#anyways never work at a library as a page it will eventually make you insane

[kat-ryn]

People are so brain dead at this library i stg! it’s like really you’re going to make my job harder by stacking books on top of each other ready to fall on me when I have to put them away, all the while they just sit at circulation doing basically nothing

[st-kitten]

pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4

[continued]

she didn't know if she felt anything for kiyoshi, but she was sure falling for his actions. his little gestures that swooped her and whisked her away

"why did you give me this book?" she asked

"because i saw myself in you back when i was studying. but, i got distracted by the training, the parties, the dating, and the works. i wanted to study and get my degree, but i also wanted the fun. i knew i had it in me to focus, but…" kiyoshi was unsure about saying riko's name, but fuck it, he thought. he didn't want to lie. "riko made all the fun seem more enjoyable than the studies. so, i slacked off and eventually fell deeper into the student debt when i couldn't catch up. i had to drop out. then i got the cafe job, which I'm still working. I've been studying with some friends, who are helping me catch up for an entrance exam to get into a nearby university once more. somehow…"

kiyoshi looked directly into y/n's eyes

"watching you study so passionately made me want to try it too… and not gonna lie… studying with my juniors, kagami, kuroko, and of course, imayoshi, who by the way is over the top insane about studying and basically a monster version of you… is fun too. you made me see how fun it can be to truly put your effort into something. so, if i was doing this better, i couldn't leave you worrying over your studies. i'd seen this book in touou university library, when i went there to give imayoshi some things hyuuga couldn't deliver. it seemed older. but, i still wanted to get it for you. There's just… this pleasure… in reading a fucking book… with actual fucking pages. never thought i'd say that, but here we are..." (my thoughts too, bestie)

y/n felt happy for kiyoshi after hearing his story. she never thought she'd have an impact on him

"kiyoshi... that's so kind of you. and i'm happy that you're studying hard. only good things from hereafter, trust me. no better joy than to overstep the word limit of your paper. ace that exam, you motherfucker!" she punched him on the arm

he ruffled her short hair. "nerd."

"right back at you, asshole."

y/n and kiyoshi spent the next few minutes insulting each other and eventually ended up laughing comically

"international terrorist, what, where did that come from?" asked kiyoshi in between laughter

"i don't know! the way you look rn, you'd pull off a mass murderer easily"

"i'm the sweetest guy ever! whom would i kill anyway?"

"your exam, your friends, your teachers, the common public?"

"you think you'd survive?"

"you won't kill me."

"mm you sure?"

"oh yeah."

"how so?"

"aren't i your inspiration to study?"

"well i am studying. not like i need ya now"

"what if you do?"

"what if i don't"

"you'd really kill me off?"

"depends."

"on?"

"what you have to offer?"

"i could be your legal support."

"too complex."

"i could make another speciality for your cafe"

"i already do that"

"i could be your tutor?"

"no thanks, i don't want another imayoshi..." said kiyoshi

"the fuck, teppei, just kill me off now. I give up."

"already? someone i know didn't give up on her work and still continues to strive for it..."

"you and your wordplay. you sure you're not a manipulator or something?"

"a terrorist, a murderer, a manipulator. do you actually like me or were you just attorney-ing your way into my cafe?"

"shut the fuck up, i do like you!"

"what was that? didn't hear you."

"you sly bastard. i said i do like you."

"mmm must be hyuuga snoring, could you repeat that?" kiyoshi leaned closer to her, lending his ear trying to hear clearer

y/n leaned forward and yelled in his ear "i fucking like you, asshole!" 

kiyoshi flinched a little, laughing at her messy state

"ahh, i see. got it. you love me,"

y/n hit his arm once more, laughing

"you don't love me? bitch pick a side!"

"stop playing mind games, kiyoshi!!!" she whined like a child

"nah"

"wym nah" she asked

"nah. i won't stop."

"fuck you then"

"right now? here? i don't even have a condom."

"kiyoshi fucking teppei. what is wrong with you?" she asked, chuckling

"more like what's wrong with you? you say you love, wanna fuck me, and then you call me out like that? girl, you mean"

"bring back kind kiyoshi. please" she begged.

"mean kiyoshi is sexier tho"

"no he isn't."

"he is"

"isn't"

"is"

"not"

"is"

"I'm not playing this."

"so i win?"

"no."

"so you lose"

"i- wow you'd make a troublesome lawyer"

"advocate kiyoshi... has a nice ring to it."

"sure does"

"tell me, ms l/n, what do you have to say for your crime?"

"bitch what crime?" she asked, throwing a pillow at him

"my my, you've gone deaf now? you defamed me, kiyoshi teppei, your guardian angel, who helped you generously and got you through a tough spot. yet you defamed him."

"fuck i did not!" y/n couldn't hold back her laughter.

"and now you lie! this is perjury! the court demands you answer the truth and nothing but the truth."

"geez, fine." y/n raised her hands. "ask away, punk"

"Mm... Did you think about him after you both kissed?" he suddenly asked. y/n looked at him. he looked solemn, meaning he wasn't joking around.

"kiyoshi..."

