#Quixotic: Air

[art-is-kayos]

Totally real merch that exists and is real. I promise.

[archive-of-emotions]

LOOK AT MY PERFORMER!!!️‍🔥️‍🔥️‍🔥

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Helloooo your recs give me life. You’ve probably done this before, but any recommendations for fics that include a brutally pining Derek and oblivious Stiles? Ideally canon-verse but aus are also loved. Thanks in advance!!

I'm sure I have, but I love pining in all fics. So I'm happy to make a million lists of it.

Fun by Halevetica

(1/1 I 3,889 I Teen)

Stiles convinces Derek to go to the annual Beacon Hills bonfire with him, with the promise of fun. What he gets instead are a lot of assumptions that he and Stiles are dating, and Stiles' too-eager dismissals, which are decidedly NOT fun for Derek.

Game On by stilinskisparkles

(1/1 I 6,391 I Teen)

Derek first sees him from across the quad four days into fall semester. He’s sitting on one of the long benches, a marker pen in his mouth, grinning at something the kid lounging on the bench beside him is saying. When he laughs properly he pulls the pen out and throws his head back, his neck a long, lean line Derek is entranced by. He flicks the page in his book and highlights something, tossing the cap up in the air and catching it with his teeth.

Written in the Stars by Quixoticity

(6/6 I 26,586 I Mature)

Derek Hale is a lucky guy. He's got a great family, good friends, and a fulfilling job as a tattoo artist.

He's also one of the twenty-five per cent of the population born with a soul mark.

He likes his life, but he's waiting for his soul-match. The odds of meeting them aren't great but hey, Derek's a lucky guy. He has faith.

He can't believe how good his luck really is when one day his soul-match wanders right into his studio, all long limbs and copper eyes. There's just one problem: Stiles is there to get his soul mark covered up. Permanently.

Mating Habits of the Domesticated North American Werewolf by lielabell

(5/5 I 35,458 I Mature)

Derek doesn’t do pining. He doesn’t. So when it becomes clear that Stiles is much more interested in having Derek as a new best friend than a boyfriend, he puts on his big boy pants and makes it fucking work. He becomes the best goddamn friend a spastic teenager could ever hope to have.

too busy being yours to fall for somebody new by whiry

(12/12 I 64,278 I Teen)

Stiles, worried that Scott may actually leave him behind because of his newfound popularity, is desperate to cling to something away from the drama of Lydia Martin's amazing parties and the woes of high school lacrosse. What he finds is Derek Hale, a guy who seemingly hates Stiles at first, but slowly, and insistently, becomes friends with him. As their friendship grows, Stiles starts to wonder if they could ever become something more or if pushing what they have will lead him to being alone for good.

All the Weird Kids (Know How to Take it Slow) by Ionaonie

(26/26 I 112,477 I General)

Stiles never thought being part of a werewolf Pack would end up being so normal. Even being around Derek had a degree of normality about it. Even if he was still an overbearing jerk most of the time.

When it all comes crumbling down by Littleredridinghunter

(18/18 I 216,191 I Not Rated)

Stiles is recovering from the Nogitsune. Erica is the only one that is really there for him, Scott's too busy rekindling his relationship with Allison and Stiles feels like he's falling apart.

When a near-miss with a kelpie results in an encounter that he could never have predicted, Stiles begins to think his life might be getting back on track.

He's wrong.

Stiles' life is so messed up he can't even begin to explain it, maybe it's time for him to finally do something for himself and get out of Beacon Hills. But where will that path lead?

With Stiles involved, no doubt danger and death won't be far behind.

AND

@the-diggler and @adventures-in-mangaland suggested this one!

Safety in Silence by Survivah

(5/5 I 66,901 I Mature)

It's perfectly understandable. Even Derek wouldn't want to be Derek's soulmate.

[reenthinks]

[5:43]

It was day one of the Don Quixote Music Video shoot and you were planning on visiting your boyfriend.

Once you arrived at the shoot location, you saw Mingyu playing around with a piano while they were waiting to shoot the next scene. He looked lost in his own world and you admired him from afar. Despite his looks and build, he had this air of innocence about him. Somehow, he looked adorable and ethereal at the same time.

You quietly made your way towards him, putting a finger to your lips when a couple other members spotted you.

Reaching him, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. He looked startled for a moment, immediately turning around and breaking into a wide grin when he saw it was you.

“I thought I smelled you.”

“You’re so weird,” you chuckled, sitting down on the bench next to him, a hand making its way into his hair. He seemed to melt into you, sighing as you scratched his favorite spot.

“What? You smell nice.” He pouts and you just can’t help it. He’s so pretty and tall and he smells so good and on top of that, he’s pulled out that stupid pout he knows you go weak for. So you kiss him. Slow and sweet. A little awkward as you’re both biting back smiles and miserably failing.

You could’ve kissed forever if not for the lack of oxygen or the director calling for them to shoot the next scene. Pulling apart, it was your turn to pout.

“You know, there’s thirteen of you, I don’t think anyone will notice if one’s missing.” You say, pulling him by his neck for another kiss.

“Mhmm….I think….we both know….it’s the first thing…..anyone….will notice.” He says between pecks.

Kissing him one last time, you pull away. “Fine. Go before I change my mind.”

He laughs. “Yes ma’am.”

“Don’t call me ma’am.”

“Yes sir.”

“Hurry up.”

“I love you! Be back soon!” You smile as he walks to the set.

“You guys are insufferable.” Soonyoung says from somewhere behind you.

[wormboyfriendcentralstation]

god............ don quixote truly went "i'm tired of being apeshit.................. i just wanna be nice......................................." and she threw on her mustiest pair of air jordans and chose amnesia.

[stalkiwi]

“Don Quixote walked towards the fox before getting under a worn umbrella. Despite being an umbrella, it allowed numerous drops of rain fall though it. Chilling winds and damp air brush against the Sinner under the umbrella.

Don Quixote raised her head up to see the sky, making a profound smile. As if the Sinner knew the rain will stop someday.”

[reobsessed]

Luis' Lab Partner

Pairing: Reader X Luis Content Warning: 18+, minors DNI, slight humour, protected sex, AFAB reader, Reader x Luis Sera fic. Special thanks to Suri for reads and edits!

Summary: You'd been working many long nights at Umbrella, with only your work and your smooth-talking lab partner to keep you company. One night during a particularly lengthy experiment, the two of you take a break to read some 'online smut'. One thing leads to another and you find yourself undressed, thrown over the top of Luis' desk.

Fic under the cut!

“Senorita, I have to ask, what does it mean by ‘he thrust deep into me, his cock battering my cervix relentlessly’?”

“Luis, I’m gonna be completely honest, I have no fucking clue,” you stated, pinching the cigarette from Luis’ mouth and inhaling deeply.

“It’s rather abstract…” Luis scratched the back of his head in confusion. The two of you were currently hunched over Luis’ work computer. The only source of lighting in the room came from the painfully bright light of the CRT monitor, casting your faces in an ominous white glow.

Time always passed slowly in the lab whilst you were waiting for results. Today had been a particularly gruelling experiment and despite it very rapidly turning to the early hours of the morning, you both still had a long wait ahead of you.

“It’s just like porn but with words.”

Luis laughed and did his best to sound shocked. “A lady such as yourself watching porn?? How scandalous,” he remarked with a glint in his eye, or perhaps it was the light playing tricks.

You tapped the shared cigarette on the side of Luis’ mug, watching as the powdered ash dropped into the remainder of his coffee.

The pair of you had been working together for quite some time now, the pleasant small talk you exchanged towards the beginning had quickly grown stale given that neither of you really did anything outside of work. Whilst you were happy to sit in silence like you’d done previously with other colleagues, Luis wouldn’t allow it. He was by no means annoying or obtrusive but he always made an effort to engage with you, small things like, how did you sleep last night? Have you ever read Don Quixote? What food do you like? Would you like to read Don Quixote? By all rights you should have found him annoying but there was something quite charming about him. 

“You know what we’re doing right now is basically the same as watching porn together.” You paid close attention to Luis’ expression, fully intending to get as much amusement out of his reaction as possible.

Luis choked on air. “Th-that’s not- it’s not the- I have to go check on some vials,” he announced, springing to the floor in a rigid stance. You suppressed a giggle, watching as he ran behind one of the desks and pretended to look for something.

Reading together in the dark lab had become a tradition for the two of you, it first began when Luis had brought along a heavily worn copy of Don Quixote to read. Unfortunately your busy work schedule didn’t leave much time for reading and so Luis had read it aloud for you while you worked. He managed several chapters a night depending on how late you were working and surprisingly he’d breezed through the entire novel in a matter of weeks. Luis had given it his all and you deeply appreciated how he brought the characters to life, giving each a distinctive voice, you enjoyed it so much in fact that once it was over you were unable to hide your sadness. 

You’d both agreed to find more things to read, these came in the form of: every single magazine in the break room, the umbrella health and safety pamphlet and finally, each of  Harold’s work diaries that he’d left scattered throughout the labs (that was when they found out he really didn’t like Luis.)  You cursed yourselves for not bringing along more books. That was when you had an idea, why not go online for some ‘fine literature’. And that’s where you found yourselves tonight, sat in a darkened room reading online smut.

“You coming back or should I find another one?” you called out, mouse already skimming over various links in the forum.

“I’ll just be a second,” came the stammered response from across the room. 

“We can read something else. I just thought it would be funny.” You stood up, making your way over to where Luis was. “Sorry if I made things awkward…” you trailed off, your eyes studying Luis carefully. “What are you doing?”

“I just needed a moment to… catch my breath.” His back was turned to you but the embarrassment in his voice was clear.

“You know,” you began, edging closer as you spoke. “It gets lonely being cooped up in a lab all day.” Luis’ head spun round and he flinched back slightly when he noticed you were standing directly in front of him.

“I’m always here to keep you company, senorita.”

“I know,” you replied, reaching out a hand towards his chest, Luis stopped you, clasping your hand gently in his.

“Perhaps we get to work, ey?”

“I don’t want to and clearly you don’t either,” you said pointing your gaze downwards.

Luis attempted to cover himself but it was too late, even in the dark of the room his growing lust was painfully obvious. 

“Ah that’s not very gentlemanly of me,” Luis laughed nervously.

“I like your carefree side better.” 

You stepped forward once again, closing the gap between you. Instinctively, Luis reached out his hands and put them either side of your hips, eliciting a gasp in response. Despite being the one to initiate you were still taken aback by the sudden contact. You’d spent many days and nights together but you’d rarely touched, there was the occasional brushing of fingertips when exchanging coffee, a pat on the shoulder followed by an earnest ‘well done,’ and of course, your most intimate act so far, a shared cigarette passed back and forth between your lips. 

Your arms reached upwards, looping around Luis’ neck, you pulled his head down towards you and planted a long awaited kiss on his lips. It only lasted a second but you felt as though a current were running throughout your entire body even after pulling away. Luis stared at you momentarily, mouth agape, until it widened into one of his signature grins. 

“Dios Mios,” he exclaimed softly. “It would be rude not to follow the lady’s example.” He brought his lips back down to yours and kissed you passionately, threading a hand through your hair as he did so. 

Delighted, you leaned into his touch, lapping desperately at his tongue, only ever having tasted him through cigarettes you were desperate to get your fill. The kiss intensified and so did your grip on the back of Luis’ shirt. The two of you stumbled backwards with Luis steadying himself with one hand.

“Perhaps a change of position is in order,” he announced, picking you up by the waist and setting you down on one of the desks. 

“Stuff’s in the way,” you said, swiping your hand across various notes and test tubes. Luis winced as the glass shattered on the floor. “It’s okay, Umbrella’ll pay for it.” You’d already discarded your lab coat and were halfway through undoing your blouse.  

Luis looked conflicted for a moment, that was until his gaze landed on your now exposed cleavage.

“Mi amor.” He let out a breathy sigh before burying his head in the ripened fruits. His hands fumbled with the back of your bra. His mind was clouded in a lustful haze, impairing his ability to complete simple tasks. “Mierda,” he muttered impatiently, hands still grappling with the metal hook of your bra. 

Both amused and agitated you began pulling off Luis’ lab coat and then quickly moved to his jeans. In the time it took you to remove both articles of clothing, he was still trying in vain to remove your bra. 

“Can’t be good at everything,” you giggled. Luis laughed in return, unclipping your bra in an instant.

