#Sleepy Backgrounds (Horizontal)

[sanrio-my-beloved]

by my Melody on Twitter – Shared by mymelodyange1 (Tumblr)

Reblogged 09/08/24

Good Morning !

[werewolfnightwalker]

De-aged Keigo, part two

Part one here!

.

The Quirk didn't wear off until some point near midnight. Fortunately, Hawks- Keigo- slept through most of it. He stubbornly refused to let Dabi put him down, clinging to the arsonist like he was a giant teddy bear.

Which, to be frank, was fine with Dabi; he wasn't sure he could let go of Keigo if he wanted to.

He ended up in the recliner, the footrest kicked up and back laid down, so that he could be partially horizontal as the tiny, winged boy slept on his chest. Compress had been nice enough to throw a blanket over them, and Spinner put on one of his more kid-appropriate animes for background noise.

But while Keigo slept, gentle, cooing snores rolling in his chest, Dabi laid awake, thinking.

Keigo remembered Touya; that made sense, he supposed. He'd reverted to his child self, so he'd have his child memories. Sure.

And Dabi remembered Keigo; as much as he'd tried to bury those memories next to Touya, the day that Hawks had approached him and asked to join the League… It was obvious Hawks hadn't recognized him, not like how Dabi recognized Hawks, but… did Hawks even remember?

He wouldn't blame him if he didn't, but having his own reminder sleeping on his chest was… not a feeling he wanted to name.

He wanted to ask Hawks- the grown up Hawks- but how the hell could he even approach that? What if the Quirk wears off and Hawks doesn't remember?

… Then again, what if he did? Something akin to a lightbulb went on in Dabi's head, and he was easing himself up into a more vertical position. "Hey, birdie?" He whispered to the boy on his chest, "Birdie, wake up."

Keigo made a small noise of protest and curled in on himself. "Sleeping." He mumbled.

"I know, but I just need you to listen. Are you listening?"

"Mhm." Keigo sighed, still not opening his eyes as he tugged the blanket closer around him.

Dabi took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "My name is Touya Todoroki." He whispered to him, "Whatever happens when you go back to your grown up size, I just want you to know that I'm… I'm glad to have you back."

A sleepy coo answered him. "Touya…" He mumbled, his wings twitching, "I miss him."

Dabi just barely managed not to flinch. "I know. I'm sorry." He wrapped his arms around Keigo tightly, pulling him up close to his chest as he laid back down. Keigo grumbled from being shuffled, but settled again, his face pressed into Dabi's neck.

Dabi had managed to fall into somewhat of a doze for a few hours, before the weight on top of him- no more than twenty pounds, if even that much- suddenly increased. The small bundle of a body filled out, and Dabi's eyes flew open in time for him to get a faceful of a suddenly massive wing that stretched out as it grew.

Hawks was back, and beginning to stir. Pinned as he was, Dabi couldn't move. He just waited, watching as Hawks let go of his shirt and rubbed at his own face, raising his head as he yawned. He opened his eyes and blinked around blearily, finally seeming to recognize where he was.

He finally looked down at what he was laying on, and stiffened in surprise. Even without Hawks' elbow in his gut, Dabi didn't think he'd have been able to breathe in that moment as they made eye contact.

They stared at one another, Hawks in surprise, Dabi… his mind was whirling too fast for him to recognize whatever the hell was making his heart pound. Finally, after several silent seconds, he swallowed. "Morning, sleeping beau-"

"Touya."

Dabi's jaw snapped shut with an audible click. "… Sorry?" He managed.

Hawks blinked several times and frowned, squinting at his face. "I… nothing, sorry. I had a dream about… an old friend." His brows furrowed in thought for a moment, "Did I… I was hit by a Quirk, wasn't I? We were just at the warehouse, and then… what happened?"

Dabi let out the breath he wasn't aware of holding, and quickly told Hawks… almost everything. "You changed back a minute ago."

Hawks nodded slowly, before he sighed and sat back, straddling Dabi's waist. "Did I tell you my name?" He asked flatly.

"… You don't remember?"

"It's fuzzy. All I really remember is what I think was a dream."

A dream. Dabi wasn't sure if it was boldness or desperation (they're the same thing, though, aren't they?) or something as buried as their old names that made him say, "You didn't tell me your name, I already knew it. So I told you mine."

Hawks' eyes snapped to his, an intense, calculating look in his gaze that made Dabi want to shrink away. Slowly, like the sun coming over the horizon, Dabi saw the light of realization clear Hawks' expression away.

"Touya." He breathed, his voice catching like he didn't mean to say it, didn't meant to voice that little hope he had, "T… Touya…?"

Touya wasn't sure where he got the breath, the courage, to whisper back. "Keigo."

Tears flooded his eyes, and a sob wrenched from Keigo's chest as he fell forward, burying his face in Touya's neck. His wings poofed out as Touya wrapped his arms around him, clutching him close like he'd never let him go again (and he wouldn't).

Keigo sobbed into his shoulder, sniffling and whimpering as he clung to him, and Dabi felt heat building behind his eyes that his broken tearducts couldn't release. He just closed his eyes and hung on, pressing his face into Keigo's shoulder.

"I thought- I thought I lost you." Keigo rasped when he managed to get some semblance of oxygen in his lungs.

"You did." Touya croaked, "But I didn't mean to leave you."

Another sob, Keigo's chest heaving against his own. Then, as one, in a movement that was neither planned nor coordinated, the two of them turned their heads until their lips met. Touya could taste the tears that had smeared over Keigo's lips; salty and sharp like the pain cracking his stony heart apart, and he couldn't get enough of either.

His hand came up to tangle in Hawks' hair, as the other clutched the back of his shirt. He felt like he was burning up all over again, in- it was the only way to explain it- in the right way, this time.

When they finally parted, Keigo pulled back just enough to look at him, his hands coming up to cup Touya's burned cheeks. He opened his mouth, and his jaw quivered as he tried to speak, as his eyes searched over his face like he was seeing it, properly, for the first time, taking in the burns and skin grafts and staples. His fingers shook as he reached up and ran them through his hair.

"It's dyed." Touya blurted out, "I mean, I… I died."

"No." Keigo breathed, a shaky smile on his face, "No. You came back to me, Touya."

As bloody tears slipped down Touya's cheeks, he nodded. "I came back. and I'm never leaving you again."

End.

A/N: Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, consider leaving me a tip! I could really use the help with groceries and name change process!

[hockeynoses]

rain on me (R/oy x Jam/ie)

Summary: Jamie is sick. He and Roy are cuddled up in bed, and Jamie can't really help himself and accidentally sneezes all over Roy's shirt.

Warnings: Mess! Especially towards the end. 1.3k.

-

Jamie has managed to catch himself a doozy of a cold, and Roy’s sitting in bed with him, keeping him company. They’re using their bedroom tv that’s usually hidden in a cabinet designed specifically to hide the garish monstrosity, and Roy only lets them use it for very special occasions. He does not want to become that couple that watches the telly in bed every night, thanks very much.

Jamie begs for them to watch some trashy reality show that Roy only knows about against his will. Roy reluctantly agrees. He’s quickly learning that he’s unable to deny Jamie anything when he’s this sick. Red-rimmed puppy dog eyes and a cute, pink, swollen nose will be his downfall.

They start watching sitting up in bed – Jamie with the hope that the upright position will help drain his sinuses, and Roy trying and failing to focus on his book. Jamie rests his head on Roy’s shoulder, only disrupted when he has to twist away every time a sneeze sneaks up on him. Roy has been trying to get him to be better about covering, but Jamie’s just too out of it, and too much of a spoiled mama’s boy for a 100% success rate.

After the first episode, they find themselves horizontal, snug under the covers. Roy’s arm is wrapped around Jamie’s shoulders and Jamie is latched onto his side, practically on top of him. His head rests on Roy’s shoulder. Roy catches Jamie’s eyes closing, his breath slowing as he fully relaxes into the embrace.

“Are you even watching anymore?” Roy asks in a low rumble.

“Yeah, mbate,” Jamie murmurs, and Roy can feel his warm breath through his shirt. “Jusdt leave it on. I like the sound.” He nuzzles further into Roy’s chest, rubbing his squishy, damp nose against the fabric in an attempt to quell an itch.

“Oi! You get snot on my shirt and I’ll make you run extra laps once you’re better.”

“I didn’t!” Jamie argues in a tone that Roy is well familiar with by now. Responding with nothing but a low growl, Roy lets it go.

The minutes pass in a drowsy haze. The rich girls on the screen are arguing about who got invited to what party in the background. Jamie gives a low moan of discomfort and slings a leg around Roy, wrapping him up tighter in his arms. Roy threads a hand through his hair, from the brown roots to the walnut-mist tips. His fingers brush Jamie’s forehead in a sly attempt to gauge his temperature - still too warm for his liking.

Jamie presses into the contact, always desperate for it, and gives a sleepy snuffle and a satisfied hum. His nose twitches, scrunching up, and Roy thinks, momentarily, that he looks like a cute little bunny, before realizing –

“heh…hih’AESSHHH’ih!” Jamie turns into his chest on instinct, spraying Roy’s black t-shirt with a warm, wet sneeze. The material that was in the line of fire turns an even darker shade of black.

“Jamie!”

“S-Sorreh- ehh… heh’ITTSHH’IEW!” This one is more of a glancing blow, wrenching through Jamie and misting Roy’s chest down to his stomach.

“Fuck!” Roy curses, then feels a little guilty as Jamie sits up, grasping for the tissue box he’d left on the bed behind him while his other hand covers the mess on his face.

“Shiiii-ihh- ih’TTSSHH!” A thick-sounding burst that adds to the mess in his hand. Locating the tissues, he pulls out one-two-three of them and buries his face in the bundle. The sound of his long, bubbling noseblow fills the room, until he’s interrupted mid-blow by a harsh, “huh’GGSSHH’IUE!” that fills the tissue to the brim.

He groans into the soiled cotton, finally looking over at Roy to assess the damage. Roy plucks at his shirt and knits his bushy eyebrows together.

“You’re on laundry duty for a week for that.”

Jamie tries his best puppy-dog eyes; he doesn’t have to put too much work into looking pathetic. “I can’t helb it, Roy! I’b sick!” As though any further proof is needed, he barely has time to yank a fresh kleenex from the box before a muffled, congested, “nngk’GSSHT!” gushes out of him.

Roy pins him with a flat, unamused look.

“I said I was sorreh!” Jamie pouts, looking like Rudolph with his chapped, damp nose. “Cadn we still cuddle? It was helbin’ me sleeb.”

“I’m not your own personal human tissue, Jamie.” Roy is determined to put up a protest, but he already knows he’s fighting a losing battle.

“If I don’t get good sleeb, how cadn I get- heh…eh’ERRSSSHSH’IEW! Ugh. How cadn I gedt bedder?”  He punctuates his question with a truly awful-sounding noseblow, filling the tissue with all the sludge that had been packed in his sinuses.

Roy growls again, rolling his eyes. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.” Jamie brightens as Roy lays back down. “Just try not to sneeze on me again.” Jamie looks at him like he’s just asked him to swim to China. It’s not gonna happen.

“Oh! I have an idea.” Looking pleased with himself, Jamie plucks a tissue from the box and delicately lays it flat across Roy’s pec. Roy arches a dark brow at him. Several more tissues follow, until Roy’s chest and shoulder are covered in a couple layers of thin, white cotton.

“There!” Jamie says proudly, admiring his handywork. His eyes flutter closed before he curls into his elbow with a chesty, “huh’KIISSHH’ah!” then comes back up, blinking and dazed.

“You’re such a muppet.” Roy’s voice is warm with reluctant affection.

“I’m bein’ considerate.” Jamie wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “Those’ll protect your precious shirt. You kdnow, the onde you have thirty other versions of?”

“And yet somehow, they keep getting covered in the bodily fluids of a certain star striker.”

“You love idt,” Jamie says as he settles his head back down on Roy’s shoulder. Roy’s answering hum buzzes through him as Jamie wraps his limbs around him again. Strong fingers card through Jamie’s hair, light skritches that have him melting into the other man.

“Thaggs, babe.” Jamie gives him a squeeze.

“Mmhmm.” Roy brushes a kiss to the top of Jamie’s head.

The drone of the tv continues in the background, time passing hazy and slow. Jamie is almost lulled back to sleep when an itchy tingle springs to life in the back of his nose. His breath is uneven and he sucks in a sharp gasp - the only warning before he unleashes a dense shower of a sneeze across Roy’s torso. “hih’AEESSHHHUH!” The contents of which dapple the thin barrier of Kleenex.

Roy looks down. “The things I do for love,” he quips with a sigh.

Head swimming, Jamie can’t manage a response before gearing up for what’s sure to be a relentless fit. His chest expands against Roy as his breath hitches, muscles tensing as he’s racked with a full-bodied triple - “ehh…heh…Heh’GKSSHHTT!  iihhh…hih’IIISSHHHuu!  Gsh’HT’CCHHuh!” The clearing barrage leaves a sheer gloss of mess on his cupid’s bow. He hazily looks down and sees the tissues in front of him darkened with liquid, well on their way to being soaked through.