"answer the question"

"i- kiy..."

"truth and nothing but the truth"

y/n took a deep breath. "yes"

"yes what?"

"yes, i thought about him after we kissed"

"and is there something you'd like to tell him about it?" he asked. he had no idea where this unflinching confidence was coming

y/n wanted to lie and say that it didn't mean anything. that it was just an accident. and even if it was so back then, she couldn't lie to herself that she'd liked it better than her kisses with hanamiya. hell, sometimes she'd imagined kiyoshi instead of hanamiya whenever they made out

"tell him... that the kiss didn't mean much..."

kiyoshi gulped.

"... but it might if it happened again..."

kiyoshi had never reacted this fast in his entire life when he grabbed y/n's face and kissed her roughly. y/n jolted a little from the impact, but kissed him back, holding his shoulders. kiyoshi pulled her closer and she sat on his lap, snaking her hands around his neck, aligning her lips with his, deepening the kiss. this was a moment she didn't know she wanted until it happened. kiyoshi half-moaned into her mouth, holding her waist with his vice claw, practically embedding her onto his lap. he'd imagined this scene countless times and now that it was unfolding, he wasn't going to let it go...

u guys want smut? ( ≖‿ ≖ )

[ladynestaarcheron]

Fears All the Way Down - Chapter One

ao3 - masterpost

back on my bullshit, y'all! as i have chattered about, this is my fix it for acosf. we've established that because acosf ignores canon from the original trilogy and is so poorly edited that emerie has two--count 'em, two--on-page tragic backstories...i am completely at liberty to ignore what I please, and so are you. i'll let you know chapter by chapter what you should keep in mind.

this one's not critically important, but I just want to say it: in acosf, nesta's revealed to be taller than average, and two inches taller than feyre. wrong. nesta's short. feyre's the tallest and she's only 5'6", elain's an inch shorter, and nesta's 5'3" on a good day.

anyway. enjoy!

---

There's nothing quite like stepping into Feyre's beautiful new home to remind Nesta just how truly ugly she is. The literary part of her, dulled by the wine from last night and the downward spiral of the past year, appreciates the contrast. Sometimes she still likes to narrate her life in her head as though it were a book. What would she write here? The woman curves her foot inside her boot, as if that would stop her from dirtying the marble. That's a nice line, isn't it? A good hook. But she isn't a woman anymore, so it wouldn't work.

"This way," Cassian says, unnecessarily waving his hand behind him.

It's probably supposed to be insulting, that Feyre has sent him to fetch her. But she doesn't care. Feyre can do what she likes. Just as Nesta will do what she likes. She'll sit through this scolding, turn down the invitation to stay for lunch, go home and sleep until she wakes up and has another night like last.

Although perhaps she'll spend less this time. If only to avoid this headache again.

"They're waiting in here," he says, stopping in front of one of the doors. How many rooms are there in this mansion, anyway? Feyre might've mentioned it on the tour, but she doesn't remember. Only remembers that decorating the walls are dozens, maybe hundreds of pictures of Feyre and Rhysand and Morrigan and Cassian and Azriel and Amren and Elain and their father, and none of Nesta. Or their mother, for that matter. She remembers that very well.

"Wait," Cassian blurts out as she lays a hand on the doorknob.

Nesta angles her head slightly. Not a full turn, not to look at him.

"Do you want your tea?"

Rolling her eyes, Nesta opens the door and shuts it--pointedly, she hopes--behind her.

Her sisters look up from the couch where they sit, heads close together. Little cakes and sandwiches and tea are arranged prettily on the glass table.

"Nesta!" Elain says, leaping up."You're here early!"

Nesta bites her tongue to keep from answering Five whole minutes. No use snapping at Elain before they've even begun, is there?

"Let me take your coat," Feyre says, standing up too.

Ah. So this would be this sort of meeting, then. These...luncheons, that they sometimes try to have with her. But it's nine in the morning.

It pulls at her heart, that they still try. And makes her sick to her stomach. She winces as she feels it. Too much alcohol and not enough food to add any extra queasiness. This will not be easy for her.

"Heard you had quite the night," Feyre says, voice bright and cheery in a way that does not quite match her eyes. "Sit down, sit down."

She does, opposite them. They take note.

"Do you want to try these macarons, Nesta? Raspberry. I made them."

"We got this new cinnamon tea...from the Continent. I think you'll like it."

Her sisters try again a few times, and eventually she says, "I'll take tea."

"I'll pour it," Feyre says quickly.

Great. Wonderful.

This isn't so bad, though, she thinks as she sipped her tea. She'll get through this...whatever it is. Force herself to make some conversation, say Feyre's newest art project is pretty, force down half a cookie and tell Elain it tastes good. Then she'll agree to see them for lunch in a week. And that will be all.

How long can they possibly keep her for? An hour? Two hours? She can do that.

And then Feyre clears her throat. "Nesta," she begins. "Elain and I...have something we want to say to you."

Here it is. She should've known better. Tea and macarons, at nine in the morning? Of course not.

"And we're only saying this because we care about you," Elain adds quickly.