“You’ll pay for such hurtful remarks,” Luis threatened light-heartedly. He dragged down your trousers and underwear, dropping them to the floor along with his jeans. Without another word he nestled his tongue between your legs, eliciting a high pitched moan from his lab partner. He gave extra care and attention to your clit, lapping at it firmly and greedily. You wiggled your hips in pleasure, grasping fistfuls of Luis’ hair in your hands, as you pushed his head further into your throbbing clit.

The force of your fingers pulling on his hair caused Luis to let out a stifled groan, despite the pain he continued to lap at you until his mouth and stubble were fully wetted with your dripping contentment. 

“Luis- fuck- just stick it in already,” you cried out between gasps.

Luis pulled away, dabbing at the side of his mouth with his thumb. “If you insist,” he smirked, pulling open one of the desk drawers and retrieving a condom from inside. Printed on the front of the pack was a stark red and white umbrella logo, along with the slogan ‘Our Business is Life Itself’, Luis couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony.

“Seriously, Luis? You keep those in your desk?”

“What?? They’re company issued,” Luis explained innocently.

“Oh, right, so they just hand out a condom with every beaker or something?”

“Err they do for me,” he gave a half shrug, half laugh as he tore open the packet and slid the condom over his awaiting dick. He turned to look at you, before shaking his head. “Ah, this won’t do, that looks a little uncomfortable.” He grabbed the clothing from the floor, bundling it into a makeshift pillow that he slid underneath your head. You smiled at his attentiveness, reaching up to peck him on the lips once more.

Luis positioned himself on top of you, sliding in with ease. You both moaned as he settled himself inside of you. “Are you feeling alright?” He cupped one side of your face in his hand as he waited for an answer.

“Doing just fine,” you grinned in response, bucking your hips against Luis. 

Luis responded by matching your rhythm, pushing in and out, the room was filled with the sounds of your heavy panting along with the clatter of the remaining items left on the desk.

Luis fought hard to suppress his overflowing pleasure. He gripped the edge of the table with one hand and used the other to pull one of your legs up over his shoulder. The new position gave him a better angle to pound into your most sensitive parts.

“Ah, more,” you gasped. Your rising contentment threatened to boil over as you felt your head swim. “Luis,” you called out in desperation. You gripped onto his arms, your eyes watering and pleading.

He peppered kisses down your neck.

“It’s okay mi amor.” The gentle caress of his voice gave your aching body permission. 

Like a flash of lightning your mind went blank, all thoughts emptied as you sought only satisfaction. An electrifying pulse coursed through you as your entire body trembled as you writhed against Luis.

“Ah, ah fuck,” you cried out as you collapsed in bliss.

Luis followed soon after, crumpling beside you. You both laid in silence besides the occasional panting of breath. Luis carefully slid out of you and grabbed his lab coat from the floor, throwing it over the two of you.

“Hey, Luis?”

“What is it,” he mumbled as he dug through his pockets searching for his lighter.

“Did you hit my cervix or not?”

“Hmm maybe, maybe not. Perhaps we can try again another time?” he quirked an eyebrow in sync with his cigarette lighting up.

You struggled to suppress the blush that burned across your cheeks, holding his hand closely in yours.

Umbrella was really going to have to start issuing more condoms.

[limbuscompanysituations]

Now I'm your "pretty please anon". I would like to see a situation where everyone in the unit decided to celebrate something and get drunk. Maybe even Vergil? The only sober ones are Dante and Charon, because Charon is driving, and Dante just can't (but they really wants to). pretty please

An important clarification, if you can write this as a situation, not as headcanons (if you find it difficult, then choose the second option), I would like to see it from a sober person, that is, from Dante

Sorry anon, Vergilius isn't getting drunk this time...

They had a successful day hunting another distortion, so when the sinners asked Dante for a little time to unwind before going back to the bus, they couldn't say no. Vergilius gave them a look, but instead of saying anything, he smiled. Dante should have interpreted that gesture as a warning; more precisely a bad omen. They were known for being oblivious to certain cues, unfortunately.

They arrived at the restaurant of the sinners' choice earlier, and once everyone voted on paying the meal out of their paychecks, everything started going off the rails. They were so excited to be doing something other than killing things and going back to the bus corridor that Dante couldn't say a thing. They counted on the sinners being able to exercise a little caution and good sense. They were expecting them to drink responsibly. Oh what a series of terrible decisions.

Right now the three tables that the sinners occupy are absolutely chaotic, all of the restaurant's patrons have steered clear of their corner. That's good because then nobody will be picking fights with strangers, but that doesn't say a thing about picking fights with each other.

< Guys, please calm down... > They try to reach out to Heathcliff and Ishmael who have been barking drunken insults back and forth for five minutes. Their words don't get through and they can't help but wonder if they'll need to rewind sometime soon.

It is Outis who steps in on their behalf to placate the fight but she's just as intoxicated and ends up joining the argument. In the midst of this battlefield, somehow, Yi Sang disappeared.

Dante walks by a Don Quixote who's joyfully reciting a speech from one of the many series she enjoys. The staff was smart enough not to let them in with their weapons, so she's wielding a spoon. Valliantly brandishing it into the air, standing on top of a table. Her performance could bring tears to anybody's eyes. It doesn't even look like she's drunk, but they know it.

Gregor lays with his head on the exact same table she stands on, his glasses are resting near his face. He covers his eyes with a hand while he groans. Hong Lu is right by his side, eyes sparkling as he applauds the play before him and pokes Gregor, calling his attention so they watch Don Quixote's performance together. Dante didn't have the presence of mind to suggest that Gregor moves to a less... eventful table.

Eventually they find their way to the table where Faust and Meursault still sit, sipping their drinks quietly while they watch the events unfold. This is where Yi Sang was, and from where he disappeared.

< A-are you sure you haven't seen him go anywhere...? > Dante asks them. Faust and Meursault give them looks of pity.

"The executive manager hasn't found him yet, Meursault." Faust says and Meursault frowns, "Pay."

"Most unfortunate." Meursault replies and with a sigh reaches for his wallet.

< YOU WERE BETTING ON THIS?! > Dante exclaims while they watch the transaction conclude.

"He's under." Faust says cryptically and then leans on the table with a slight smile.

< If only you gave me precise directions... ah, wait. > Under? Realization finally hits them.

They crouch under the table and there is Yi Sang. He's curled on the floor, looking slightly green but otherwise unharmed. Dante almost sighs in relief, but behind their back, Don Quixote's 'play' has grown livelier and louder.

Somehow Don Quixote managed to pull Ryoshu onto the 'stage' and gave her a spoon, goading her to fight a fictional battle. Sinclair has climbed the table in hopes of disengaging them, but his voice is not going through. Don Quixote and Ryoshu face each other, ferocious looks in their eyes.

Were it another person, Dante wouldn't worry too much, but knowing Ryoshu, they are certain she is capable of inflicting bodily harm even with a spoon. They quickly apologize to Yi Sang in their mind and rush to help Sinclair.

On another table, Rodion joined the arguing trio of Heathcliff, Ishmael and Outis. Unlike Outis, she didn't join in with the intent of placating, instead Dante could observe her give small malicious comments that seemed to stoke the flames of discord. They make a mental note to bring that up in a future consultation, but decide that Ryoshu vs. Don Quixote is a bigger problem currently. That's until Ishmael lifts a chair.

< Ishmael, no! > They take a detour and hurry to the ginger's side.

From the table where he safely sits with Charon, Vergilius frowns.

"Tick-Tock seems to be in trouble." Charon comments while she eats Vergilius' dessert.

"Hm..."

"It is loud, Vergie." She complains.

"Yes, we will be going back to the bus soon."

"Yay." She replies without any visible excitement.

Vergilius told himself he wouldn't interfere unless they started breaking down the restaurant. They're almost there, of course, but not yet. It's good to let Dante make these decisions on their own, after all if he continues babying the manager and their sinners, none of them will learn a thing. He sighs and keeps an eye on the commotion, not moving a single finger to help the struggling executive manager.

[reyboris]

LIBRA (ANALYSIS)

The intelligence of Gemini and Aquarius (the other two air signs) is always mentioned more than that of Libra, whose sentimental and social rather than mental gifts are mentioned above all. But Libra is a very intellectually creative energy. I think of 3 famous people with this energy: Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra (author of Don Quixote of La Mancha), Linwood Boomer (creator of the series Malcolm in the Middle) and Jane Austen (author of Pride and Prejudice who had the moon in Libra) .

Libra expresses subtleties of the social world, but not so much thanks to Scorpio, Aquarian or Piscean intuition (which are more psychic) ​​but through the deployment of the magic of language. In the language Libra makes his discoveries. Like when you feel advised by your own advice. Libra is a sign with a lot of mental scope.

Just as Taurus (the other sign ruled by Venus) is the accumulation (whether of matter or ideas) to then give them shape and generate something new, (Taurus is the craftsman, metaphorically speaking), Libra unfolds. Let's say that Libra accumulates energy, but outside: one idea for the left, another for the right.

[crime-soncloud]

Alright so Canto 3... Where do I begin (spoilers obvs)

Alright firstly, RIP Effie and Saude, I genuinely was kinda heartbroken over them both. Effies fate was grisly and really helped the themes and backstory of this canto (that's gonna be touched on more at the end). Meanwhile Saude was such a tragic and very noble death, one that neatly parallelled Sinclair. Wasn't at all expecting them to die, I fully thought they would be some light hearted rivals, but NOPE they're not returning.

In terms of the gameplay... Yall I wasn't even prepared, I ate shit on a lot of these encounters, the dungeon was a disaster at points, the first time I've lost an encounter so far, and I had to Grind. Ended up actually improving a decent bit, and finally started blocking and evading. As I said before, Kromer was a struggle, I lost like 5 times because of when she staggered you using the nails and did a bajillion damage.

In terms of the outer layer of the story, without the big moments, I liked how Don quixote consistently fucks up the plans and causes big fights. Also loved Siegfried coming in, wrecking the teams shit, don quixote fangirling, and then leaving. Honestly I would probably be don quixote, I would suck as a team member. Understand why Vergillus was such a dick, still feel really bad for Don, girlie felt broken by that. Really curious what happened before with them. Rewatching it really makes me want to hug Don, Vergillus is abelist for this (/j /silly). Also Don quixote beating up Sinclair after he goes too far was surprising but interesting as hell. Probably important to backstory

Gregor constantly acting and creating stories in these situations is amazing, and Mersault being previously employed by N corp is interesting 👀 there's something that's gonna be unpacked.

Alright then... Time to go through the main arc, that of Sinclair, and the themes. Firstly, while I am an atheist, I have had a fair amount of dealings with religion and religious people (mostly alright apart from a few). However I think the theme of religious extremism, religious hypocrisy, and guilt/responsibility are extremely well done. As I said, Saude in this canto neatly contrasts Sinclair, as while Sinclair betrayed his family out of hatred/distaste of the mechanical parts (another really nuanced and interesting theme with a lot of depth), and never came clean, leading to him feeling deep guilt over his actions, Saude betrayed the team to try to save herself and Effie, and ultimately was able to redeem herself when she found out Effie died, by holding off N corp. Speaking of Effie, to me the fact he was essentially made into a "heretic" by N corp, to me indicates the idea that they are hypocritical, calling others heretics for trying to improve their lives using the enhancements (there's also an argument for the church's persecution of queer people here, but that might not be intentional, just an interesting thought), but forcing them onto people breaking in so they have an excuse to punish and torture them inhumanely because "they're not human" (can you see the queer subtext I'm seeing?). Finally Dante is amazing this canto, in how they also grow, and manages to support Sinclair, and starts to wonder who are they? What did they do? Are they a good person? And this becomes a catalyst for them to be better, more responsible, and to support Sinclair, the things that Dante says in the final part of the story is genuinely amazing

And as for the backstory... I want to hug Sinclair. His dislike of his family for what they did, feeling as though they are colder, due to their prosthetics. And then Kromer and Demian are interesting, Kromer appearing kind and caring but having a clear air of malice, hatred, and cruelty. The way she acts is chilling, and that cg of her standing over Sinclair is Evil.

Meanwhile I have no fucking clue about Demian, he seems kinda cool but has something going on under the surface, we'll probably have to fight him eventually. Extremely curious, his wisdom, sign (that is what we collect in the dungeon), saving of Sinclair, speeches, and the fact that he is the only character so far that isn't a fixer but hears Dante?? Like okay he is important AF. Definitely very interesting.

I was told by @zebrashork that it had to take a break at points in this canto, and it was fucked up a bit, and BOY is it! I'm probably missing a few things though. Also @flextapeyeehaw sorry for tagging you here, but I wanted to say that you didn't say anything about Kromer, when it came to hateable characters, but FUCK KROMER!

