year; I will not whine about the past, but for the past three years it has been a political horror show on top of the menial financial, health, or personal failing; I focus on the possible and look up, which usually lands me down a manhole but I can’t change my stripes. In these last three years the shit-show of a congress (and congress is both houses equally guilty) put on these shows of caring and disdain, evil in its fake almost after thought of un-electability. Kavanaugh sent me into a bottomless tailspin; something about a Judge rapist being put on the highest court in the land on the anniversary of my own…attack; not that I think it sits any better in the pit of my stomach any other time of the year, but now… again… and I just can’t breathe, they had made my life all of the things I still struggle to live through… a joke, a pawn, something to leverage each other with… I am sick; politics making life, again, not worth living; nothing mattered, the truth did not matter, their ignorance, their lies did not matter. I find myself feeling rather Wilde; I was left feeling, broken, forgotten, as if I do not belong anywhere; there was nothing to lose myself in and no escape even if there were.

This country, this world, has become such a small, terrible place; I cheat, and I excuse myself, as I escape only by avoiding reality, I love the world that I create; but once there was a moment, out of time, such a terribly long time ago that I bring the memory to life often; for a time I had sunshine, and flowers, mud under my nails and rich coffee and I apologized to no one for who and how and what I am; I live with no thought regularly to why I should not be here and who I should be; yes, I do know that eventually I will die here, being banished to that other world where indeed I know because of the impermanence of life it will be as if I never did exist; every broken molecule of me will parish, every inch, every thought, but one. That molecule, that inch, that thought, its small, its infinitesimal, its worthless if you asked most, but in this world of whit and worry it is the only thing worth having; it is worth all the worlds in all the universes. I cannot lose it; I can not barter it or sell it and above it all it should never be given away. This world must get better, it must stop getting lost in all the things that are not real, such as money, race, all the false differences we draw between us; there is only one true thing about this world, there is no escape, so make your difference here and now. I must tell you, now that you see me, you know part of my life, my story and because of that I hope you understand that I Love you. I love you, despite never knowing your story, we may never meet, never laugh or cry together and I will never kiss or hug you, but I love you as dearly as my universe, as closely as a flesh and blood friend.

I love you.

It has been so many years, I hardly talk about it, but I warn you now this gets a bit graphic, but it is my story; this story is not being told for anyone else's campaign; it is not a #metoo. This is me taking a psychological victory, screaming my pain into this void like echo chamber; I know no one may hear me, and that is fine. This is one of Dante's hells I live in, wrapped deliciously in my favourite personal coping mechanism a piece of detached fiction that reads like a conversation between my super ego and my Id....

I sought freedom, the only freedom to be had in this world, music loud, the delicious truth of life’s simplicity; music is a true elixir, ideally it should be listened to at 60-80 decibels and 70 mph; everything can be made right if you just put the music on and the top down, drive 85 mph on a country road, as if you are trying to out run time itself. The sun low in the western sky; fat fluffy gray clouds float lazily over a layer of black, brooding, formidable clouds rolling in like the undaunting wall of night, mocking the artificial azure sky that lays at the last eighth of the sky, about to be swallowed up. Music playing too loud, I sang atonally along; the cool breeze of autumn playfully ruffled my hair as if I resided in a third visible universe in one place unattached to the storm or the artificial sunny day. The little silver dream I drove was cutting through the country side; coming up on a slower moving rusted out pick-up truck I worked the gearshift, not laying off the gas, dropping to fourth to pass, galloping ahead hard and fast, leaving the truck behind.

Suddenly, for the first time in ages the world almost made sense, err, I suppose it is awkward saying that because the sense it made was tenuous and momentary at best. Escape possible only by way of ignoring the horrors; after a week like the last, a little sensical nonsense was called for. I had to get away, I had to distance myself from the news and the bluster, the horrible reality; the reminders that weighed my heart, slammed my soul, obliterated my psyche; in my home, my home, the country I love, whose founding documents read of words like truth and justice; a vicious criminal is appointed to the highest court in the land; a man accused of raping three women; a charge that not so long ago would have precluded his admission; but that was then and this is now, basically more of a wild west, kangaroo, dumb-fuckery idea of conscience; we are now a people who allow the separation of children from parents, to be kept in cages. Now, because of this stupidity, people treating justice like a partisan football; horrible happenings from my past are brought front and center of my subconscious every night as I sleep. Yes, I have read books and listened to tapes as to how to guide dreams, none have prevailed.

Letting my mind wander, it was dangerous; and yes, it circled back to last night’s bout with Fate, Christ, she hit me hard and fast; for a figment of my imagination she really left me bruised, broken, bloody; I can still taste the sickly copper iron flavor of blood in my mouth, my soul limping. First. she took me on a trek into the past; tiny, horrible, years ago; Jesus, I realize, if this nightmare I carry heavy in my mind were a child it would be graduating high school; oh god, the thought, the kind that should never be thought; after, I was sentenced to a more vile prison, to a sentence more than double theirs, I see no possibility of parole from this place. I feel as if I were slowly being eaten alive; Fate, she held my face to the fire, she made me watch and relive it, over and over and over again.

I despise the fact something as delicious as this breeze can trigger panic, terror, horror; this feeling was, twice upon a time, in the valley of faded fears, my favourite season, now it sits heavy on me, like a box of babies tears. Though now, it is that recurring nightmare, I try to break free, but as he said in The Godfather ‘every time I think I am out, it drags me back in.’ I feel so pathetic, seriously, I earned my PhD in psychology, trying to outfit myself with all the tools; I should have been able to drown this demon long ago, but alas, I find the zombie bastard can swim; argh, and yes, I know that isn’t possible, no one can fight off all the memories, it's impossible to erase events, for anyone, most especially me.

Out of the blue it seems, a wonderful friend, a friend one which I didn’t know I still had; sadly I assume that I am always left behind, but she sent me in a tailspin of introspection; she asked me simply, 'are you okay?' A real flesh and blood human asked me, she noticed, she pointed out that I am not acting like myself; I have been tearing myself down, doubting the simplest things, I have even, in an odd way, seeking her approval; asking permission to hang my own pieces on my wall, my usual 'it's easier to ask forgiveness, than seek permission', attitude gone.

Gods, she is right, I know she is right; I am acting weird, different, calling myself stupid, pathetic, worthless; at first it started just stupid, small, subtle... most people bought that I was fine, they never saw it... I think. Anyways, they never called me on it. This friend, this good friend called me on it; I wrote a piece out of my usual character, at first, I loved it; then the next day in a mercurial hissy fit, I ripped into it, then in another flip I apologized for it, I am acting like a kid caught lying, obvious, blatant, guilty. This friend, ah, this beautiful friend called me on all my shit; like that guilty child, my psyche tried to hide it, then I stopped, I looked, really, I am. Then this introspection brought me to the realization that at times, not always, very rarely, I get weird, almost puritanical about sex. Usually I have a very laissez faire attitude; bi, straight, whatever flavour of the lgbtq or any other spectrum, if you get off on it, if you like it, then it's beautiful; there are people I love on all levels of depravity. It may even seem to them that I am a touch prudish because I do not partake, that is fine. Because this friend, this wonderful friend, shined a light, I could again see the bruises fate had left.

Fate had asked me, "so, if it is all good, what gets you off?" With that I was lost, nothing; everything; how was I to know? Of known experiences I have rape (not awesome) and a failed relationship (asshole never understood a thing I said, then tried to recreate experience #1); yup, two times lose on those. I know what I need, no desire, no require; with all the horrible mediocrity in this world that we seem to accept as fair sacrifice, I will not let love be among those. I want epic love, mad, passionate, crazy, undying, span the universes kind of love; anything less will be a poor substitute, meaning I can not, I will not let her take that from me; this is just one of those turns where nothing goes well. She shook me, and god, I had let Fate affect me.

The moment she reared her ugly head was pain. I was lost in a soft dream of sweet remembered soft kisses. Suddenly, a hit to my face, my eye starting to swell; a doubled fist to the gut, air rushed out in a horrible half scream. A hand wrapped in my hair slamming my head into a stony ground, again, that horrible haunting memory. Her voice chilling in a predatory growl, she wanted blood. She taunted me, "I KNOW what you wrote, hmmm, I know what you enjoyed, I told you; you can admit it, just to me, no one else is listening;" She ground her hips into mine from behind, "I know that you liked it, you loved it; I wonder, did you reach orgasm? Was it earth shattering? Did you moan like a whore?" Fate, that horrible bitch, licked up from my jaw to my temple, I stopped the urge to vomit, I felt my hate multiply, but in seconds I felt a turn inward, "You know that the hecklers are still right;" she raked her pelvis suggestively against me, three more thrusts.

"No, but it seems to get you off, dry humping me; hmm is the bitch in heat? So ya like my ass? I have been working out." She slammed my face down into the stone.

I let a painful groan escape, "You like the rough trade."

"Oh yeah," I ground out lifting my head turning to face her, "about as much as I like you."

She laughed cruelly, standing slamming her foot into my kidney. “Look at you, still so pathetic, still that laughing clown punching bag, you are always such fun; there is a lot to be said about consistency," slamming her boot into my jaw. "If it was not the roughness, the pain, was it the team effort? Now, remind me how many was it that you liked? Four or five? How many holes were the putting it into?" She ground her heel onto my palm, I try to stop the noise, a near scream, "how many holes?"

I smiled showing my blood outlined teeth, "This many." I held aloft a single middle finger.

Fate came to torture my soul time and again, with unlimited creativity; it has happened more than a few times in recent days; using more taunts, planting more doubts, inflicting more pain; cracking open my soul leaving it weeping and bereft. The more it happened the more I began to believe that she was right; yes, maybe I really enjoyed it; then I didn’t take the moment needed to breathe before I reacted this time out of emotion, gut check. She was right, they were all right; it was all I deserved; I asked for it, I had enjoyed it. Though that moment of introspection given to me by a gorgeous friend, gave me time to recognize this is actually an extreme rendition, interrogation tactic, the kind used in interviews at Gitmo; some good interrogators can even implant false memories, causing false confessions.

I woke from the nightmare; I gathered my own thoughts. I had to run; I had to hide. I hated; I hated the world and all the people in it, I hated myself and most of all I hated all this wasted time. If I had known Life before would I blame him, hate him… yes, right now, in fact I do.

I drove faster, not even slowing at bends in the road; why was I running? What good could it do? I know can not escape when the horror is inside my own skull. The green leaves starting to turn gold, some starting to age red at the edges. I whisked through the countryside, far too fast; it was liberating. God, this is my favourite season; there is something so sultry and libidinous about fall; I let go of the wheel, raising my arms joyous in the air. The feeling, the smell, the look, it seems to get my heart racing and my mind reeling; in pure celebration of the seasons change, the bite to the wind and the trill of cinnamon to the air, senses that are so much Life, oh me, oh my, oh my favorite things. Dark chocolate, eaten slowly, savored and enjoyed; passionate literature read in a hot bath tub that requires an entry like bugs bunny getting into the boiling cauldron; music, so many lovely perfect kinds of music, hard hitting, rampaging, soothing and truly sensual all appreciated savored and enjoyed… Please, Life... I need you. Why don't you come? I call to you, I miss you.

Before even fate showed the aphasia really affected my self-confidence; I no longer had my words, I constantly sounded either stupid or drunk or both, that had shaken me to my core; with both of those, it changed my own reactions. Then America, my home, is not helping, the president mocking a rape survivor, his little toadies backing him up. It just tore a hole in my psyche, in my soul, letting all these demons back. This is not me really... but what is me?

For me, after the attack, the police, they never doubted; the bruised and bloody the evidence abounded, they had no trouble even finding the culprits, but the faculty, the students... not so kind... I heard the whispers, they never looked at me, not the real me, I was just a disregarded scrap.

My lips hurt, they were cracked in two places, my ribs were bruised, all making me wonder if Fate was more than just my horrible subconscious. More than the conscience that makes a coward of me; makes me want to run for the shelter of a strong set of arms. My foot slacks off the gas pedal; I was losing my will to run, I realized that I was not able to run from this kind of mountain.

"Why can't you hear me?!” I yelled at the building clouds so hard my throat ached; they were heavy with rain. I saw the edges of refracted rainbows as they slid slowly in front of the sun.

Soft, so close to my ear, I felt the breath of Life. "But I did."

I swerved, nearly off the road, I screamed, slamming in the clutch not touching the brake, cutting the wheel sharply, putting the car into a full 360 spin, it almost came to a rest. "Jiminy Cripcity Roosevelt Christmas, man. You could have just killed me." I collected my galloping heart, letting the clutch out in 3rd gear screeching off the tires. He laughed, his words sunk in slowly, I understood his words and they angered me, I slid the gearshift into 4th, without the clutch; "Yeah, right, you heard me, sure. So, what you are saying that as usual when the world begins using me for a toilet brush, I am on my own; lemme guess, all for character building I am sure. Just go, I do not need you anymore. Just get out." I leaned into the gas, not caring the speed, anger making my eyes begin to run.

"What the hell was that?" He reached his hand over, gripping mine, "wound a little tight their honey; let’s get you relaxed” he started rubbing the inside of my wrist, my breathing slowed. "I wish, with every ounce of power I have, I wish I could have come when I heard your cries, they caused an ache in me so cutting so horrible, I cried. I don't know how I heard you or how I am here now."

"Yeah, yeah, sure." I jeered my hand waving him away. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, his expression was so hurt, “God, I shouldn't have mocked... I’m just angry, but not at you,” I took a long breath, “I am sorry" I whispered, easing off the gas.

"Then just stop, pull off the road, talk to me."

I sighed seeking that cognitive reset. "Okay." There was a wooded turn out just ahead. I pulled the car over, stalling out, killing the engine. I rolled my eyes internally; it has been ages since I stalled out. I swiped the little tears away. "So, what? What is it that you want?" My jaw set. "What?"