"Yes. Yes, right. We are. And...well...what we want to say is..." Feyre looks to Elain, who nods encouragingly.

Good grief. Will this never end?

"We know that...all of this...has been...difficult...for you to adjust to."

Nesta's heart stutters. They wouldn't. This--this isn't happening.

She keeps it off her face, though. She is cool, impassive. Blank. Nothing.

It doesn't make Feyre give up, but it does make her duck her head. "We...understand. But we think...we know that because we love you we can't allow this to go on any longer." Feyre clamps her mouth shut as she finishes, appearing to be holding her breath.

Nesta only raises an eyebrow slightly. Inside, she is not nearly as calm.

"All of the...drinking, Nesta," Elain says, lips beginning to tremble. Oh, no, not this. Anything but this. "And the m-males." She cringes as she said the words.

The color leachees from her face. She wants to die. There is no Mother, she knows, because if there were any being with mercy, they would surely split the earth beneath her feet and take her down.

"Not that there's anything wrong with that," Feyre says, now the one hurrying to add on to the other. Elain nods, but she looks sick. "Just that--you hadn't really...there was Tomas, but other than that--"

Nesta flinches violently when Feyre says his name. She still isn't making eye contact, though, so she doesn't notice, and continues.

"--so the--switch. From not being with anyone, and then...and these males don't care about you. And I wouldn't--I would never judge you, Nesta, really, but it doesn't appear as though you're...enjoying...yourself." She shrinks back.

"So then," Nesta says, proud of herself for keeping her voice even, "you are judging me."

"We're just noting facts," Elain says.

"And...all right, let's take a step back," Feyre says, swallowing. "We're not here to criticize you. We only want to offer a solution."

"A solution," Nesta repeats flatly. To her problem. To her.

"A--not a solution. Help. We want to help."

Elain clenches her hands into fists in front of her. Feyre stills as she visibly holds her breath.

"Well?" Nesta says after half a minute of this, voice still deadly calm. "What is your solution?"

Who will be the one to say it, she wonders? Elain, frightened as a mouse already, or Feyre, ill at the sight of her?

It's Feyre. Perhaps being High Lady makes her feel responsible. But she exhales sharply, picks up her head, and says, "We think it would be beneficial for you to spend some time in the library."

Nesta blinks. A library? That...doesn't sound--

And then she realizes. Not a library. The library. The one off the side of that mountain, where Hybern had attacked...where Bryaxis had lived...where all those priestesses...those priestesses...

"Are you out of your mind?" she blurts out, losing grip on her faux calm completely. "You want me to go to that library? Are you insane? How is that possibly supposed to help?"

"Nesta--"

"With those--those sycophants? Who worship that thing?" The thundering of her heart blocks the sounds from her sisters' protests. "Is that what you want me to be? Some acolyte of that--you want me to pray to that--how can--how dare--"

"Nesta, please!" Feyre cries, hands thrown up in front of her.

"We don't mean that at all!" Elain says, tears in her eyes.

Nesta's chest heaves as she struggles to catch her breath, her mind too full of that...Cauldron. That thing they all worship--that thing that did this to her--to Elain--to Father--

"Please hear us out," Feyre says. "Sit back down, please."

Nesta falters. She hadn't even realized she had jumped up. She fights to keep her cheeks from reddening in shame. Stupid--she shouldn't have lost control like that--and what if something had happened? Shattered a window, shattered one of her sisters' bones?

"Thank you," Feyre says as she sits. "What we mean is...to spend time at the library during the day...working on entirely secular things. Nothing to do with any worship at all. Not reading those books, not participating in any prayer, not even wearing their robes."

"We would never suggest you do that, Nesta." Elain's voice is tight. Feyre reaches out and holds her hand.

"Just during the day," Feyre continues, "and then at night staying in the House of Wind."

"So you don't even have to share a room with any of them," Elain is quick to clarify. "Or eat with them. And you could go to that private library, too, remember?" She still fights back tears, but her voice takes a hopeful turn upwards.

Nesta latches onto everything inside her and holds it down tightly. "What would I even be doing there?"

Elain and Feyre exchange a look. Was that excitement? They probably take it as her willingness to go. That is not what this is.

"So, day to day, it would involve librarian duties. Reshelving books and such. And over time, if you find something you're interested in, aiding a senior librarian with her research. Or perhaps doing some of your own, if you'd like. But...the real purpose, Nesta..." Feyre sneaks another look at Elain before saying to her, "is for you to heal."

"We're not saying there's anything the matter with you," Elain says, jumping in before she can respond. "Just that...you've been hurt. And w-we take responsibility for not being by your side all this time. That was obviously wrong. We thought...well...we know you've always preferred to be on your own. But you're--you're hurting yourself too much. We can't just let you do that anymore. We love you," she finishes, choking back a sob. Her tears start falling from her eyes, but she does her best to keep quiet.

Feyre squeezes her hand, but doesn't turn to look at her. She keeps her eyes focused on Nesta. "Look, we know...it'd be a big change. But just...give it a few weeks. Get a feel for it. And if it's really not working...and you don't like it..."

"Then what?" Nesta asks, hollow.