“I think we might need to-” Roy’s protests are interrupted when Jamie curls into him, possessed by another bout of punishing sneezes. He rolls forward, angling himself more on top of Roy, and buries his face into the thin layer of tissue coating Roy’s chest.

Roy, not knowing what else to do, holds Jamie through it with a strong hand pressed to his back.

“Hiiiih-ZZSSHHESSH!” Jamie’s frame shakes with it. “uh…huh-gkTSSHHuh!” The viscous mess of them starts to seep through Roy’s shirt, heating his skin. “kx’GSSHT!” Jamie groans, completely at the mercy of his own body.

He lifts his head, tendrils of mess tethering them together. Flushed and bleary-eyed, he says, “Shidt, I- iihhh…Hih’GSSHUH’IUE!”  The strength of it forces the hot stickiness straight through to Roy’s skin.

A whine scrapes from Jamie’s throat as he sinks back into Roy, exhausted.

“It’s okay, love, just relax,” Roy says, resigning himself to a soaked shirt and a long night.

[revenant-coining]

Sleepintent / Sleepyintent

[ID: 2 rectangular flags with 5 equally-sized horizontal lines that are wavy on the left and then straighten out over a background. colors in this order from top to bottom: blue, purple, pink, pale pink, pink, purple, blue. behind the lines on the first flag is repeating white text of 1 and 0. End ID]

Sleepintent / Sleepintent: a codintent (link) for when is coded with sleep / sleepy intent.

Etymology: sleep(y), intent

Pronounced: sleep(-ee) in-tent (sleep(y) intent)

not a gender, please don't tag as such ^^

for day 12 of @chaoscoining ‘s coining event; for the prompt: codintent

@oneofmanyarchives , @cup-term-systems , @radiomogai

[ID: a pale yellow divider outlined in black. End ID]

[candycryptids]

UNO REVERSE! How do YOUR blorbos sleep, huh? 😤

HECK!!!!!

Chuu sleeps anywhere any which way. Tuesday’s learned to not try to move her to any kind of bed or horizontal position, she’s sleeping fine where she is and when she wakes up if she’s been moved it throws off her groove, especially if she was in the middle of something lmao. If she CHOOSES to go to bed, she wears a big ol shirt and gets all cozied up under a weighted blanket with an eye mask and sleeps for 16 hours. [If her wife is home, she’s laying on-top of her like a blanket because she’s warm, lmao. Chuu is become Weighted Blanket]

Tuesday doesn’t need to sleep in the classical sense, but he does use ‘sleep time’ in the way human brains do; to sort and compartmentalize/toss out things from the last time he’s ‘slept’. (He tends to find a quiet place to do this, the FC house has a custom built ‘nap room’ with alcove beds he’ll use if he’s around home base. Otherwise he’ll even just find a chair in the corner and ‘doze’ for an hour. (Keathan likes to curl up on him from what I remember, because he’s warm, and relatively comfortable. And sometimes the sleepies just Getcha when you’re running all over creation.)

[cut cos there’s quite a few silly little guys ANDNFNEKD]

Ishi’li enjoys the fact that they can curl up into a little ball of Miqo’te if they’re having to sleep alone, but at a certain point she starts sharing a bed with Kizuna, who tends to hold her with his tail. And arms. They become a tangled octopus of limbs. LMAO. Purrs sometimes in his sleep. Really needs someplace soft/a bedroll to sleep, isn’t so good at just sleeping wherever on the ground.

Mochiie sleeps sprawled out flat on his back like a starfish in bed, but he’ll also sleep sitting up in armchairs or propped up against a dozen pillows. Or. Leaned up against Mindy with her big Chocobo head in his lap, lmao. He doesn’t tend to want/need a blanket but he does like sleeping in silken pants. 🥰 (he’ll bully Urianger away from staying up late studying to come lay with him in bed…. Only for Mochi to fall asleep and Urianger to just sit up reading with Au’ra deadweight leaned on him. Lmao)

Levraut wants to wear full pajamas to bed (nightcap, long shirt, pants… yknow, the Pajama Set. LMAO. His has Chocobo’s on it.) he snores, but claims he doesn’t. He’s a stomach sleeper, keeping his journal or whatever book he was reading shoved under his pillow (or AS his pillow, if he’s sleeping on a bedroll, hdjdjdjs) he sleeps best in a hammock on board a ship, but he lays on his back or side in those (the side sleeping makes his back complain a little bit he’s young, within the hour he’s stretched whatever cramps or aches out)

Colette! Sleeps best when Setsuna is curled up under her arm, pokey horns be damned. If she’s curled at her side then there’s no chance she’s in any danger. She sleeps naked, because every big comfy shirt for sleeping ends up mysteriously on Setsuna or in her possession, lmfao. She just gave up at some point. (I don’t talk much about Colette or her charge, they’re kinda background brain radiation, but Colette’s fun uvu!)

Tangy sleeps best when other people are around (either also sleeping or just doing stuff in the same room, background noise helps her best) she sprawls out on top of a soft surface (usually her bed) and falls asleep like someone tossed her already unconscious body there. As a Miqo’te she snores somethin’ fierce and awful, but her change into a Hrothgar seems to have fixed whatever was causing it more or less, and she’s now relatively quiet. (Sometimes she growls in her sleep though like dogs do when they’re dreaming!) she would very gladly cozy up in bed with a bunch of people for a big sleepover situation! Push all the beds together pile up all the blankets and pillows…

As a final little bonus; Jojoha sleeps sitting up with a dagger in hand, wary and ready, even when the chance of danger is very small. Solkmyna struggles to sleep on even good days, struggling with nightmares, and sleeps flat on his back like the dead when he does manage to fall asleep. Swydghem sleeps worryingly deep, a side effect of being under the effects of Sleep related spells and medicines. She also sleeps like a corpse, with her arms folded over her chest. Viking funeral style. Both Solk and Ghem sleep better when they’re in the same bed together following her recovery. Jojoha tries to never sleep at the same time as them when they’re staying together, so she can keep watch for. Anything. They’ve had enough misfortune in their lives; she’d rather at least warn them before it strikes again.

[neopronouns]

sleepyteacher | sleepystudent

sleepyteacher: a gender related to being sleepy and a teacher, a sleepy teacher, etc.

sleepystudent: a gender related to being sleepy and a student, a sleepy student, etc.

[pt: sleepyteacher: a gender related to being sleepy and a teacher, a sleepy teacher, etc.

sleepystudent: a gender related to being sleepy and a student, a sleepy student, etc. end pt]

for anon! colors are ones i associate with sleepiness.

flag id: the left flag has a very dark faded blue background. at the left, top, and right edges of the flag is a caramel brown frame made up of somewhat thin stripes. at the bottom edge, covering up the frame at the bottom of the left and right sides, is a book shape made up of two shallow curves that dip down and meet in the center. the shape is cream and has a thin, dark faded blue outline at its top edge. over the background and above the book, emerging from the frame, are three pencil-like shapes made up of a long rectangle with a thin triangle at the end. the first and third ‘pencils’ point to the left and the second pencil points to the right. the first pencil is faded indigo, the second is periwinkle, and the third is very light pink-purple.

the right flag has a light brown frame around the left, top, and right edges. within that frame is a much thinner, dark faded blue frame along the same sides. within the thin frame is a large cream rectangle, which has a thin, vertical, very light pink-purple stripe near its left edge and four evenly-spaced, thin, horizontal, periwinkle stripes down its length, making it look like a sheet of notebook paper. between the first and second horizontal stripes and the third and fourth horizontal stripes are thin, wavy, very dark faded blue lines. between the second and third horizontal stripes is a faded indigo, pencil-like shape made up of a long rectangle with a thin triangle at its left end. the pointy end of the pencil overlaps the vertical line. end id.

banner id: a 1600x200 teal banner with the words ‘please read my dni before interacting. those on my / dni may still use my terms, so do not recoin them.’ in large white text in the center. the text takes up two lines, split at the slash. end id.

dni link

[schrijverr]

Page 46-47

[Page 46 has three photographs on it and a column of text. The upper left image is of Eddie, Robin and Steve, who are carrying boxes into the back of the van and Steve’s BMW. It’s clearly summer with the bright sky and their short clothes. Eddie has his hair tied up under his bandanna and Steve has ditched the shirt. Robin just put a box in the van and is wiping the sweat of her brow.]

Bound for Boston

Jonathan Byers, 1989

.

[Beneath that one is a photograph of Dustin hugging his mom, by his feet is his last bag. In the background you can see Eddie, Robin and Steve leaning against the BMW, the van next to it. They all look a little wistful at the goodbye.]

Leaving Home

Jonathan Byers, 1989

.

[On the lower right of the page is the final image, it is of the BMW, van behind it, both ready to drive off. Everyone is there to wave at the two. Robin is behind the wheel of the BMW, Steve is hanging out of the window waving. In the van Eddie is driving with Dustin doing the same as Steve. Above the photograph is text.]

Driving East

Jonathan Byers, 1989

.

In 1989 we split up again. With most of the kids – loathe they are to be called that – graduated, it was time to move off to college. Dustin went to the University of Pennsylvania, where he was reunited with Suzie, his then girlfriend, now wife.

Steve, Eddie and Robin were moving to Boston, where Robin would attend university. Steve and Eddie planned to work, though Eddie hoped to make it with Corroded Coffin too. A world of opportunity lay before them all.

.

[Page 47 has a horizontal image and a vertical underneath it as well as text next to it. The horizontal image is of Mike and Will, both asleep curled into one another in the back of a car. There are boxes to be seen behind them.]

Roadside Sleepiness

Jonathan Byers, 1989

.

[The vertical photograph is of Argyle filling the tank, he is smiling as he pumps gas, looking very casual. Nancy is checking a map next to him and Mike and Will are vaguely made out through the window.]

Filling the Tank

Jonathan Byers, 1989

.

Mike and Will were attending the University of California in LA, driven there by Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle, before Jonathan and Nancy had to fly back to be on time for classes. Argyle would drive back to the other side.

It is strange to leave a little sibling behind in another place than your childhood home. To not know if they will make it like you have and be unable to give them a place to go should it go wrong. We knew we were leaving them with each other, but all we could do is have faith that they would make it on their own.

That faith was luckily not misplaced.

~~

<<Prev Next>> AO3

[blue-opossum]

Sweep Rowing Championship

        2 minutes and 30 seconds to read.

        Saturday morning, 28 January 2023.

        Sweep Rowing Championship

        Dream #: 20,494-11.

        The sweep rowing race is too common a dream state induction to include online for each instance. I will first repeat the background of my dreaming history regarding specific fundamental components. If you already have a legitimate understanding of dreams (and my dreaming history), you can skip to "Dream Content" below.

        The essence of water often becomes a hallucinatory but blissful and peaceful experience whenever I am sleepy, not necessarily physically tired, and bodies of water (lakes, rivers, etc.) occur in many scene shifts near the beginning of every sleep cycle. This attribute has been predominant since early childhood.

        While the imagery of bodies of water is usually predominant in my first stages of sleep, there is sometimes a sensation of water droplets or auditory effects when I am sleepy, which are more vivid in the dream state. It sometimes includes the ripple effect (looking down at the surface of a pond as concentric bright blue ripples briefly occur) or hearing a waterfall for a few seconds.

        Order of sleeping and dreaming effects since childhood when beginning my sleep cycle:

        1) The essence of water is predominant, including non-threatening floods. (Water lowering over time is a factor of my last stage of sleeping and dreaming, the opposite of the first part of my sleep cycle.)

        2) My first post-hypnagogic dream is usually the same and features the loss of my imaginary dream body's leg mobility because of vestibular system ambiguity (imagining I am vertical while horizontal in bed) and impending REM atonia (the natural paralysis that is present throughout every dream throughout every sleep cycle). I am walking, always outside, and one or both feet slip forward (as if I am spontaneously kicking a ball even though I am only walking), and I fall backward, waking with myoclonus in one or both legs. It is not unpleasant and often triggers a blissful sensation.

        3) My second post-hypnagogic dream most often correlates with arm mobility (though as expressed by protoconsciousness rather than my dream self, for example, someone else dropping something near my front door) in contrast to leg mobility as in my first post-hypnagogic dream and also because of impending (but incomplete) REM atonia. Myoclonus occurs in my upper back or my left or right shoulder rather than one or both legs.

        How physically active I had been that day, for example, how much I had walked or used my arms, influences the vividness and dynamics of these dreaming experiences. My sleeping position also contributes to it. (In contrast, from a proto-cognizant aspect, movies and television shows often influence my dream's illusions more than world news or real life.) As I have explained in previous online dream reports, the most vivid vestibular-motor drop I ever experienced followed a day in Busch Gardens Tampa Bay, when I re-experienced (in about the middle of my sleep cycle) the Log Flume drop in my dream without any imagery or locational sense.