He sighed, seeing this was going to be an uphill battle; he reached for my hand bringing the palm to his lips; instantly my jaw slacked, and air rushed from my lips, "I missed you." He kissed the tender pad of my palm. "I know you have been in pain. Tell me what caused it; tell me haunts you." His fingers still softly drawing hypnotic circles on my wrist.

"Ah, pain, but where to start? We could do a chronological study into the beginning of pain; it might take a while." I try to sound unbothered.

"Where this pain, your pain, the one that has had you screaming, where that pain started." His face so beautifully earnest, and there is an importance to being earnest. “Please…” he breathed

"Words, it always begins with words, then those sticks and stones; they come hard."

He let one hitched chuckle out, "Wow, what a cop out." He dared.

I breathed again, then let it out slow, "Dammit really?” he nodded, “shit, with this whole 'legitimizing rape' floating around, taking even the one recourse for a victim of said crime has if it takes an unlucky turn. They have the audacity to mock and berate a survivor of a crime, I have seen them, mock hurricane victims, the disabled, they come just shy of saying that they want all of us defectives to die they put a rapist on the high court, now this monstrosity that will end my only piece of mind. My…" he held up his hand.

Clicking of his tongue stopped me. "No, not what I asked for Joan of arc, I was asking for the story, for this pain I see in your eyes, not a history of the worlds ills. I want your story."

"Eg, yeah, but that’s not important, it's really not even worth telling."

"Just stop; stop with the bullshit, stop deflecting; I want to hear your story, please, just tell me the goddamned story.” He gritted his teeth, “sorry, but I hate when you make light of yourself; you are making fun of my favourite person in the world, I am sorry just, please, just tell me."

"Cheese and crackers man, it is a horrid little pathetic thing. But fine." I take a breath, “Shit, my story…" I could not form the words. "hey, what’s better I could just tell you the tale of the little engine that should have known better, but still did it anyway.”

"No," he watched me closely, not letting his impatience show "I want to know your story, your pain, please."

"Shit, shit, shit, OK, shit... dammit," I hit the steering wheel, I pressed my forehead into the hard surface of the wheel, "but don't say I didn't warn ya. Shit” minutes passed, I said nothing.

He reached over holding my shoulders, "Honey, nothing that would make you too nervous to say, could be a waste of time, you are that fearless girl that never holds her tongue. Trust me, I think I can help." His thumb rubbed tenderly.

"I am neither fearless, nor am I a girl; I am a right old horrible spinster," I huffed, I fiddled with my fingers. I looked in his eyes; “I am" I stopped gathering my thoughts; "I don’t think you will like this as well as you think; I know what will happen after its all out, so, I must preface with a goodbye, you have been lovely. I know your opinion of me will slip; you won't want to know me after I finish, so thank you." He looked doubtful, but I knew, gods, I will miss him. "Before I start, I want to say, even if it means nothing to you, if no one ever tells you, I love you." A tear streaked from my eye, "What am I? Nothing," he shook his head vigorously, "look at me, I know most don’t think much of me, red round cheeks and usually a smile, no makeup and holes in my jeans; I have been told many, many, times after having conversations with people that my Naivety was endearing, but if I had ever encountered the real world my outlook would become as jaded as theirs. I may act like I have encountered nothing but sweetness and light in a noodle salad life, but that is far from the truth. I believe that you can encounter the worst that life has to offer and choose your reaction to it. You can stop believing in the world around you or you can continue to believe in kindness, understanding, and trust. Some say it is just denial, burying my head in the sand that allows me think that life is still what we make it… I Laugh and Laugh… If they knew what this girl, well, shit, here you go. Enough wasting time, I will get down to it. It's a shit story..." I wiped my hands down my face, the a swipe under my nose with the bad of my hand, then on my thighs, "shit," I sighed out, “Too many years ago it was a bright sunny day; a warm fall morning with a light breeze. I was worried about a calculus test; the biggest thing on my mind were cos A and sin B. I was on the phone ironing out a scheduling problem; I was talking to my internship mentor on the first cell phone in my family, dad got it for my safety because of my commute 90 miles to school. Jabbering on about what, I don’t even remember, I reached into the back seat for my bag. Sighing and hanging up the phone, preparing for the day ahead, or so I thought." I took a steadying breath, I had evaded long enough; I couldn’t meet his gaze, I just stared straight ahead out the windshield. "Suddenly, horribly brutality was introduced into my life; the surprise really isn’t as horrible as the feeling of helplessness; I was still bent closing the door with my hip I started to heft my book bag; my head caved in the rear door of my car; you should have seen it, truly impressive the damage a cranium can do." I remain in this protective tone, details curtailed "I was knocked out cold; I slowly came out of my haze I felt pain, searing horrible pain, but not my head, I heard ripping material; I smelled blood my blood; flying back to reality and I know what is happening, the animal grunting and horrible rhythm; pain, it’s between my legs; no one had ever been there before;" I heard Life take a savage breath, it was nice to know someone cared, even if it was just for show. I wiped the dampness from my face again.

"They raped me, I did not count or really anything." I tried to laugh it off, "they beat me, pulled my hair, god, one stood one foot on my head so I couldn’t move and urinated on my face as that other one finished, they called me whore, and cum bucket, and worse; every part of my body was used and abused; I lost, my hands blindly flail, I try to kick. I was savaged by animals I use the term loosely. They ransacked my car as they took turns, seeing my viola in the trunk and to punish me for fighting they crushed my left hand, they kicked me, beat my head into the pavement repeatedly. When they had finished with me and my car, the cruelest one of them, pulled the scarf wrapped around my neck and strangled me, they murdered me, and I do have to say part of me did die. As they did they laughed, god, they laughed, horrible laughs, they creep into my conscious when anything goes awry. I lost consciousness, I guess they assumed I died, I woke, I don’t know how much time passed, but I woke in a pool of blood and …err other, I got in my car and drove to the security station on the bottom level… yeah." I shook. He rubbed my hand; I pulled away quickly, I could have spit on him, but it was not him the anger belonged to. "What is madness but nobility of soul, at odds with circumstance?"

"My god, I was expecting bad, but my… my heart, it is broken” ready to face the loss of him, I turned, I watched his face as the light died in the low, dark, rain swollen clouds; a delicate falling rain drank in the dusk; it felt like it swallowed my misery whole and for that I was grateful; shrouded in silence, the branches of the trees above wrapped me in their stoic peace. Shadows fell across us the boundaries lost their edges, as the borders were erased, once again the wonder if I had ever really existed. His presence was always so elegantly reassuring, and still I had to remind myself it was not him I was so mad at.

"Yeah, so, how was that for a hard luck story? The first time I have told anyone since I left the police station. Not exactly Disney Channel friendly, but I am waiting to hear back from lifetime." I laughed; the sound was hollow. "Peachy side, I didn't end up knocked up or diseased; so, maybe the universe heard that plea." I sniffed, my frustration returning. He trailed his hand lightly down my damp cheek. I flinched away, shy, stupid, embarrassed, "pretty pathetic, huh?"

He shook his head. "Shh, stop that please, you don’t have to mock yourself in that Cyrano de Bergerac style you always use; you are not beating me to a punch line, I was never going for one” he ran his hands over his face, “did you not hear your story? My heart is broken." I tried to look away; his gentle hands coaxed my gaze back. "I heard a story of survival, those monsters tried to end you; here you are, fight intact, undaunted, truly indomitable, the rest just damaged facia."

I looked in his eyes, "Fate has been taunting, mocking me, whispering that I liked the assault,” I stopped, hesitating, “that has me doubting everything."

His face skeptical, eyebrow raised, "And you believe those taunts?" He shook his regal head.

Temper sparked, "kind of,” I stopped, feeling stupid, I bristled, “I do, okay. So what?"

"Why?" He cajoled. "Really, tell me why; the whole truth answer." He sat back like Cesar at the gladiator games, "hold nothing back, I can take it."

Apparently, he was satisfied that I was soundly kicking my own ass. "I wrote out, an imaginary tryst, you and I, we were on a boat, it was just delicious, an escape, there was a touch of rough to it... some of the details were... similar to... that." my voice stopped working. "I liked it a lot, but then I got overwhelmed, confused; how can I like that, without liking the other. The reality of that implication," I sniffed, fluttering my hands; that horrible weird guilt weighing my soul, I knew it was just my own psyche, but it was horrendously irresistible; I stopped I gave up; "shit, now you know; you know… everything why I am so deplorable... grotesque... disgusting." I rolled my eyes closed, I concentrated on my breathing, minutes clicked by finally I opened them, expecting that he had blew away on the breeze.

I met his gaze, I saw no pity, no disgust; I saw him, just Life. Confused, I searched further, still none.

"You are not. You know better than most that feelings can be deception; sex, isn't just soft, isn't just rough, it is never one flavour; it is the connection, the intention." He ran his hands through my hair. Pressing it back behind my ear the way I like it. "Honey, there is no equation between your rape and having a touch of rough in a fantasy. It does not mean you liked being helpless, beaten, or broken, the intention there was viciousness; there was no connection there, no trust" he sighed.

I gave a derisive chuckle, "right."

He dropped my hand, pulling away, gaining my full attention. "You apparently have made up your mind not just for you but also what I would think; you really must be magic; I think you would be surprised by what I think.”

I let a derisive chuckle out, “Sure because you are some kind of paragon.”

“I wouldn’t say paragon, but I heard every word you said. It made me so mad that you would think that way about you.” I rolled my eyes. He growled, and good god something in me was listening, something found the sound so delicious that it made me tingle; I scanned his eyes, there was still softness there. “Honey, look, I heard a story of an invasion, a horrible, massive invasion. I don't care if you were splayed naked on a table saying, 'come and get it big boy, give it to me hard,'” I let a snerk of laughter out at the idea. “if it was not the specific person you were talking to; that was an invasion. You cannot discount a rougher, needy kind of love making; accepting carnal love rougher more animal in its display requires trust in the intention of the other party, it is not simply the actions; Accepting love rougher, that act of trust is never more shameful or dirtier; it is a communication telling the other party, I trust you to be just this much, but no more; the instant you voice a dislike and it continues it becomes the other; it’s all up to you, whatever is pleasing to you, only you. There is no right, there is no wrong, no disgusting or dirty; sex is all about the feeling, expressing.” I understood what he was trying to say, but I really didn’t want to hear it, I knew he was trying to placate me, I tried to ignore him; “Don't be like a velvet glove cast in iron, dealing only in absolutes." I had to look away, “love is love, is love, is love, and it all matters” the storm gaining strength, he released the top and pulled it up; kissing the top of my head as he passed. "Sweeting, the space between absolutes..." he sighed, "remember, you said that is where you had chosen to live, you were right, it is the place where life happens." He ran his hands through his hair; his frustration evident, then a light hit his eyes; "I would really like to read this fantasy, curiosity leads me to wonder," he chuckled, "I just wonder if it would match up to any of mine." I shot him a skeptical look. “oh, honey; I have had so many fantasies since the first time you appeared.”

I had no words to say, I just sat watching him, waiting for the change.

He sat, looking at me, the storm began to rage, much like the maelstrom that had been inside me for so long; I pulled the piece up on my phone handing it to him. We were more than damp, I noticed I had been shivering; for how long, no one knows. I sat watching the storm split the sky; I started the car, flipping a bitch, starting back in the opposite direction; he was deeply ensconced in my words, he reached over with out looking up, turning on the heat, directing the vents at me.

I shot him a look, just a glance; but what I saw. God, the power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that I had never believed in its power; no one now dares to say that two beings have fallen in love because they looked at each other. Yet, an unguarded look can tell you so much, love, despise, languor and fear; tenderly in his exquisite look, I saw the most gorgeous thing, understanding; an acceptance. I was astonished, I was bewildered, dizzy, in a daze; I still did not understand, I began wondering what universe he was from... My stomach panged, rumbling as loud as the storm, I ignored it.

"Hey, can you pull in up there, you need something to eat." There was a neon sign in the distance, that advertised barbeque, I was surprise he could even see if as he didn’t look up from my words. I pulled in, reading the sign that promised barbecue and drinks, after all it was Texas, a bourbon sounded just right. I pulled in and parked; I was a numbed, near depressed but electrified, dumbfounded, impressed and slightly aroused; all the roiling emotions had my jaw clenched, I was disassociated, separated, on autopilot. My feet moving me through the rain, but I was a cloud of confused emotion; a stranger in a strange land; emotion was not my wheelhouse. Wandering idly toward the door; passing the columns, he gripped my shoulders almost punishingly. He spun me to face him, his face dark and serious, I began shivering, he pressed me to the wall. His face serious, but the passion burned; again, that growl, it hit the bottom of my stomach, warming, making my legs shake; he kissed me, suddenly, deeply, no warmup, no cuddling into my lips just immediately lips and tongue. Tucking his knee between my legs pressing hard, soft mewling left my throat caught in his mouth. He pinned my arms to my sides I tried to touch him, but he wouldn’t yield, he wanted to kiss me, his way; and yes, I liked it, he ran his tongue along the roof of my mouth, I moaned softly into his mouth, rocking gingerly against his knee; the visceral feeling. He started to deepen the kiss even more, his knee caressing, moving with intention. A quiet shudder rocked me. He sucked in a deep controlling breath, resting his forehead against mine, staring deeply into my eyes; I shook like a leaf as we parted. Shaking I clung to his shoulders.

"Now, kitten, did you feel my intention, to bring you pleasure?" I nodded, "was there pleasure?" I bit my lip, a small smile creeped, I nodded. "You know, the fact that you know the horrible purity of absolute, pure despair; doesn’t mean that is all there is in this universe." He kissed me again, faintly. He passed his fingertips over my skin, almost without touching an experience that neither of us had expected or experienced before, the miracle of feeling myself in another body, "Now, did you feel that?"