"Don't worry about that," Feyre answers, firm. "We'll think of something else."

She's going to be sick right here. She cannot handle this...concern. Their trying. It's too much.

And now she has to say no. And Elain will cry--maybe Feyre, too. And then she'll have the rest of them upon her; Rhysand leading them to storm down her apartment, probably. It'll drive her down further, and perhaps be the last snip needed to finally sever the frayed, sole remaining string tied between herself and her sisters. Goodness knows she has ripped apart the tie between her and Amren, had stomped out the one between her and Cassian before it even had a chance to be something--

"Hey," Feyre says, placing a hand on her knee. "Stay with us, please."

"We know it's not easy." Elain speaks slowly, breathing deeply and fighting back her sobs. "But...don't think of it as a big thing. Just one step. One change. And w-we're not abandoning you to do this alone."

Feyre stands up and moves to sit by Nesta's side. Elain takes her other.

"I know how you feel," Feyre says, quiet and calm, squeezing her knee. "I've felt the same. If you can't do this for yourself...that's fine. Just please, please. Do it for us. Please."

Nesta narrows her eyes on Feyre's hand. She doesn't open her mouth for fear of what might come out. She won't give this voice--can't--

"I killed two innocents," Feyre says in that same voice, and suddenly, Nesta forgets her own thoughts as she turns to face her.

"It was my third trial," she continues, meeting Nesta's gaze, "Under the Mountain. Amarantha made me. I could've killed myself...and I was going to. But then it all ended and she died and Tamlin took me back to Spring. And I..." Only now does a tear slide down Feyre's cheek. But she just wipes it away and musters a small smile. "I promise I know how you feel. Please do this for me."

There are some truths Nesta knows. That she is not worth anyone's effort because of who she is, what she is. Which is defiled. And rotted. And small. And ugly. And these are the reasons why people give up; why she deserves that.

And yet, here her sisters sit, quietly crying, begging, beside her, and they are not giving up.

It's not exactly seeing the chance, rather...knowing it's there. In her periphery. Out of reach from where she is now, but...perhaps she can get there.

And Nesta realizes that there is a small, nearly insignificant--except it's the most important, isn't it?--part of her that throughout this whole drowning tempest, remembers what it is like to breathe. And it wants to breathe.

The girl who gave everything she could against the Cauldron may be buried, but she's not dead yet.

So she nods once.

Elain gasps and throws her palm against her mouth. Feyre squeezes her leg so hard she thinks she might draw blood.

"Thank you," Elain chokes out, crashing her head onto Nesta's shoulder.

Feyre doesn't say anything; only leans onto her other side.

Nesta doesn't relax. She sits there stiff and unmoving. But that distant, minuscule thing inside her flickers and breathes.

[retvenkos]

“you realize you have enough late fees to pay for this book twice over, right?”

requested

A MODERN! LIBRARY! AU WITH THE PEVENSIES? UMM... YES. THAT HAS TO GO LIKE THIS...

the pevensies first started frequenting the library after they came back from narnia

it was susan’s idea - none of them really knew this world anymore and so, maybe, if they read about it, things would come back to them and they’ll feel more comfortable in this place

edmund teased her, saying she just wanted to quiz him on the dictionary, again. 

but, really, he liked the idea. he felt comfortable amongst the endless shelves, it was like he was in the libraries in cair paravel, again, and he was home

and even when they had adjusted to england and had no reason to go back, anymore, they kept going

it was routine at this point - the only time all of them were really together, talking about their lives and all that had happened

and as the years passed by, it felt like a home away from home - a place in england that was  t h e i r s 

they weren’t sure where they belonged, anymore, but the library was a good a place as any

peter found himself again in the stories of king arthur and the histories of battles and sacrifices - those things that lie heavy on the chests of anyone else.

he loves audio books and documentaries - things he can listen to. he loves to hear it - the interest in people’s voices, the sympathy, the words they use.

he has his headphones in 99.99% of the time, and lucy will sneak up on him to scare him. 

he has been kicked out of the library several times, thanks lucy

and edmund? love of mysteries

he went through a sherlock holmes phase. susan watched sherlock with him and they would argue over theories

lucy told him once that he looked like benedict cumberbatch and it was single handedly the best compliment he had ever received (for the time, anyway).

he also got into a few of the classics

he read don quixote and loved it, don’t lie to yourself

he is also constantly checking out rosetta stones - edmund loves languages and you can pry that concept from my cold, dead hands

susan was able to distract herself with love stories, magazines, and other classics

jane austen? yep. susan loved her.

she would browse a lot, taking her time before deciding on anything

she also loved using the computers

she always has some passion to look up or another, and it was easier to use the computers to look something up than to search for a book.

when she knew what she wanted, susan went after it. when she wasn’t sure, she browsed.

lucy, on the other hand, loved ya fiction

the action? the romantic subplots? they were her obsession.

and sometimes susan would read one with lucy and they would talk about it, but no one ever found out. susan would rather die than tell edmund she was team edward

and no, i never read twilight but i have seen the films and susan was team edward i don’t make the rules

lucy also chronically checks out movies at the library and then forgets to take them back until a week after they’re due

and edmund will tell her it’s on netflix, she doesn’t need to check it out, but she says she likes a hard copy, sue her.