        Dream Content:

        This dream combines the arm mobility factor with navigating a water body. I am in a boat during a sweep rowing championship, though I only watch the men rowing in front of me. I feel the boat's imaginary momentum.

        The surface of the water becomes multi-colored oil paint. One of the men turns, and I see (in profile) he is wearing a masquerade mask.

        The masquerade mask is often associated with REM sleep's beginning (or first half), different than a blindfold. Because dream content predominantly correlates with navigating my sleep cycle, including how long I had been in my sleep cycle, blindfolds and sleep masks are far more common features at the end of my sleep cycle.

[rjalker]

[ID: Ten versions of all caps text against a black background that reads, "Not human", with the letters in the stripes of different pride flags.

The flags are, in order from left to right and top to bottom:

The pride flag, with stripes of: light purple, pink, red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, royal blue, and dark purple.

The progress pride flag, with triangle shaped stripes on the side in white, pink, blue, brown, and black, and horizontal stripes of: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple.

The queer flag, with a cream background and two chevron stripes of light purple and dark purple.

The MOGAI flag, with stripes of cyan, teal, green, yellow, purple, and brown.

The xenogender flag minus the white rainbow, with stripes of pastel red, pink, orange, yellow, blue, dark blue, and purple.

The werewolf flag, with stripes of orange, amber, cream, light brown, and darker brown.

The trans flag, with stripes of blue, pink, white, pink, and blue.

The nonbinary flag, with stripes of yellow, white, purple, and black.

The it/its pronoun flag, with stripes of pale yellow, green, light grey, dark grey, light grey, green, and sky blue.

The aroace-agender-it/its flag, with stripes of: black, navy blue, sky blue, pale green, yellow, pale green, sky blue, navy blue, and black.

End ID.]

-

I was gonna write stuff but I'm sleepy so nah

feel free to use for icons, headers, moodboards, whatever you want, including printing them out and making your own stuff!

do I need to have a disclaimer that says I'm not saying you're not human if you identify with any of these flags? here's the disclaimer: I'm not saying you're not human if you identify with any of these flags. This is for people who *aren't* human who identify with these flags.

[pinkpastels113]

Hello! Numero 2 from misc when you can, please. Thank you!

i have just recovered from being on the brink of death due to the effects of the booster shot, so here you guys go!

(ofc i would be inspired while sitting on the floor trying not to get sick right? skjhdjkhk)

As soon as Chloe had gotten wind of the fact that Beca was feeling less than her usual adorable snarky self, she had dropped everything and just about ran from the campus library to burst through the Bellas house door.

Beca had taken one look at her from her curled up position on her bed when Chloe stepped into her bedroom, groaned, and reached for her with that glazed over pleading look on her face.

Of course Chloe had made a sympathetic sound in the back of her throat that resembled a dry sob, rushed over to crawl onto the mattress, and taken Beca's head and put in her lap. She had almost jumped with how warm Beca's skin felt, running her fingers through sweaty brown locks as her back leaned against the headboard.

"I'm dying," Beca had mumbled into the front of her shirt, after readjusting her body so that it laid horizontal on her twin sized bed. Chloe felt her sigh, watched as Beca closed her eyes and released a small cough before snuggling even closer, "Would you be sad if I died?"

Her words were breathless, hoarse, so incredibly soft like it took all of Beca's energy to do anything else but breathe. Chloe had made to swing her legs over the edge to get to the bottle of water she'd seen on Beca's desk on the other side of the room, but was stopped with a scorching hot hand on her thigh. She'd swallowed, sat back down, and resumed on her ministrations in Beca's hair.

"Devastated," she'd said, playing along, because there was no point in arguing that Beca is in fact, not dying, in her current state, and because her response pulled from the brunette a tired smile, "I would be devastated."

"'Kay." Beca traced the lines of Chloe's other hand as Chloe wiped the perspiration from her forehead, "Then I won't."

She'd chuckled, pressed her lips to the furrow of Beca's brows, and suggested that they watch a movie or something so Beca could nap and sleep off the worst of her fever.

"Tangled. I want to watch Tangled." It was the first time that Beca had agreed to the viewing of any film at all without at least a disgruntled grumble, and Chloe's heart had squeezed in affection and pain in light of the realization. Beca's laptop was found, Amazon prime pulled up, and it was within minutes when Beca started to doze off, the animated characters on the screen streaming a muted glow across her cheeks as her jaw goes slack.

Chloe was afraid to pause the movie in case the cut off of the background noise would cause Beca to stir, so she just tucked the blankets tighter around Beca's stomach, turned the volume down just a tad, and went back to stroking Beca's messy locks. She had discovered long ago that it was a thing that Beca "doesn't mind that much when she does it," and it was in that position that she still finds herself in an hour later when she hears the rest of the Bellas arrive from downstairs.

Chloe slows, kisses the tip of Beca's nose when she huffs out a weak but still sleepy breath, and- as gently as she could so as not to startle Beca- gets out of the bed so she could walk to the hallway bathroom. She wets a paper towel, folds it, and places it on Beca's forehead before venturing back out to tell the Bellas to hush from the top of the stairs.

"Beca's sick," she whispers, when everyone has gone silent, tilting thier heads in question, "She's sleeping right now and I would need for you all to be quiet for at least another couple of hours."

"Hours?" Stacie has replied with an overdramatic gasp, though it quickly turns into a genuine worried frown at Chloe's soft glare, "Is she okay?"

"I really hope she will be," she says with a bite of her lip, leaning on her elbows on the railing, "Her fever usually always go down after some much needed rest. Think she's just been stressed lately, again, what with competitions and work and classes and stuff."

Everybody nods, eyeing at one another, a picture of concern and relief that it isn't due to something much more serious. Beca gets elevated body temperature sometimes when her body couldn't handle the stress of her everyday life. It's an event that has been recurring much more frequent than before those past few weeks.

"I want to see her," Fat Amy says, already on the bottom step, "I bet she looks like a baby with her face all pink and blotched like that."

Chloe doesn't have much a choice except to make Amy swear to be quiet, leading the way to the door that she had left slightly cracked. She nudges it fully open, smiling at the photo that Amy quickly snaps as soon as she is within range.

She points to her phone on Beca's nightstand, indicating that she wants the photo to be shared.

Fat Amy gives her an agreeing snort before walking over to the sleeping Bella. Beca really does resemble a baby. A sick but perfect one.

"What are you doing?"

Fat Amy is balancing herself with a hand on Beca's bedpost, poking Beca's curled form with a tentative foot.

Chloe hurries over, about to drag Amy away when Beca suddenly lashes out, the paper towel falling from her forehead into the sheets below as she slaps at the toe that had just been digging into her side.

“Quit touching me, your feet are cold!”

Amy laughs, Beca's dark blue gaze burning into her like molten fire, and Chloe scowls, shoving Amy to the side so she can get to her friend.

Her friend that she is beginning to feel like is turning into a crush, but that is an affliction to be dealt with later, in the safety of her own thoughts.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, the skin of her palm tingling with the warmth still radiating from Beca's body. She brushes two knuckles down Beca's cheeks, noting the flutter of Beca's eyelashes as she leans into the touch.

"A lot better, Chlo." Beca grins, the glaze in her eyes earlier now a clear sparkle. She laces their fingers together, using it as leverage to pull Chloe closer. Chloe lurches as her legs collide with the edge of the bed. She's suddenly hovering over Beca, her hands on either side of her face, one landing on a white pillow. "Thanks."

Chloe blinks, hearing Amy groan something about how Bloe could even happen in the sickest of times, before leaving them alone. She drops her attention to Beca's mouth, breath hitching in her throat as she watches it part, extremely aware of the fact that her knee is now inches away from the apex of Beca's thighs. "It was no problem."

Their interlocked fingers shift further up the mattress, Chloe lowering further as it goes, and then the heat is overwhelming as Chloe wonders whether it is due to Beca's now receding fever or her own flushing complexion, "I really, really appreciated it." They are now about to undoubtedly kiss, Chloe's brain kicking into overdrive at the notion that she is really going to find out what Beca's lips are like against her own without the chance to figure out if she is actually harboring a crush, even though she could already feel the answer pulsing down her chest and into her navel, "Like, so much. I really wouldn't have minded if I died with my head in her lap and your hands in my hair."

"You weren't gonna die," is the last words spoken as Beca's mouth melts into hers. It heats for a fraction of a second, both of them tilting for a different angle, before Chloe pulls away, saying that Beca still needs to rest before she licks her tongue into her mouth.

"Fine," Beca pouts, pressing one last kiss to the corner of Chloe's lips in her reluctance to agree. Then she grumbles, laying an arm across the forefront of her eyes,

"Did Amy really have to poke me with her foot to get me to wake up?"

[crazybutgood]

Fanart: With Great Yawns & Stretchings [Exploding Snap]

This is my submission for the creating card in the game exploding snap organised by @gameofdrarry . The rules: Create Drarry fan art based off of a fic of at least 900 words that includes the trope: Pet fic. I’m glad to have the opportunity through this game to make origami for this amazing fic — With Great Yawns and Stretchings by sugar_screw (T, ~22k). Mega thanks to @fantalf for the artist beta, and to @curlyy-hair-dont-care for your feedback and giving this a look through ❤️

Origami under the cut! Please click on images for better quality. Warnings: pet death, mention of alcohol.

‘Harry nearly stumbles as something bumps hard against his shin. What the hell? He looks down to see a gray blur in the rain speed towards a trash bin... Moving closer, he sees the gray blur is actually a cowering cat... he grabs the silver medallion hanging from its collar. Pepper. 18 Diurn Alley.’

[description: A grey origami cat (Pepper) against a rainy window pane.]

‘Harry looks down as another cat, a bright orange tabby, winds around his legs... “You should pet Sandwich before you get a bite to the leg to match your arm.”’ 

‘Looking closer, Harry sees that what he initially thought was a kitten is actually a much older cat. The fur on its face is shot through with gray and it looks very sleepy. But she sniffs his hand cautiously. ... “That's Solitaire,” Malfoy says, returning and setting the coffee cup in front of Harry. “Our old lady.”’ 

‘Cracker, a timid and sweet long-haired Persian. Picking her up is like holding a cloud. Follows the panels of sunlight across the floor all morning for the warmest naps.’

[description: Orange (Sandwich), black (Solitaire) and white (Cracker) origami cats. They are against a background of a whiteboard reading 'Cat's Brew Café' and scribbles to denote the café's menu. The cats and the whiteboard are against a rainy window pane]

~~~~

(I wanted to show the progression of Harry and Draco’s relationship through drinks and the moments between them while they had said drinks)            

‘“Good afternoon, Mr. Potter!” he shouts over the loud hiss of the steamer. “Small coffee, shot of caramel?”’ ....

‘“It's fine. We're not closed yet. What can I get you?”

“Oh, nothing. It's too late for caffeine, it's hard enough for me to sleep.”

“Okay, then why are you here?”

“Well, I haven't stopped by in awhile and I was just…wondering how Pepper's doing.”  ...

"Don't keep Pepper waiting so long next time”’

[description: Five brown origami coffee beans arranged in the shape of a paw print in the background, with the grey origami cat, Pepper, in the foreground]

‘Harry,

Thank you for last night. Liquor and sympathy was exactly what I needed to get through all this. It means a lot to me that Solitaire has such a lovely place to rest. If you're in any state for it, come by for coffee later. If not, I'll see you soon.

-Draco'

[description: Draco's letter as mentioned in the quote above the image is handwritten in cursive on a white rectangular paper. It is tucked under two shot glasses — one standing upright and one horizontally laying next to it. Two origami teabags are on top of the letter as well — one lilac and one purple-black, both with cherry blossoms on them. Cherry blossoms symbolise a time of renewal, new beginnings, and are a reminder of the fleeting nature of life.]

‘He sets two steaming mugs on the small table between them. Harry’s favorite, clay red with the chipped handle. Draco’s delicate china white with thin blue stripes. It had been a few months of living together before Harry had noticed that, despite all the fancy, delicious things Draco can do to coffee, he just drinks his black. No cream, no sugar.’

[description: Two origami mugs, Harry's red one and Draco's white with thin blue stripes, surrounded by yellow fairy lights.]                                                  

 ~~~~

Solitaire

Arise from sleep, old cat,

And with great yawns and

stretchings...

Amble out for love

[description: Black origami cat Solitaire sitting near the playing card of 2 of hearts. The haiku that is typed above the image is written in cursive on the playing card.]

[artb0t]

[ALT text for basic image I.D.s, full I.D.s for each page under the read more.]

Pure White, He’s Not Alright

Heh, so here’s the (prologue) comic for that au @dottilyn and I have been working on. the file name is “au meant to hurt you” and i hope it achieves that goal <3

Some minor ramblings under the image ids below the cut if you wanna know more!