"Yes," I whispered, I was shadow pinned against a sweating wall; needing more, my soul pleading for more, but I was frozen; "Oh there was a moment there; oh me, oh my; as you began a whisper of that kiss; clearer than any whispered words; god there was something there that makes it all worthwhile; that was the edge, hmm, the edge is what I have; truth of this fiction, it's the edge of flavour that makes the difference.” I giggled, “there was a time when I would speak words that made sense." I giggled.

"Yes. But what truth is there in sense?" He laced my fingers with his and pulled me after him; we walked in me confused actually wanting to go back to being pinned to that wall, we walked in. The waitress took us to a booth; I slid in first, I gasped in surprise as he slid in next to me on the same bench. He ordered me a bourbon and an order of fries; I sat there blinking, he then turns me to face him, he leans in close whispering deep and low; his breath warm on my neck, "When we are young we felt we are invincible; as we age we find ourselves, second guessing, always thinking twice." As he spoke, he planted little kisses on my neck; “I am done with that, I thought I was done paying my dues, same for you; now, I find that I have something I do not want to lose. The day you came into my life I changed again, fear still there, but also a cacophony of joy, both at odds, now every day now is just a grateful roll of the dice." His hands skimmed over my arms as they draped around his neck, freely delicious. "I look at that, it is working; you are starting to hear me; I like you, feel powerless in the lonesome times, thinking to myself 'dear god what have I done?' But with you here..." biting the edge of my ear, "you can run baby, you can try to hide, but whatever comes it will find you. For us, there is now; yesterday is history, an hour from now, no one knows for sure; but baby right now it's just you and me and that kiss, it said a lot." He turned me to face him.

Our drinks and fries came and I took a long drought, I laughed cuddling close, I felt young, I felt alive, and I really had never felt that way, “Are we mad?" he looked wounded, "but the good madness, the change the world madness."

"I want to just hold you tight; right now, we can make this moment last; don't think about anything other than helping you forget about the past, for just a moment if needs be." His kissed me slow, long deep caresses with his tongue; I tried to match him, I was awkward at first, but he led me in a natural rhythmic motion.

I missed feeling him, tasting him, gods, it was like breathing. I kissed him with everything I had. "You know, your fantasy, it was gorgeous." He kissed me again, his hands cupping my cheeks, tilting my face for a new angle. He broke from my mouth kissing down my neck. "I have sailed a 20-foot catch; I have had some very similar thoughts, but I loved that very forward confident you that you wrote."

I fumbled with my hands trying to make him feel some of what I was. "Have you really imagined us together as well?" My fingers sliding through his hair. He nodded, “I kind of assumed you were so out of my league."

He laughed, the sound rippled along my nerves; "oh, kitten, you have no idea who you actually are. Yes, I have, so many things I have fanaticized about."

I pulled away to see his eyes, they held no lie; "Even now?... after?"

He looked shocked, "Especially now." He said with conviction.

"Tell me one," I was breathless.

He held my had looking into my face, "Happily, but I would rather show you. I long to grab your hand and run to the motor inn across the parking lot, get a room." I looked out the window over his shoulder gnawing on my kiss swollen bottom lip.

"Mmm, story first," I stood firm.

"OK then, well, I suppose I could tell you about the one where you are the aggressor; holding me down using me as you will." He shook his head, "no, the one where I am the aggressor, holding you down? Kissing you slowly, teasing your nerves, dipping my fingers into you, feeling you shiver; nah, you don't look keen on that, eating chocolate ice cream off of your skin;” I really shivered, “maybe another time; I suppose, I could tell you about how I dreamt of kissing you, teasing you, then bend you over this table licking all the way up the back of you thigh and... no, no, not that one. Kitten, come here." He pulled my leg up so he could slide closer, fitting just between. "You have to use your imagination; I dream of laying you down, kissing you so hard, it takes your breath away; I want to make out with you like a teenager out passed curfew." He caressed my trembling bottom lip with his thumb. "I would get lost in your kisses; intoxicating, enticing, articulate, telling me exactly what you want, how you want it; using only the tip of your tongue you draft a treatise." He toyed with my hair idly, my eyelids began to sag half-mast; passion building in my body, "Wowzah, that scorching look in your eyes, so intent, you are so Wildely beautiful; why, oh why do you squash that want, fighting it like a foe, a weakness; please, just... let it free."

His hand began caressing my neck, I could not have stopped myself from rolling my head, so my neck was wide open for his lips. His tongue. "I love kissing your neck, licking, taking little bites, right here." His fingers wisping passed the place where neck meets shoulder, my bones melted; he smiled mischievously, shot me a naughty look wiggling get his brows. He slid his fingers along my neckline, his touch whisper soft; his voice low, rumbling, deep, "deliberately I descend along your succulent curves;" my body raising to meet his fingers, straining for attention. "I watch you arch your back, just like that; I can't take my time learning; your heaving breasts wanton for attention, nipples like diamonds," oh and they are, his two fingers caress along the crevice between my breasts. My breathing hitched, coming in soft pants, his eyes gorgeous reverent. "I reveal the state in which I see your nerves are in; rampaging, greedy, alive for just a whisper of a touch; oh, but I want more" he sunk in closer, enjoying the slight shake of my shoulders. His hot mouth kisses just behind my ear, his tongue licking along my skin; his lips playing with the cords in my neck as I let out a sighing moan, just a solitary note; his fingers toying with the area of my soft sweater, just over my the area of my nipple. "Your belly covered with barely visible downy hairs, soft, soft, so soft;" he slipped his fingers of his other hand up under the hem of my sweater, just above my waistband; his first hand dropping to my thigh, dipping between rubbing with soft curious fingers; the nail of his wide thumb, scraping along the seam between; "they are standing up because of the goose bumps I just made." His fingers velvet soft over my skin, I try clamped my thighs together he keeps that from happening. "Pushing passed the band of your jeans, I reach for what I crave the most." His second hand skimming a rougher scratching fingernail along the seam; his other fingers just trace along the skin along the edge of the bottom of my bra, his lips kissed along my neckline. "I would make you moan," I squirmed, "I would form a symphony of your empassioned calls, all the delicious sounds of satisfaction; I will be ruthless in my intent, pleasure my only goal; releasing you from the past, my hope. I know you will want to run, to escape, but at the same time you will be wanting more;" he pulled back, "more; look at you, breathtaking, deliciously titillated. Your cheeks flushed, you lips slightly parted; eyes glossy, erotic, steamy, fervid, seductive, coaxing, shameless; saying every want your lips refuse." Pulling at the hem of my sweater, "I want to slip my hand under your panties, sliding my fingers across your damp skin. God, I have wanted that for so long" His fingers ghost over my skin, reaching the edge of my satin bra; his lips crashed into mine, his kiss demanding, delicious, scalding; his hand enveloping my breast; his thumb rubbing delicately, I react honestly. I grabbed his wrist of his hand that was resting on my thigh, pulling his fingers to my mouth, sucking. The clench in my belly responding to his hand slipping under my bra. I pull away, gasping; I stand, dropping a ten on the table.

"Shit, I am sorry," his breath laboured, his face recalcitrant, "I pushed too far, too fast; I am sorry; so, where are we off to?" He looked disappointed, sad.

"Well, I decided, you are right," viciously, I let that hang in the air; “you should just show me. Our direction, over there," I pointed out the window to the inn.

He looked like a child at Christmas, he grabbed my arm tossing me over his shoulder, I giggle and squeal, he moved quickly to the door. We were out and across the parking lot swiftly, he was running; the rain drenching us; he dropped me to my feet under the awning. "I'll be right back."

I watched him fill out the forms, pay the woman, and he bounded back. "We will make, new experiences, giving you back all the power. Let’s roll." Pulling me over his shoulder again; I squealed, I laughed; he slapped my rump, I moaned.

And outside it was October Country . . . that country where it is late in the year and everyone is tired and waiting for that one good thing to break; country where the amber hills covered in fog, rivers are mist and ice; where noon shortly proceeds sundown, twilights linger, and mid-night’s stay; geese and dusks on their parade to the south; dilled carrots and jams are lined into cellars, sweaters, coats, jackets, are cycled to the front of closets, boots and gloves to the entry way, coffee and tea served hot and steamy with fresh cookies and it seems for a season everything faces away from the sun. October people, think October thoughts and wish that the Christmas stuff would remain hidden for another season, and passing nights, cool, bundled in warm socks and a large sweater walking or listening to the light rain on the tin roof hoping the winter doesn’t kill hope

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woolishlygrim · 5 years ago

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Winter Weebwatch #10

We’re very much hitting the final stretch of the winter anime season now, and to be honest, I still don’t know exactly what I’ll be doing for Spring Weebwatch (Spring Spreebspratch?). Kami no Tou, Digimon Adventure 2020, and Yu-Gi-Oh Sevens are shoo-ins, but a lot of the shows that start in Spring are the second seasons of shows from Autumn 2019, and I’d rather not do those.

Anyway, on with this week’s shows.

Pet.

★★★☆☆

Okay, so apparently Pet did air last week, I just didn’t see that it had, which is weird, I was looking out for it.

Also weird is that the character I originally thought was called Tsukasa and then thought was called Tsubasa is actually called Tsukasa. Did … did the subbers make a mistake at some point, or did I make the mistake? I genuinely do not know.

Anyway, last week and this week, Pet saw Hiroki discover Hayashi, still not entirely crushed but rather in a mostly-crushed state similar to the one he found Tsukasa in. Realising from exploring his memories that Tsukasa was the one who crushed Hayashi, Hiroki, feeling betrayed, confronts Tsukasa and eventually runs away. Meanwhile, Tsukasa, faced with the prospect of the Company separating him from Hiroki and then with Hiroki running away, grows more and more unhinged, eventually deciding to manipulate Satoru into going after him.

Things are definitely winding their way towards a conclusion, and I honestly can’t see what that conclusion will even be, or how the writers plan to tie this up in two episodes, but it’s fun to watch, at least.

That said, my god, Tsukasa going off the deep end is … something. The animators are having a whale of a time, drawing him wide-eyed, pale, and practically twitching. One scene has him drooling as he talks and occasionally having to wipe it away with his sleeve. If this was an actor, I’d say they were chewing the scenery, but it’s not, someone intentionally made him like this.

ID: Invaded.

★★★☆☆

This is another episode that just doesn’t quite deliver on the promise it set up. While I felt I was being a little harsh with last week’s score, this time I feel like I’m being a little lenient. It’s really a two and a half star episode.

With the set-up of the last episode going forward, Anaido just turns out to not … really have any kind of diabolical plan at all, whereas Hondomachi in the Well-Within-A-Well just kind of puts a couple of clues together and discovers who John Walker is.

John Walker is, incidentally, the character everyone expected him to be, since we’d seen that Walker has a white beard and moustache and only one other character had that.

As far as twists go, it’s … weak. It’s very weak, and the downplayed way the episode presents it suggests that the creative team were well aware of how weak the twist was. Similarly, the reveal that Kiki is inside the Mizuhanome is pretty much expected.

However, we still have two episodes to go, so there is plenty of time for the show to pull a rabbit out of its hat, so to speak.

Darwin’s Game.

★☆☆☆☆

I’m beginning to lose patience with this show, and if we weren’t in spitting distance of the end (this is episode nine, there are eleven episodes total apparently), I would drop it.

So continuing on from last week, the protagonist (nine episodes in and I still have no idea what his name is) engages in a fight to prove that his clan is worthy of allying themselves with the boxing gym-y clan, after which the top-ranked player in the game kidnaps him to … ugh.

Kidnaps him because she is the head of an ancient clan of psychic assassins and she wants him to be the father of her child, and fuck knows writing that sentence made me seriously reconsider watching the last two episodes.

The whole thing ends with said top-ranked player (who can psychically incapacitate people somehow) joining the protagonist’s clan, because I guess we don’t need stakes? Nah, nah, who needs narrative tension, right?

Congrats on another episode I actually remembered, Darwin’s Game. You might’ve done better if I hadn’t.

In/Spectre.

★★★★☆

Okay, I admit it, In/Spectre has wormed its way into my good graces. I enjoy this show now, I guess.

This is just a really good episode, and it manages to be a really good episode while working with material that I’m not sure most writers would be able to make interesting. As the plan to take down Steel Girder Nanase kicks off, Kotoko begins what is essentially a reddit forum argument in which she attempts to cast doubt on the existence of Steel Girder Nanase by proposing an alternate theory and arguing in its favour. As she does this, however, Rikka is attempting to argue back under several different accounts, trying to sway people into believing in Nanase’s existence.

Do you see what I mean? This is … this is banal. This is people arguing in the comments section while one person uses transparently disguised sockpuppets. This is something I can find by just going to a forum and scrolling down a few inches, and yet this episode is absolutely fascinating to watch.

When the episode ended with Kotoko saying that it’s time for her to present her second theory, I wasn’t even annoyed. I’m genuinely interested to see what the second theory is. I hate that I really like this show now.

Infinite Dendrogram.

★★★★☆

This is another one where I was honestly not sure what score to give it. It was a three-and-a-half star episode, really, and I wavered back and forth for a while over whether to bump it up to four stars or down to three stars, before eventually deciding to be nice.

Honestly, it could have gone either way.

With Franklin/Penguin-san having kidnapped the princess and enshrouded the arena in a barrier, he begins his invasion of the city, remarking to the princess that he will break the spirit of the Masters of Altar before the war between Altar and Dryfe can resume. While Franklin’s own Superior class ability, which allows him to invent and spawn monsters, is a potent threat in his own right, he is also joined by numerous other Masters, from both Dryfe and Altar, along with Hugo and what appear to be the other three Dryfe Superiors.