she eventually gets into comics, and she and edmund read them together

oh, i guess i should address when you come into the picture

so you work at the library and it doesn’t take you long until you have met the pevensies and have chatted with this chaotic but surprisingly functional family

they’re only in their mid twenties, but they have the dynamic of 40-50 year old siblings?

clearly i’m ignoring their fatal end because we only want fluff, here

all of your coworkers agree that they have those very specific vibes.

and you find these frequents odd and amusing - no one in their age bracket really comes to the library frequently, but this family is constantly here.

i mean, it’s great because their traction is much needed, but it’s just confusing.

the easiest pevensie to talk to is peter, if you ever catch him without his headphones in

he’s just super chummy with everyone he meets and when you first talk to him, he feels like an older brother

he has the  c h a r i s m a 

“you and your siblings come here, a lot.”

“yeah, there’s a lot of sentimental value, here. this place... it helped us find ourselves, once.”

“well, there’s not better way to know yourself than between pages. books have a way of changing your perspective.”

“but they can also help you erase who you once were.”

and you notice him looking at susan

so you not-so masterfully change the subject

“do you realize how many fines you have?”

but it works

“they’re edmund’s, trust me.”

the second easiest to talk to is lucy - peter may have a natural charisma, but lucy is just kind and pleasant to chat with

she’ll talk to you about anything and everything, even if she has zero idea what you’re talking about

but that’s kind of hard because the amount of collective knowledge the pevensie’s have is insane.

and lucy is definitely the sibling you can befriend the quickest, the gateway to the rest of the pevensies because you just feels so comfortable around her

she introduces you to susan and edmund, and you’re actually able to hit it off with them, too?

the pevensies are great at talking to strangers and i just,,, can they pLEASE teach me their ways???

it’s all those years of being kings and queen, talking to other diplomats, being generally sociable

anyway, you start to hang out with them outside of the library, too, after you’ve formed a bit of a friendship

and maybe you have a particular soft spot for edmund...

and the pevensies start to tell you more of their stories - those that happened to them when they were young, when they were kind of odd - like adults in a child’s body

and you can see susan stiffen with each subsequent story, and you think back to what peter said to you, once...

“but they can also help you erase who you once were”

and so you decide to talk about those stories with edmund, when the two of you are hanging out alone

and you not-so masterfully change the subject

“have any of you watched harry potter, recently? i get big harry potter vibes from all of your stories.”

and lucy and peter are vvv excited, because they used to read harry potter with each other and love it a whole lot

and later, edmund tells you about narnia, about susan not believing, and about where they are, now

coping

all of them

and you nod your head understandingly

“if you ever need me, you know where to find me.”

“yeah.”

“but wouldn’t it be wonderful if they were stories?”

“for others to read?”

“yeah - like story books.”

“yeah... that would be nice.”

and one night, when all of the pevensies are together and susan has gone to the bathroom, edmund tells his siblings about your idea. about writing about narnia... as though it were a story.

and susan hears through the door.

and maybe she puts her english major to use, writing down a story she tries desperately to believe isn’t real

AND FLUFF ENSUES.

-- taglist: @musicallisto, @babyplutoszx2, @locke-writes, @brokenandheadoverheels // message me if you want to be added to the taglist!

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Could you write about the boys (separately) reading with S/O. Do they prefer reading or being read to? What is their go to book? What is their favourite part of that book? Do they prefer books from their pasts or more modern books? If they don't like reading, do they bother S/O while they're reading? How?

OH I LOVE THIS ASK. Thank you so much for asking this and I hope you enjoy

The Lost Boys x Reading with their S/O

David

This boy isn’t the biggest reader of the four, but he still reads a decent amount. The boys had seen the development of the “moving picture”, but silent movies were still the only movies available until the 1920s. So, reading was still a big part of their early lives, even when things started to go on screen

David prefers to read, but he doesn’t mind being read to. He just likes to have control, and he likes to dictate how fast you end up going through the book. This way, he also gets to choose when you two stop, and, more often than not, he’ll read you a book that he’s already read. Books that he hasn’t read he’ll read by himself, and he’ll offer to read them to you if he liked them. He likes to have you lay your head on his chest as he reads to you, and he’ll run his fingers through your hair as his eyes scan the page. He knows he has a nice voice, and he definitely uses it to his advantage during these times. If you’re the one that’s reading, he’ll only half-listen. He’ll have you lay against his chest as you hold the book in front of you, sitting up against the cave wall. He’d rather use this time to run his fingers through your hair and kiss your neck, only purposely distracting you just a little bit.

David likes horror books, almost as much as he likes horror movies. His go-to book is Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, only because he’s read it so many times. He likes how descriptive it is, and how the monster is portrayed in the book (He hated the movie so much he almost wanted to burn down the theater he saw it in). He relates far too much to the monsters disdain for his creator, and draws far too many parallels between Frankenstein and his monster with his relationship with Max. His favorite part is when the monster tells of how he’s lived before he confronted Frankenstein, and it reminds him of the life he had before Max had found him and his boys. 