[Page 1 - Split into 8 panels, three in the top and bottom rows with two in the center. The first three panels show a dark purple side table in the bottom left corner and a pale foot in the bottom right all in front of a dark grey wall. A phone with a pale pink case sits on top of the table. In the first panel the phone glows and text reads “buzz buzz” in orange. in panel 2 the phone is dark, as is the rest of the room. Panel three has the phone lit up again with the “Buzz Buzz” text. Panel four is an overhead of the phone so it can be read. It is at 3% battery, with a time of 3:46 AM. There are three visible notifications on the phone, one marked as new. The new one reads “Discord, today, 3:6 AM. G.H.R.T.V. : Bro? Are you okay? Normally I’d hear back b-” before getting cut off. The two older messages read “Discord, yesterday, 3:14 PM. G.H.R.T.V. :Shouldn’t be an issue though, right?” and “Discord, yesterday, 10:21 AM. G.H.R.T.V. : Speaking of -(cut off) -ip next week...” Panel five shows the same as panel four, but a pale hand is trying to activate the screen, blocking most of the text. Panels six to eight also show the same as panels one to three, but slightly more zoomed out with Benrey standing in frame, trying to use the phone. He is a pale man in a dark navy shirt, white shorts, and shoulder-length bed head, looking extremely sleepy, like the phone has woken him up. In panel six he’s saying “broooo..... stopppp buzzing.” In Panel seven, Benrey says “It’s too early” while yawning. There are little yawn bubbles around him, and his finger is overlaid through the phone, at a lighter opacity. In panel eight, Benrey has noticed his finger going through the phone with comically open eyes. The yawn bubbles have popped and he is saying “huh?”

Page 2 - This page has 3 small, vertical panels in the upper left corner, overlapping each other slightly while the other 3/4s of the page are one larger scene. In the first small panel, Benrey’s full body is shown and we can see he’s not wearing socks or shoes either as if he just crawled out of bed. He is grabbing the side table for support, and phasing his foot through the side of his Black Mesa Security helmet, which is sitting on the floor. The next is zoomed in slightly to cut off at his knees. This time, Benrey’s hand is going through the side table again, and he looks shocked. The text reads “....whu?” above his head. In the third panel, Benrey is turning away from the left towards the right with an extremely confused expression. The Final panel shows Benrey from the knees up, facing to the right past the viewer. The side table is beside him with the phone (buzzing again) on it as well as his work ID. Benrey’s vest is on a second, shorter side table. On a bed across from the side tables is a pale body. Only the lower legs are visibly, but it is the same skin colour and frame as Benrey himself. He’s looking distraught towards where the head of the body would be, out of frame.

Page 3 - This page has seven panels, split into three rows vertically. In panel one, Benrey is leaning down, looking over what is his body, lying on the bed and slightly blurred to look out of focus. He is shown from the shoulders up, extremely confused, and is saying “Bro, I’m supposed to be IN that.” In the second panel, Benrey has stoop up slightly and can now be seen from the waist up. He’s sticking one of his arms through the body towards the camera, even more concerned. “Why am I not IN that?” He’s asking. In panel three and four, the camera is placed behind the phone on the side table, viewing Benrey from behind. He’s still got his hand in the body, looking away, as the phone buzzes again. In Panel four, he’s turning to look over his shoulder at the phone. In panel five, we see over Benrey’s shoulder as he goes back to the phone. His face is not visible but he is sayin “Oh come on.” Panel six is a close up on the phone. We can see the time is now 3:48 AM, the battery is down to 2% and the new message reads “Discord, Today 3:48 AM. G.H.R.T.V. : Okay well -(cut off)- get back to me soon.” Panel seven, the final one, has a view looking up at Benrey who’s face is lit up from the glow of the phone. He looks quite distressed and is saying “please let this work.”

Page 4 - This page has four panels with images and an additional two with only text. The page has one Main panel, the last one, and everything else is set overtop of it. The first two panels are small, rectangular and floating near the top of the page, flanked by text in “Benrey Speech Blue” saying “no” repeatedly and getting larger each time. The first panel shows his hand almost touching the top of the phone from a dramatic side angle, as the phone gives a “Low Power” warning. The second is more zoomed in, and shows the phone screen shutting itself off. The third panel is wide horizontal on the next row down and we can see the top of the side table where the now off phone sits, Benrey from the waist up, and his body lying on the bed. Standing Benrey has a hand in his hair and his face all screwed up in distress. From this point to the bottom of the page, all the lines fade to white from black, and all of the colours fade to black. There is a smaller horizontal panel with only Benrey blue-text which vertically fades to white that says “NO” and a smaller box underneath that which says “... please”. The final panel shows Benrey leaning against the wall between the side tables and the bed with his body on it. He’s got his head against his knees with his arms wrapped around his legs.

END I.D.]

SO ! this is not a “benrey is a xen creature/experiment/glitch/game construct” au, there is no Res Cas, but there Is an experiment that brings our normal main cast together. We don’t have a full plot outlines, but we do have most of our setup figured out! 

Full time security guard, part time glitch-hunter, Mr. Benrey Benrey Benrey has been online friends with his favourite twitch speedrunner, GHRTV for a while now. They were planning on meeting up! Too bad Benrey can’t remember what happened in the last 48 hours, including what ... killed him. When he wakes up again, he’s back in his apartment, but things look different, and things keep getting more different as it turns out he’s been gone for a while. His apartment has been resold as “move in ready” to a recent PHD graduate moving across the country with his toddler son. And well, wouldn’t you know it’s (ex, now) speedrunner Gordon Freeman, finally getting a chance to use his scientific skills. 

Well... Benrey is dead, right? And he’s not sure why he’s still around (and he really doesn’t want to leave) but there’s nothing against having a little fun with his old best friend, right? And you know what, Gordon Freeman is a busy man and he could use some help having fun again. Either someone to help out with having a toddler, even if they can’t really touch him, or someone to just make him laugh again.

don’t worry, it’ll all work out :)

We’ve got ideas and scenes and goofs of all sorts but we have really been having fun coming up with ways to make this as found family as possible. Let everyone rely on and love each other! They deserve it! But also lots of Angst haha. Its basically us using a lot of ideas which would be really fun but are small on their own, and pushing them all together for the gay rights <3

[ibelongtonegan]

Triple Play (Negan/Reader/Simon one-shot)

This fic was originally intended to be my entry for @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash​​’s birthday challenge ages ago, but then life and a moody muse turned it into a forever WIP. And yet I just could not get story idea out of my head and did not stop until it was completed.

My prompt was “Technology – Walkie Talkies”.

Summary: some secrets are better left untold…or are they?

Characters: Negan x Reader x Simon

Word count: 5,616

Warnings: angst, dirty talk, smut, swearing

Tags (tagging my forevers and those who expressed interest in this fic at some point): @negans-network​, @i-am-negan-trash​, @emoryhemsworth​, @ridingmoxley​, @ladysyn, @sleepylunarwolf​, @letsby​, @tatertotandcassie​, @annablack1102​, @genevievedarcygranger​, @daisysouthmoore​, @hughxjackman​, @ofxallxwexlost​, @negans-wife​

I appreciate feedback and most days don’t bite. So don’t be shy to comment, message or ask me anything!

“Okay, Y/N, your turn. Dwight, Negan, Simon,” Laura chirped, her voice hissing with static. 

Your lips curled up into a wide grin as you raised the radio to your mouth.

“Fuck Negan, marry Simon, kill Dwight.”

“Damn, girl. That was quick!” Arat’s laugh echoed through the speaker. “You could have at least pretended to think about it for a minute.”

The Virginia sun was beating down with all its might as you made your way through the field in the knee-high grass. You retrieved the water bottle from your backpack, but the few gulps of lukewarm water did little to wet your parched throat.

Negan had sent out a search party for two workers who were stupid enough to break into the storage room and steal various supplies, but not smart enough to take a car to make their escape. It was just a question of time before they were captured, but you hoped it was going to happen before dinner. It was Friday, and tonight’s menu was going to be mac ‘n cheese. A hot meal and a cold shower, you craved nothing more. 

You wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand while scanning the tree line for movement, but everything looked peaceful. Despite a badly decomposed walker that stumbled out of the forest about an hour ago, the search was uneventful. To kill time, Arat proposed to play ��Fuck, marry, kill’ on the back-up channel, which she swore was safe from prying ears since nobody ever used it.

“Poor D, why would you hurt him?”

Laura could not hide the reproach in her tone. She had had a crush on Dwight since forever but didn’t dare to make a move on him, not even months after Sherry had married Negan.

“He’s a good dude, but not my type, sorry, not sorry.”

“Okay, what about Simon?” Arat chimed in. “I didn’t think you were the marrying type.”

The chorus of cicadas fell silent in the background as the transmission ended.

“I’m not, but I can’t fuck him too if I marry Negan.”

“Wait...what?”

An amused smile spread on your lips at the frantic reaction.

“Well, you know the rules. If you marry Negan, you can’t be with anybody else but him, right? But what if I want to fuck both him and Simon? The only way is to marry Simon and cheat on him with Negan. Or better yet, to coax them into a threesome.”

“Okay, I get Simon. He’s funny, has a killer swagger and that moustache must feel like heaven on your pussy,” Laura pondered. “But Negan…I mean, he’s hot, but also volatile, dangerous, and rough. He must be an animal in bed. I bet even his cum-face is scary.”

“I choose to accept the mission and find out for your peace of mind. I think he made Sherry come at least three times last night. Lucky bitch,” you sighed with envy recalling the sinful noises you overheard from Negan’s room.

“Then why don’t you volunteer to become a wife?”

“I worked my ass off to become a Savior, and will not give it up to sit around in the wives’ lounge, eat candy and paint my nails all day. I’d rather keep my job and fantasize about Negan and Simon while rubbing one out at night.”

The conversation was interrupted by your radio emitting a long beep, pulling you back to reality and the task at hand. You stopped in your tracks and switched to the primary channel.

“The search is over, we have the sorry shits in custody,” you heard Negan’s gravelly voice announce, his patience evidently worn thin. “Everybody get the fuck back to base now!”

You felt a pang of sorrow for the escapees. They were no doubt going to receive a painfully thorough ironing after dinner.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

An hour and a shower later you were on your way to the canteen with Arat and Laura in tow. The scent of melted cheese and spices filling the corridors made saliva pool in your mouth.

You devoured the plate of pasta within minutes and chugged two glasses of water to quench your thirst after the savoury meal. Feeling full and sleepy, you rested your chin in your palm, while Arat and Laura engaged in a heated debate over which of the newbie Saviors they wanted to fuck, marry and kill respectively. 

“Evening, ladies,” Simon stopped by your table, his hands resting on his hips. After giving the two girls a quick nod, his eyes settled on you. “He wants to see you, Y/N, in his room.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion. Negan didn’t summon anyone but his wives at such a late hour and he had never asked to see you in his room before.

“Something wrong?”

“Everything’s A-Okay. The boss man just wants to have a word with you in private. Let’s not keep him waiting,” Simon gestured towards the door, his usual smirk never faltering.

You stood up from the table and gave Arat and Laura a wink before following Simon out of the canteen.

“I thought he was going to punish the escapees after dinner,” you stated rather than asked while trying to keep up with Simon’s long strides.

“Tomorrow,” he muttered under his breath. “There’s another matter he wants to deal with tonight.”

His curt response caught you off-guard, but you attributed it to him being hungry, since you had not seen him at dinner earlier.

Simon led you to the top floor and stopped before a large mahogany double door. Knocking twice, he turned the knob without waiting for an answer, and motioned for you to step inside.

Negan’s quarters looked nothing like other parts of the Sanctuary. It felt like entering the suite of a five-star hotel and you couldn’t stop looking around in amazement. The room was lavishly furnished with furniture and accessories from an expensive interior design store the Saviors had looted on your first run. There was a giant four poster bed to your left, decorated with grey, satin bedsheets and neatly arranged pillows, and to your right a comfortable black leather couch with two matching armchairs surrounding a coffee table. A bar area was set up in the corner complete with leather stools and a selection of spirits. The private bathroom was hidden behind a black door on the opposite wall, but you imagined it to be just as extravagant. Negan had a taste for the finer things in life, like beautiful women, good food and his luxurious apartment was no exception. Your room looked like a mouse hole in comparison.

Negan was sitting behind his desk, several papers splayed out before him next to a tumbler filled with amber liquid. His leather jacket was draped over the back of his seat, but his signature red scarf was still draped around his neck. The soft glow of the desk lamp cast an eerie light on his face. He looked up from the ledger in his hand and beckoned you closer, pointing at the chair in front of him.

Simon strode over to the couch behind you and plopped down, the leather squeaking under his weight. You were surprised to see him stay, but Negan didn’t seem to mind his number two’s presence in the room. He took a small sip of his drink and leaned back in the armchair, studying you with an unreadable expression.