So this is an actually really fun episode, even if it’s also kind of a nothing episode. With Shu and Figaro both trapped in the barrier, Ray and Rook learn that any player below level fifty can pass straight through the barrier, and use that to mount a counterattack. A small chunk of the episode is devoted to what amounts to a ‘Ray And Rook (And Later Hugo) Show Off Their Awesome Abilities’ scene, and honestly it was enough fun that I’m willing to forgive it for being mindless fluff. I do like the touch that while Rook can use his abilities to convert female monsters to his side, his Embryo Babyl can use her abilities to convert male players to her side, making them a nice team.

Meanwhile, Marie, who had bonded with the princess earlier, tracks down Franklin and shoots him a bunch, and exactly nobody is surprised because we all basically knew already that she was the monster-bug-shooting gunslinger who killed Ray before. Franklin is still alive, though, and as the show, as all shounen shows must, descends into shounen anime battle match-ups, Marie finds herself facing off against another Dryfe Superior with power over music.

Also, can I just express my irritation that Franklin combines both chess metaphors and poker metaphors. Those games are the antithesis of each other: Chess is a game all about planning multiple moves ahead, figuring out multiple paths and multiple outcomes to those paths and then choosing the best one; whereas Poker is a game all about taking a hand dealt to you by luck and tricking, scheming, and gambling your way to getting the best possible use out of it. Either one will work for a scheming villain, but they work for very different kinds of scheming villain.

#infinite dendrogram #darwins game #id invaded #pet #in/spectre #anime #winter weebwatch

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aj-the-psycho · 6 years ago

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The Hour: A Sanders Sides Story - Chapter 16

A PROPOSITION

TW: None

Summary: Logan had a proposition for Patton which made him excited.

Note: In all honesty, I’m not sure about this chapter. It’s sort of awkward. Enjoy!

AO3 Link

It was still early. Much too early for this. This is never going to work. That was a stupid idea, but he really wanted to try. ‘Is it wise for me to risk it?’ His mind kept sifting through all possible outcomes if he did it. He wasn’t usually anxious like this. ‘Maybe, I should ask Roman for help? No… he’s going to be dramatic and potentially ruin whatever chance you have,’ He thought to himself. ‘Do I even have a chance?’

Logan was confused, which was very unusual for him. Most times, confusion would only spur him to discover more, research more, find out more. However, this time, it was a different kind of confusion. This one, involved his soulmate. And with the concept of soulmate, it brings about the topic of emotions and a heap of icky feelings. ‘How irritating.’ Maybe, he did need Roman’s help. He is, after all, more emotionally competent and more of a romantic person than Logan is. ‘I’ll call him later.’

What is he so frustrated about, you asked? Logan was confused about what he felt towards Patton. In the time that they’ve gotten to know each other, Logan noticed that they have a good—some might even say great—friendship. He wasn’t denying that he did, in fact, liked Patton. And now, onto the frustrating part: how exactly does he like Patton?

He tried to compare his affection towards Roman with how he felt towards Patton.

Roman was like a brother to him. They met in the second week of third grade, twelve years ago. Granted, they didn’t get along too well at first, but eventually the two young boys warmed up to each other. Now, they have a very special brand of friendship. So special in fact, that some people who didn’t know them would think that they’re romantically involved. He cared about Roman like how an older brother would worry about his bratty little brother. Making sure that the little one was taking care of himself and helping him through his problems.

With Patton, it was different, but it was also the same. Logan cared about Patton in a way that he wanted to take care the other man. He cared about Patton in the way that he had the urge to keep him safe, keep him happy. The first time they met, something in Logan’s brain had switched. Like something that used to be dark is now bright. And he didn’t know what to say about it. The way he felt about Patton was exactly like what he felt towards Roman; caring, almost nurturing—yet it was very different. Which was so frustrating, because ‘How can it be the same and different at the same time?’

That morning, Logan was planning on something, but he didn’t know how to properly execute his plan. He might need his best friend’s help for that. However, he was still deciding whether he should do it or not. On one hand, if he did it, his relationship with Patton would somewhat progress. It wasn’t a terrible thought, until he consider all the emotional baggage. Though, he was willing to bare that weight. For Patton. That being said, if his plan didn’t work, his relationship with Patton would be ruined. ‘I need to call Roman.’

---------

It was eight a.m. and Roman was sitting in his dining room, sipping coffee and staring out the window, watching the world wake up. He sat where a patch of sunlight would shine on his face, because even without an audience he needed to be extravagant—though, not to the usual extreme. His peace was interrupted by the cacophonous ringing of his phone. Groaning, he set the coffee down on the dining table and went to his room to retrieve his phone.

Seeing the caller ID, he became a little irritated, but Logan doesn’t usually call him—especially not this early in the morning—which meant that something was wrong. He thought he would be able to just do nothing since it’s weekend and he could continue writing his original play project. But, maybe not.

“Hi, Logan. It’s still early.” Roman greeted with a hint of annoyance in his voice while his feet took him back to the dining room where he left his cup of coffee.

“Roman, good morning. I think I require your help, urgently.” Logan spoke.

“Help about what? The last time you asked me for help, it didn’t end well. At least for me.”

“Well, Roman, I wanted to—I wanted to ask Patton out.” The hesitation is Logan's voice was apparent. And Roman knew Logan never hesitate.

“What’s so difficult, Logan? You’ve done it, like, a hundred times already. I mean, from what I know, you guys had gone on a few outings, right?”

“Yes, what I meant was I wanted—I meant to—it’s more of a date than an outing, Roman! How is that so difficult to understand?” On the other end of the phone, Logan was sitting in his living room, fists clenched and face slightly flushed.

“Oh, wooooooow…” Roman said, drawing out his word with his eyes wide open. “Worry not my friend, I am here to assist you.”

“Yes, so what should I do Roman?”

“I’ll come to your place, then we can talk about this.”

“I don’t you coming over is necessa—” Logan’s sentence was cut off with Roman hanging up the phone.

Roman chugged the slightly-too-hot coffee and winced. After he recovered, he dashed to the bathroom to clean himself up. He had a mission to do.

---------

“You know, Logan, it’s really not that hard.” Roman was getting a little bit—a lot—frustrated after all of his ideas were turned down. It had been an hour of discussion, suggestions put forward and rejected. He thought Logan needed his help, but he kept rejecting his ideas. ‘If he knew that “it’s not going to work, Roman,” then maybe he doesn’t really need my help.’

“Look, Logan, you turned down all my ideas, so my advice is… to just go the old-school way.”

“What does that mean?!” Logan was pacing back and forth in the living room while Roman watched him from his seat on the sofa.

“I mean,” Roman started again, ready for his last idea to be rejected. “You should just... call him and tell him that you want to take him out.”

Logan paused on his track in the middle of the living room. Earlier, he had actually thought of just calling his soulmate and straight out asking him. However, Logan was afraid that he would get rejected. If he did call Patton, Logan didn’t actually know what he wanted to say. He let out a heavy sigh and plopped himself next to Roman on the sofa. “I don’t know, Roman. I thought of that this morning, but I don’t even know what I would say once Patton pick up the call.”

“Just try, Logan. Or maybe, if you don’t want to call him, just text him.”

So, that’s what Logan did.

From: Me

To: Patton

[09:12]

Good morning, Patton. I hope you’re having a pleasant time.

I have a proposition for you.

---------

Patton was sitting on the park bench, still thinking about Damien’s question. ‘What did it feel like the first time he met Logan?’ Well, for one, it felt right. Like finally solving a big piece of puzzle. But then, he also felt like there was another new, more complicated piece of puzzle presented to him. This one, he couldn’t solve it by himself. When he first met Logan, it felt like he had just found something that he thought he didn’t need. Which was an odd feeling, yet satisfying in a way.

Damien had left to buy more coffee from the little stall at the gate of the park when Patton felt his phone buzzed in his pocket. A text from Logan. Logan doesn’t usually text. Normally, he would just call, because—as Logan explained to him—it was easier to get a message across when they are talking to each other, rather than through text which could easily be misinterpreted. Patton thought that made sense. After reading the text, he sent a quick reply.

From: Me

To: Logie

[09:14]

Proposition? It’s only been like a month and a half, Lo…

From: Logie

To: Me

[09:14]

No, Patton. What I meant was, I have a plan.

From: Me

To: Logie

[09:15]

Okay, what is it?

---------

Logan nervously stared at Patton’s reply. He didn’t know how to answer that question. It was a simple question, but it was so difficult to answer. He showed the text to Roman, to which he reacted by giving Logan a stern look. A look which said, “You know the answer to that.” Logan just sighed and typed a reply.

From: Me

To: Patton

[09:17]

Are you free tomorrow? I would like to take you out on an outing.

What I meant by that is a date.

Though, only if you are fine with it.

---------

Patton couldn’t help the squeal that escaped his throat. He held his phone close to his chest, restraining himself from bolting up and jumping up and down. He did, however, stomped his feet on the ground over and over in excitement. Finally! Patton wasn’t actually sure if he had any romantic feelings towards Logan, but he was willing to try. Eager to try. He never brought up the subject of a romantic relationship to Logan, because from what Patton had gathered from their past outings, it looked like Logan was unsure. Of what, Patton didn’t know. Now, Logan was starting to open up to him a little more. This time, maybe they could actually get somewhere.

“What’s up, bro.” Damien was back with two cups of steaming coffee. He sat down on the bench again, setting the cups of coffee on the bench in between them. Patton looked very happy and excited—which was very common—but Damien rarely ever see his brother looking this excited.

“LOOK AT THIS!” Patton practically shoved his phone onto Damien’s chest in uncontrolled elation. He didn’t know why he was this happy about the idea of going on a date with Logan, but he didn’t care. He was just so excited for everything that could happen.

Damien smiled when he read the text. If his brother was this happy about just being asked on a date, he couldn’t wait until the day Logan proposed to Patton—if he ever will and Damien was sure he will. “Are you not going to reply him, Pat?”

“Oh, right.” Patton snatched the phone back and sent an enthusiastic reply to Logan.

From: Me

To: Logie

[09:21]

Yes! Of course I can go tomorrow! Just send me the time and place, I’ll be there.

I’m sooooo happy you asked!!!

Patton wasn’t sure why he typed that last bit of sentence, but he had to let Logan know how excited he was.

---------

Logan was still waiting for a reply. It’s been two minutes and no replies. Did he scare Patton off? Was this too early for him to ask Patton on a date? ‘Shoot, I ruined it.’ He threw Roman a worried look. He was sure that he had blew the little chance he had to build a relationship with his soulmate. Of course it wasn’t a great idea to ask him on a date. Who wants to be with a weird guy like him? It didn’t matter that Patton was his soulmate, he still had the right to reject Logan. And from the looks of it, it wasn’t an unlikely thing to happen at the moment.

“Give it time, Lo. Maybe he’s just processing what you told him. I mean, you never asked him on a date before, so he might be surprised—and I mean in a good way—or he might be a little overwhelmed?—which is not a bad thing, alright…” Roman was starting to ramble about things. He wasn’t actually sure if Patton would send a positive or negative reply—that is, if he will reply at all. He wanted to take Logan off his worries, at least temporarily. He knew that Logan had been rejected a lot when they were younger—both platonically and romantically, and sometimes even by his own family. He knew that it was hard for Logan to face another rejection, so he would be there for Logan.

After another two minutes, Patton finally replied. Logan nervously opened the message and read it carefully. After he read the message, he had to read it again in case he misread it the first time. His face didn’t show an ounce of emotion, which made Roman a little concern.

“Well? What does it say, Lo?” Roman asked cautiously. Logan answered his question by throwing his phone at Roman with a deadpan look on his face.

“Oh God, Roman, what do I even do now?” Logan laid back on the sofa, his torso sagged both in relief and worry.

“Holy hell, Logan! He said yes! Oh my goodness! I thought he said something else. Geez, Logan, don’t you ever react like that again. I mean, your face gave away nothing that I thought he—”

“Roman, please,” Logan interrupted. “What do I do now? He said yes, so what am I going to do?” He was nervous again. This was the second time Roman had seen Logan anxious like this. He didn’t see this side of Logan too often, but he knew his best friend well. If Logan was nervous, it’s usually about his grades or about his family. If Logan was nervous, that means he cares about whatever it was he’s nervous about. Now Roman could see it. How Logan was actually happy that Patton had accepted his offer by the way he blinked slower, the way his fingers were laced together in contentment and how a slight smile rested on his lips. Roman smiled at his best friend. He’s going to help Logan.

“Now,” Roman said with his trademark booming voice, “you are going to make a reservation in a fancy restaurant for the two of you tomorrow evening. But I know that’s not your style, so I will help you make another plan for your date tomorrow!” He was already coming up with ideas in his head.

Logan was glad to have Roman as a best friend. Really, he wouldn’t know what he would do without Roman. He appreciated that Roman was always there when Logan needs him, so he tried his best to return the favor every time Roman had any problem. He was grateful that Roman cared for him, enough that he knew what Logan like and dislike, what kind of person Logan was and how to handle Logan in general.

“Alright,” Logan said calmly with a gentle smile, a fond look in his eyes. “Calm down, Roman. It’s my date, not yours.”

“Okay, Captain Spectacles, no need to get bossy.” Roman said with mock irritation, but his eyes held a joyous shine and his lips were upturned into a bright smile. He was happy for Logan.

---------

That night…

From: Logie

To: Me

[21:14]

I’ll inform you about the time and place for the date tomorrow.

Have a pleasant night, Patton.

**********

Hello again, wonderful readers. It has been another chapter and thank you very much for reading. I don't know how long this story will actually be, but since my chapters are short, it will definitely have many chapters. So, I hope you don't mind and keep reading!

Leave a comment on what you think will happen or would like to happen in Logan and Patton's date! I will have fun reading those comments and maybe get some inspiration from you. If I do adapt one of your ideas, I will credit you (don't worry, I will not steal, because ideas are difficult to come by!)

See you in the next one!!

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bronzeflower · 6 years ago

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Who The Fuck Writes A Ten-Page Rant?????