The only way he cannot relate to Frankenstein’s monster is with the loneliness the monster feels. David has always had his brothers, and, now, you. Though, he sees you as similar to the mate that Frankenstein’s monster had always dreamed of, and he smiles when he tells you that once after reading the book to you. You’d given his chest a small hit, reminding him that both the monster and his desired mate were supposed to be hideous. He’d smirked, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “We’re not exactly gorgeous when we wear our true faces, sweetheart.” He’d reminded you, and you’d rolled your eyes.

David likes gothic horror, but he’s a bit of a slut for Stephen King. King started releasing his books in the seventies, and David was just happy that more horror books were being written. He hadn’t expected to become such a fan, and he has a small collection of both his books and the movie adaptations. Though, he has varying opinions on all of them

Dwayne

This boy READS. He’s the most well-read of the boys, and, even as movies became more popular over the last century, he still reads more than anything. He’s had to see and sit through various movies because of the other boys, but Dwayne genuine prefers books. He’d rather spend two hours at the cave in his imagination as he scans the pages of whatever book he nabbed from the library than go to whatever movie the others picked. Movies are cool, but he didn’t really start paying attention to them until they were in color

Dwayne has so many books it’s a little insane. They’re stacked around the cave, and the other boys, if they want to read, never really have to go to the library or a store to find a new book to read. All they have to do is pick one from Dwayne’s stacks, and promise that it’ll be returned to it’s proper place. Dwayne has started writing his name inside his copies so none of the other boys can claim that it was actually theirs. He frowns whenever he sees a dog-ear or a ripped page, and he always gives whoever was responsible a death glare

Dwayne has spent so much time reading to himself that he practically melts when you offer to read to him. He’s not much of a talker, so he’s far too willing to cuddle with you on the couch and let you read your latest book to him. After that, he definitely prefers to have you read to him. Sure, he’ll read to you from time to time. Usually, when it’s late at night and you’re far too tired to focus on the pages. But, he’d much rather hear your voice make the authors work come to life. It’s a bit of a coin toss as to who will be read to, because you like to hear his voice as much as he likes to hear yours. Eventually, the two of you decide to take turns

His go-to book is a book that infuriates him. It’s The Trial by Franz Kafka, and the first time he read it he laid face down for nearly an hour. The others had asked him if he was okay, and he’d replied by giving them finger-guns. He proceeded to read the book over and over, trying to make sense of it because there had to be something he was missing. Something that explained the absurdness of the plot. His favorite part is the parable the priest gives him, and he once told it to Paul just to make him as confused as he had been the first time he read it. When you ask him for a book suggestion, he offers that one. A week later you throw your copy at him and yell at him for suggesting it. He laughs and catches it, as he knows exactly what you’re feeling. It’s a book he always suggests, mainly because, as far as he’s concerned, everyone should suffer reading it just as he had. The two of you will rant about it for hours

Dwayne will read anything. He’s not necessarily picky, and he’s read pretty much whatever book he could get his hands on. He can’t necessarily get a library card, so a lot of the books he has have to be found some other way. He doesn’t like to have to steal from the library, and prefers to either buy or steal a book from a bookstore on the boardwalk

Paul

Paul doesn’t read

The boy can’t sit still long enough to actually get into a book, and it wasn’t like movies weren’t already a thing. He quickly had a preference for them instead, though he finds it hard to sit through movies as they become longer and longer. Movies, specifically comedies, only used to be two reels long, which ran for about twenty minutes tops. As movies started hitting the hour and two hour marks, the other boys became accustomed to how much Paul would interrupt them

He will only tolerate books if you read them to him, but even then his attention isn’t guaranteed. He’ll spend the entire time kissing your neck and face, and he’ll try to tug any clothes that you’re wearing off your frame. Eventually, he’ll settle in bed next to you. It may take awhile, but Paul will finally lay down with his head on your chest and close his eyes as he listens to your voice. He’ll even lay still if you pet his hair, and he’ll nuzzle your chest if you begin scratching one of his sweet spots. Sometimes he’ll ask questions or make comments, just like he would if it was a movie. You’ll have to pause to answer them or respond, and there’s a chance he might use the distraction to start a conversation with you. If you’re really determined to keep on reading, he’ll sigh and roll his eyes as he lays his head back on your chest. There have been a few times where he’s fallen asleep, but he tells you it was purely out of boredom. Not because he was actually relaxed or something

Even if you’re reading by yourself, he stills spends a good chunk of time trying to get you to pay attention to him instead. Whether that’s just to talk to you or to get into your pants. He’ll walk around the cave, blasting his music and smoking a joint. When you give him a small glare for the loudness of the music, he’ll return his own bright smile. He’ll flop onto your bed in your nest, shaking the mattress. He’ll poke you and attempt to tickle you, before crawling up to kiss your cheek and neck. Then, before you can swat him away, he’ll flip to lay on his back and stare at you like a playful tomcat

If you tell him to stop, he’ll whine. “It’s not my fault!” He’ll sit up and prop his head up by his elbow. “C’mon, we’re already laying in bed. Why don’t we do something a little bit more...stimulating?” He’ll say with a suggestive lift of his eyebrows. He was using ‘big words’ on purpose, since he was convinced that since you like books that you must think those were sexy or something. You’ll roll your eyes, but he’s not nearly as willing to lay down and relax if you’re the only one hearing the story. He’ll rip the book right out of your hand, ignore your cry of “Hey!”, and will plant his lips on yours. There, that’s much more like it.