Will be tackling the 3.5 chapter/canto, I expect it to be light-hearted. Probably will just rb this with my thoughts on it

[amtrak12]

LiveJournal's Big Damn Prompt Table

I tried tracking down the original LiveJournal post that I copied and pasted this massive fic prompt table from... but all I could find by now were 100 prompt tables and smaller 🙁 But I promise there used to be a 200 prompt version of the Big Damn Table!!

For those that don't know, these prompt tables doubled as fic challenges on LiveJournal. Community blogs would crop up to host a challenge, and participants would "claim" a fandom or character or ship (depending on the rules) and then set out to write one fic for each prompt. Typically there wasn't a minimum word count requirement as writing 50, 100, 200 fics was challenge enough.

I don't believe many people finished their tables 😜 But the attempts were still fun!

I'm sharing this table here for my own personal records, but please feel free to reblog and use it as fic inspiration too! Text version of the prompts is listed below the cut.

Light

Shadows

Truth

Lies

Fall

Secure

Purpose

Meaning

Past

Future

Star

Sun

Scar

Solitary

Penance

Sinner

Saint

Unconditional

Rules

Tales

Amazing

Special

Sick

Exhaustion

Choice

Dream

Sex

Passion

Intense

Soft

Unforgiving

Almost

Messy

Memory

Forgotten

Time

Gift

Red

Yellow

Blue

Gray

Sloshed

Regression

Laughter

Debt

Work

Pain

Hidden

Power

Animal

Pretend

Pillows

Cigarette

Leader

Follower

Ring

Journal/Diary

Flowers

Tree

Nature

Gold

Silver

Games

Foreign

Comfort

Music

Air

Water

Fire

Earth

Definition

Forever

Never

Learn

Teach

Grief

Leaving

Mundane

Picture

Crazy

Repression

Tragedy

Comedy

Romantic

What If

Paternal

Maternal

Better

Worse

Coping

Young

Old

Crisis

Body

Soul

Mind

Reason

Illogical

Hypnotize

Wisdom

Destiny

Groggy

Morning

Noon

Night

Coffee

Moment

Year

Month

Week

Day

Hour

Glory

Pride

Lust

Intemperance

Greed

Envy

Wrath

Sloth

Holy

Moderation

Carelessness

Quitting

Observe

Favor

Spiritual

Sacrifice

Incompatible

Obsolete

Journey

Beginning

End

Importance

Numb

Innocent

Unhealthy

Destruction

Protection

Love

War

Peace

Name

Glass

Sea

Sky

Land

Fly

Outside

Inside

Together

Alone

Dead

Alive

New

Act Out

Restrictions

Cry

Brave

Afraid

Irked

Chipper

Quixotic

Enthralled

Hopeful

Melancholy

Classic

Change

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[little-diable]

Don Quixote de la Mancha - Prof!Tommy Shelby (smut)

Since my mom is currently directing Don Quixote as a theatre play, I had to write this story, inspired by her version (well, hers is without the smut, of course hahah). Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader has joined a group travelling through a new country, a vacation where she crosses paths with a handsome literature professor.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, oral

Pairing: modern!prof!Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (3.7k words)

header by @deathofpeaceofmind

The air had an almost sticky touch to it, forcing sweat to pearl on (y/n)’s forehead. Her eyes were focused on the window close to her seat, watching the unfamiliar landscape blur by. Even though she tried to focus her eyes, her heart couldn’t stop racing, wanting to look at the man who sat close to her.

The group had been travelling for the past three days together, strangers who were experiencing a new country, wanting to spend some time away from home. It had been a desperate attempt to disappear from the home (y/n) no longer felt comfortable in, needing a change of scenery. 

And then her eyes had met his, in front of the tour bus, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. The man - Tommy as he had introduced himself later on - had an awfully mysterious, intriguing touch to him, luring (y/n) closer with every shared glance. She had tried to stay away from him, not wanting to make a fool out of herself, but yet he always found her, striking up another conversation that forced heat through her veins. 

She had learned a lot about him, about the literature professor who specialised in older literature. He was everything she wasn’t, and yet (y/n) couldn’t help but long for his touch, wanting to cross paths with him at any given chance. 

“Alright, listen up, guys! We’ll arrive at the arena in a few minutes. I’ll give you about an hour to explore on your own, and then we’ll grab some lunch together.” Their tour guide, Michael, forced her out of her thoughts, eyes snapping to the front, watching him speak with the small microphone pressed to his lips. Before her mind could register what her eyes were doing, (y/n) found herself looking at Tommy. His blue eyes met hers, leaving both smiling before she quickly averted her gaze, looking out of the window once again. 

Excitement flushed through her veins as she focused on the nearing arena, a place she had been wanting to visit for years, finding interest in old historic buildings, wanting to experience what life had been like all these centuries ago. The bus came to a sudden halt, forcing a few other people to murmur in protest, already fed up with the bus driver who had an almost too relaxed touch to him. 

“Please, go ahead.” Tommy waited for (y/n) to pass him before he followed her down the rows, stepping out into the warm morning. Both reached for their sunglasses, not daring to break the silence as the guide walked them closer to the arena entrance. She felt Tommy’s eyes on her, with a cigarette placed between his lips and his sunglasses managing to hide the eyes she could drown in. “Do you mind if I walk with you, (y/n)?”

Her heart skipped a beat whenever he spoke her name, too soft, too calm, too lovingly. An unfamiliar sensation she’d probably never get used to. 

All (y/n) could do was shake her head, whispering a quiet “Of course not”, followed by a bright smile. The two started walking, chasing the distance, not wanting to spend any more time with the other people who annoyed them a tad too much. No words were spoken as they started to explore the sight, smiling whenever their eyes met, just for a few seconds, seconds that felt like years passing by, trapped like oblivious lovers. 

“Come, I want to show you something.” Her eyes wandered to the hand Tommy had reached out for her to take, eyebrows raised in a challenging manner. And with a few chuckles rumbling through her, (y/n) softly grasped his fingers, allowing the professor to pull her through the arena.

……

“Don’t you dare, Fred. I told you too much bread isn’t good for you.” An annoyed sigh left (y/n) as she watched the elderly couple, watching the wife pull another breadstick from her husband’s grasp. Exhaustion clung to (y/n)‘s system, exhausted from the heat burning down on them, exhausted from the bickering going on around her, exhausted from the tension her body had clung to as Tommy had pulled her through the arena, murmuring history facts to the amazed woman. 

“Do you think he’s ever allowed to speak up?” Tommy’s whispers left (y/n) laughing, shaking her head as she took another sip of her drink. A sip she instantly regretted, almost choking on it as Tommy’s hand found her knee, supporting himself as he reached for the bottle of water. Heat flushed through her, clinging to her body as if it was trying to warm her from inside out, saving her before she’d freeze to death.

He was the fire made to protect her trembling body, and she was the wood made to fuel his heat. 

“I doubt she has ever heard his voice before.” Her teasing reply forced a similar laugh out of Tommy, smiling into his drink. She felt a few pairs of eyes on them, meeting the tour guides pupils from across the table, unable to ignore the smirk tugging on the man’s lips. Fuck, whatever Tommy was doing to her was seemingly overly obvious to those that watched them whenever they interacted. And yet (y/n) didn’t find it in her heart to care. 

“Tommy?” Tim’s voice forced their attention onto him, the young boy who had joined the tour with his mother. “What’s your favourite book? Have you ever read one about this place?” 

“It’s probably Don Quixote, have you heard of this story, Tim?” With awe laced in her gaze, (y/n) watched the interaction unfold, hanging onto Tommy’s every word. Tim could only shake his head, waiting for the professor to keep on talking. “It’s a story about finding beauty in our everyday life, about imagination, and about breaking your routine.”

“Mom?” Tim turned away from Tommy, stirring up a conversation with his mother about the book, allowing Tommy’s eyes to wander back to (y/n)’s features. She couldn’t avert her gaze, couldn’t rip herself free from the grasp he had on her, whatever it was, she felt herself falling deeper and deeper, losing grasp on her life like Alice had, tumbling further down the rabbit hole. 

“It’s fascinating how easily you manage to impress him.” A grateful, almost proud smile tugged on Tommy’s lips, murmuring a soft “Thank you, love”. (Y/n) could only hope that the upcoming days won’t pass by all too quickly, slipping through her fingers like sand, unable to stop time from tugging her along. 

……

The stars twinkled in the sky, leaving (y/n) wondering what people living centuries ago must have seen up there, the brightness her eyes will never experience. She was sitting on a bench, arms wrapped around her knees, pressing her thighs against her front. The laughter of the others echoed through the air, making a smile tug on her lips.

For the first time in weeks, perhaps even months, she felt calm, relaxed, an unfamiliar sensation she had been aching for. Life had been too hectic lately, unable to catch her breath as she stumbled from one place to the other, set on pleasing those she looked up to.

“May I?” Tommy pointed to the empty spot next to her, cigarette once again placed between his soft lips, hands holding onto two bottles. She nodded with a smile shot his way before her eyes found the sky once again. He opened the bottles with his eyes set on (y/n)‘s side profile, looking at her with the same gaze she was shooting the dark sky. Full of adoration. Full of intrigue.

No words were spoken as he pushed the bottle into her hand, shuffling closer without her noticing. The two relished in their silence, finding comfort in the sound of laughter shaking up the night from afar. It was a moment so special, (y/n) could only hope she’d forever remember this. 

Only as she felt Tommy shuffle around did (y/n) begin to notice that she was trembling, shaking like a leaf dancing through the cold autumn air. Her head moved towards him as he pulled his sweater over his head, wordlessly pushing it over her shoulders. His scent engulfed her, a hint of his cigarettes, of his cologne that reminded her of old books and a warm winter feeling, a scent so unfamiliar, (y/n) couldn’t help but snuggle further into the soft fabric. 

Slowly Tommy moved his arm around her shoulders, placing it on the back of their bench. With heat rising to her face, (y/n)’s body began moving, sitting close enough to lean her head against his chest. A warm feeling flushed through both their systems, momentarily slowing down the upcoming seconds, allowing them to relish in their body contact.

“Do you see any constellations?” He whispered his words into her ear, forcing goosebumps to rise on her skin. She heavily swallowed, looking at the sky for a few more moments before she tilted her head towards his face. Tommy’s lips were close to hers, it’d be too easy to share a kiss, a similar thought Tommy found himself guided by, moving closer. 

With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) stayed still, praying to the stars above that he’d kiss her. Tommy’s lips were close to touching hers, close to sharing a kiss both would think of for days on end. 

“Professor Shelby?” One of the others called for him, interrupting their moment, forcing an annoyed groan out of Tommy. He let go of her with a short “Excuse me”, rising to his feet to walk back to the group. (Y/n) found herself watching him for a few more seconds before she turned her gaze back towards the sky, unable to swallow down her sigh. 

Perhaps time wasn’t in her favour tonight, perhaps the stars twinkling above in the sky weren’t her lucky ones this very night. Whatever it was, it left her heart longing for him. 

…… 

„It seems like you and the professor get along quite well.” Michael’s voice was laced with a teasing undertone, leaving (y/n) to roll her eyes. She shook her head with a smile, turning from the guide to focus on the scenery surrounding her. Waves were clashing to the sea, mixing the sand littering the beach with other rolling in, telling tales of places her eyes had never been fortunate enough to admire just yet. 

“He’s clearly into you, but it seems like you’re not the only one charmed by him.” Her eyes wandered to Tommy’s features, watching him interact with Tim’s mom. The woman had an overly bright smile on her lips, clearly trying to flirt with the man who tried to turn from her every few moments. (Y/n) couldn’t stop her laugh from clawing through her, forcing Tommy’s eyes towards her. 

“(Y/n), come here!” Tommy’s voice lured her closer, leaving Michael behind as Tim’s mom tugged her son away from Tommy with an annoyed face. He reached for (y/n)‘s hand, pulling her to the spot where the ocean waves rolled onto the beach, momentarily wetting their naked feet. “And if a god will wreck me yet again on the wine-dark sea, I can bear that too, with a spirit tempered to endure. Much have I suffered, laboured long and hard by now in the waves and wars.”

“Where is this from?” (Y/n) whispered her words, looking at the professor with awe laced in her gaze. Tommy turned towards her, smiling at (y/n), unable to stop himself from admiring her. 