Negan had always treated you fairly, appreciating your scavenging skills and rewarding your hard work. You climbed the imaginary career ladder at the community from common worker to lieutenant thanks to your tenacity, courage and ability to handle Negan’s short temper and crude humour. Along with Arat and Simon you were one of his most trusted soldiers, carrying out his orders and accompanying him on runs. You had been infatuated with him from the start and often found your eyes lingering on your formidable leader, but seemingly he had never expressed an interest in you.    

With Simon your attraction began on your first run to Alexandria, when you were assigned to ride in the same truck and hit it off right away during the long journey. Simon was funny, smart and cute in a rugged way, and soon the two men occupied your dreams, with the three of you ending up having hot, messy sex on every vertical and horizontal surface imaginable. Yet, you did your best to act professionally around them, not letting your secret obsession interfere with your work.

“Something you wanna tell me?” Negan jolted you from your thoughts. “Anything you’d like to confess?”

“I’m not a religious person, sorry,” you pursed your lips to suppress a smile.

Simon snickered behind you, but Negan seemed unfazed by your cheekiness. He swirled his whisky a few times, his touch leaving random marks on the foggy surface of the glass.

“Okay, forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I took an extra serving of the apple pie at dinner last night. It was too delicious to resist.”

Negan narrowed his eyes at you and stroked his chin, his gloved fingers scraping his salt-and-pepper stubble.

“Or if this is about the crime novel I haven’t returned to the library, I know it’s almost a month overdue, but I still have two chapters left and want to know who the killer is.”

You heard the sound before your eyes could register the motion as Negan slammed down his glass on the desk. You expected it to shatter into a million pieces, but the tumbler miraculously survived the impact, the ice cubes clinking against each other in protest.

“Careful, Y/N. You don’t wanna test my patience.” 

You gulped hard, feeling an uneasy chill go down your spine. Negan was usually up for jokes, but he was evidently not in the mood for them now, and you could not shake off the thought that you were the reason for it.

He stood up and keeping his gaze fixed on you rounded the desk before leaning against it, resting his hands on the edge. His crotch was level with your eyes, and you straightened up in your seat to avoid having to look at the impressive package in his pants.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you opted for honesty.

Negan pushed himself away from the desk and started circling you. His looming presence behind you made the hair stand up on your back, but you fought the urge to turn around.

“I don’t take lightly to my Saviors keeping secrets from me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you asserted but regretted it immediately when Negan’s face appeared in your peripheral vision.

“Bullshit!” he snarled against your ear. “What about that little girl talk over the radio this afternoon?”

His words made the blood drain from your face. Closing your eyes, you wished the ground would miraculously open and swallow you up.

“Imagine my surprise when during today’s run, I heard one of my top gals confess over the back-up channel that she was fantasizing about me and my right-hand man while rubbing one out at night.”

If the blood had gone from your face before, it now rushed right back up as you felt your cheeks grow hot.

“That shit made me very, very disappointed.”

Negan stepped back in front of you, and crossing his ankles leaned against the desk. The intensity of his stare made your heart sink. You tried to guess how much of your radio conversation with Arat and Laura he could have heard. If luck was on your side, he only caught the last part. If not...

��you didn’t even want to go there.

“We were just…joking. A silly chat between us girls to pass the time,” you shrugged, feeling perspiration bead on your forehead. 

Negan studied your face intently weighing your words.

“What do you make of this, Simon?”

“She’s lying, boss,” came the merry retort from the couch.

You head snapped around in protest but Negan grabbed your chin with his gloved hand, forcing you to look at him.

“I think you’re right,” he mused in a sing-song voice, his face so close that you could smell his body wash and the faint trace of whiskey on his breath. ”Get over here and give me a hand, will you?”

You heard Simon’s heavy boots cross the room and stop behind you. Negan gave him a knowing look and before you knew it, your arms were yanked back, and held firmly behind the chair.

“Where were we, doll?” Negan let go of your chin and crouched down in front of you, resting his hands on your knees. “Oh, yes. You fantasizing about me and Simon nailing you.”

He licked his lips slowly and your eyes followed the motion instinctively.

“What’s the matter, Y/N? Cat got your tongue? You were very talkative over the radio earlier,” Negan taunted sardonically.

You closed your legs to put some distance between your bodies, but Negan squeezed your thighs in warning and forced them further apart.

“Tell me what you thought about last night.”

You squirmed in your seat, Negan’s command ringing in your ears in the deafening silence that followed.

“You said that you were listening to me fucking Sherry. What did you think about to get off?”

Your eyes went wide like saucers and you desperately tried to come up with a plausible excuse, but your mind went completely blank. Sharing a kinky fantasy over the radio with your best friends was one thing. But confessing it face to face to the very subjects of it?

“Careful, Y/N,” Negan warned sensing your stalling, his mouth tightening into a thin line. “I want the truth on this one.”

You went limp in Simon’s grip with an exasperated sigh. As much as you hated to admit defeat, they cornered you. You held your head up high and gave Negan a defiant look. If he wanted to hear the truth, you were going to tell him just that, consequences be damned.

“We were in the meeting room, at the usual Monday briefing for the lieutenants. I disagreed with your order, and we got into an argument over it. I knew that I was pushing your buttons but the more riled up you got, the more it turned me on.”

Negan looked at you with a faint smirk, as if the same idea had crossed his mind before.

“You decided that if I was bold enough to backtalk in front of your men, then I would also be punished in front of them. Simon pinned me down on the meeting table, and the two of you took turns having your way with me.”

Negan’s pupils dilated, the primal reaction urging you to continue.

“All the lieutenants were watching us with hunger and envy that they could only look, but not touch or taste me. I was completely exposed and at your mercy, and yet felt safe and in control of the situation, because that was exactly what I wanted. To be taken, dominated, marked and used for your pleasure. You kept teasing me, edging me, until I was a begging mess. And in the end, you came inside me, breeding me.”

Negan tsked with a shake of his head.

“And you were hiding all of this from me? Not cool. You have no idea how not cool that shit is. But don’t worry, we will rectify the situation right now.”

Your heart dropped as the meaning of his words sank in. This was it. You were going to be demoted, lose your friends, the respect of the Saviors and could never go near Negan and Simon again. Or they would kick you out of the Sanctuary even. And all of this because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Now you knew why the ironing of the escapees had been postponed. Negan had deemed your punishment more urgent.

“You wanna pay close attention to this, because I’m only going to say it once. Hearing your dirty little confession over the radio made me and Simon hard as steel. So we decided to make your wish come true.”

You blinked twice, expecting to wake up from what seemed to be the weirdest dream you had ever had. You were never going to stuff yourself full of food before bed again.

“But I have two conditions. Are you with me, doll?”

You nodded weakly as Negan’s fingers drew a zigzag pattern on your jeans.

“One: as much as the thought of fucking you in front of my men is tickling my balls, I am not letting those fuckers lay their eyes on you. It’s going to be just you, me and Simon.”

The offer sounded more than fair to you.

"Two: you know well I don’t share my gals with anyone, except for when I have a moresome with my wives, and I only allow them to fuck each other because I get to watch. What’s mine is mine.”

Your breath hitched as he moved his hands further up, the tip of his fingers skimming the apex of your thighs.

“But since your fantasy involved my right-hand man as well, I’m willing to bend the rules just this once.”

Heat pooled in your belly as you watched him, mesmerized by his usually hazel eyes darkening to dark chocolate.

“So, tonight I get exclusive membership at your pussy bar, no exceptions. You will be my little breeding bitch only,” he stroked your clothed centre, eliciting a pathetic whine from you. “As for other parts of your body, sharing is caring.” Negan looked up at Simon flashing his pearly whites, before his eyes settled back on you.

You stared at him at a loss for words. One part of you was cheering you on to seize the opportunity and accept the indecent proposal, while the other was adamant that you were going to wake up any minute. Negan lifted his gloved hand to your cheek and traced your lower lip, expecting an answer. You let your body do the talking and opened your mouth to run your tongue over his thumb, tracing a shiny path on the black leather. If this was indeed just a dream, you were going to make sure it would be a wet one. 

“Damn, Simon, I knew she was going to be trouble from the moment we met her,” Negan drawled, his eyes heavy with desire.

Grabbing the back of your head he pulled you up and claimed your lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth possessively. Simon pushed the chair out of the way and pressed himself into your back trapping your body between him and Negan. Even through two layers of clothing you could feel the outline of his hard-on, earning a low moan from you.

“Easy, Simon,” Negan grinned wickedly, sucking and nibbling on your neck. “We don’t want her to cum just yet.”

Closing your eyes, you rested your head on Simon’s shoulder to offer Negan easier access to your skin. Lost in the pleasure the two men were showering you with your right hand went to cup Negan’s bulge, while you grabbed the back of Simon’s head with the other and arched your back against him.

“Looks like someone’s eager,” Simon murmured grinding into your ass.

“She’s not the only one,” Negan hissed. “Let’s get her out of these fucking clothes, before I blow my load in my pants.”

He lifted your shirt over your head, and Simon unbuttoned your pants and pulled them off your legs along with your boots. You felt self-conscious standing before the two men in nothing but your underwear but Negan’s lustful gaze and the appreciative rumble in Simon’s chest chased all your insecurities away. Simon unclasped your bra and you dropped your hands to your sides, letting it slide down onto the floor. He went for your panties next, but Negan stopped him with a grunt, reminding him of the exclusive territorial rights he had established earlier.

Simon seemed unfazed by the setback and put his plan B in motion peppering your neck with sloppy kisses. He placed his right hand on top of yours, and guided it from his crotch to your front, tracing your belly button with the tip of your fingers, before slipping them inside your panties and brushing your slit.

His ingenuity impressed you, but Negan didn’t share the sentiment. 

“Hands off, Simon, her pussy is mine,“ he bared his teeth at him.

The primal gesture combined with the possessiveness in his voice made your insides coil with anticipation. Simon held his hands up with a smug look and licked his fingertips, his eyes closing in delight as he savoured the taste of your arousal.

Negan yanked your panties down, the disapproval over your complicity in Simon’s crime evident on his face. Simon kneeled on the ground and lifted the garment to his nose to take a whiff, before letting it fall on top of your discarded clothes.

“I think we should catch up with her, Simon” Negan suggested, his eyes drinking in your nakedness.

He took off his shirt revealing tufts of dark chest hair and various tattoos, some faded, some more recent looking. You heard Simon unbuckle his belt behind you and looked back over your shoulder to steal a glance. He was bulkier than Negan, his muscles defined, and chest fully shaved. You watched the piles of clothes grow by their feet until they stood before you completely naked, their cocks standing proud against their bellies. Simon’s was thick and veiny, Negan’s long and smooth, but both impressive in its own right. You bit down on your lip, yearning to taste them.

“Like what you see, doll?” Negan flicked his tongue suggestively at you. “Get on your knees and show Simon what that smart mouth is capable of,” he instructed pointing down on the ground. “But don’t make him cum yet.”

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” you purred.

“We shall see when you choke on his dick,” Negan replied darkly before turning to his right-hand man. “Show her who’s the fucking boss here.”

Simon didn’t need to be told twice and placing his hand on your shoulder pushed you down on the carpet. You grabbed his cock and gave it a few pumps before licking off the drops of pre-cum oozing from the tip. He sighed out loud, as you closed your mouth over the head and sucked gently, enjoying the salty taste. You swallowed him inch by inch, tracing every vein with your tongue, until he was buried deep in your throat. His hands tightened in your hair to keep you still, eliciting a muffled whine from you, your lips vibrating around his length. When you could no longer fight the need to gag, you began to move, bobbing your head up and down.

Opening your eyes, you searched for Negan and found him getting comfortable in the chair you had been sitting in before. He was watching your every move, legs wide open, stroking himself lazily. You mirrored his pace instinctively and sucked on Simon in sync with his palm fisting his dick. Negan sucked on his teeth as he watched your cheeks bulge rhythmically.

You pulled back and swirled your tongue around the crown like catching drips from a melting ice cream cone. Simon lowered his hand to the back of your head, spreading his fingers wide for a solid hold, and started fucking your mouth with abandon. Your throat was contracting and burning with every thrust but you didn’t mind the discomfort, feeling a rush of blood go to your core from him using you just like you had imagined.

“That’s enough,” Negan barked, but Simon was too far gone in pleasure to listen, his eyes closed, and head thrown back. You kept your eyes on Negan to show him that you had heard him and doubled your efforts, forming a ring with your thumb and index finger around the root of Simon’s shaft, and cupping his balls in your free hand. You knew that you were playing with fire, but the thrill was too tempting to resist.

Negan’s mouth twisted into a snarl and he jumped up from the chair to advance on you, his manhood swinging with every step like a metronome. You felt a sharp tug on your hair and let Simon slip from your mouth, a string of saliva hanging off your chin.

“I said, enough!” Negan repeated and pulled you up into a standing position. “Simon, take a time-out before you bust a nut.” 