He genuinely doesn’t understand your interest in them, but he’ll support it anyways. He’ll knick books from bookstores for you and give them to you as gifts. He smiles whenever you thank him/like whatever he chose, and then tap his cheek for a ‘thank you’ kiss

Marko

Marko doesn’t read that much, but he’s not nearly as bad as Paul. He reads a few short novels here or there, but he was ecstatic when comics became a thing in 1933. He was quick to ditch novels in favor of whatever publication company had come up with that month. By the eighties, he has a collection that any comic book junkie would kill for, and even own a few ‘rare’ copies. He doesn’t let Paul, or either of the others, near them and god forbid the inclemate weather coming inside the cave ruins them

Because of his preference of comic books, neither of you can really read to eachother. Instead, you two will lay on the bed inside your nest, each with your own individual comic to page through. Marko chews on his thumb the entire time that he reads, and the two of you will pause to make comments about whatever you’re reading. Most of your reading material are comics that he’s lent you, and he only lets you touch them because he loves you. He swears that you’re the only one allowed to look through them, but he doesn’t go far enough as letting you take them with you

Due to his preference, he prefers new over old. He wholly believes that comic books have gotten better over time. With everything from the art style, the characters, and just the different writers that have come up over the years. He still reminisces about the golden and silver age, but modern is where it’s at! Of course, the bronze age only just ended in 1984

His favorite comic book series is Watchmen by Alan Moore. He watched the superhero genre grow and develop, so he loved when the writers decided to point out how flawed some of the caped crusaders could be. While also creating some pretty awesome ones of their own. He understands that they’re all caricatures of what’s wrong in society/people, and he lives for the symbolism. The characters, the plot, the dialogue? Marko loved everything about it, especially the ending. The giant squid monster? Epic. Marko geeked when it was revealed who the real villain was, and he wouldn’t stop ranting about it for hours

He’s really upset that the Frog brothers just happen to run the best comic book store on the boardwalk, and he has to be dragged away from the store each night. He still remembers when their parents ran it instead, and he’s been pissed about the “new management” ever since the kids were old enough to sweep floors and run the cash register. Marko may or may not be the reason they were tipped off about vampires, but he swears that it was an accident. He also swore that it wasn’t like they had any proof, so they didn’t need to kill the teens immediately (he just didn’t want the store to get shut down)

If you ever want to get him to read a regular novel, you’re gonna have to read it to him. He’ll take a page out of Pauls book and lay his head on your chest as you read, closing his eyes as he listens to your voice. He’ll actually keep his hands to himself, and will focus on just holding you tightly to him instead. He treasures these moments, especially because he just gets to listen to you for over an hour. When you decide to stop for the night, Marko will whine and beg you to keep going. You’ll giggle and promise to pick it up tomorrow, and he’ll sigh. He can be won over with kisses, and the two of you can have some regular cuddle time instead

[sepublic]

My Coven Head Autobiography Dream

           Last night I had an incredibly insane dream. It was one of those really huge, spanning dreams with transitions that make no sense, but within the dream you never questioned it, and multiple phases and ‘arcs’ that are completely disconnected. But one part in particular caught my attention, because…

           There was a bit where I was in this HUGE library for this university of sorts. Emira and Edric were trying to do some sort of inane project/assignment for the Head of the Oracle Coven (dunno why, they’re in Illusions) and of course they can’t do anything about him putting them through a ton of frustrating antics. The assignment was for Edric technically, but Emira felt obligated to help out, and also because Edric begged her; As did KING, because it was an assignment for King AND Edric? They were doing this together? Within the dream, I was glad to see those two interact, it was an interaction and dynamic I hoped to see, but regardless… 

          There was a bit where far off, Emira spotted a book they were looking for and lashed out with an illusion lasso like from Adventures in the Elements, snagging onto it before anyone else could take it, as she reached out with all of her strength, stretching her arm so Edric and King could grab it; Only to realize it was the wrong book, the actual book was on the other side of the shelf as she was exasperated and frustrated with the two.