“Homer’s Odyssey. I always find myself drawn to the way he described the sea, the stories most of us have long forgotten.” Once again the atmosphere around them began to crackle, forcing their hearts to race, making blood sing in their ears. Tommy’s hand found it’s way to her cheek, giving (y/n) the chance to pull away before he’d finally close the gap between them - at least that is what she’s been hoping for. 

But Tommy didn’t move closer, all he did was stare at her, trying to burn the sight of her face into his memory. Slowly he let go of her, leaving her standing as he picked up his shoes, walking back to the group. They were about to board the bus once again, driving to their hotel for this night. 

(Y/n)’s body forced her to move, grasping his wrist before this moment could slip through her fingers. She was guided by a sense of confidence she had never felt before, looking into his challenging eyes, waiting for her to move. Without another word being spoken, (y/n) pressed her lips against his, tasting the chewing gum he had chewed on a few minutes ago. The kiss was short, interrupted after a few seconds by her pulling away from him with a smile.

And with the squeeze of his hand, (y/n) let go of him, moving towards the bus as if the past moments hadn’t happened. She felt Tommy stare at her, heard the soft, raspy chuckles leaving him as he slowly began to follow her.

……

“Tommy, hi.” Her whispers filled the night, echoing through the hallway connecting their rooms. Tommy stared down on her for a few seconds, before he wordlessly closed the gap between them. She guided him back into her room without parting from him, moaning as their tongues met slowly, exploring one another’s mouth. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this for quite a while.” His confession forced her to hide her face in the crook of his neck, allowing his hands to wander down her sides, pushing her even closer. “You’ve bewitched me, I don’t want to part from you.”

“Then don’t, don’t let me go.” (Y/n) pulled him in for another kiss, gasping in surprise as his hands found her behind, squeezing her soft skin with an unfamiliar kind of urgency, luring her back till they reached her bed for the night. Tommy’s lips began to wander down her throat, sucking on the spots that coaxed low moans from her, passing the moments she used to work on the buttons of his dark dress shirt. “I want to touch you, I need to feel you close.”

“You can have me however you want, love. So desperate for my touch, so needy.” With goosebumps covering her body, she was pushed down on the mattress. Her shirt was pulled from her, exposing her naked upper body to the man with overly piercing eyes. Tommy didn’t dare break eye contact as he pushed his shirt down his shoulders, hands working on his belt. “Tell me what you need, talk to me.”

“Mhm I want to taste you, been dreaming about sucking you off.” She felt her heart skip beats at every low groan leaving the man, watching him step out of his trousers before he reached for her hand. No further word was spoken as (y/n) dropped to her knees, staring up at Tommy. His veiny hands freed his cock from the confines of his dark underwear, already twitching in his grasp. Her tongue darted out to lick away the pearly drops of precum bearding his red tip, leaving Tommy gasping in surprise.

(Y/n) parted her lips for him, taking as much of him as she could before she slowly pulled back, tongue stroking his bulging vein. Tommy’s groans echoed through the room, a sound so strong, (y/n)‘s walls began to clench around nothing. She bobbed her head with urgency spurring her on, determination to push the professor over the edge within a few short minutes. 

“You’re doing so well for me. Look at the mess you’re making, pretty girl.” Her heart swelled at the praise, eyes momentarily fluttering close as she tried to breathe through her nose, taking him further down her throat. Tommy’s hand found her head, guiding the bobbing motion with moans clawing through him. “Your mouth will be the death of me.”

Her hums vibrated on his skin, watery eyes flickering up to meet his darkening ones. He was staring down on her, like Lucifer punishing sinners he had lured into the darkness, and like the sinners forever trapped in Lucifer’s realm, (y/n) never wanted to part from the professor again. 

“Fuck, I’m close, love.” Tommy warned her, head rolling back to release another throaty moan. (Y/n) kept bobbing her head, not daring to pull away, wanting to swallow every drop he was about to fill her cheeks with. 

The professor came with a groan, tightening his grip on her, painting her cheeks white. He watched her swallow, watched a smirk tug on her lips, a sight he couldn’t help but chuckle at. (Y/n) was pulled to her feet within seconds, pushed down onto the bed without a warning. Tommy pressed her down, hands tugging her damp panties down her legs, making room for him to nestle between her thighs.

“I bet you taste so sweet.” His whispers made her arch her back, eyes fluttering close as Tommy’s tongue found her folds, eating her out like a starving man, clinging to her as if she was the tree of all life. His tongue left her trembling, hands grasping the bedsheet all too tightly, about to rip holes into the fabric with her nails. 

(Y/n) choked on his name, one hand finding it’s way to his hair, tugging on his roots. She needed to feel him as close as possible, praying that this moment would last forever.

“Don’t be quiet, let them hear how good I’m making you feel.” Tommy’s command was met with a moan leaving (y/n), reverberating through the room. His fingers joined his tongue, pushing into her to prepare her for his aching cock, needing to bury himself inside of her any moment now.

With his fingers curled against her sweet spot, (y/n) found her breaths growing shallow, unable to breathe through the racing by moments. Tommy was set on making her scream, set on making her moans as loud as she could, heart swelling in a sick sense of pride as he felt her move closer and closer. 

Any moment now she’d cum, any moment now she’d give in with her sobs leaving her and her fingers tugging on his roots all too eagerly. And he wanted to feel it all, wanted to hear every sound he’d never forget. With their eyes meeting, Tommy managed to push her over the edge, giving in without being able to hold back.

His fingers fucked her through her high, eyes squeezed shut, nails scratching at whatever she could feel. A sight so admiring, Tommy didn’t find it in his heart to blink just once. 

“Tommy,” she gasped his name, whining in protest as he pulled away. “Fuck me, please, I want to feel you, all of you.”

“Let me get a-“ he was interrupted by the kiss she pressed against his lips, kissing him a few times before a soft “I’m on the pill, I want to feel you” left her. He stared down on her for a few seconds before he nodded his head. 

Their lips met again as Tommy pushed into her, making both moan in unison. Their hearts were racing, jumping and skipping beats every few seconds, adding even more anticipation to it. His hips met hers with every thrust, burying him deep inside of her, wanting to stare down on her with his now dark eyes, finding joy in the lust glimmering in her eyes. A sight so raw, a sight so pure. 

„Shit, Tommy, don’t hold back, please.” Tommy didn’t reply, he tightened his grip on her side as his other found her throat, eagerly pinning her down. The way he choked her had something almost lovingly to it, not daring to hurt her, though fully set on heightening her senses. His thrusts became faster, more urgent, chasing their second high. 

He didn’t give her a warning as he let go of (y/n), pulling out of her to flip her around, face pressed into the warm pillow she had been laying on. Tommy pushed back into her from behind, forcing his cock deeper and deeper. 

Both were close to giving in, bodies trembling, hearts racing. Her trembling fingers found her pulsing bundle of nerves, circling it with urgency, set on cumming any moment now. Tommy’s curses gave her the final push, clawing through him as if Genesis was speaking through him, the voice of God guiding all those who were able to pick up on it.

“Oh god, fuck, Tommy.” (Y/n) squeezed her eyes shut as she came, allowing her orgasm to flush through her system, poisoning her every vein. Tommy gave it a few more thrusts before he came, pulling out of her just in time to paint her skin with his heat, leaving marks for eternity. 

“Will you stay?” Her whispers filled the room, ringing in his ears as he carefully cleaned her up. Their eyes met, making a smile tug on both their lips. 

“Do you want me to?” Tommy sat down next to her, pulling (y/n) into his chest, allowing her to listen to the racing beat of his heart. With a kiss pressed to his throat, she murmured a soft “Of course”,allowing him to tighten his grasp on her. 

"Love, as I have heard say, sometimes flies and sometimes walks; with this one it runs, with that it moves slowly; some it cools, others it burns; some it wounds, others it slays." – Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes

[probablyasocialecologist]

Hiring high-ranking Nazis to test new torture methods on prisoners was only the beginning, however. By 1953, CIA scientists like Schreiber and Sidney Gottlieb—the titular character of Stephen Kinzer’s book, Poisoner in Chief—had initiated a sprawling two-decade campaign of reckless human experimentation best known by the codename MK-ULTRA. A quixotic but well-funded hunt for truth serums, brainwashing drugs, and other mind control techniques, MK-ULTRA scientists subjected countless non-consenting and/or otherwise vulnerable people to powerful drugs and interrogation techniques. In spite of being subject to three separate government investigations, only a small fraction of the total program has been publicly disclosed since the CIA shredded nearly all relevant documents. What little we do know, however, is horrifying. With the help of OSS veteran and federal narcotics detective George Hunter White, Gottlieb maintained a network of domestic and international “safe houses” where he would administer LSD to unwitting and “expendable” subjects such as petty criminals and drug users. Sometimes, Gottlieb’s expendable subjects included other scientists, such as bacteriologist Frank Olson, who was dosed with LSD and allegedly murdered by CIA, supposedly because of fears that he would reveal America’s use of chemical and biological weapons (CBW). The Agency has had more than its share of CBW-use allegations beginning in this period, including the open-air testing of aerosolized biological agents in New York City and spreading whooping cough on the coast of Florida in 1955. MK-ULTRA research was also conducted at university laboratories, such as those of Harold Wolff and Louis Jolyon West at Cornell Medical College and the University of Oklahoma, or Donald Ewen Cameron at McGill University in Montreal. Between 1957 and 1963, Cameron used CIA money to develop psychological “depatterning” techniques on approximately one hundred patients. These techniques included placing patients in extended drug-induced comas, LSD dosing for months at a time, electro-shock treatments, and forcing patients to listen to recorded messages such as “my mother hates me” played on a loop. A multi-million dollar class action lawsuit against McGill, the Canadian government, and the Royal Victoria Hospital on behalf of Cameron’s victims and their families is currently underway. MK-ULTRA later found a home in existing networks set up by scientific institutions and universities in the USA and Canada.

[weeb-polls-with-pip]

The Autistic Anime Girls Tournament Bracket!

Here are the matchups. The winners of each group will compete in a three-way finale. Full matchups below the cut! I typed all of this by hand, so if you spot an error PLEASE let me know. My brain was simply Not There after a certain point.

I have the poll visuals for the first half of group one done, I just need to make posts for them. I'll try to finish them up by the end of tonight. I'll be releasing halves a day or two apart, but wait for one group to finish up before releasing matches for the next group. Without further ado...

GROUP ONE:

(Side A)

Tome Kurata (Mob Psycho 100) VS Emu Ootori (Project Sekai)

Yuki Nagato (The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya) VS Haruhi Fujioka (Ouran High School Host Club)

Maria Ushiromiya (Umineko When They Cry) VS Ami Mizuno/Sailor Mercury (Sailor Moon)

Tomoko Kuroki (WataMote) VS Homura Akemi (Puella Magi Madoka Magica)

Shouko Komi (Komi Can’t Communicate) VS Mayaya (Princess Jellyfish)

Manami Okuda (Assassination Classroom) VS Athena Cykes (Ace Attorney)

Rina Tennouji (Love Live! Nijigasaki High School Idol Club) VS Mizuki Date (AI: The Somnium Files)

Rei Ayanami (Neon Genesis Evangelion) VS Rin Shima (Laid-Back Camp)

Futaba Sakura (Persona 5) VS Kaoruko Moeta/Kaos (Comic Girls)

Constanze Amalie von Braunschbank-Albrechtsberger (Little Witch Academia) VS Tomoyo Daidouji (Cardcaptor Sakura)

Suletta Mercury (Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury) VS Nezuko Kamado (Demon Slayer)

Falin Touden (Dungeon Meshi) VS Mashiro Shiina (The Pet Girl of Sakurasou)

Anthy Himemiya (Revolutionary Girl Utena) VS Kanade Yoisaki (Project Sekai)

Sakaki (Azumanga Daioh) VS Penny Polendina (RWBY)

Tae Yamada (Zombie Land Saga) VS Tomori Takamatsu (BanG Dream: It's MyGO!!!!!)