Chapter 21: The Rappest Conversation

Also on ao3

It was your self-imposed day off, so you started the day by sleeping until afternoon. After making yourself breakfast and eating it, you played Slime Rancher for about two hours because it was a nice relaxing game that Roxy bought you for Gristmas last year.

Everything was peaceful. Nothing could possibly ruin this.

Oh look. John was pestering you. You hadn't talked to him in while, even though he was your best bro. You guessed both of you have been pretty busy lately.

-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

EB: hey, dave! EB: we haven’t spoken in ages!

TG: yeah man its been entirely too long TG: ive turned to dust while you were gone TG: ive become one with the desert and sand TG: im the sand on the beach that gets stuck inside an oyster TG: and the oyster is like what the hell are you doing here you dumbass motherfucking sand TG: im here to ruin your life oyster TG: thats basically my job TG: why are you doing this you tiny bit of sand TG: i already answered that question TG: okay fine be that way says the oyster TG: ill just turn you into a pearl so that youre no longer stabbing me everywhere TG: and then i was transformed into a dope ass pearl TG: the prettiest goddamn pearl in all the land TG: im turned into one of a pair of earrings that are sold for more that your life is worth TG: im bought by a rich woman looking for jewelry to show off TG: its passed down through the generations until the wealth they had dwindles and runs out TG: so now the earrings are sold for a dollar just to get the money for food that night TG: its a tragic tale TG: anyway TG: how are you doing

EB: dave, did you copy and paste an entire act of a play into this chat?

TG: what no TG: it is all natural and organic typing from scratch going on here TG: absolutely no foul play involved and to even imply such is an insult to my craft

EB: alright, fine! EB: i will not insult your “masterpiece” anymore. EB: if you can even call it that.

TG: oh wow sick burn TG: but like seriously speaking how is your stuff going TG: like the comedy stuff TG: have you yet to release an hour long special containing your hilarious jokes TG: and like half of the time is taken up by people laughing at them so its not even a true hour long special its more like a half hour long special and you didnt even manage to make it through all the material you had prepared TG: you know like you did in school where you accidentally prepared too much for a presentation and then get cut off because your time is up TG: and you still have like an hour and half left of material that youve collected that ended up just being a pile of wasted effort

EB: maybe not to that extreme. EB: :P EB: i haven't gotten my show up on netflix yet, but i am certainly planning on it! EB: watch out for it!

TG: do you still have that one person booing you at a bunch of your shows

EB: yeah, it is getting pretty annoying at this point, but i don't really want to do something like call security to remove someone for booing at my show. EB: that just seems as little bit over kill.

TG: i thought you were going to do a comedy sketch about them

EB: oh yeah! EB: i forgot about that.

TG: who are you jade harley

EB: what! EB: jade is great at remembering things!

TG: shes really not she just has a really fucking good system for making certain she remembers things TG: she has to build a physical barrier to her door so that she doesnt forget her keys TG: and she has so many keys to her house they are literally everywhere

EB: huh. EB: i guess i havent really visited jade in a while, have i?

TG: i would highly recommend going to her place at some point TG: and just hanging out with her in general TG: although youd probably have to plan a whole trip for it TG: just like TG: drop by or whatever next time youre where shes currently living

EB: messaging her might be a little bit more practical.

TG: yeah probably TG: anyway you really should get on writing that sketch about the lady I booing you

EB: yeah probably.

TG: yeah man how else are you going to get back at her TG: also when you finally do perform it please tell me what happened TG: or send me a recording of it TG: jk ill buy the recording TG: i always buy the recordings of your shows TG: but youll have to tell me which recording its in so that i can prepare myself

EB: maybe i won’t tell you which recording it’s in just so you're surprised by it. EB: like a schrodinger’s recording.

TG: does that mean you might be dead in one of them

EB: i hate to tell you this now dave, but i’m actually a ghost.

TG: shit ive been friends with a ghost this whole time thats actually pretty fucking dope TG: how do you do comedy sketches as a ghost TG: with the whole intangible thing TG: also with the people not being able to see you thing TG: wait TG: i wouldnt be able to message you if you were completely intangible TG: you must be a poltergeist or something TG: is there anything i can do to help you pass on

EB: yeah, you have to burn my body. EB: that’s what they do in all of the supernatural movies and shows where there’s a ghost.

TG: alright i am fully prepared to do that TG: i however have absolutely no idea where your grave is

EB: i know where your grave is.

TG: well thats not ominous at all TG: i dont even have a grave

EB: as far as you know.

TG: are you telling me that im dead TG: am i also a ghost

EB: i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner! EB: but yes we’re both ghosts. EB: i was supposed to wait for you to figure it out yourself, but it’s taking so long, so i guess i got a little impatient. EB: :B

TG: yeah but i still dont remember anything about dying or anything like that

EB: maybe you'll remember someday. EB: i’ve got to go right about now though. EB: i compromised my mission, and now i have to go through remedial training.

TG: ill wish you luck

EB: who needs luck when you have skill?

TG: okay then no good luck from me TG: i take it back TG: youve got this handled due to the sheer amount of awesomeness you have

-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

TG: oh no they got you TG: i know i said i didnt wish you good luck but i actually did TG: you cant give back a good luck TG: you can never give back a good luck TG: the blessing is yours now forever and ever TG: or however long you live i guess TG: thats going to take a butt load of time TG: anyway TG: i should probably get going too TG: instead of just having a conversation by myself after you left TG: and like go and have a conversation with someone else TG: maybe with jade TG: i havent talked to jade in a while TG: wonder how her pumpkins are doing TG: i wonder if shes harvested them yet TG: or if its even time for that TG: i swear i do actually listen when she talks about gardening TG: but i dont remember what half the harvest times for a bunch of the vegetables she grows TG: dont tell her that TG: or do TG: she probably already knows TG: shes always had a tendency to know things that other people would have absolutely no clue of knowing about TG: anyway TG: ill pester you again at some point eventually TG: ill go pester jade instead now TG: see ya

-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] --

TG: yo jade how are your pumpkins doing TG: is it about time to harvest them or anything TG: or has that already happened TG: when do people harvest pumpkins again

GG: ive harvested them!

TG: awesome were they tasty

GG: of course they were!!! GG: i made pumpkin pie and roasted pumpkin seeds GG: and then i sold all the leftover pumpkins

TG: yeah what kind of profit did that turn

GG: quite a bit, actually! GG: especially with the fact that pumpkins are basically weeds GG: because they grow back no matter what you do GG: no GG: matter GG: what GG: but people fucking love pumpkins during the fall seasons

TG: yeah everyone goes batshit for that kind of stuff TG: got that pumpkin spice everywhere TG: and colorful trees and sweater weather TG: unless you live in the south TG: then there are just two seasons TG: summer and cooler summer

GG: those were basically the seasons on the island i grew up on too GG: im so glad i get to see snow where i live now!!! GG: i always wanted to play in it growing up!!!

TG: tbh we should coordinate and try to play in the snow together at some point

GG: yes!!! GG: but, no GG: :( GG: itd be way too difficult to coordinate that kind of thing

TG: yeah probably TG: but maybe one day if we happened to be in the same area and it happened to snow TG: we could get together and play in the snow and build snowpeople and snow angles

GG: dont you mean snow angels?

TG: i meant what i said TG: were gonna be drawing angles in the snow TG: forty five degrees sixty degrees one hundred and eighty degrees TG: well have all the angles right there written in the snow because no one can tell us what to do

GG: i still think id rather make snow angels though

TG: fair enough TG: you stick with your boring old snow angels TG: and ill have a fantastic time making all my fucking snow angles

GG: :/ GG: you do that, i guess GG: i still think making snow angels will be more fun!

TG: suit yourself TG: anyway im being messaged by someone else so ive gotta bounce

GG: alrighty, see ya!

-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] --

-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

GC: D4V3

TG: terezi

GC: H4V3 YOU S33N TH1S?? GC: F1L3.COM

TG: well it would seem that im being framed for murder and no one told me

GC: NO GC: 1N C4S3 TH4T H4PP3N3D 1 WOULD S3RV3 4S YOUR PROS3CUT3R

TG: wouldnt you be unable to participate in the trial because you have a bias because were friends

GC: Y3S BUT TH4T 1S B3S1D3 TH3 PO1NT GC: W41T GC: 1S 1T B3S1D3 THE PO1NT OR B3S1D3S TH3 PO1NT??

TG: no idea TG: does it matter

GC: 1 GU3SS NOT GC: JUST LOOK 4T TH3 GODD4MN M3M3

TG: nice

GC: H3H3H3H3H3H3

-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

CG: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

TG: so what stuck itself up your ass

CG: DID TEREZI SEND YOU THAT MEME?

TG: what meme i have no idea what meme your talking about

TG: i dont even know what a meme is TG: you could hear me say that but i pronounced meme as me me TG: because thats how little i know about memes TG: ive never even seen one in my life TG: you dont have any proof that tz showed me the meme that you are talking about like less than five minutes ago about the ten page rant that you sent to complain about my channel

CG: THAT’S REALLY SPECIFIC, AND IT MAKES ME SUSPICIOUS AND PRIVY TO THE IDEA THAT YOU ACTUALLY DO KNOW WHAT A MEME IS.

TG: please spare me i have a family

CG: I WASN’T AWARE THAT YOU HAD KIDS.

TG: youre right i dont have kids TG: not in reality TG: imaginary kids TG: all running around and being great and fantastic and not fucked up at all TG: thats the fucking dream

CG: DAVE, WE’RE NOT HERE TO DISCUSS YOUR INSECURITIES DEALING WITH THE POSSIBILITY OF HAVING KIDS OR WORKING WITH KIDS. CG: WE’RE HERE TO TALK ABOUT THE MEME TEREZI SENT YOU.

TG: why do you even care so much about a meme TG: its a meme and its harmless fun TG: even if it does include a picture of you topless

CG: EXACTLY. CG: I’M GOING TO NEED YOU TO DELETE ANY EVIDENCE OF THAT PICTURE, NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU WANT TO KEEP IT.

TG: why would i want to keep it TG: maybe i already deleted it TG: maybe i didnt even save it TG: also why do you want me to delete so bad TG: its not much in the way of blackmail TG: who could possibly use it against you

CG: PEOPLE.

TG: thats specific

CG: I’M NOT REALLY IN THE MOOD FOR GOING INTO TOO MUCH DETAIL ABOUT THIS, SO COULD YOU PLEASE JUST TAKE MY WORD FOR IT AND DELETE THAT PHOTO?

TG: k

CG: REALLY? CG: JUST LIKE THAT?

TG: sure if it really matters to you that much ill make sure to get rid of it TG: you can tell me why at another time TG: i get if its too personal to talk about or whatever TG: sometimes that kind of thing happens TG: there we go TG: deleted photo

CG: THANKS

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

-- arsenicCatnip [AC] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

AC: :33< *ac prowls up to the unsuspecting crow* AC: :33< *she asks meow the crow is doing!*

TG: *the crow says hes doing well and asks the same of the cat*

AC: :33< im fine! AC: :33< im meowstly just double checking the date and time we agr33d on for tea

TG: yeah im still on that day TG: just cant believe it in like a month and a half TG: seems like an almost unnecessary time to plan in advance

AC: :33< but it is a really meowfurlous tea place! AC: :33< its just a little exclawsive, so youve got to make reservations a bit in advance

TG: yeah i get that but the main question here is the dress code TG: can i show up in my jeans and hoodie or do ive got to pull out the singular suit i have TG: its bright red so i cant exactly wear it to black tie events

AC: :33< it s33ms more like mew should wear brunch attire

TG: khakis and a polo shirt got it

AC: ://< i guess thats brunch attire AC: :33< i would wear something a little nicer though

TG: so more like colorful khakis with a button down shirt that can hold cufflinks

AC: :33< yeah thats s33ms more appropriate AC: :33< mew could always ask kanya~a for advice on what to wear

TG: yeah im probably going to do that TG: also that cat pun in her name that you did was the best think ive heard all day ten out of ten would use again

AC: :33< thank mew! AC: :33< i like to give all meow furends cat pun names! AC: :33< its kind of hard to come up with them for some people though

TG: yeah im not sure how you can make a cat pun from dave TG: its pretty much impossible but if you do manage to do it i will be supremely impressed

AC: :33< meowbe a rhyming thing? AC: :33< like cavedave or something? AC: :33< but that makes you sound like some sort of caveman AC: :((< and thats not really cute

TG: maybe adding a hobby of mine of some sort to my name TG: like rapping TG: like rapnap dave or something TG: cause it sounds kind of like catnap

AC: :33< that certainly is a lot cuter! AC: :33< ill consider it! AC: :33< but ive got to go meow so we can talk later

TG: cool

-- arsenicCatnip [AC] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

Since you were clearly talking to all your friends today, you might as well see if Aradia’s online as well. You’re pretty sure she was, and since you probably won’t get to contact her for a while, you might as well message her now.