You felt him swat your ass hard and yelped in surprise.

“This may be your fantasy, doll, but I call the fucking shots here and will not hesitate to dole out some hard punishment, if you don’t follow my orders,” he seethed.

Still holding you by the make-shift ponytail he pushed you towards the bed and showed you down on the mattress.

“On your back, arms above your head.”

You laid back down against the pillows as you were told. Negan knelt between your legs and spread them apart by your knees.

“Well, would you look at this creamy little mess in here!” his eyes gleamed with unadulterated joy.

Getting on his elbows, he traced your mound with his lips, his mouth barely touching you, the combination of the scruff of his beard and his warm breath tickling deliciously. Your hands fisted the sheets as he licked your pussy from bottom to top, before dripping the tip into your opening, and lapping up your juices with relish. He peeked up at you through his long lashes, watching your reactions. His lips were sticky with your arousal as he ate you out shamelessly as if you had been his last meal on Earth.

You looked to your right to find Simon sitting on the couch, watching the two of you with drowsy eyes. He was trying hard to comply with Negan’s orders, but it was evident how much he wanted to touch himself as he fidgeted in his seat, his cock begging for attention.

Negan moved his tongue to your clit and sucked it between his teeth, the sensation exquisite and overwhelming at the same time. You cried out and digging your heels into the mattress lifted your body to move away from him, but he wrapped his fingers around your thighs holding you in place. His tongue continued its sensual assault alternating between slow, soft flicks, and fast, greedy slurps. The variation of the tempo and intensity combined with the thrill of not knowing what his next move would be was driving you crazy with want.

You bucked your hips to maximize the contact between your bodies, he, however, had other plans and sat back on his heels. Pulling you down by the waist until he was kneeling between your thighs, he lined himself up at your entrance and began grinding against your heat, coating his length with your wetness.

“Negan...” you whimpered and raised your pelvis to make him slide inside you, but he restrained you by putting his hand on your stomach.

“Not yet.”

Getting impatient you reached for his dick, but he slapped your hand away.

“I said, not yet! Simon, come here!”

You felt the bed dip and calloused hands pinning your wrists down on the mattress. Tilting your head to the side you continued to suck on Simon, eager to finish what Negan’s intervention had interrupted earlier.

You arched your back off the mattress as Negan pinched your right nipple and rolled it between his fingers. He grazed your left nipple with his teeth, before sucking it into his mouth and blowing on the stiff peak, his saliva feeling like a cool ointment against your overheated skin.

“Please...” you gasped, not sure if you were asking him to stop or to go on.

“I think she’s learned her lesson,” Simon gritted his words, the sensory overload of your lips on him, and the sight of Negan toying with you pushing him dangerously close to the edge.

“I don’t think so, Simon. But it looks like she will milk you dry any minute, and I want to fuck this pretty pussy raw finally.”

Negan positioned himself at your dripping cunt and slid inside, inch by inch. You cried out in ecstasy from the sweet pressure of him stretching you wide. When he was buried to the hilt, he remained still, and taking hold of your ankles, spread your legs wide.

“Look at that, Simon, how she is taking my big, fat dick like a champ?”

He finally began to move in a painfully slow rhythm, enjoying as your warmth enveloped him. Crossing your legs for a closer fit he placed your feet on his shoulder, the penetration so deep that you let out a cry with every thrust. Your entire body was covered in a thin layer of sweat and your damp strands of hair stuck to your forehead. You were exposed and at the mercy of the two men, but had never felt this free and complete. Tension was building in your stomach and you closed your eyes to absorb yourself in the moment.

Negan, however, pulled out abruptly, earning him a frustrated mewl from you that he rewarded with a slap delivered on your swollen clit.

“On all fours, doll. I want to fill this fertile pussy full of my cum.”

Simon let go of your arms and sat back against the headboard. You rolled over lifting yourself up on your elbows, barely able to support your own weight. Negan lifted your ass up and placing his palm between your shoulder blades pushed you down in Simon’s lap. When he was satisfied with the angle, he rammed into you again, his fingers digging into your hips. 

“Are you going to cum on my cock, like a good girl?” he growled and spanked your ass hard.

You cried out an affirmative and continued to pleasure Simon while chasing your own release. A few seconds later you felt every nerve ending in your body tingle and warmth spread to your core. Your toes curled inward as your body surrendered to the inevitable and waves of ecstasy washed over you, dulling your senses for what felt like several minutes. The vibrations of your moans around him made Simon succumb to his own climax. He started twitching and throbbing, before spurting his seed down your throat. You swallowed every drop hungrily before releasing his softening member from your mouth.

Negan let you ride out your high, and then picked up the speed again. Fisting your hair, he pulled your head back twisting your body in an unnatural shape as he continued to pound you. His hand curled around your neck, his fingers squeezing hard enough to make black spots appear in your vision and blood drum in your ears. Drops of sweat fell from his chest to your ass tickling down to your sides and onto the sheet as he rode you, not losing his rhythm for a second.

His moves became more urgent, until he buried himself inside you one last time. He groaned a series of expletives under his breath before biting down on your shoulder as he came inside you, coating your inner walls with his cum. His fingers released their grip around your throat, allowing much-needed oxygen to fill your lungs and a second orgasm, even more intense than the first, consume you. You collapsed on the bed all strength leaving your limbs, as the room came back into focus, your heightened senses perceiving everything all at once.

Negan rolled off of you onto his back, his arm resting over his eyes, as Simon laid down against the pillows, a sly grin plastered over his face.

“Damn, boss,“ he wiped his brow with his thumb. “If only all dreams came true.”

Your reply was a tired but satisfied hum of agreement. A girl could dream, but making it come true was so much better.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

You stirred awake at the break of dawn. Taking in your surroundings you realized that you were still in Negan’s bed. It was dark outside, but the first rays of the sun peeked through the heavy curtains. You felt spent and sore, your skin sticky with the remnants of sweat and dried cum. The bitemark on your neck was still tender, but you wore it with pride as proof of Negan’s claim over you. Turning your head, you found him lying sprawled out on his stomach, his breathing deep and even, but Simon’s side of the bed was empty, the wrinkled sheets cold already.

You sat up carefully, searching for your clothes in the dim light, when you felt a strong arm circle around your waist.

“Where do you think you’re going, doll?” Negan’s raspy drawl made you shiver.

“Back to my room?” you looked at him over your shoulder.

“Nuh-uh,” he pulled you back against his chest. “You are staying. I want you all to myself for round two in the morning. And after that I may even change my mind about fucking you at the Monday briefing.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” you tried to untangle yourself from his hold but were easily overpowered after a playful struggle and his expert fingers finding your tickle spot.

“Just sass me, doll, and you shall see, along with all the filthy ideas I have on my mind.”

The alluring promise made you relax against him, dark words whispered in the twilight lulling you back to sleep, and another fantasy taking shape in your imagination already.

[zacklover24]

Chapter Summary: 

“Mom, and dad are fine. They love there condo in Palm Springs. They call every friday to make sure the inn wasn’t sent on fire and I’m still in charge. They sent up some gifts for Tessa.” He tells her. 

“I hope you hid them well, we all know that she likes a bloodhound when it comes to finding gifts.” Desmond jokes, which got a laugh from everyone. 

“Don’t worry about there gifts there well hidden. Your gifts if you want, are at the Van Tassel farm house.” Oliver tells him. 

“Why?” Connor asks him. 

“Right, you don’t know the tradition. Every year we have dinner and cake here at the inn, and then we go to the Van Tassel farm house. The farm house has a big fire pit, we make bone fire, and open gifts.” Oliver explains, “After that we sit by the fire and tell ghost stories, and don’t come back till midnight.” 

“Van Tassel that name sounds familiar,” Henry mutters, “That wouldn't have anything to do with Katrina Van Tassel, the young woman from ‘The Legend of Sleepy Hollow’?” 

“The one and the same.” Oliver says matter of factly, “That story is more than just a ghost story, it's real.” 

Malik let out a chuckle, “Are you telling us that really happened?” 

“Very much so, in fact lookup.” Oliver says gesturing to the top of the mantel. On the wall above the mantel was painting.  

The painting was ominous, in every sense of the word. The frame was positioned horizontally on the wall. The background was of the night sky dotted with stars, and a bright full moon with a few pale clouds. The middle ground was of a dark and eerie forest with tall, black, leafless trees. But it was the main subject of the painting. It was a man on a pale white horse with glowing red eyes, with smoke coming out its mouth. The figure was, a man dressed in black jacketed trimmed with yellow and red, with a white ruffle on the neck. In one hand was a jack-o'-lantern with a dark expression carved into it. In his other hand, was a sword that was gleaming in the moonlight. The painting looked like it would come to life at any moment and attack them. 

“That looks like something Tessa would paint, in fact that is her style.” Leonardo points out, as he moved closer to Ezio. Those the figure had no head, it was still creepy. 

“She made that?” Jacob asks as he raises an eyebrow. 

“About two years ago, I want to say. Mom comossied her, said she wanted something to tie the room together.” Oliver explains, with a huff and an eye roll, “When Tessa comes back we can tell you the real story behind the horseman.” 

[miss-pearlescent]

Hey Teach (M)

Jongin is the star soccer player on campus and you are his math tutor. Things get complicated. (¬‿¬)

You woke up with an arm around your waist and a boner against your butt.

It was just before dawn and there were many things on your to-do list today. Work, groceries, study...

But first, the walk of shame.

You let out a small sigh as you savoured the last moments of being a little spoon. You hadn’t really done the horizontal tango last night. The deed wasn’t signed without a signature; sex wasn’t sex without penetration.

Right?

You carefully eased the heavy arm off your stomach and crawled to the edge of the bed. You were so out of your element right now.

Your unofficial role on campus was a “nerd”. Not even one of the loud nerds like the debate kids. You just liked numbers and puzzles more than other things.

Turns out, you liked making out with Kim Jongin too.

You shook your head and adjusted your shirt, looking for your bra on the ground. It was weird to think that you were so eager to throw away your bra but insisted on keeping on your t-shirt and shorts.

It was weird to be here at all, really.

A groan came from the bed and you felt a hand graze your ankle. “Come back here.”

You hid your smile at Jongin’s sleepy voice. “I should get going,” you whispered even though he was clearly awake. “The sun is rising.”

He rolled onto his back, his broad bare shoulders taking up way too much of the bed. You focused your attention to looking at the ground, concentrating hard on that damn bra.

“So?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “It’s Saturday. We don’t have class.”

“I have work this afternoon,” you said as you snatched the strap of your bra out from under the bed. “And I thought you had soccer practice this evening?”

It was a lame excuse and the both of you knew it in the silence that passed. You decided to ignore the tension in the room as you packed your notebooks away on the table.

You had arrived last night for what you thought was another tutoring session. Jongin had been struggling in one of his courses and you had offered to help him for a bit of extra money.

When he told you he had aced one of his recent tests yesterday morning, you decided to celebrate by ending his session with a toast and pizza.

He pulled up a movie on his laptop, dimmed the lights, and suddenly one thing led to another and you found yourself all over Kim Jongin, the school’s star soccer player.

Your cheeks heated at the memory, knowing you had come on way too strong. If it weren’t for these studying sessions, Jongin would never have even noticed you. You didn’t know what kinds of girls he dated, but you knew he probably had half the campus fawning over him.

And now you were part of that half.

Out of embarrassment, you slammed your textbook shut a little too hard.

“Will I see you tonight then?” he asked. There was a pause and then, “After my soccer practice, of course.” You couldn’t miss the playful note in his tone.

You inwardly groaned and shoved the textbook into your backpack. “Yeah,” you replied, avoiding his watchful gaze as you stuff your bra into your bag too. “Tonight.”

-

You shucked your apron and looked out at the heavy rain hitting the windows of the cafe. Your nerves had been on edge all day and now your mood was miserable too. Walking home was going to be a bitch.

You pulled out your phone, biting your lip for the hundredth time that day, and contemplated cancelling your study session. You knew you wouldn’t be able to concentrate—

Bzzt!

You almost dropped your phone as it vibrated in your hands.

Jongin was calling you.

You put the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, you done work?”

“Um, yes.” You looked out the window and frowned. The rain was coming down in sheets. “But I’m stuck here for a bit. I might need to cancel—”

“Want me to pick you up?”

Your mouth stopped mid-sentence, unsure what to say. “I...The rain is really heavy,” you sputtered. “It’s too dangerous to drive.”

You could hear keys jingling in the background. “I’ll go slow.”

“Don’t you have soccer practice soon?”

“Cancelled,” he said. “‘Cause of the rain.”

Of course.

“Let’s just have our study session early today,” he continued. “Then we can end early and you can get home and sleep.”

You agreed, only because ending earlier meant that you might still have enough energy to stop yourself from climbing all over Jongin.

-

Your futile hopes didn’t work.

For the last forty-five minutes, you had been mashing mouths with Kim Jongin.