Midori Asakusa (Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken!) VS Jiji (Princess Jellyfish)

(Side B)

Asa Mitaka (Chainsaw Man) VS Shijima Tsukishima (Shimeji Simulation)

Patty Thompson (Soul Eater) VS Minori Ichinose/Cure Papaya (Tropical-Rouge! Pretty Cure)

Mako Mankanshoku (Kill la Kill) VS Nami (One Piece)

Ayumu Kasuga/Osaka (Azumanga Daioh) VS Rena Ryuugu (Higurashi When They Cry)

Mitsumi Iwakura (Skip and Loafer) VS Hina Hikawa (BanG Dream! Girls Band Party)

Sawako Kuronuma/Sadako (Kimi ni Todoke: From Me to You) VS Maomao (The Apothecary Diaries)

Hikaru Hoshina/Cure Star (Star Twinkle Pretty Cure) VS Winry Rockbell (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Lain Iwakura (Serials Experiments Lain) VS Banba (Princess Jellyfish)

Himari Arisugawa/Cure Custard (KiraKira☆Pretty Cure A La Mode) VS Maki Aikawa (Air Master)

Honoka Yukishiro/Cure White (Futari wa Pretty Cure) VS Milly Thompson (Trigun)

Atsuko Kagari/Akko (Little Witch Academia) VS Chiaki Nanami (Danganronpa)

Hitori Gotoh/Bocchi (Bocchi the Rock!) VS Ryou Yamada (Bocchi the Rock!)

Tsukimi Kurashita (Princess Jellyfish) VS Victorique de Blois (Gosick)

Clara Valac (Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-kun) VS Nagi Usui (NEO: The World Ends With You)

Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky IV (Cowboy Bebop) VS Nene Kusanagi (Project Sekai)

Tsuyu Asui (My Hero Academia) VS Chieko (Princess Jellyfish)

GROUP TWO:

(Side A)

Nico Niiyama (Kiznaiver) VS Ajimi Kiki (PriPara)

Nagisa Furukawa (Clannad) VS Fuuko Ibuki (Clannad)

Kushina Uzumaki (Naruto) VS Nagisa Momoe (Madoka Magica: Rebellion)

Hinata Hyuuga (Naruto) VS Yellow (Pokémon Adventures)

Cibo (Blame!) VS Kuriko Saiki (The Disastrous Life of Saiki K.)

Vanilla H (Galaxy Angel) VS Himiko Yumeno (Danganronpa)

Nejire Hadou (My Hero Academia) VS Yuuko Aioi (Nichijou)

Tsubomi Takane (Mob Psycho 100) VS Fischl von Luftschloss Narfidort (Genshin Impact)

Maya Fey (Ace Attorney) VS Reina Aharen (Aharen is Indecipherable)

Usagi Tsukino (Sailor Moon) VS Orihime Inoue (Bleach)

Don Quixote (Limbus Company) VS Chizuru Hishiro (ReLIFE)

Io Nitta (Devil Survivor 2) VS Miho Nosaka (Yugioh)

Ringo Andou (Puyo Puyo) VS Aoi Akane (Toilet-Bound Hanako-kun)

Mei Hatsume (My Hero Academia) VS Alluka Zoldyck (Hunter x Hunter)

Gin Akutagawa (Bungou Stray Dog) VS Izutsumi (Dungeon Meshi)

Sorawo Kamikoshi (Otherside Picnic) VS Three (Drakengard 3)

(Side B)

Satsuki Minazuki (Liar Satsuki Can See Death) VS Yuki Shirakaba (Catulus Syndrome)

Anri Sonohara (Durarara!!) VS Kotomi Ichinose (Clannad)

Nico Yazawa (Love Live!) VS Bocchi Hitori (Hitori Bocchi no Marumaru Seikatsu)

Ahiru Arima/Duck (Princess Tutu) VS Kanao Tsuyuri (Demon Slayer)

Miriel (Fire Emblem Awakening) VS Anzu (Ensemble Stars!)

Rinku Aimoto (Dig Delight Direct Drive DJ) VS Yuri (Doki Doki Literature Club)

Mako Wakamiya (Do Chokkyuu Kareshi x Kanojo) VS Biscuit Krueger/Bisky (Hunter x Hunter)

Erza Scarlet (Fairy Tail) VS Maria Inomata (School Babysitters)

Akane Kurashiki (Zero Escape) VS Sayo Yasuda (Umineko When They Cry)

Sonia Nevermind (Danganronpa) VS Mai Minakami (Nichijou)

Miki Naoki (School-Live!) VS Ai Mie (The Girl I Like Forgot Her Glasses)

Nausicaä (Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind) VS Lynne (Ghost Trick)

Sumireko Usami (Touhou Project) VS Lucina (Fire Emblem Awakening)

Shouko Sano (Colorful) VS Shizuku Murasaki (Hunter x Hunter)

Kon Ishimori (Kemono Jihen) VS Marcille Donato (Dungeon Meshi)

Anisphia Wynn Palletia (The Magical Revolution Of The Reincarnated Princess and The Genius Young Lady) VS Hayate Tendo (Dig Delight Direct Drive DJ)

GROUP THREE:

(Side A)

Ai Enma (Hell Girl) VS Kaoru Seta (BanG Dream! Girls Band Party!)

Jun Naruse (Anthem of the Heart) VS Kanna Makino (Tamako Market)

Eve Wakamiya (BanG Dream!) VS Chouko Shizuhata (Oddman 11)

Hikari Kagura (Revue Starlight) VS Croix Meridies (Little Witch Academia)

Miko Iino (Kaguya-sama: Love is War) VS Nafra Ampsey (Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-kun)

Sana Futaba (Magia Record) VS Momoko Hanasaki (Wedding Peach)

Mei Misaki (Another) VS Valerie (Pokémon)

Kanade Tachibana/Angel (Angel Beats!) VS Akashi (The Tatami Galaxy)

Miku Hatsune (Vocaloid) VS Manatsu Natsuumi/Cure Summer (Tropical-Rouge! Pretty Cure)

Katarina Claes (My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom!) VS Sayaka Kanamori (Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken!)

Hana Tabata (A Bouquet for an Ugly Girl) VS Richeh (Witch Hat Atelier)

Saki Hanajima (Fruits Basket) VS Myne (Ascendance of a Bookworm)

Tohru Honda (Fruits Basket) VS Konata Izumi (Lucky Star)

Shizuku Mizutani (My Little Monster) VS Ran-Mao (Black Butler)

Miyuki Hoshizora/Cure Happy (Smiley Pretty Cure!) VS Tsubame Mizusaki (Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken!)

Kyouka Izumi (Bungou Stray Dogs) VS Franziska von Karma (Ace Attorney)

(Side B)

Nico Robin (One Piece) VS Tsubasa Katsuki (Comic Girls)

Penny (Pokémon Scarlet and Violet) VS Alice Carroll (Aria)

Sora Kajiwara (Sketchbook: Full Color’s) VS A.K.I. (Street Fighter 6)

Maya Yamato (BanG Dream!: Girls Band Party) VS Sucy Manbavaran (Little Witch Academia)

Kiyoko Shimizu (Haikyuu!!) VS Sen (Hakumei and Mikochi)

Arle Nadja (Puyo Puyo) VS Mai Mishou/Cure Egret/Cure Windy (Futari wa Pretty Cure Splash Star)

Omoharu Nakanaka (Komi Can’t Communicate) VS Sora Naegino (Kaleido Star)

Yor Forger (Spy x Family) VS Li Tianxi (Link Click)

Maho Hiyajo (Steins;Gate 0) VS Kirie Motoba (Himouto! Umaru-chan)

Riza Hawkeye (Fullmetal Alchemist) VS Eula Lawrence (Genshin Impact)

Miae Hwang (After School Lessons For Unripe Apples) VS Ruby Rose (RWBY)

Nanami Hiromachi (BanG Dream!: Girls Band Party) VS Lotte Jansson (Little Witch Academia)

Himiko Toga (My Hero Academia) VS Bulma (Dragon Ball)

Witch (Puyo Puyo) VS Power (Chainsaw Man)

Kanna Kamui (Miss Kobayashi’s Dragon Maid) VS Tooru Taki (Natsume's Book of Friends)

Suzuno Kamazuki/Crestia Bell (The Devil is a Part-Timer!) VS Yoo Iseol (Return of the Mount Hua Sect/Return of the Blossoming Blade)

[staryarn]

I like how all of the project moon games are tied together by cycles of pain and suffering and learning how to end your own cycle of suffering just to get a breathe of fresh air (or at the very least, attempt to end the cycle).

In lobotomy corporation Angela is going through her loops over and over until the script progresses. She's only 'free' when she decided to start white days and dark nights and take the light for herself. (Same can be thought about the Sephirah and their meltdowns)

In library of ruina both Roland and Angela are in another cycle of suffering and hatred (though from Roland's stance its moreso a cycle of suffering and hatred towards Angela for White days and Dark nights, along with the Pianist incident.)

Eventually the cycle is broken by forgiving eachother (because Dying only perpetuates it) and freeing the books of the library .

And so far limbus has shown us the sinners each confronting their past and (more or less) deciding how to move forward with their lives.

(This is especially evident with how canto iv is worded and how Yi Sang wants to choose the road he walks rather than wandering aimlessly)

(Bonus to what I said in the tags about connecting each sinner to a Sephirah (minus dante and whichever sinner decides to backstab, making it 11 which matches tye Sephirah.

The Will to Stand up Straight (Malkuth) - (???)

The Rationality to Maintain Discretion (Yesod) - (???)

The Hope to be a Better Person (Hod) - (???) (I'd personally want to say someone like Sinclair)

The Fearlessness to keep on Living (Netzach) - (???) (Personally I connect this with Yi Sang)

The Expectation for the Meaning of Existence (Tiphereth) - (???)

The Courage to Protect (Gebura) - (???) ( I think Don Quixote would fit this one)

Those who are Faithful and Trustworthy (Chesed) - (???)

The Eye Facing the Fear; Breaking the Cycle (Binah) - (???)

The Eye Embracing the Past; Building the Future (Hokma) - ???

The Knowing I (Angela) - (???)

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 2 - West Ham Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 1 Summary: What happens when a chance meeting happens again (and again)? Warnings: Swearing, E-rated language and outrageous flirting 🤷🏻‍♀️ Author's Notes: It took me over a month to write (blame the capitalism and full-time work) and it's twice as long (over 8k), but it's here, eh? These two did not seem keen on shutting up and the result is chaotic, but then that's London for you. It also features a cheeky POV change because there's no rules and everything is a simulation :) Also, if anyone's interested, the dance she mentions in scene no 1 and shows Neil is 'Cupid's Variation' from Don Quixote ballet. As seen for example here. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

To say you have not thought about Neil every day since that encounter would be a lie. As it turned out, he was wrong. It was not difficult to remember him, tormented daily by the memories of that exact shade of blue or the way the strands of his hair fell over his forehead. Rarely the one to lie to yourself, you did not even try to get rid of those thoughts. After all, it was harmless. Hopefully.

A week later, on another dreary Wednesday morning, when the only reason for excitement was this autumn’s production of Don Quixote and the roll-call announcement in your inbox, you made it to the St. John’s Wood station with a slight shortness of breath. The morning walk was always an opportunity to admire how ordinary neighbourhoods of West Kilburn transformed into the poshness of Maida Vale and St. John’s. Alternatively, it was a way to check whether your fitness levels were still up to par. That morning, it was the second option.

Happy to blame the annoyingly engaging 5 minutes crafts video that popped up on your timeline just as you were supposed to be getting dressed, you shouldered your way past lingering tourists and through the ticketing gates. That was the only issue you had with the station. Its proximity to the most famous crossing in all of England (if not all of Europe) meant that day in and day out, hundreds of clueless individuals stood in your path. The best you could do was not trample them as you rushed to the platform, all too aware of the passing minutes.

Luckily, the gods of TfL were merciful. As soon as you stepped onto the platform, that familiar rush of warm air from the tunnels made the hair sweep into your face. You breezed through the rehearsed choreography – locating the door, letting the disembarking crowd through, stepping into the cart. It was easy, almost done with your eyes closed.

That Wednesday morning, you were glad you did not test the theory and kept your eyes open. The cursory glance around the cart got cut short when your gaze landed on the familiar dirty-blonde head, bowed over a book. You froze, eyes already doing their job by following the outline of the man to make sure it was not just your wishful thinking. Once you did it twice over, you knew it was no mistake. It was Neil. Sat by the window, blissfully unaware of your staring.

And you did stare. At the sharpness of his profile, the broad shoulders clad in a perfectly fitting shirt and the strong forearms, again bared by the rolled-up sleeves. Although it had only been a week, you drank the sight of him like a woman parched. Without letting yourself think too long of the consequences, you crossed the aisle and sat down next to him:

“I haven’t forgotten you. Are you proud?” with the breath still hitched in your throat, you watched Neil react.

He froze, the book almost slipping out of his loose hold. As if controlled by strings, his head swivelled towards your voice at an alarming speed. You watched as he scanned your face, clearly going through the same crisis as you did. Only once you saw Neil relax and not eager to bolt, you sagged into the plastic chair and offered him your most innocent look. Neil’s responding smile felt like sunshine hitting your face on a cold winter afternoon. You were happy to let the warmth seep into your bones.