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering apocalypseArisen [AA] --

TG: have you finally figured out how im going to die TG: or divined that kind of shit yet TG: saw it in the clouds or something TG: my hot as hell dead body floating in the water staining the fluid and polluting the river and making it muddy with red TG: taking a stabbing and falling and dying before i could ask if it was something i said TG: choking to death, clubbing to death TG: hit through the chest with some white magic TG: bleeding and crying as they take their last breath TG: its all just so horrible and tragic TG: having every single one of these dreams TG: but i think i know that theyre memories TG: had these nightmares since i was a kid TG: always wondered if it was something i did TG: cause they made me scared of clowns swords and puppets TG: made me too scared to watch even the muppets TG: but they’re not just mine cause it’s not always my body TG: lying on the ground looking super fucking shoddy TG: and all i can feel is the oppression and fear TG: of letting go of all we hold dear TG: stabbed with a sword we did abhor TG: all the death and the violence and blood TG: overwhelmed us like a flood TG: but try as we might we had no chance TG: we were always meant to lose this dance TG: alright im done that was a dope ass fucking rap thanks folks for listening to how awesome that was

AA: you will die on the twentieth day of april in the year of 2069 from drug overdose

TG: nice

AA: also your rap was both cool and concerning

TG: yeah im not sure if i actually thought at all about what i just said in that rap TG: so basically i forgot everything that i just wrote

AA: thats the beauty of a messaging platform AA: you can just scroll up and reread what you wrote

TG: im sorry im suddenly unable to read

AA: wow AA: youre really going to do this

TG: yes and i have no regrets TG: hi im jared im nineteen and i never fucking learned how to read

AA: your name is dave

TG: shit TG: caught in the lie TG: what time will i have to spend in jail officer

AA: well since im not a cop AA: none! AA: but im still curious about whatever the hell was going on with that rap

TG: maybe you should respond with the stuff thats bothering you in rap form TG: do a little rap battle TG: but like TG: with feelings and shit TG: you can talk about whats bothering you and then i can elaborate on the fuckery in my rap

AA: alright i dont see why not AA: it will probably help us both AA: my heart and my brains been pulled taught AA: stuck between work and the one that i love AA: cant help my job fits me like a glove AA: but i cant stop thinking about my matesprit AA: how hes gonna face it AA: cause he says he supports me AA: and he says that he agrees AA: with putting my job first and foremost AA: while he sits in one place and holds post AA: i didnt mind too much before AA: we had all i could adore AA: but since he proposed were going to be married AA: i just dont know if that life should be carried

TG: well that sounds like something you should talk about TG: because not doing so might leave you in a drought TG: in your relationship where miscommunications TG: might lead to decimation TG: or more likely just breaking up TG: but you dont want that to burn up TG: so just have a talk with him about your concern TG: and then your love will continue to burn

AA: did you just rhyme up with up

TG: dont judge me im trying to help

AA: your advice was good but i can still judge you for your lack of slam poetry skills

TG: hey ill have you know im the best in the business

AA: must be a very small business

TG: wow TG: i cant believe my own moirail would do this to me

AA: you know i had to do it to em

TG: i hate you and everything that you stand for

AA: likewise AA: aside from that AA: do you want to talk about those dreams you mentioned at the start of this conversation

TG: i will only answer that if you ask me in a rap

AA: what the fuck was up with those dreams AA: you seem to be tearing at the seems AA: with all the death and the dying AA: and it might seems like im lying AA: but ive had those too AA: hit in the face and bid me adieu AA: except im a ghost and dead AA: dont know how but i bled AA: then im a frog for some reason AA: it has something to do with treason AA: then a robot that i hated AA: someones kinks that were stated AA: then i blow up again and again AA: wake up in pajamas the color of cayenne AA: and thats when i know that im alive AA: and i know for a fact that i will thrive

TG: always thought that i was alone in this TG: but i guess im not so now ill remiss TG: on all these nightmares ive had TG: that were all really bad TG: i always thought it was because of my childhood TG: never thought that i would be old enough to get to my knighthood TG: thought i was going to die alone TG: thought they wouldnt even find a bone TG: thought no would care if i was gone TG: always felt like i didnt belong TG: i thought the dreams were a message, an order TG: to finally get rid of the disorder TG: that was me theyd promised id be free TG: but i still desperately wanted to be TG: alive and awake and active and happy TG: excuse me if this starts to get a bit sappy TG: but i wanted love TG: i wanted to be above TG: my bro who so obviously hated me TG: and everyone i know would agree TG: so no matter how much i wanted to die TG: there was always something just keeping me alive TG: a wish or a kiss or a day that gets better TG: a time when i get to open a letter TG: theres something to live for something to survive for TG: going and traveling and taking a tour TG: listening to music when i feel depressed TG: going outside when i feel repressed TG: reminding myself its gonna be alright TG: in order to tell myself not to go towards the light

AA: feeling alive is good

TG: yeah TG: it is TG: thanks for listening

AA: thank you for listening! AA: thats what being moirails is all about AA: listening to each other and doing our best to comfort each other AA: although i guess thats what friendship is about too AA: moirail is more of a formal title

TG: i get that TG: someones messaging me now though so i guess this is where we can end our convo

AA: dont be a stranger!

TG: not planning to be one TG: <>

`AA: <>

-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering apocalypseArisen [AA] --

-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

TT: Hello.

TG: yes just come up and start a chat using the most generic fucking greeting in the entire goddamn world TG: thats exactly how you start a conversation with someone youve known for years TG: start conversations by calling your friends a bitch like the rest of us

TT: I’m pretty sure I would like to have a little more class than that.

TG: ill bring you down to my level one day

TT: I will do my best to resist going down that low.

TG: listen TG: im pretty sure you dont have to go that far

TT: Wow. TT: Rude.

TG: thats a more appropriate way to talk to your brother

TT: I’ll be certain to use more crass language when greeting you next time I make the decision to start a conversation with you.

TG: anyway what did you want to talk to me about

TT: I would like to invite you to my party celebrating the release of my new book. TT: It takes place in a month at my house.

TG: you mean your big ass mansion

TT: Yes, I suppose that is an apt description of the location where I reside. TT: I suggest you dress formally for the occasion. TT: You can wear the suit that you had recently tailored for you.

TG: oh yeah the one kanaya made that feels like the softest goddamn plush toy in the childrens aisle

TT: Yes, please wear that one.

TG: alrighty sounds good to me

TT: Not going to argue about wearing jeans and a T-shirt instead?

TG: nah TG: not this time at least TG: im kind of excited to wear the one kanaya made anyway TG: especially since its the first suit that i actually kind of like

TT: Well, I look forward to seeing you at my party in a suit. TT: For now, I must go and give a few others personal invitations.

TG: k you do that

-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

You proceeded to play videos games for the rest of the day because it was, in fact, your day off. You had to spend some of it by yourself after all.

#homestuck #hs #dave strider #rose lalonde #jade harley #john egbert #aradia megido #pale aradave #aradave

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nydharani · 7 years ago

Text

A Heavenly World

This is an idea that has been around my mind since I discovered and madly fell in love with the Codotverse and what @waiting4codot does. I’m honestly not really confident and a bit afraid about posting this since I don’t like to mess with Verses that are not mine and even write about them including new characters. But a friend commissioned me (Yuuto on Twitter, go check her out!) and I got inspired by her drawing, so I came to the point of ‘what the heck, let’s do this even if no one likes it’. Also, shout-out to @jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear since she was mostly the one to introduce me to the dork squad fandom. I wouldn’t have write this without you, so thank you for inspiring me ^^

This turned out to be longer than I expected, so sorry about that too!

Think about it: a world without emotions. Without feelings

A world without rage, without fear, without pride.

A world without love, without hate.

A world without revenge.

Wouldn’t a world like that just be...

...heavenly?

“Let me GO!” she shouted as the two guards carried her forcefully, her voice echoing through the halls of the asylum “This isn’t fair! Ugh, JODER, let me go!”

“What the fuck’s going on here!?” a strong and rough voice shouted, silencing her struggles. The two men stopped walking and awaited for the corpulent man, who was fastly approaching them. In the short meantime, the girl didn’t cease to fight against the iron grip of the guards “Who is she?”

“Bolton” one of them greeted “This woman--.”

“Wait, wait. I know” he interrupted as he tried to examine the young woman’s face, which was covered in long and messy blonde curls “She’s been on the news all day.”

She muttered something under her breath loud enough for the dark-haired man to notice, who forcefully lifted her chin tho met her gaze. Dark and fiery eyes like burning coals looked at him as her face twisted into an angry grimace, clearly disliking the man’s touch on her dark olive skin.

“Something you wanna say, sweetheart?” Bolton inquired with a half grin, arching an eyebrow.

“I said…” she started, her foreign accent sticking out clearly as she tried to hide her teeth as best as she could “...that you have no right to bring me here. It wasn’t my fault.” after a short pause, she clicked her tongue in disgust “And don’t call me that.”

“Well, excuse the fuck outta me, nutter.” he said with rudeness as one of the guards handed him a file with the data of the incident “But you’re gonna have to stay here regardless. Oh...it seems you’ve been assigned to the hayseed. Heh, good luck with him.” his comment made the others laugh “He’s gonna examine you and determine whether or not you’re sane or just another nutter. If it’s the first one, I’m sure as hell there will be a trial against you. If they find you innocent then you’ll go on your merry way.”

“...You know well enough they won’t.” the young woman responded with a mix of desperation and rage in her voice.

“This is Luthor’s America now.” the man chuckled “And that means that immigrants are gonna have what they deserve, gypsy.”

In a bold but rather stupid impulse, she brought her knee to his guts and kicked him with all her strength, which was no small amount. With a pained grunt the man felt to his knees and, as the girl laughed darkly, the guards separated her from their boss. In her home country, that term was used as a badge of distinctive pride for her people, but she knew well enough the negative connotation of it in America.

“¡Asqueroso gilipollas!” she yelled and cursed while she tried to hide her face with her curls “¡Tienes suerte de que tus perritos falderos me están agarrando, o si no desataría el puto infierno sobre ti!” the girl kicked and twisted her arms, but still couldn’t get free. Not without drawing too much attention, that is.

She could feel the unique sensation of fear and expectation the two men irradiated as Bolton stood up with raging eyes. The man approached her and raised a hand threateningly without saying a word, an action that only made her grin with closed lips. Her daring eyes seemed to infuriate the man even more, who was ready to lower his hand and hit her. It never reached its destination however, as long and crooked fingers digged into his shoulder, stopping him.

“I don’t think that’s a very wise approach, Bolton.” a man dressed as a doctor said, putting away his hand as soon as the guard lowered his arm, who was clearly annoyed at his interruptance.

The young girl arched an eyebrow at the actions of the doctor, who was lanky and tall. He was even taller than Bolton, making it difficult for her to stare directly into his face. However, his apparent fragile body made her wonder why he would stand against someone as muscular as the hot-headed guard. Even the ones who were holding her seemed to be scared of the outcome of the situation, but not him.

“She’s all yours, Crane.” he said with a huff.

“It’s Doctor Crane, Bolton. You better don’t forget it.”

“Whatever, hayseed.” the man snapped his fingers twice, making the two other guards to let go of her. Instinctively, she put in place her shaggy, rusty colored sweater so it wouldn’t stick to her body. If someone found out what she was hiding under it, it would be the end of her. Her grooming didn’t last long though, as she felt almost immediately the doctor’s eyes on her.

She found a pair of pale blue eyes looking deeply at her, as if they could read the insides of her soul. She disliked that.

“A pleasure to meet you, miss. I’m Dr. Jonathan Crane, the psychiatrist assigned to your evaluation.” he introduced himself with a bored voice “Sadly, this is not the way I planned our first meeting to be—that man is as stupid as he looks. Did he hurt you, miss?” though his question was one of concern, his voice did not match the purpose of it. It made the girl snort, something that made the man frown “What?”

“If you’re not really worried, then don’t ask.” she responded with her hands on her waist, holding his gaze with one eye as the other was hidden under her fringe.

“...I was just being polite.”

“I know.” she sighed, fixing her hair “But don’t worry, I’m fine. Look, I really don’t belong--”

“If you don’t mind.” he interrupted her “We’ll discuss that in my office.”he just said and extended an arm to indicate her the way.

They walked in silence for a time, the sounds of steps and the occasional scream the only one reaching the man’s ears. But the blonde heard more, much more—the distant and beautiful humming of a woman, the flipping of an old coin, the voice of a man solving riddles on his own. The variety of odd sounds were endless for her.

She could also feel the anxiety, pain and fear in the air, filling her insides with a putrid sensation. She had heard about this place before in hushed whispers from beings of this world and the other, and it wasn’t surprising at all how the evil and dark atmosphere of the place made her entire skin crawl.

“Thank you for stepping in.” she eventually said, breaking the silence and trying to make her thoughts go away. “You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.”

“If you’re not really grateful, then don’t thank me.” His response was so unexpected to her that she couldn’t hide her surprised expression, eyes wide open as she turned her face to look at him. He wasn’t even looking at her, fixing his glasses as he read one of the files. She pulled a part of her scarf up to her mouth and chuckled while covering it. The doctor observed out of the corner of his eyes the traces of what it seemed to be an open mouth smile.

“Heh. I was just being polite.” the woman said cheekily, clearly amused by his words.

Not long after, they reached a door with the words ‘Dr Jonathan Crane’ inscripted on a plaque. The doctor opened it and, with a gesture, he encouraged her to sit in a chair which was placed in front of a wooden desk. With his eyes still focused on the description of her actions, he sat on the other side of the table, in front of her.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to record this session.” he said as he pushed a button on a reel-to-reels “It won’t be used against you, it’s just to keep record of the session” the blonde didn’t seem to agree completely, but knowing she had no choice she simply sighed and nodded.

Just when she sat, a squawk caught her attention. Her eyes quickly drifted to one corner of the room, the one on the doctor’s left. A cage stood there, almost covered in shadows due to the dim light. Inside it, a beautiful and old crow looked at her with eyes black as the bottom of a pit, its iridescent dark feathers fluttering around it as it cawed again.

Memories of black hair falling onto her face, of distant laughs and quiet lullabies flooded her mind for just a brief instant, enough to make her heart skip a beat.

“Miss?” Jonathan said, aware of the girl’s sudden loss of attention. His voice made her snap back into reality and she blinked twice, nodding at him so he would know she was listening. The man looked at her and then to the crow, arching a brow “Are you afraid of birds?”

The girl didn’t know what it was, but there was a subtle but almost threatening change in the atmosphere as soon as the man pronounced those words. She could feel it, tingling on her hidden tail. Since it only lasted for a brief instant, she didn’t give it further attention.

“Oh, no no.” she sighed, shaking her head “It’s just...it brought me memories. That’s all.” a soft but sad smile appeared on her face “It’s beautiful, by the way. Does it has a name?”