You couldn’t even believe people were able to mash mouths for that long.

You pulled away for some air, brushing the hair out of your face. You still had all your clothes on, and Jongin was only naked from the waist up. That had to be a good thing.

You licked your swollen lips, loving the way his gaze flickered down to watch your tongue.

“Still just friends?” he teased, referring to the conversation the two of you had shared in the car.

He had been the first to bring it up, and you had been the one to have the final say that the two of you were just friends. He had let you win with a slow nod and a wide smirk.

That smirk was dancing on his lips right now as he watched you.

You climbed off him and hugged a pillow instead. “I don’t know,” you confessed.

He sat up with you—his nearness was a little overwhelming—but didn’t touch you. You could see his bulge though, and you knew how much your own body was responding to him as well.

You were torturing the both of you.

“Then what do you know?” he asked.

The question surprised you.

You knew numbers and equations. Formulae and diagrams.

Feelings, though? They confused you.

“I know that I like this,” you answered, waving a hand between the two of you.

He had on a gentle smile as he leaned in. “Like what?”

You gulped, your hands waving a bit more frantically. “This. You and me.”

“But?”

Ah, great, this was the big question. He just didn’t get it, did he? That he was the popular guy in school and that after this was over, he would go on and have lots of fun with other girls and live a great ball-kicking life.

Whereas you would be back here, going over graphs, tables, and the feeling of his tongue grazing your skin. Because in all these years of your life, you had never gone this far with anybody.

And the probability of it ever happening again was slim.

“But I don’t want to get hurt,” you blurted out, staring hard at the pillow in your lap.

You felt a finger pick up a lock of your hair, playing with it, and then tucking it behind your ear. The motion made your heart ache a little.

“You think I would hurt you?” The edge of pain in his voice caused a pang in your chest and you absently rubbed at it.

You shook your head fervently because you knew he wouldn’t. “Not intentionally.” He was a nice guy who worked hard for the things he wanted. He lived life as life came, and you wished you could be like him.

But you were rigid and by the book. You didn’t know how to stray from what you knew.

“Let’s do this like a study session.”

You watched in confusion as he pulled the pillow from your arms. “What?”

“I want to touch you and you want to be touched,” he said as if it was the most logical fact in the world and not the most embarrassing. He raised his brow at you. “Am I correct?”

Your face was getting unbearably hot, but you still nodded.

“Then let’s do an anatomy lesson. You be the teach, I’m the student.” He tossed the pillow to the side and crossed his legs. “Like usual, right?”

Your eyes widened. “S-sure.”

He grinned. “Then lie down, oh wise one.”

Covering your laugh with your hand, you laid down on the bed, getting more comfortable now that you knew Jongin was being playful. He liked to call you weird names when he knew you were getting frustrated or nervous or impatient with him. Really, anytime at all.

He sprawled out next to you, propping himself up with one elbow. “Now,” he said, “how should I begin? Do you like gentle?”

He grazed his fingers along your stomach, causing a tickle. You tried hard not to be squeamish.

“Or not?” His hand came around to grab your butt, giving it a harsh squeeze.

You let out a harsh breath and squeezed your thighs together because suddenly you were getting wet again.

He didn’t let go of your ass as he patiently waited. “I need an answer, miss, or else I won’t know how to move onto the next question.”

“Not,” you choked out. “Not gentle.”

That was it. The floodgates were open. No turning back now.

Jongin gave a low chuckle and licked the ring of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m glad I was right. I have a chance of passing.”

You wanted to tell him that he was usually right, that he was smart and knew how to figure out problems by himself. But now was not the time. Not when his hand was coming up your side and grazing underneath your breast.

Like last night, your bra was gone but your shirt was still on. You didn’t want him to see you naked, but you loved it when he palmed your breast.

He surprised you by taking your nipple in between his thumb and forefinger and giving it a tug.

You arched off the bed, looking down at the way your nipple strained through the thin fabric of the shirt.

“Oops,” Jongin remarked. “Wrong spot. I want to change my answer.”

He pinched the other nipple, sending you flying off the bed again.

Jongin made a contemplative noise. “Hmm, I don’t think that’s it either.”

Then he squeezed both nipples at the same time, all with a devilish smile as he watched you bite back a moan. He rolled your nipples between his fingers, worrying them through your shirt.

“Hey teach, I think I’ve got the hang of it. There can’t be more to this stuff, right?” he asked as he lazily flicked your nipples back and forth.

You shook your head, partly in answer to his question, and partly because he was being ridiculous with his play.

“Really?” he acted surprised. “I wonder what more there could be. I must be stupid because I can’t figure it out for the life of me.”

Oh, he was going to make you ask for it.

You refrained from rolling your eyes and instead parted your feet to either side just a bit.

His eyes followed the action but he didn’t move. “I don’t get it.”

The little fucker...

You opened your legs a bit more.

He blinked. “I don’t see anything.”

You made a noise of frustration. “This is an exception for you, Jongin,” you muttered as you unbuttoned your shorts and lifted your hips to take your pants off.

Your underwear snagged and came off with your shorts, but you were too embarrassed to backtrack. Instead, you cursed and shoved everything off, kicking it over the edge of the bed.

The cold instantly hit you and made you come to your senses. You closed your legs, realizing that you were flashing your vagina at Kim Jongin.

He grabbed your ankles and splayed your legs wide. “Just what I wanted to see!” he exclaimed with too much enthusiasm and too much gleam in his eyes. “My teacher’s juicy cunt!”

You slapped your hand over your mouth, unsure whether to laugh at his words or die of embarrassment. “Jongin!” you managed to shout over your giggles.

“What?” He leaned in, throwing your legs over his shoulders. “You have provided me with a real-life anatomical model. I must appreciate it.” He rubbed his thumbs up and down your folds.

You moaned, arching into his touch. “Don’t call it a cunt,” you chided.

“Then what should I call it?” he asked, sliding a finger into you. “A swollen pussy? Because that’s what it is.”

Not a second later, he was adding a second finger and then a third. You were panting like a dog. How had he managed to stretch you so quickly?

Those forty-five minutes of making out sure did the job.

“Oh teach, you’re sucking me in. Is this how you’re going to take a cock?” he teased as he pumped his fingers in and out. “My cock?”

You whimpered as you reached a hand down, tangling your fingers in his hair. You wanted more. His arm slithered under your shirt, pushing it up until it revealed your breasts and you watched as he squeezed a hard nipple.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Am I correct to assume that there are extra points for thinking outside the box?” he asked as he watched you writhe underneath him.

You nodded fervently. Whatever he was thinking, you needed it to happen.

“Then I think it’s time for me to give it 110%”

Jongin leaned down and moved his tongue over your folds, licking the juices that poured out from between his fingers. Then his tongue moved over your clit.

He flicked it. Once, twice.

You bucked from the bed.

He swirled his tongue around your clit, toying with it.

“Jongin,” you begged as you fisted your hand in his hair. His fingers made lewd noises as they plunged into your core.

He put his lips around your clit and sucked. Hard.

The orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you until you weren’t sure if your body was still on the bed or not. All you could feel was Jongin inside you, his mouth, his tongue, his hand.

Suddenly, he was on top of you, holding your hips up to his. You ground against the bulge in his jeans, rubbing out your orgasm to make it last.

“I’d fuck you like this,” he growled, thrusting his hips forward to give you more friction.

You cried out as another wave hit you.

He let go and pumped his hips frantically against your sensitive pussy, making sure that every thrust hit that sweet spot.

You thought you saw stars.

You clutched his shoulders as he groaned his release, but you were still coming off of your own.

Jongin cursed as he kneaded your ass, sending shockwaves down to your toes. “How did I do, teach?”

You could barely catch your breath as you lowered your hips out of his grip. “Good,” you managed while gasping for air. “Great. A-plus.”

He rolled on his back and pulled you in, tucking you under his arm. “Is it good enough to get another reward like the pizza last night?”

You laughed, the sound of it both exhausted and delirious. How many orgasms did you just have again? “You liked the pizza that much?”

“No,” he said, playing with a lock of your hair. “I have a favour to ask of you.”

“Hmm?” Your eyes were fluttering shut, too tired to stay open.

“Will you stay here tonight?” he murmured into your hair. “At least until the morning?”

You shifted your body, relaxing into his chest. You were so comfortable, he couldn’t pry you off of him if he tried. “I can’t do my walk of shame this time?” you joked.

His grip tightened. “Never.”

---

Can you believe it? I wrote two things in two days??? I must be on my period!! (I am T_T). Anyway, I’ve always wanted to write the teacher-student dynamic but never felt entirely comfortable with it LOOL Also I’m reading Devi’s Distraction by Ruby Dixon and the hero is like a jock and the heroine is the quiet nerd and he needs her help after a trauma to try to live a normal life and find a girlfriend AND ENDS UP LIKING HER AND IT’S TOO MANY FEELINGS FOR ME BECAUSE SHE’LL BE SO WRAPPED UP IN HER DINOSAUR RESEARCH AND THEN SUDDENLY HE’LL TEASE HER A LITTLE AND SHE GETS ALL FLUSTERED AND OMGGGGGG (dislaimer: this is a very condensed version of the plot). I have a huuuge soft spot for jock-nerd tropes ;___; Hope you guys liked the story and have a great day!

[spacegaywritings]

Warming Paws and Melting Walls (2/8) “The Naming of the Beast”

Summary: Remy gets home, his day unusually long and body extremely exhausted. Still, he and the cat seem to get along a bit better as they share a bit of time bonding in their weird states.

Tags: mentions of the vet (+ aftermath), abandoned cat, alcohol/wine, tipsy Remy (being a soft man), food/ meat, pain killer mention, drinking, dummy logic, dummy thicc fucking Remy, Remy the cat whisperer, mentions of Kim Kardeshian.. shien..? idk man, slight mention of systemic oppression bc wow Remy is spilling the beans, name talks, cuddling, snuggling, books, mentions of vaccines, soft insults bc Remy, purposefully horrible old english.

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Story under the cut! (Wordcount: ~3,5k)

 It was late when the kitty cat and Remy returned and in all honestly, the receptionist was more than exhausted and done with everything. The whole day had taken a toll on him and interacting with people under bright lights was obviously not the best for a person with photo-sensitivity and self-diagnosed bitch syndrome.

 His body was hurting, the pain had gotten more intense and rendered him a heavy and sleepy mess. He still needed to feed the cat. While the pain killers had done some to ease his pain, the extra activity had him feel like absolute trash, after all.

At least, the vet had found the little queen to be healthy and taken good care of. It indicated that there were owners or strangers to take care of the kitten but there were no tattoos, no marks or anything. Whatever care the cat had received before, it seemed to be over now. Nobody was looking for the cat as far as the vet and the local pet shelter have told him.

 To make sure the cat would be okay, he got scheduled appointments for vaccinations (the kitty cat already got some that day). In like, a month, he was supposed to come back. Considering the cat was about one year old, it was time to refresh vaccinations anyway, at least that is what the vet said. There was so much information smoking in his brain and it hurt him. It was extra weight putting his head down.

 There was no chip for the kitten.. He would set up an ad on-line to show that the cat was found. He and the vet assume the cat to have run away from home or having been left behind after the family moved. Something like that.

Still, he could try so the cat would not really be his problem anymore. There was obviously no name tag or collar. He would have noticed, he is not that fucking dense. The vet, too.

 At least Remy got some answers for what the fuck this kitten should eat and could not ever eat because it could hurt.

 Also, the cat was a she. Well, too fucking bad Remy settled for they/them pronouns. While he talked to the cat, he could at least practice pronouns he usually did not use much. The cat could not get offended. Totally a win-win situatuon.

 The coffee lover curled up on the couch, kitty cat still somewhat drowsy in his lap.To be honest, the cat felt drunk to him, so Remy did not know better but to nurse his own wine while giving the kitten some chicken he had gotten for them.

 “Queen, you are a really really unbelievable thing”, he started as he looked at the tiny void in his lap that was currently chewing on a last bit of chicken pieces.

 He had removed all that bone stuff and washed off the meat before to make sure it was not seasoned or too greasy and such for the kitten. Totally no need to kill the poor thing when he could just be fucking careful and mind their needs and limits.

 “You know, you get all hot on those funny things and you are living with me now - without paying rent - and like, you do not even give me your a name. You are, like, the most mysterious person I have ever met. Fucking rude, you little harlot.”

 Remy sipped a bit of his wine and placed the package on the table. Yes, he drank wine out of a package because he was a cheap person. He needed to pay off the flat he had bought because his job did not make the most money ever. At least it was enough for him having a somewhat cozy and stable life.

 He carefully shifted under the warm weight of the warm fluff. Remy was so glad the vet cleaned the cat so he did not need to do that. Was that extra service? He definitely paid for this shit, not gonna lie. Well, he would get a bill eventually and then he could still get upset over that. Ultimately, it did not matter right? He had some savings and the cat would be gone soon because it was someone else’s kitty cat.