“I’m mostly flattered, but you’re bad for my ego,” he gave you another once-over, this time lingering on your body.

It was more than welcome. You shot Neil a smirk, already ecstatic with the turn of the conversation. Although, there were evident falsities within his words. There was no big ego to conquer. You could see as much in that persisting disbelief in his eyes, the margin of distrust Neil kept throughout the last conversation. All because he did not seem to see himself the way he was. The way everyone else saw him.

“Nah, you’re fine,” using the observation as an inspiration, you reached out to pat his knee and lowered your voice to a faux-seductive timbre, “Actually more than fine,” admittedly, it was another corny line.

But if it worked.

When he blushed, you barely resisted the urge to pump your fist. Neil knew that was the intent anyway if his narrowing stare was anything to go by. He stayed silent for a beat, giving you a chance to stare. To trace his features with your gaze, substituting for a careful touch of your fingertips. It was too early to do that. Yet. But it did seem like the magnetism of last week’s meeting did not disappear, leaving you both arrested in each other’s orbit by the sheer force of gravity. A force you did not want to resist.

“Do you want to make me blush?” Neil’s question made you blink back the thoughts and admire your success.

That rosy-cheeked glow only added to the overall striking looks. And did not stop you from getting in too deep. That had already happened.

“Very much so,” shooting him your best innocent smile, you carefully lowered the tote bag onto the floor between your knees and looked around the cart, ending it on Neil again, “Fancy seeing you here,” the resulting smile was enough of a reward for the pain of another weak pickup line.

On the edge of your consciousness, you registered that the train was still moving as it should. The tourists were still starting to crowd the space. But it was hardly noticeable.

“Likewise,” Neil seemed to consider something for a beat, then he extended his hand towards you in a greeting. An echo of that first handshake, “Hi,”

Not hesitating to join him halfway, you wrapped his palm in a tight hold, letting your thumb draw invisible lines along the back of his hand.

“Hi,” like then, the handshake lasted too long, but none of you cared to cut it short. Neil loosened the hold first, his long fingers trailing over the back of your hand and the length of your digits before dropping away. The slight catch in your voice was masked easily by the next question, “Soo, is this like… Are you going to work?” you eyed his outfit again, taking note of the leather laptop bag on the floor.

It seemed clear, but if the years of commuting by the London Tube taught you anything, it was that almost nothing was what it seemed.

“Yeah, I am,” Neil breezed through your doubts with a decisive nod.

The unspoken was easily detected. A better woman would have probably let it be, ignoring the omission with the hopes that the conversation partner was too shy to disclose the information. Like a normal almost-stranger. But you were never the better woman.

“Where do you work?” you leaned in closer, the waft of his cologne overwhelming the senses.

The masking conspiratorial grin must have appeared manic. It was hard to tell whether that alone was the reason for Neil’s passing discomfort.

“I’d rather not say,” he shifted in the seat, averting your gaze, “It’s… complicated,” the apologetic tone only added fuel to the curiosity.

Now you had to know. One way or another.

“Can I guess?” your mind was already buzzing with possibilities.

Not only was he stunning, but mysterious. To not let that get into your head you reached into the tote and dug out a water bottle. One greedy sip hardly did what it needed to do. And you nearly choked during it. A heavenly omen? You did consider that, in between Neil’s intense stare and his hesitant nod.

“Good luck with that,” the scepticism in his gaze felt like a challenge.

One that you were happy to take up. You leaned back as far as the seat confines allowed and measured him critically. The elegant clothes suggested it was unlikely Neil was working at a shopfloor level. As did the “put together” appearance, with the only flaw being the unkempt hair falling into his eyes. Still, the possibilities were endless.

You decided to start with something safe. Probable.

“Are you a stockbroker?” on its own accord, the look of distaste passed through your face, twisting the features into something almost comical.

It was hardly your fault. It was the years of frustrating men reacting to the news about your job with a bemused smirk, eager to spend the next 10-20 minutes proving the Arts were dead and the ballet was a farce. A hobby, they said. Most of those men were passionate about the stock exchange. Oh, so eager to spend their days screaming at the screens displaying rates and figures you did not care to decipher. Somehow, it was you who was in the wrong. You were the naïve one.

It was impossible to say whether Neil could read all of that from the fleeting look on your face, but the amusement in his eyes suggested it was likely.

“Christ, no,” he shook his head vehemently, revealing his feelings towards the occupation.

Somehow, it felt like a relief. That tiny dose of joy was enough to embolden you further. To let go of the remaining apprehensiveness and let your mouth do what it did best. It happened often enough to be an issue. Because once you stopped caring what you said or how the other person reacted, nothing stopped your mouth from speaking whatever it wanted.

Most of the time, that meant utter bullshit.

“Alright… A priest?” as soon as the question gained voice and sound, you knew it was one of those times.

That, however, did not make you want to take it back. How could you, after seeing the bewilderment on Neil’s face, which beat any expression you had ever seen him make?

“… What is going on in that head of yours?” he stared at you with concern, only making that laughter bubbling in your chest become a fact.

Admittedly, the image was hilarious. Neil, as a member of the clergy, was a concept that emoted thoughts you did not dare dwell on. At least not now. Not when you were right next to him. Later? Maybe.

“Nobody knows,” you shook it off with a mysterious look thrown his way and rested your chin in your fist, positioned perfectly to fix your unwavering gaze on him, “So, I guess it’s a no, then?”

Just in case that it was a yes.

“No,” Neil spoke faster than you deemed possible, quickly keying into the breathless laugh breaking on your face, “I mean, yes, it’s a no,” the decisive shake of the head was enough for you to drop it. If he let you, “Is that a kink thing, or…?”

The inquisitive look was turned onto you. There was no chance of escaping the blue eyes that stared you down. Yet again, you felt like he could see the depths of your soul. And judging from the smile hiding in the corner of his lips, he liked what he saw.

But that did not mean you were happy to give him quite that much.

“I wouldn’t tell you if it was. Not yet, anyway,” you hoped the promise within that sentence was clear.

Neil’s widening grin confirmed it. You winked at him, sealing the pledge for future use.

“Are you also going to work?” Neil’s question acted like a needed change of scene.

A naturally occurring shift in the atmosphere. You took it with both hands open wide:

“To the dance studio. I got a part in autumn’s production of Don Quixote. The Cupid, to be exact. That means the next few months, I might as well live in there,” the heavy sigh was only half of an act.

But it was nice to share the news. To boast to someone who listened and seemed to care. Because the thrill of that first look at the cast list and seeing your name there was still burning.

“Congrats. That sounds like a big deal,” Neil’s proud smile confirmed the hopes and dreams.

“It is. It’s difficult, even though the variation is like a minute long,” unafraid to delve into the deposit of fun facts and trivia available at hand, you rambled on until you remembered about the videos you could use as a demonstration “I could show you what it looks like, if you want?” fully prepared, you took out the phone from your pocket and waited.

Neil gestured towards it like there was no dilemma at all. Like he wanted to understand.

“Obviously,” he nodded, welcoming you into his space and leaning his back against the carriage side.

You did not squander that chance, typing the necessary phrase onto the YouTube search and getting closer to him. Once the video was ready, you offered Neil one of your earphones. It was not long, with the clip’s duration barely breaching the one-minute timestamp, but the shiver of excitement was still there. It caught fire when you pressed play and heard the familiar score fill your ears, the eyes tracing the steps by the ballerina on the recording with the mind making plans for your version. For what you could do to make it different. Memorable. It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

But what soon became more fun was watching Neil instead of looking at the screen. He was focused on the performance, staring at the dancer with curiosity and interest. As if like he cared. You were not sure what to do about that realisation.

As the ballerina finished the performance with a smile and the video ended, you moved the phone away and snatched the headphones to deposit both in the tote. The rare hesitancy replaced the previous bravery, taking all the words out of your mouth and leaving you silent. And unable to look at him until Neil was the first to speak:

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” the encouragement in his voice did half the job of coaxing you out of the stupor.

The act was complete when he placed his palm on your knee and squeezed it lightly. That alone made you turn your head to look at him, all at once letting go of the shyness. Although he just as quickly took his hand back, the burning mark on your skin remained like the phantom touch. The slightly manic grin you turned on him was the only way you could hide the darkening blush.

“What did I do to deserve trust like that?” the question was genuine, eating at your brain with small yet persistent bites, impossible to ignore.

Neil had no obligation to humour you. No need to support you – a near stranger by all accounts. But he did. It was increasingly difficult to keep a distance. To remind yourself that you did not really know him. That trust should not be given this easily.

Neil’s searching gaze did not make it easier.

“I just like to believe in people, especially if I consider them friends,” he met your gaze and offered a timid smile.

You grasped onto the chance with a tight hold.

“Are we friends?” it was an opportunity for him to back off, to leave before you got in deeper.

Before what was once a chance meeting and a cute story to share with friends after a glass of wine became something real. Something frequent. Something to care for.

You did not have to stop to know what you wanted to happen.

“Something along those lines,” Neil shrugged, reading what you meant without difficulty. You saw the friendship take shape in the tiniest of nods you exchanged before he changed the topic with a cheeky smirk, “Especially considering I know about your annoying hook-up,” the involuntary shudder was an automatic reaction on your part, earning a pleased laugh from him “Talking about which, any new conquests?” he measured you up with that same searching look.

One that told you it was not only you that wanted to know more. That Neil, too, was curious. Although, that assumption was a tad bit insulting.

“No, come on. It’s been a week,” the frustration in your tone was a choice, a way of showing how the presumption made you feel, “I’m not that much of a player,” while it was from an insult, Neil needed to know he was wrong.

For some reason. A reason you were not willing to pick apart or scrutinise. Whether he noticed your ongoing crisis, it was hard to tell, for the moment Neil turned a mischievous grin on you, all rational thoughts had disappeared.

“And yet here you are, flirting with me,” checkmate.

The look you gave him confirmed his suspicions, if nothing did before. Only the fact was that your raging flirting with Neil hardly had anything to do with the desire to score another hook-up. There was no aim here, only that he was willing and too beautiful to be ignored.

At least, that was the hill you would die on.

“You’re making it easy,” you shrugged, half hoping to shift the attention away from your sex life and its many failings. But the opportunity was right there, too good to be wasted. Too perfect for the humour glimmering in his eyes and the expectant twitch in his lips, “Plus, you never know what may happen,” admittedly, the lower timbre and the seductive tone were all taken from the book on flirting you had used many times before.

But it worked, so… As if looking to distract you, Neil dragged a hand through his hair, making the blonde strands stick up and then fall in even greater disarray over his forehead. (That worked, too). All the while, he never let his gaze stray away from yours, seemingly confident that there was no need to keep note of the upcoming stops or anyone else around you. That, too, was a dangerous observation to make. All things considered.

“You have something in mind?” Neil’s question forced you to maintain some composure, but even that was short-lived.

As if inspired by your antics from that first meeting, his gaze travelled to your lips. The action alone kicked off a chain of events. Your eyes took the cue to glance down, to trace the shape of his mouth with a pang of hunger tugging at your stomach. Neil noticed it, watching you like a hawk that has just set the hook for its prey. Sinker? His tongue darted out to lick the expanse of his bottom lip. The hot flash of want sizzled underneath your eyelids as you forced yourself to look away.

Even if only to pretend you had not been struck by the same bullet you had fired at him the week before. The amusement you noticed in the corner of your eye told you it was futile.

“Oh, certainly,” your gaze stayed fixed on the darkness of the tunnels outside, as you mused out loud, “Especially if we keep on meeting like this,” there was nothing to add.

No chance of hiding the hopeful tint in your voice or the desire voiced with it. The part of you that had always rebelled against vulnerability and telling people truths, that were too close to reality, was ablaze with rage. You worried that, soon, it might start chucking rocks at you to stop. Goddamn.

“I hope we will. You’re, without a doubt, the most fascinating person I’ve met in a while,” only Neil’s matter-of-fact tone could make you turn back to face him.

If only to check whether it was not some meaningless jest. But there was no joke shining in his blue eyes. Only certainty. On the outskirts of your perception, you noted the station you had just left. That catchy ABBA song sharing its name reverberated in your head as if queued up by the gremlins occupying your brain.

Or something.

In any way, there was hardly time to idle.