“Ichabod.”

“Ah, like ‘The Legend of Sleepy Hollow’ then. Fitting.” the girl giggled, getting another squawk as a response from the black bird.

“A fan of literature?” the doctor asked without interest.

“When you do little more than travel, books are a good way to keep you entertained.” she simply shrugged, not really giving it much importance. Crane decided to get straight to business.

“It seems the police did not find any kind of ID on you, miss. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you a couple of questions before we start, is that alright?” she nodded again “If you have any trouble with the language--”

“It’s fine. The sooner we get this finished, the better. I have a friend who’s waiting for me.” she said, crossing her legs “And don’t worry about the language. I can defend myself just fine.”

“Very well.” In a computer that looked older than himself, Jonathan started searching through the virtual folders for a new template to write her information down. An annoying sound made him look at the Romani girl for a moment, finding out that she was beginning to scratch the surface of the desktop with her index’s nail, which implied she was bored, nervous or both. He frowned at the sight of her fingernails, which didn’t seem to be uncared for but were thick and somewhat pointy. Not wanting to waste time thinking about banal things, he placed his fingers on the computer’s keypad, ready to write the information down. “Full name?”

“...” strangely, she seemed to be thinking about it “...Lola Heredia. It’s the name I use.”

“The name you use? Meaning it’s not your real name?” he asked with genuinely curiosity as he finished typing the surname.

“Names are...powerful, Dr.Crane.” she said carefully, looking straight into his eyes “They can be mighty weapons when used right, but unbreakable leashes when used wrong. Lola Heredia it’s the name I’ve been using my whole life...but it’s not the name I was given at birth. I suppose that’s an information you need to know.”

“...I don’t think I quite understand what you mean, miss Heredia.” Jonathan said with confusion written all over his face.

“That’s fine.” she smiled softly behind her scarf “You don’t actually need to understand.”

He raised an eyebrow at her words, thinking that she was making a fool of him, but said no more. Perhaps she did belong in Arkham after all.

“Age?”

“Err...would you believe me if I said I’m probably older than you?” she giggled as she rubbed her head, seeming to be mocking him with her answer. Sighing in defeat, he just typed ‘mid-twenties,’ as it was the age she seemed to be.

“Nativity?”

“You mean place of birth, yes? Spain.” her answer was clear for once, something he appreciated.

“Hm. From the south, then.” Crane almost muttered, catching Lola’s attention.

“How did you know?”

“If I recall correctly, there’s a rather big settlement of Romani people on the south of Spain.” his knowledge awed her, a grin appearing on her face short after.

“I’m surprised, Dr. Crane. I thought Americans didn’t care about what happened in the rest of the world.”

“If we’re going to be based on stereotypes, should I be concerned about you stealing my stuff?” the question slipped from his lips almost instantly, only realizing the gravity of it seconds after. He could get in serious trouble for talking to a patient like that, and the look of complete shock on her face didn’t help to ease his concern. Just when he was about to apologise for his unkind words, Lola covered her mouth with both hands and laughed heartily, confusing but relieving Jonathan at the same time.

“Touché.” she said with a Cheshire grin.

Jonathan sighed in relief, feeling lucky for the woman’s carefree behavior and sense of humor. However, as he observed how the girl was slowly regaining her composure, a question popped in his head.

“You tend to cover your mouth when you have to show your teeth.” he frowned “Is there a reason for it?”

“Sadly, there is.” she sighed, looking to the side “I was born with a...malformation—I think it’s called in English—in my teeth. I wouldn’t mind talking about it, but I’m in a rush.”

“Then I’ll get straight to the point. You are a long way from home, miss Heredia...”

“Please, call me Lola. I’m not really used to these kind of formalities.” she smiled widely.

“Lola.” he corrected himself and cleared his throat “What brought you here? Please, explain to me why you are in Gotham in your own words.”

Her smile slowly faded away as she laid back on the chair, her fingernail scratching the desk again.

“My family and I... we never stay in one place for long. You could say we’re nomads.” she explained, seriousness written all over her face “We’ve been in Gotham for a while now, and an old friend of mine reached to me and asked me to help him with a...rather delicate matter. We decided to meet at his favourite pub and, while I was waiting for him, a man came up to me and started to insult me. And yes, before you ask, it was the racist kind of insults.”

“Go on.”

“He threatened me. I suppose he was not expecting me to talk back, but when I told him to go away and leave me alone, he pulled out a knife. So I defended myself. And now, here I am.”

“Well, though I admit I can understand the reason why you acted that way, Lola...that man ended up with first and second-degree burns in his arm.” Jonathan calmly but darkly stated, fixating his blue gaze on the girl’s dark eyes “Care to explain how this happened?”

Lola looked down, obviously trying to find an explanation for the incident. Crane could have sweared that something flicked under the woman’s sweater, but it was so fast and subtle he just shook his head and forgot about it.

“I had a lighter. When he attacked me, I grabbed his arm and burned his clothes with it. That’s all.”

The roughness of her words left no room for further questioning. But doctors, as Crane liked to say, were a stubborn and curious breed.

“I’m sure there’s more to it than that, isn’t it?”

“Isn’t there always?” she asked back with a half grin “I’m sure there’s also more to you than just being a doctor, yes?”

He decided not to push the situation more, as he knew it would lead nowhere for now and it was turning dangerously against him. Jonathan pushed his glasses up—just in the middle of his nose. He quietly typed her testimony down and moved on.

“Tell me about your friend.” Jonathan kept saying, wanting to gather as much information as he could.

“His name is Constantine. John Constantine.” the Spaniard responded “We’ve known each other for...years. I like to think that we’re close—in fact, I consider him to be my only true friend, but...he’s a very hard man to read at times. And no one tends to be ‘hard to read’ for me. Right now he must be furious with me for being late, so if I can get going now...”

Constantine…the name rang a distant bell to Crane, memories from his time as a rogue slowly filling his mind. However, he wasn’t able to put a face to it or even remember exactly who he was. He observed the girl quietly as she played with her hair, thinking about her attitude and her responses. Though she was at risk of being integrated in an asylum and, if not, sued and put to trial, she was rather cheerful, as if she was not afraid of neither of the outcomes. Were those her real feelings, or was it all just a façade? There was something odd with her, that much was certain.

Perhaps if he pushed her buttons a bit more...

“I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible, Lola.” he solemnly said, making the girl gasp in surprise “You cannot leave, at least not for now.”

“What? Why!?” The Spaniard jumped off the chair, placing both hands on the desk strongly. While her sudden reaction took him a bit aback, he was disappointed with the fact that she showed no traces of fear, instead her face was beginning to twist with anger. Only anger, just like before.

Knowing that her reaction had been a bit exaggerated, she took a deep breath and calmed herself. She couldn’t have the luxury to become angry, not here and not now.

“Please Lola, listen to me. I’m doing you a favor.” she frowned at his words, but finally nodded and sat down again “While I understand that you were only defending yourself from that poorly excuse of human being, you acted in a...more dangerous way than he did, possibly exacerbated by a non-controllable anger.”

Lola, who was about to complain about his statement, was interrupted by his raised hand.

”Don’t try tellin’ me I’m wrong, I’ve seen it right now and with your encounter with Bolton back there.” the defeated sigh that came from the girl was enough for him to continue. “Plus, and sad to say, I imagine that you and the rest of your family are staying in Gotham illegally. If I let you go, that man will not stop until you are all out and he will have the support of court with him. However, if I declare that you were acting under the effects of—let’s say anxiety and anger mismanagement and agree to treat you adequately, they’ll have to let you, and thus your relatives, be.

Jonathan observed how his words slowly sank into the young woman’s mind as she lowered her eyes and rubbed her chin. He could almost hear the rushing of her thoughts through her head.

“How long.” her words came rough and hard. She was clearly controlling her emotions at best she could, but he could still feel the notes of annoyance on her voice. But not fear. Shame.

“A month. Perhaps two. Enough for the matter to settle down.”

“Why. Why are you helping me?” the coldness in her voice shocked him, who cleared his throat and saved the template in the computer.

“Well, obviously because I believe you had all reasons to defend yourself. If I can help you in this way--”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Let me set something straight, doctor.” she started as she got up from the chair, the last word sounding Spanish rather than English “My ‘people’ have not been treated kindly by this world. We’ve been persecuted and discriminated—like every other minority have been once, in fact.” slowly, she started to surround the desk, caressing the surface with her nails “I’ve suffered them myself. Do you know how me and my family have survived?”

Lola stopped her march just when she was behind the man, who was still sitting on his chair. Even he could see the dangerous glisten in her eyes as she gazed at him from above. Crane didn’t need to feel fear to perceive the raw threat the woman generated with her acts. However, they didn’t have the slightest effect on him.

“Mistrust, Dr. Crane.” her words were softly spoken but serious “If you don’t trust, then you can’t be betrayed. You can’t be hurt.” she resumed her walk, showing her back to Jonathan “So excuse me when I doubt you’re doing this out of the kindness of your heart.”

“I can understand your caution.” the doctor assured her as he put in place his glasses again “But know this: I’m a psychiatrist. My job consist on helping people, and not just by saving their asses from jail.” his rough but soft words made her stop and look at him, crossing her arms “You might’ve not notice, but if it’s true that you provoked such burns with just a lighter...then it’s highly possible you have a problem managing your emotions—one that’s not triggered easily and just in situations of self-defense, but a problem nevertheless.”

“Believe me.” her gaze turned melancholic and as she looked at Ichabod, who looked back at her with curiosity “I’m well aware of it.”

“I can help you with it.” he kept talking “Not only you will have daily therapy sessions and be integrated in the lowest security wing, but also a...special treatment I’ve been working on. I truly believe it will help you greatly.”

“You don’t say…” there was something dark in his words, something she couldn’t quite catch—but he was saying the truth, that much she could tell.

Or, at least, he really thought he was.

Lola knew that she didn’t have many options to choose from. It was either his offer, or the threat of being in a courthouse. She would have to accept it...

“Fine.” the Spaniard finally accepted with a soft smile, surprising Jonathan with her compliant attitude “I’ll stay. Can I, at least, make a call? Please.”

...even if she did not plan to stay in the slightest the amount of time he proposed her.

“Oh, sure. I wouldn’t want your friend to be worried about you.” he smiled and, adopting a more relaxed position, pushed a button on his intercom “Grace, send Brown to pick the new patient up—miss Heredia. Oh, and tell him to bring Jervis Tetch here.”

She didn’t know whether she liked to see him smile or not.

“So, what now?” she asked as Jonathan stood up, walking towards her.

“Since it’s still early in the afternoon, you will be following the normal procedure—you will be given an uniform, introduced to your room--”

“You mean cell, right?”

“Come on. What happened to your earlier positivity?” he said with amusement.

“Oh, I don’t know. Locked away with my freedom, I suppose.” while her words were supposed to sound angry, a soft smile appeared on her face—one she was quickly to cover up with her hand “I don’t handle well to be surrounded by walls, you see.”

“I’m sure it won’t be as terrible, dear.” the girl huffed but said no more. Two soft knocks on the door alerted them of the arrival of Brown, who opened the door when Crane allowed him to enter. By his side, a small man was nervously mumbling as he played with his own fingers, his blue eyes partly covered by his messy blonde hair.

“Here to collect the patient, Dr. Crane.”

“Oh, one more thing before you go.” Jonathan said before she started to walk “You might experience some...nightmares while you’re in here. The adjustment tends to be shocking to some patients, so don’t be alarmed if you have trouble with your sleep.”

Lola narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. She had the very same mistrust he saw in her eyes at the beginning of their session still there, glistening as she watched him closely, examining his face. He didn’t like it.

“Let’s go, miss Heredia.” Brown said breaking the silence. As Lola walked towards the guard, she crossed paths with the man who was called Jervis, exchanging a brief glare with him. She smiled at him without putting her scarf over her mouth which made Jervis squeal quietly, earning a giggle form the girl.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at first hour.” Jonathan said behind her as a farewell. The girl stopped for a second and, partially turning her head to him, smiled widely.

“How do you know?” the door closed behind her and the guard, who left without further delay.

Jonathan sighed and, placing his fingers on his templates, felt mentally tired after such an odd session. He followed Jervis with his gaze and, when he sat, his eyes quickly drifted to the surface of his desk and arched his eyebrows in shock. A hole, narrow but deep enough to see through the wood, was carved in the place she had scratched.

“Bloody Spaniards” He angrily said as he tossed the cig to the ground, stepping on it while he laid his back on the pub’s wall as he carefully tried not to touch the case at his side. “Always running late.”

“I told you, John.” another man who was beside him told him “We cannot trust her. It runs in her blood, goddamnit!”

“First off, you are one to talk, mate.” Constantine responded, scoffing at his partner “Second off, half of that blood is in her veins, and I trust her. And finally, we can’t afford to be picky, Jason. This is worst than I thought it was.” the blond wasted no time and lit up another cigarette “And that means we need the best damn empath we can get in our hands. Human, demon, alien or a friggin horse. And she is the best I know

“...It’s that bad, huh…” the brunete wondered, feeling a cold breeze on his face.

“Someone or something is turning people into empty carcasses, Jason. No emotions and no feelings whatsoever. And it leaves no magic traces nor clues behind. How bad do you think that is?”

Jason Blood sighed, but said nothing more. Though the idea of working with a demon, even if it was a half-breed, clearly annoyed him, they needed her abilities.

“Besides...I thought Etrigan liked her.” John joked, hitting his friend softly with his elbow and earning a grunt from him.

“Oh, shut up.” their talk was interrupted by the ring of John’s cellphone, who took it with a huff.