 It was not even in his place to just cuddle with the kitten while watching some bitch flick. But now that he had to ditch his weekend routine for the cat, they had to suck up for it. Also, he was just in a ton of pain by now and hoping for the local wine package to just knock him out well enough. If his senses were numbed, so were his pain receptors because brain foggy when Remy drunk-y.

 “Listen up, kitty cat. We might need a name for you, darling”, he started and looked down at how they were licking over their muzzle and nose.

 The meal was done and the cat seemed satisfied... The little tongue looked so cute, it was so so pink.

 “I mean, maybe you already have a name but calling you queen all the time ..”, he trailed off and shrugged, “you know, don’t know whether you, like, deserve that title to be a name. It is something you earn and live, but you are not just some queen. Except when you are some fucking royal but who the fuck cares about that shit.”

 The cat looked up at him and he vaguely looked back before sticking his tongue out and gently brushing through the soft fur of the little monster of coal he sheltered.

 “Yeah, right. Fuck the Queen. It is not the same as you being a queen. Anyway, it would kinda not be the same for you to be a queen and to be Queen. You know?“

 Remy chuckled as the kitten pushed its head against his ribcage.

 “You totally get me, don’t you?”

 The kitten meowed in reply and he continued to pet the little ball of softness. The little one even smelled great. Well, now.

 “Okay, let us give you a name that fits you. I don’t know, honey. Something fancy but also classy because it is you”, he giggled, “I don’t know but we will find something!”

  Remy gently picked up the little kitten and hummed as he stumbled over to the bookshelves. His wine was abandoned and the small void simply meowed in response to his actions.

 “You know what, fuck that show. They all suck anyway, honey. Reality TV is just a nice background .. nice, like.. what else would people watch Kim Kardeshian for? Genuine interest? Gurl, it is all about the sounds and sights or plainly being the malicious bitch to gossip and ridicule these people.”

 He giggled and settled before the bookshelf, sitting there with the little queen on his arms. Was queen a title, now? Not a name but somehow some kind of pet name, huh.

 “You know what, kitty?”, he whispered and the cat shook their head at the sudden sounds and the wet breath Remy offered. They pushed their little head against the man’s collar bone.

“I am that kinda bitch to do all the heavy gossiping.”

 He laid down and let the cat rest on his chest. His back was pressed against the dark floor in his reading corner. The curious little cloud looked around and stood up, tail curiously moving from one side to the other. Then it stayed and moved in slow-motion before returning to the other side while staying kinda between low and horizontal.

 Cats were so cute.

 And the cat really looked like a cloud.

A dark one.

Not a black sheep, a black cloud!

 “Storm cloouUuUuUd”, Remy sang softly and the cat turned back to him, letting out a responsive sound in reply.

 They understood him! Or were at least annoyed enough to react and give him a “what the fuck” look with all the sassy cat-ness in their bi-coloured orbs.

 “Aw!! You react! But that is a long way to go, still, you brooding little dust ghost.”

 He blew a little bit off of the cat’s head and brushed it off to make sure it was all clear. Maybe from the chicken or the couch.

He had to cleaaaan, ew. Woooork.

Bad cat. They really be spreading the dust around like a little ghost.

Damn it, he only wanted to find some nicknames for the small being.

  “Cat, can’t you do the work for me? I mean, come on, I totally got you to the vet and you got drugged for free. That is a real favour to do for a stranger, gurl.”

 The cat looked back up at him.

Oh, how could he have forgotten about that??

 “Bitch!”

 Remy exclaimed wildly and sat up, simply to fall back into the ground with a dull ‘thud’ accompanying his motions. The insides of his head seemed to be forcefully shrunk together and the tipsy man groaned in annoyance. The pain was so fuzzy and far away, it was basically a street sign on the other side of the street during a day of heavy fog.

All he did feel was the heaviness of his head and the horrible throbbing that came right after he limply dropped into the hard wood again.

 “uh… Aw, I am the dumb bitch, here. Kim, save me”, he weakly slurred.

 Obviously, he was in about the greatest state to take care of another being, especially one that was just as drowsy as him and slowly processed his sudden movements with flinches away from him.

When the man did not move, the curious guest nudged Remy’s nose with their own.

Had the coffee lover seen it, he would have swooned, probably.

 Well, on the other side, he slowly got himself together and carefully shifted again, this time being considerate of his own and the kitty’s needs. He was much slower, lethargic in a way, it would make Sloth itself jealous.

Eventually, he was in position, vision still blurred with blackish spots tainting his view on the dimly lit apartment.

  “So- as I was saying… wait”, he started yet trailed off soon after, voice quieting down and light eyes closing.

“uh.. yeah, I know where I left off. So, as I was, uh, saying.. Like, bitch! You are totally as tipsy as I am with all those killers in ya, big boi.”

 Once more, his own giggles filled the room while the cat just pushed their head against his chin. The creature somewhat vibrated a bit and it felt oddly funny to Remy. Indescribable sounds came from the little kitty cat. It did not sound like a Queen, not really. It was more like uh.. a cat. Nothing else Remy has ever heard sounded quite like that.

 “You uh.. you still need a name, you little void egg, you. Hihi.“

 Remy curled and gently cradled the black ball closer. His grip around the cat was secure yet loose. The cloud of nothingness was comfortably sunk into his arms as the man got onto his wobbly legs and moved his jelly sticks closer to the little corner of books and boxes once more.

The kitten did have more than just great taste to hide there when they first started exploring some shit around his flat.

 Their flat?

… uhh.. the doc said to look for the original owners.. oh man, he still had to do that on top of all the things he had to do. And he did not even know whether it was worth it but it was much better than just giving the cat over to some shelter.. uh.. cat thingy.. cat orphanage?

Cat orphanage. Sounded like a totally valid word. Yes, Remy, the name was, like, totally not sanctuary. Absolutely it was not. You fucking genius.

 The kitten was snuggled up to Remy’s chest, acutely unaware of the change of environment that slowly came around with Remy wandering off their spot to really dive into the corner of his secret reading delights. He was back on the oriel, the space were the floor was not any dark wood anymore but instead carpeted in wine red. This was the only piece of floor in his home that had a little bit of carpet and it just started with a provisional glass door he had put there with more than just a little effort.

Basically, this little corner was a glass globe library with the perfect sight on the snowy streets and other weather conditions throughout life. Due to architecture, he basically had a built-in bench because some oriels build a “dent” into the home which can be used as some kind of elaborate and excessively broad window sill.

 It was worth all the work he had put into it.

Whenever he came in to read, it was calm and silent, it was warm but easily adjusted by opening the windows or turning on the heating (considering he did not live in the warmest region on earth at all. In fact, he lived in a more moderate climate and enjoyed the tendency towards coolish temperatures. Despite climate change, there was still snow early in the winter months).

 The two curled up on the floor, leaning against a beanbag. Remy was leaning against the beanbag, to be specific. The kitten was curled up on Remy, cuddling into his arms like the hazy bitch they were. The Queen could barely process anything but well, steady ground it was.

Remy was resting on the bean bag, the cat silently meowing at the change of softness around them when the home-owner slowly turned his body for the kitten to slide against the bad with him.

Maybe the cat liked it. Nobody could know anything because the cat was out of it and also, cats were hell-spawns who were not to be understood but worshipped only.

 A book was resting in Remy’s lap. When did he pull it there? He did not remember. Maybe it had just settled with him, flying over or whatnot.

The book was one hell of a beast.

Pages upon pages were stacked on top of one another and bound together in the obscene creation of a whole book that held knowledge, big enough to rival a human brain in size - at least when putting this knowledge onto pages in barely readable fonts and size.

 “Yo, cat. We need a name for ya, honey.”

 He let his head roll to the side and then back into position again. The void looked over at him and seemed to shrug. Maybe Remy was imagining things.

 “Uh.. You can’t read that for me, now, can you? Why do people even get cats, man. Like, no offence but is that not why we have human beings? So we socialise and uh .. uh like.. taaaalk and hate one another. Cuz we totaaally need that kinda interaction.”

 His voice let the words blend in together, the muffled sentence barely resembling different words or sounds but instead one big hum. Useless blabber, at most. Not that the pet would understand him if he was putting proper effort into talking like a sober and completely sane person.

 “Caaat. Caaaat, just learn reading? Give yourself a name, gurl. Independence!”

 Yeah, well.. This seemed not to work, in fact, it obviously resembled a fruitless endeavour instead. Much like teaching a donkey how to sow greens, the cat took up Remy’s words and ignored them skilfully. Even in his tipsy mind, he was well aware that an animal would not just magically learn reading and then read out to him. However, the wishful thinking was still in his heart… and his foggy dummy mind.

He reverted to child-like attention spans and reasoning abilities whenever he got to drink just a bit more than a little. And honestly, the wine got a little to him, especially with this bottomless void eating, like, all of this fucking chicken.

 He mumbled something about sharing under his breath before he pulled the book closer and heaved it open with his weak noodle power. There was not that much energy left in his heart. He was tipsy and as soft as molten butter.

The book groaned as it was opened, awakening the pages of knowledge from deep slumber.

It willingly dropped the front and backside onto Remy’s lap. It spread like a good partner for the intimate deeds. The excitement of being handled and warmed by a knowledge-seeking person got to it and drove the book to reveal just the right passage for them.

 “Names.. Names. Kitty cat, pick a name.”

 “mrrrow..?”

 “Yeah, hoe, but like, you’re a Queen.. to me and not to others so how about you lemme pick a name,  so the mortals can give you their foolish attempts of daring to raise their voice at you without spoiling your title, you void hoe.”

 The cat gave him a slow-motion blink of two eyes. These wonderfully coloured eyes.. How were cats allowed to just have such precious gems as eyes. Like.. did he rob some jewellery store thing.. did they have names again, he felt like they had some kinda name and he was supposed to know this and all.

Uh, he would be clever later.

 “Alright. This is a name dictionary thing. Like, for when you get a baby and you need to name that little shit, so the system can discriminate against it. It gives you names, you know. You have them according to the alphabet which is a linguistic attempt at bringing order into the way we communicate and organise shit. By the way, this is totally lame because language is fucking liv- ah, uh.. alive. That’s the bitch I was looking for.”

 Remy suppressed a burp before he allowed himself to continue.

 “Can you .. can you just paw this thing?”

 The cat did not move. Uh.. He carefully nudged the little monster. A lazy glare was thrown his way but this is where it stopped. Such a lazy hoe. They would be the bestest of friends very soon.

Seriously, kitten? Not even some dumbass meow sound or whatever? Wow, okay. Selfish much.

 He groaned.

Now we was getting upset with a little cat. He made it this far in his life. Instead of diving deeper into any negative feelings, he moved himself. His finger gently tapped onto the paw once more and softly stroked it before putting it onto the page.

 “Oh, mine own dearest liege, I has't did summon all the fucks i has't hath left to giveth and ‘t wast enow to maketh.. this miracle! Uh - thou hath moveth thy fucking paw. ”

 …Not even that did get the cat to as much as meow at him. At LEAST the void monster spared him a glance of annoyance for his effort. Valid, valid. At least some feedback, thundercloud. Yet, the moment was gone as soon as it came and the kitten then dropped the whole thing and looked down again.

Some sorta ritual to close their eyes and nap away. Even the cat had better living habits than he did.

 “Nonononono, dun nap jus yeeeet! V-V … uh..”

 He had taken up the name from the book, accepting the fate of the paw and started looking into the decision of the higher spirits. He was ready to act up on whatever the heavens and skies and all that shit have decided for the cat to be named.

 The man squinted at the pages.

The top of it said “V”, so he knew that this was the start for their name now. Of course the Queen would be such a diva and end up with a name as unique as starting with such a rare letter. Totally Extra :tm:.

To be fair.. who the fuck used those letters anyway, man.. xylophone? Laaaaaaaaaaaame. Virginia, Voltron, V-.. V…

 “Virgil”

 Remy blinked.

He blinked multiple fucking times.

The name did NOT, unlike his mind’s stupid expectation, suddenly change into something like, uh, you know,… Jared. Some funny shit.

 No, it was still this name. Virgil.

 “Is that even a name for a cat who I declare to be gendered in the neutral only? Uh, you know.. whatever, like, it is whatever because you are a QUEEEEEENG.. Queen.. a queen. You just un-rule gendered names. They are stupid anyway, guuurl. Fuck this all.”

 “Queen Virgil! Now how does that make you feel, huh?”

 The kitten gave him another blink and finally retreated their paw.

 “Yeah, my little nightmare goat. We are gonna go nap all night, all day!”

 The man giggled again. Then he made sure to just give up and fall asleep like that, curled up on a beanie, kitty cat fur tickling him and doing nothing to facilitate his breathing. All he breathed in was ai- uh.. No.. Virgil’s fur.

 Welcome to a change of life, huh?

Or simply: “Welcome, Virgil”.