“Likewise,” you shared a meaningful nod, not brave enough to express even half of what was running in your head. Instead, you decided to do what you did best and took the jump, “It’s my stop next, so I have to… Would you like to give me your number?” the line delivery was perfected over time.

So much so that by now, you did it without a hitch. Without cracking a smile so long as the recipient was processing the line with silence. The poker face stayed on until you saw that first glimmer of a smile or bursting bout of laughter. Only then did you let yourself crack, too. Just a flash of a smile to let them in on a secret.

Neil’s responding laugh and an amused grin shot straight up your veins like adrenaline. Like a drug you could feel yourself getting addicted to. He seemed to debate his reply for a beat before speaking:

“Maybe. But only if you still remember who I am in two weeks,” the challenge in the statement was clear.

Conveniently for both of you – you were never the one to pass on proving a point. Especially since this one was not going to be difficult. At all.

With all the confidence, you were sure you would think about those blue eyes and blonde mess of a hairstyle for many days to come. During many different times of the day.

Extending the hand to “shake on it”, you clasped his palm firmly. The “game on” look in your eyes completed the picture. The train began to slow down as the PA system crackled to life overhead. There was no time to waste.

“Deal. Do I get bonus points if I think about you during the off hours, too?” with his hand still clasped in yours, you stroked the back of it with your thumb.

A glance at the revealed forearm showed the goosebumps rising in the wake of your touch. Or maybe it was due to the implication? You would never know for sure.

The adorable blush spread over Neil’s cheekbones, suggesting he knew what you meant. He bowed his head as if overwhelmed with bashfulness and whispered the question over your joined hands.

“Do you?” there were two meanings to that question, and both had the same answer.

Do you think about me in those moments? Do you mean that?

Yes. You spelt out the confirmation with your fingertips over his knee. Like it was a secret. Out loud, you said:

“Maybe” the lights of Southwark were like a harsh wake-up, throwing you out of the daydream and into reality. You got up before anything could convince you to be sillier than acceptable. One glance down at the man who had somehow turned your world on its head was enough to soften your gaze, “Bye, Neil. Hope you have a nice day, giving communion or whatever it is priests do,” the joke landed spectacularly, with loud laughter from Neil and a burst of pride in your chest.

He grinned at you, something like happiness shining in the eyes that always seemed to contain melancholy. The desire to know what that was did not want to get any smaller. The doors slid open, forcing you to take that decisive step, fiercely hoping fate would be as generous in a week.

“See you around, Cupid,” Neil’s farewell rang out as you stepped out from the train.

You smiled like a lunatic as you walked down the platform. It was too easy to hope the Jubilee line would bring him to you again.

***

By the next Wednesday, you were prepared. You had timed your morning routine down to the last second to be sure you would get on that same train. And hoped Neil would do the same. Although, for a bystander, the action on your part could come off as desperate, you would never use that word yourself. No, this was pure curiosity. Way to spice up the morning commute and maybe get a friendship out of it. Just that. Only that.

When you descended onto the St. John’s Wood platform at precisely 7:19, your crossed fingers were hidden in your pocket. With bated breath (and an air of nonchalance), you stepped aboard the 7:21 Jubilee line train heading towards Stratford. Just like you planned.

You only let the breath out when your gaze fell upon the familiar dark blonde head. The accompanying hiccup in your heartbeat was to be ignored. Until further notice. Or forever. Aware of the crazed grin on your face, you crossed the space to the places occupied by Neil and asked:

“Is this seat taken?” this time, you were ready for his responding smile, dazzling you close to unconsciousness.

Only the hand tightly grasping the railing was necessary to keep you upright. But Neil need not know that. With your free hand, you motioned towards the seat occupied by his laptop bag.

“Now it is, yes,” Neil grabbed it instantly, putting the bag on the floor and turning toward you with a smile, “I was hoping I’d see you today,” the simple sentence was enough to spark the blooming warmth in your chest.

You did not even realise the cold had settled there throughout the week. In favour of ignoring the thought, you took the plastic seat with an accompanying creak of the material and turned the cheeky smile on Neil:

“Yeah? Were you holding your breath for it?” no matter the teasing, you were glad he had been waiting for you.

That it was not just you who had hoped the meeting no. three would happen. Allowing yourself the pleasure of staring at Neil, you let your eyes roam over his face. You noted the darker circles under his eyes and the tiredness hiding in the blue of his irises.

“From Swiss Cottage,” Neil’s reply made you store the observations in the drawer at the back of your head and stare at him with eyes open wide.

Now, that was interesting.

“That’s where you live?” you could not hide how you perked up hearing the information.

Neil saw through all the tricks you tried to pull up, immediately flashing a knowing smile. That was no mistake, not a case of him saying too much by accident. He wanted you to know. Or, alternately, he did not care too much about keeping it a secret.

“It is. Which makes me think we’re kinda sorta neighbours,” his lips twisted into a pleased smile as he confirmed your assumptions and added his layer of ridicule to the conversation “In the quirky Londony way” as if following internal logic you were not privy to, Neil shimmied in the seat, clearly highlighting the quirkiness of that statement.

There was no controlling the burst of laughter that escaped your lips and rang out in the carriage with embarrassing volume. Clamping your mouth shut, you slid down in the chair and glared at Neil, shaking with barely contained giggles. It was perfect.

Once you felt like you could control yourself, you broke the silence with a reply and a nod:

 “That we are,” then, if only because the giddiness was still making your body shake with joy, you added, “It’s good to know,” you met Neil’s gaze, looking for a pointer.

A sign that it was alright to follow the instinct again. You quickly found what you had been looking for as Neil inclined his head towards yours with glimmering eyes full of curiosity.

“Why?” you might have imagined the deeper timbre in his voice.

It might have just been your wishful thinking that Neil was eager to go along with your flirtations. But it also could have been a fact. Another one of those moments of courage when he seemed to forget what shyness is.

Aware of the danger divagations like those could bring, you shook them off with a shrug, easily deflecting the topic and leaving the assumptions as just that. Luckily, the perfect distraction was waiting on the tip of your tongue.

“Actually- Are you a farmer?” turning the unblinking stare on him, you awaited the responding smile like an early riser waiting for the sunrise.

As soon as you left the carriage a week before, you knew the silly guessing game would have to go on. Even if only for the sake of your amusement. Judging by Neil’s resigned sigh, he was willing to comply.

“So, this continues, huh?” the question was a mere formality, and he did not wait for an answer, dismissing your guess with a sleigh of hand, “Nope, try again,” you certainly did not imagine the pleased nonchalance as Neil settled against the side of the carriage and measured you coolly.

Never afraid to be seen, you felt a shiver run up your spine when you were the sole focus of his attention. The particular way he caressed every inch of your body with curiosity made you wonder what his touch would be like. What kind of lover would he be?

“That’s a shame. Would love to meet a sheep herder,” slamming the metaphorical door shut at the yearnings of your heart, you let your mouth run wild.

And again, it delivered. It was not a lie, but it was bullshit. Yet Neil did not seem too bothered, staring at you for approximately 30 seconds before shooting you a wink worth another minuscule heart attack:

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” yet again, he patted your knee good-naturedly and just as quickly retracted his hand, distracting you with a question, “Can I ask you something?” you could not miss the sudden change of tone.

It sobered you up, forcing you to strengthen your spine and give Neil full attention. After the minutes of whimsical conversations, you considered taking that one step further. It was only a blessing that he did it first.

“Anything,” hoping your smile was just as welcoming as you wanted it to be, you trained your eyes on that unruly strand of hair that always seemed to fall into Neil’s eyes.

Your hands were itching with the want to brush it away.

Neil sighed as if bracing himself for something. Then he started to speak:

“When we met, you said that you’re not even sure you believe love exists, let alone feel it for that guy… Did you mean that?” the question reverberated in the carriage, which suddenly was too quiet.

You glanced at Neil, not knowing what to expect, only to find nothing but curiosity in his face. The question was one that you were asked before. Many times before. But it was the first instance that you wanted to answer it. There was no judgment hiding behind the question mark, only the desire to understand. To figure out what you were all about.

That was a reason enough for honesty. Keeping your eyes locked with Neil, you took a deep breath and replied:

“Yeah… It’s like, I know it’s a thing people feel, and I guess that must mean it’s real, but I’ve never… I don’t think it’s as much a big deal as everyone makes it seem to be” that familiar frustration bled into your words as you felt the years of misunderstandings inspire the speech and spur on the sincerity, “I like sex and all that, just not the… swoony, tender bullshit that fixes absolutely nothing and only seems to make people miserable” you finished the reply on a groan and measured Neil with a sceptical look “Satisfied?” that was the dreaded moment.

When part of the curtain has risen to reveal the truth underneath. The silence felt almost stifling, and you did not know why. It was all true. Every word has been spoken with honesty and came from your soul. From the soul that was tired of glorification always bestowed on love, feelings, and all things pink and fizzy, that complicated what could be simple. Even if love existed, you were sure you would rather never feel it. It was better that way. Simpler.

You doubted there was anything in the world that could convince you otherwise.

But still, that beat of silence before Neil reacted to your impassioned speech was torturous. You forced yourself to keep looking at him, awaiting that curt nod. Once it came, you let out a long sigh, feeling your body cave in on itself as if manifesting that sudden energy drop.

“Yeah, and also concerned,” Neil’s voice was the thread that kept you anchored to the moment, although it was impossible to tune out the underlining worry you had detected in his tone.

It was inconceivable. You could deal with disgust and ignorance, but concern was not something you understood. It made you helpless. You shook it off the best way you could – with a flirty smirk and a question:

“Are you a romantic, sweetheart?” the pet name rolled off your tongue with ease, meeting no resistance from Neil save for an uncertain smile and a dusting of pink along his cheekbones.

You could work with that.

The question, too, came from a place of curiosity. Sure, you could have left the topic where it was and rushed off into another silly conversation. But why should you? One look at the upcoming station showed you that the time was still running out, and you did not have much to lose. You met Neil’s bashful look head-on, patiently waiting for him to find the words.

“As much as one can be a romantic when they’re utterly untethered,” once he spoke, you could hear the sadness defining his confession and the constant weight of it dragging him down.

The choice of the word made you search his gaze for an explanation. It was impossible to believe someone this gorgeous could be lonely, let alone without a line of admirers waiting at their every beck and call. Yet the melancholy tinting his words suggested otherwise. Knowing the situation called for something more subtle than your usual repertoire of blatant flirting, you dropped your voice to a soothing tone and lowered your head to keep holding Neil’s gaze:

“Like ever or…?” trailing off, you watched as he seemed to wage an internal battle for close to a minute.

Even without knowing him that well, you could guess what it was about. It took a certain level of courage to be vulnerable in front of a stranger, to reveal one’s deepest regrets to someone not that familiar. Although you did not want to speak, you hoped the impassive yet open look on your face showed him that you would not pass judgment, no matter what it would be.

On its own accord, your gaze followed the sharp lines of his face, drawn closed with thought and up over the halo of his hair, shining in the fake yellow light of the carriage. If there was one word to describe Neil, it would be golden. You could only imagine the comparison would get more apt in the proper, warm light of those rare autumnal days in London that seemed to approach fast.

Before you had the chance to analyse that thought and place it under necessary scrutiny, Neil broke the silence:

“No, just for the past few years. No matter how hard I may fall, it’s never enough, so…” the blue eyes that rose to meet yours were burdened with resignation that, for a second, felt like it could crack your heart into two.

But you shook it off, reaching for the layers of frustration that always seemed present. For the annoyance at the society that had fooled people into believing that love was some holy grail of existence, the point of your miserable lives to live up to. When it was everything but. The familiar fire burned in your eyes as you clasped a hand over Neil’s shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly:

“See? Love’s overrated,” swallowing past the bitterness coating your tongue, you shot him a manic grin.

And ignored the alarms blaring in your head.

***

Before, those twenty minutes of commute between home and Canary Wharf were spent zoning out. Only sometimes, he could shake up the routine with a book or a particularly interesting podcast episode. After, it became an affair of watch-checking and foot-tapping until the train arrived at St. John’s Wood, and she would either be there or not.

Despite the impressions, Neil much preferred the after. Even if for the past two Wednesday mornings, he awoke with a strangely knotted stomach and a dumb smile of anticipation forming on his lips. That aside, it was nice to have something to look forward to.

Apart from the complexities of inverted physics, that is.

Timing the arrival on the Swiss Cottage platform for the right train was not an issue. It was something Neil had always done, unable to shake off the shackles of routine that seemed like second nature by now. When he boarded the Jubilee line heading towards Stratford, the anxiety set in like an old friend. It did not help that the carriage was packed this time, offering no available seats. With a tired sigh, Neil grabbed the nearest handrailing and stared out the window.