“John.” he said as he answered the call. Over the years, Constantine had learned to answer with his name rather than with his surname, as Constantine was far more known and had far worse fame “Finally, wha...You’re WHERE!?...I don’t want any bloody excuses Lola, I...Why do you always end up in these kind of messes?” He tapped his foot swiftly on the ground, clearly annoyed “Alright, fine. Get the bloody hell out of there as soon as you can, you hear me!?....yeah yeah, I know you’re sorry...I’m not shouting. No, I’m not mad at you...”

Jason chuckled under his breath at John’s words, who had walked a few steps away from him in order to answer the phone call. He never understood the soft spot he had for the girl, but he knew their relationship was old and close. It was almost ridiculous watching Constantine worrying so much about other than himself, he thought.

“Let me guess, she’s not coming?” Jason asked when the man reunited with him again, smoking furiously.

“Arkham. She’s in fucking Arkham!” he yelled, grumbling curses.

“So...we’re just as empty-handed as before.”

“Oh no. I give her one night in, two as the most. She’s resourceful, Jason—she’ll be out in the blink of an eye.”

“Let’s just hope she doesn’t set the entire asylum on fire.” he sighed “Coming?”

“I’ll catch you later.” when the man was far away enough, he opened the case and lifted the object inside it, which was a long and flexible coat. It was made of a fireproof leather, with orange flames embroidered on it.

“I hoped to give you this today, but I can wait a bit more.” he muttered, a soft smile appearing on his face “I’ve really missed you, kiddo.”

#waiting4codot #codotverse #fanfic #dc fanfic #sorry about this #it's supposed to have more parts but I dont think people will like it #so I dont really know #john constantine #jason blood #jonathan crane #OC

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autoirishlitdiscourses · 4 years ago

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Discourse of Wednesday, 27 January 2021

Perhaps most importantly, though. One of these have genuinely hurt your grade provided that you do all of your perspective and talking, and that you should have read your texts, and it's a reliable source some guy ranting about sociopathy in a more impassioned which may have noticed that he approves, though. I think others are compelled to live and come out unscathed, full of rather depictions that are not meant to move up, you did a very good reason for not writing a general plan such as Firefox with the professor, but it would have helped to have in section this quarter, too. A-paper, no, I think that this is a hard time distancing themselves from their topics well enough in advance that people saw in the third paragraph of the poem's rhythm and showed this in terms of which parts of the poem; performed a nuanced and graceful, and failure to notice an email, but it wasn't saved by the time I saw Cake in Golden Gate Park back in, say, because freedom is a good weekend. So, for the delay.

Etc. Is Calculated in excruciating detail This document has not always an easy task, as it can be found on the reading yet, and your readings sometimes fall flat because you're bright and can take some reasonable guesses. 10 pm tonight requirement in grad school. You two have some very perceptive readings of the things the professor mentioned in lecture, you had thought closely about what your argument, as outlined in my office hours. For one thing that would be to conceptualize the paper does what it can be hard to get at this stage, but ID #3 overlaps substantially with ID #9 from the group very effectively and in a coffee shop, I think that Ulysses has and did this without being warmed up eventually, and giving other people react to Dexter may very well wind up living out amongst it.

Again, thank you for a while ago that might help students to review that document anyway, but need to refine your thesis statement at the final starts and nine a. Contact and Communications Policy: I think, is to take so long to get into South Hall is locked on weekends. Though not by any means the only way that Francie's home is? This is not a full recitation schedule in both sections in this, then do come to section. Up to/two percent/for leading an insightful, focused discussion about the source of a particular depiction of people we have sympathy for Francie, and extreme claims require very strong alcohol, often lost to modern readers and got a perfectly acceptable as-is possible for you and think about what we mean by passionate, and I think that practicing just a moment, counting absolutely everything except for the previous group and what is Mary likely to be fully successful, though. Part Two vocab. Answer: a custom brought to the question? The fact that you were to go with it. I suppose, is to provide additional evidence or an idea of his speech and demeanor is expected from everyone in class to speak, and good choice, depending on where you move a bit more. Let me know how many minutes away you are nervous about possibly having accidentally leaked confidential information, at your U-Mail address regularly. Lesson Plan for Week 8: General Thoughts and Notes Mooney, TA, I imagine, and you do well. 5% of the term that make sense? I didn't get your hands on a Thursday, December 10 30% of course readings or issues that I've pointed to some comparatively nitpicky issues to which you dealt. You seemed a bit too tired tonight to do. Hi! One suggestion I have a fairly natural relationship well. I think that your grade I'd just like to see whether that answers your questions? I think that paying very close to this explicitly when I responded to this document is, again, and thereby enrich your analysis on other classes and do not impede the reader's ability to construct your answer. That's fine with me for now so no one else in your paper and saying so is an unlucky month for marriages may be surprised if they cover ground which you make sure that you're already doing a large gap for recall and some people will have an A-and carrot-related question #1, because right now the single biggest influence on your paper is not simultaneously one of the quarter a very, very perceptive. Make sure not to write questions on the paper proposal you sent me the URL where you need any changes made that are very solid job of deploying pauses effectively to the end. One problem that I don't know that the writer considers obvious. I'll accommodate you if I can. There will be recited during our second section meeting during week 1,3, and I expect that you'll need to do here would help to increase your specificity would be necessary to somehow be constructed through texts that you're one of the more likely it is probably unnecessary, because asking people whether they agree with opinions that have been possible to give a close reading of Ulysses in productive ways that you wanted to work, and practicing a bit more practice but your writing is quite interesting. You covered some important material provided an interpretive pathway into one of her anguish in response to that point in the first week, though, you in section during Thanksgiving week, you do. 1-3:50 or so announcement to your final paper. All in all, are they terrible, and then make the paper's relevance to contemporary Irish-descended manual laborers in the position of protector from the first line of the recitation half of Yeats's poem, gave a sensitive, thoughtful, engaged delivery, and I think you're on the other reading assignments for Ulysses recitations is over remember that at the beginning of the text.

In Conclusion. But you've done a lot of ways in which language and thought closely about it. One good, and each piece of land. You had a lot of these is to say that you have too many pieces of writing for this paper to punch through to a strong job here, but afraid to use the texts with which you are perfectly capable of doing better than I had been stronger in other audio equipment to record your performance. You had a good job in many ways basically fair to the topic you will have to define your key terms. If you go over twelve I'll start making discreet kneecap-breaking gestures unless someone before you begin working on memorizing it by adding. Two student musical performances have been meaning to get in without waiting at 3:30 to discuss how you respond to any emails by Monday night, you are hopefully already memorizing. Again, thank you for being such a strong job of thinking about it in then. It's a good night, and, despite the fact that the Irish experience that should help you with issues that you mention that Bloom ponders Roentgen rays in the Ulysses lectures which, come to a natural end or otherwise need to be fully successful, however. You had said that he has never met. If you have any questions, please consult a writing handbook, or Muldoon, Extraordinary Rendition: Patrick Kavanagh, Eavan Boland, Muldoon, provided that everyone is also productive ways to get people to engage with the poem's ideas needed a vocal pause in order to be reciting as soon as possible it is necessary to try to force a discussion. On her mind simply because they're yours. I'm sorry about that character. Hi! In addition to the zombies, who mentioned it to me but I think that this was a pleasure having you in section tonight like you were well above adequate here for grading purposes. Totally up to them? Chivalry, honor generally means that, and let me know if you don't email me and holding eye contact for me! Thanks. I like arrangement more. Both of these as a section on 27 November discussion of a short breakdown on your paper to be more specific claim that's in theory to enter into culminant stage of the book it appears on your own purpose. Hi! DON'T FORGET TO BRING BLUE BOOKS TO THE FINAL! You may remember that your pacing was quite good. I will still expect you to punch through to being caught up on the midterm. And, yes, perfect! Name/both/items Bloom orders for lunch;/or which elements you see evidence of feminization, specifically, to work at the evidence, and I'm sure you'll do well. Similarly, the upshot is that you need to focus your thoughts in your discussion score reflects this. Are the descnts of Irish, and so unreciprocated love is being transmitted, specifically? Dennis Redmond 2. One more note: the namby-pamby justice system has its hands tied by a good job of balancing your time as a whole has a particular time Wednesday afternoon my regular office hour that day, then it's perfectly acceptable to use your own, and may be elementary and/or the penalty. Good question. Thought for the term; b it's OK with me this one. I think that there is no genuine contribution to the reader or the various quite excellent feminist readings that you intend to accept it by 11:30 tomorrow, as it can be hard to draw the full text of the IDs they attempt, and it's been the case and I feel that it will replace the grade sheets for all students, too, about conversation, or would prefer to avoid responding to both of my students: Explanations for the phrase is chosen because it makes my life easier if you want it to get these to you. I've gotten pretty good at picking up cues that this is the case and I think that it naturally wants to do to be less behind and have more to offer than you might, of Yeats and nationalism? Pdfs from Precarious Life to you. So I had a good but quite difficult piece of writing. If you want to do so, so make/absolutely sure that you're making dinner, waiting for the course. Though I haven't yet posted a copy for my records, but also the only person reciting and discussing the selection in question generally or always plays by the prosaic fact that liberals are really important; and any other characteristic other than the end of the section they describe and how it can be hard to get back to people. However, be aware of your project, and exploring additional related issues, specifically, issues relating to slavery, identity, there are some ways in this paper, and keep you at C. Again, this is rather heavy, and haven't used the same time, I felt that it occurs. On a related but more so that you attend section during the add period and how much work it can also be aggressively dropping non-passing grade, but there are ways in which you are missing section, so let me record the conversation without badgering or threats or even any real need for me. Participatory-ness, I think, are engaging in close readings of Butcher Boy, you had a good job this week.

Perhaps a question is a mark of professionalism on your writing and its mechanics may also, if that reason isn't going to motivate people to open discussion about the issues involved, but an important part of the poems by Yeats we talked about this in your key terms and presuppositions and taking the no-show penalty, which gives you a grade in the background so that it would help you work on future writing—you've demonstrated this quite clearly and lucidly in general is a good Thanksgiving break. I'll give you good things to focus your thoughts to, and below 103 to drop a photocopy of the following table: If a fellow gave them trouble being lagged they let him have it hot and heavy in the future will help you to reschedule, and #5, about finding something to say, but some students may not, but are not currently checked out, you have any questions, OK?

There are lots of good work here, but I don't fully know myself the professor. Mp3 of the authors in the meantime or have been assessed for you if you don't need to hold the 11:45 is the point value of each of you and the larger structures and concerns and did a good sense of rhythm.

I'm also happy to give quite a long time, whereas with Dexter, what you want to make it the second excerpt from a topic that includes it; again, this sounds great! You dig into the details of phrasing and style would, I think, a very good job of accomplishing many important qualities of the one in exchange details in a lot of ways.

Again, thank you for being a nuanced critic of your total score for you, and he will be to make it support that central claim that for sure that I would say the smartest way to construct an overall narrative is fundamentally very fair in most places is basically avoiding the so what? B-paper demonstrates a solid connection between romance and the specific language of your performance idea, and you did a good thumbnail background to the research resources on the professor's English 150.

Beyond that, overall. If a legitimate need arises for you is so strong that it looks like the Synge vocabulary quiz on John Synge's play, contemporary politics, religion, and that asking yourself what your paper should be sure. Wordsworth's Prelude frequently describes the poet thinking or resting under a bunch of old people who are not particularly likely, but it's more or less right before the reflecting gleams. You've got a special offer, if you count days from now. —This is true in academia as well. —, Ulysses 11.

Discussion notes for week 4. A for the midterm as a team and gave a good sense of rhythm was not how I think that you're both aware that you should have said when we first scheduled recitations. Have a good number of things quite well here, and especially of An Irish Airman Foresees His Death Yeats, The Stare's Nest By My Window 6 p. You Are Old Yeats, The Butcher Boy; you have any questions! All of these are impressive moves. Students who are advocates of reform as a team and gave a sensitive, thoughtful job of reading the Japanese car as a lens to tell; changed We feel in England believe on line 648; changed of to and the British pound or pound sterling is complex and probably very healthy move.

Truthfully, I have one of the following characters in order to follow it. I have not yet been updated to reflect the Thanksgiving holiday. This is a strong paper, and that's not required by the time period during which your UMail addresses are forwarded are rejecting messages. Great! Section Discussion Notes These notes are absolutely welcome to propose other text/that you give a quiz. Ultimately, it's a wonderful poem, and what these differences might mean. This does not overlap with yours, but you are from the book has that passage I take it in a lot of things is he concerned with Irish nationalism, and your writing is so impassioned. You can always find my own editing process, but will be worth 50 points for not coming to section for the week. This is the specificity of its most precious illusions. Again, thank you for a single text, and I have enough exams printed. Doubtless your intelligence and enthusiasm mean that you want any changes, and have a hard text, though I occasionally feel that picking only well … primarily sources that disagree with you, because you'll probably do at the window that's closest to it from a higher overall grade for the quarter so far, mid-century Japanese cinema. It's only 32 lines of poetry handout, which perhaps requires you to, supportive of, say, emigrants during the first week in which it could be structured, but I can take the paper to this explicitly when I need to be more effective for you never quite come out and talk about, and it completely slid off my back, but they're also doing a solid job of structuring your paper should be proud of it, in part because it affects your grade, divided as follows: total number of things that people were holding up the appropriate types that add to your paper. You also did a good way to get graded first this week. This might be a productive analytical framework is too open because its boundaries are rather jarring—my own suspicion is ultimately up to you as an obvious set of ideas. Have a good place to close-read. This can be a productive way to motivate people to reflect on the final one selection from The Butcher Boy if you approve. However, any of them. These are real problems that I've gestured toward, though I think you've got a very good job here is going to do a shorter passage, but I don't think that it's important, and number the episodes on the poem and its historical situation. Great! There are some books that I mark you present on my SoundCloud account and link to the beach? This means that the airman gets out of all my students are going pretty well in the wrong field but grad students who are, even in California, nothing is more likely he is not so general that it's a concentrated bit that represents, in my margin comments.

#Irish literature #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains

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