Without effort on his side, she soon enough came to mind. That happened a lot since that fateful afternoon. He had yet to decide whether it was a good or bad thing. For now, it was simply a fact. Like the anticipation of seeing her in two minutes, for the fourth time since the meeting. That also made Neil feel some way, but he was not brave (or willing) to understand it yet.

Perhaps the most crucial fact was that she, the newly appointed Cupid and the most baffling person he had met, was impossible to forget. And now, after three conversations that only expanded the mystery and made his curiosity insatiable, Neil did not try to forget. No, today (if she showed up), he would give her his number and let that determine the course. It was easy enough to think, harder still to execute.

By the time he had convinced himself that it was achievable and that it was alright to let go of the control this once, the train slowed to a crawling speed, and the lights of St. John’s Wood shone into the carriage. Before Neil could descend into another sort of anxious spiral, the doors slid open, and he had no choice but to expectantly stare at the commuters streaming in. He did not have to wait long, for right after the first row of impatient tourists and gravelly serious businessmen forced their way onto the Tube, she daintily stepped inside and flashed him another of those brilliant smiles.

It was nearly impossible to prevent his gaze from scanning her from head to toe like an uncontrollable Neanderthal that had caught the first sight of a woman. It was a reflex, a reaction Neil tried to stifle by forcefully dragging his eyes towards her face.

He was, without a doubt, an idiot.

The internal crisis had to be put on hold when she crossed that bit of space and leaned on the railing, curious eyes roaming over his face like they always did. Neil did not try to convince himself she was doing anything but checking him out.

“Ready to claim your reward?” the question helped him get the hang of the situation instead of losing his cool any minute.

That was highly probable with the way Cupid was staring at his face, seemingly unbothered by the movements of the carriage and the cramped space. It was also a good way of reminding her, though Neil did not doubt she would have forgotten. For reasons utterly inconceivable, the woman was driven to get his number.

The only excuse he had for waiting so long to let her have it was the constant disbelief that made it virtually impossible for Neil to trust she wanted it for real. As in not because of some elaborate joke that he was not privy to. And yes, that did happen. Once.

“Ecstatic,” her reply delivered in a perfectly monotone voice did make him focus. He watched as she glanced around the carriage, only now taking in the surroundings, “Looks like we’re standing today,” the observation seemed like a safe opener, and Neil immediately felt grateful.

It was that necessary push to make him relax a little and get out of his head. Even if only for the next quarter of an hour he would have with her.

“Do you have anything against that?” copying her pose, he leaned in closer, testing the luck that did not seem to have run out just yet.

If anything, she closed the space by another fraction, offering him a generous whiff of her perfume (Neil’s head did not feel ridiculously fuzzy because of it) and looked up at him through her eyelashes. Her lips curled into a tell-tale smirk that should have been the first clue of what was coming.

“Nope. I’m not too fussy about positions,” as soon as Cupid dropped her voice to a seductive timbre and grazed his shoulder with her fingers, Neil was done for.

He blinked twice, hoping to unfreeze the brain that continued to display the error404.exe. Because what the fuck was that? Who acted like this with near strangers?

Cupid, that’s who. Judging by her self-satisfied smile, she was pleased with the reaction. She brushed the lint he had not noticed before from his cuff and observed him silently. Despite the heart attack, Neil had to give her kudos for the attempt. He did so by slightly bowing his head in her direction and a wry smile:

“I walked right into this one, didn’t I?” once he looked up, the amusement still warming up his chest, even if tinted with bafflement, Cupid was waiting for him, expectantly meeting his gaze as if there was nothing in the world that could make her look away.

She was truly something else.

“Yeah, you did,” her knowing eyes cut through all the posturing Neil could ever hope to attempt as she took a deep breath and went in straight with the agenda, “Soo… Can I have your number?” that cheeky grin was still in place, adding to her charm.

Although Neil would be the first to admit she did not need additional charisma points or anything of the sort. She was already lethal. That realisation did not make him any keener to pull back or put a stop to the dance she had drawn him into.

Neil eyed her closely, feeling the weight of his phone in the pocket. The answer was yes, of course, but she did not need to know that… yet.

“Are you going to sign me up for the Tories news updates?” having noticed how she reacted to his smirks, he presented her with one when posing the question.

To anyone, it might have seemed worryingly specific. Cupid just measured him up with her piercing gaze and asked:

“… Did that happen before?” the deadly serious tone added to the ridicule, making Neil crack a smile.

“No, but it might,” he shrugged, hoping the joke had landed well enough to mask the awkwardness threatening to make a scene.

It was not that he did not feel comfortable around her or that there were some strong-founded beliefs she was not to be trusted. Instead, it was what it had always been. What Neil had hinted at during their previous conversation. It was that it had never worked out before. And it was hardly possible that it would now.

Especially considering what she had revealed that last time, too. It was best to be cautious. But that, in the face of those beautiful eyes and fascinating personality, was a challenge.

He did not even know yet just how true that statement would be.

“No, the worst you can expect is lame pickup lines and dumb memes,” unaware of Neil’s slow descent into madness, she replied to the previous question, intertwining a sardonic grin in between the statements “I’d also suggest nudes, but we’re not there yet, I think” it took him an embarrassingly long time to process her words with the mind foolishly lured into the safety of a normal conversation. Well, no more. Shit. „Unless-” before she could say another disastrous word and push him down the staircase towards the pit of insanity, Neil closed her mouth with his palm.

Anything was better than talking to her about prospective nudes. Even touching her face and getting shocked when the warmth of her breath hit his skin, forcing Neil to pull it back almost as fast as he had done it in the first place. She just stared back, relentlessly curious and unmoved.

“We’re definitely not there yet,” aware of the deep blush that had bloomed on his face like a sign of contagion, Neil dropped his gaze onto the floor and murmured the command, “Give me your phone,” the conversation was already a disaster, so might as well. Right?

She laughed and the sound was enough to draw him out of the hiding and look up. Neil already knew he would do whatever he could to make her laugh like that again. And then once more still.

Her warm hand slipped into his palm, passing the phone like a beacon of trust he did not know he could deserve. It was accompanied by a simple quip that still somehow made him feel lightheaded:

“Here, kind sir,” on retreat, her fingers brushed down the length of his digits, stopping for a split second at the tips of his fingers. The resulting sparks were certainly a figment of his imagination, “Any texting rules? Is there anyone that might intercept your messages?” her voice broke through another brief blue screen issue in Neil’s brain and forced him to focus.

Focus on opening the phone app on her phone and typing in his number correctly. The last thing he would have wanted was to fuck up and make a mistake, immediately losing any chances he would have had at a friendship with her. Yes, friendship. Even as an idiot, Neil knew that was all it would be. Which was fine. It really was.

Once he double-checked that the right digits were typed in, there came a second dilemma of the evening. The contact name. Neil stole a glance at her, still patiently waiting for an answer to her questions that he seemed inept to give. It offered a perfect stalling opportunity:

“Rogue mate, maybe, but it’s okay. I can live with his teasing,” it was something to worry about later, considering that no one knew about her yet. If asked, Neil was not sure he could explain why. The betraying part of his brain that always wanted to blurt out some incriminating thoughts admitted it was because he wanted those interactions only for himself, as a secret to cherish in the quiet of his mind.  He slammed the door on that pathetic voice and looked up at her with tentative hope sparking in his chest. It was just another risk to take, right? “Should we… keep this time and day as a standing arrangement thing?” not willing to bet even half a dime on her positive answer, Neil put his attention back on the topic at hand.

Literally. He was still holding her phone. The contact’s name was still empty. He had to think of something.

Then, right when his stomach clenched with that first tell-tale sign of anxiety, the right thing came to mind. The perfect thing.Neil fought the desire to grin like an English cousin of the Joker and saved his number, handing the locked phone back to Cupid. She did not check it, pocketing the device and turning her thoughtful gaze on him:

“Sure thing. I need time to warm you up for those nude pics,” she offered Neil a criminal wink and glanced at the display to check the approaching station.

The nonchalance had the chance of killing him before an inverted bullet would. He was willing to bet on it.

“Can’t wait,” he swallowed hard against the mess of thoughts and emotions in his head and glared at her.

He really could not wait. Maybe. Possibly.

It was both a curse and a blessing that her station was approaching fast, offering maybe three or four minutes more. The strange disappointment coated the back of his throat as Neil allowed himself to stare. To observe her, with her lively eyes and almost permanent cheeky smile. Even now, he did not dare ogle her body, already too aware of the heat of her presence so close to his orbit. The danger was too grave to consider what this would not become.

“I’ve got one more question,” her voice acted like the thread of Ariadne, leading him to the exit from the labyrinth of his own making. Neil met her gaze just in time to notice the playful sparks dancing there, “Are you a cook?” she leaned a little closer again as if testing his waning control and steadied herself against the sudden movement of the train with her hand resting on his shoulder.

Even through the cotton shirt, he could feel the heat of the contact.

It was almost enough to distract him from the ridicule of her question. Almost, because as soon as he had sobered up, Neil did not try to fight the smile pulling at his lips. She was ridiculous.

“No, unless we consider the Risotto Milanese, I can make from scratch,” giving her as good as he got, Neil offered her a wink and reached for the dwindling depositories of courage to cover her hand holding onto the railing.

Admittedly, he was enjoying the guessing game she had decided to make out of the situation. It was a better alternative to Neil telling her the truth, and 1) putting her in potential danger, and 2) making her believe something that did not sound real.

Cupid did not seem bothered by his actions and kept her hand where it was. Her eyes met his as she stated a simple wish:

“Count me in,” then, as if Neil was not yet aware of what a kind of woman she was, she licked her lips thoroughly.

He did not try to imagine what they would taste like.

“When?” as if possessing a mind of its own, his thumb rubbed invisible circles onto the skin between her knuckles.

Neil did not want to be responsible for the actions of his own body. Or for the thoughts that sprang into his mind whenever she gave him that sure smile and bated her lashes.

“You’ll see,” it was her turn to wink, and the confidence in her gaze almost made him believe she knew something he did not.

Like whatever was waiting in their future.

It was a blessing in disguise that the train was now approaching the Southwark station. Neil did not think he could be trusted with more time to spend next to her. Instead, he levelled her with what he hoped was a critical glare and asked:

“Has anyone told you that you’re a nightmare?” he knew there was no chance of losing that affectionate undertone in his voice or making ‘nightmare’ not sound like the most tender of pet names.

Apart from being an idiot, Neil was also a lost cause. It would seem.

The train yet again slowed to a crawling pace as the platform lights etched mirage-like constellations on her face. It was impossible to look away. So, Neil stared as she, the incomparable Cupid, slid her hand down the railing, away from his palm and tapped his wrist. Twice. As if he could have missed the first time.

Just as he was beginning to hope she would leave without giving him another heart attack, she leaned in, closing the space, and pressed a quick peck to his cheek. As soon as he had registered it was happening, it was already over, and Cupid was standing in the carriage doorway with that unchanging smirk on her face:

“More than once,” without waiting for a reply (not that Neil would have had one), she stepped out of the train and disappeared in the crowds of commuters.

Neil was an idiot, a lost cause, and undoubtedly screwed. One way or another.

***

/Unknown number, 5:15 pm/ Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.

/✝️, 5:20 pm/ Already?

/✝️, 5:20 pm/ God, you’re fast.

/ 🏹, 5:22 pm/ That’s the effect you have on me 😘

/ 🏹, 5:22 pm/ Clever emoji choice, I gotta admit. Took me a little to find you. What did I get?

/✝️, 5:25 pm/ You’ll see.

/ 🏹, 5:26 pm/ When?

/✝️, 5:30 pm/ Soon 😘

 / 🏹, 5:35 pm/ Ah, delayed gratification. Just wait till I get impatient.

/✝️, 5:45 pm/ And then what?

/ 🏹, 5:47 pm/ I’ll punish you. Something tells me you’d like that.

/✝️, 5:49 pm/ You’re a menace.

/✝️, 5:49 pm/ On second thought, I think I’ll have the nude pics you’ve mentioned.

/ 🏹, 5:50 pm/ Not yet, sweetheart. Practice what you preach first.

/✝️, 5:55 pm/ I’ll see you?

/ 🏹, 5:57 pm/ You’ll see me. You’ll get sick of me even.

/✝️, 5:59 pm/ Challenge accepted, Cupid.