            Eventually they got past the Oracle Head’s smugness over the thing, and once the assignment was done, they were no longer beholden to him- So then the twins began tormenting the Oracle Head with their illusions and pranks. While that dude was trying to survive, I remembered something I saw in the midst of the twins and King’s antics in the library, and I glimpsed what seemed to be an autobiography… But with the Oracle Head’s face on it, complete with his sharp-toothed grin! I went around the shelf and located it and was ecstatic for the lore;

           It WAS an autobiography from him, with his name something along the lines of B-something, Van something-ican. I can’t remember the exact name, alas. The first few pages curiously showed an illustration and description of the Oracle Head’s daughter, some very goth, emo, edgy teenager; Who was now dead! And I wondered if the Oracle Head was aligned with Belos to resurrect his daughter, and/or if his study in Oracle magic had something to do with communing with the dead, in this case his deceased child…

           Anyhow I went on, as I got a closer look at the Oracle Head with an illustration. He had a necklace with large orbs strung on it, each one with a swirl-like pattern, each somewhat distinct. Morbidly, the Oracle Head explained that in the past, he’d done multiple campaigns to get elected for a certain position; I don’t think the dream specified, but it was probably for his placement as Head of the Oracle Coven. Turns out, each time he campaigned, he sacrificed another witch’s soul to create one of those orbs, which would grant him good luck and protection- But the orb only lasted until the election was over. Lo and behold, the Oracle Head failed a couple of elections, so he had to go through multiple souls before he finally succeeded…

           It was some ghastly stuff, and I wondered if one of those orbs was made from his daughter’s soul; If despite his remorse and regret, the Oracle Head sacrificed his own child just to succeed! And I wondered if this was meant to be some dark parallel between him and Lilith, who both threw a loved one under the bus- But Lilith never went that far and didn’t always meant to, at least… The Oracle Head, on the other hand, had the audacity to go through with it anyway, and then mourn his fallen daughter as if HE hadn’t killed her! Likewise, I speculated as to why the Oracle Head held onto his previous orbs, now that they were burnt out; As a tribute to those who’d given their lives for him, unwillingly? Or as some sick and twisted trophy of victory?

           I rushed to the TOH wikia –because I was somehow a part of and separate from the in-universe world- and I was the first to record the lore dump from the Oracle Head’s autobiography. As I got to work learning how to cite sources and whatnot, I wondered if perhaps all of the other Coven Heads were like this, as dark parallels to Lilith… What if they had ALL been young witches, who were faced with a moral dilemma to achieve a dream; And like Lilith, they remembered what Belos said about greatness requiring sacrifices, and so went through with it? The exact circumstances and heinousness of their ‘sacrifices’ likely varied, with some more guilty and remorseless than others, but the underlying them was the same; Lilith could’ve been them, and vice-versa. Each Head was influenced as a kid to do that, to follow in Belos’ footsteps…

           Anyhow, I became obsessed with finding the rest of the autobiographies for each Coven Head. I consulted a science teacher from an earlier part of my dream (she vaguely resembled my eight-grade science teacher), and she explained in a mystical, mysterious tone that while these books were in the school, no one had ever found them, hidden as they were amidst countless other books and whatnot; But I surmised that if it was alphabetically ordered, then I just needed to use the names of the Coven Heads I knew for reference! I only knew one another Coven Head’s name, the head of the Plant Coven; Botanica, a name that was actually from some other franchise I knew in real life, that had found its way into my dream. I reasoned that Botanica’s autobiography should be near the Oracle Head’s because they both started with a B.

           The teacher was impressed and decided to be level and give me a hint on my quest; Botanica’s autobiography was actually elsewhere. She gave me a hint or two about it not being in the library, outside, and I ‘remembered’ (I’d never actually encountered this location before in my dream) a small little garden outside, on the outskirts of the building. I rushed off, hitched a ride on some giant wagon-transport travelling around the building, and hopped off to a humble little area with a few benches and little stairs leading up to one another, and a BUNCH of fallen leaves.

           I knew I had to do a bunch of side quests essentially to unlock these autobiographies, and I guess also out of the goodness of my heart, I began to help clean up the leaves and dump them into a bin. Another witch showed up, SHE resembled a piece of fanart I’d seen earlier in real life of this other character (I have it saved on my phone), and she was clearly affiliated with Botanica, possibly an aide or apprentice. She noted my good work and began to help me, and it was clear that this would lead to an encounter with Botanica herself, or at least her autobiography as a sidequest reward. I got the feeling that despite being affiliated with Belos, Botanica legit had a loving, nurturing care for her plants, and I wondered how this conflicted and worked with Belos’ crueler conquests and control. Did Botanica ally with Belos because his coven system would protect her plants? I wasn’t sure.

           …Anyhow, then I woke up, etc. It was an incredibly surreal dream that makes me all the more eager to get to know the Coven Heads, their relationship to Belos, their backstory, their motives and whatnot, how they feel about Lilith and vice-versa; And any potential parallels between characters among them.

[topsytervy]

Book Lovers ~ Pope Heyward

Blurb: You have a crush on Pope and Pope has a crush on you. Your love for books brings you together.

Word Count: 3,376

Warnings: swearing, poorly written towards the end cause I'm bad at ending writings, probably spelling/grammar errors, I think thats it.

I started writing this as a whole bond over books thing and then it kind of got away from that a bit but not really I don't think.

Also, the way i was going back and forth between writing this and something Calum Hood related cause its his birthday and I love him was insane.

~~~~~~

You sat on the beach on a towel, a book in hand as the sounds of screams and waves filled the air.

Not too far away sat Pope, staring at you as JJ, John B and Kie surfed. He watched as you brushed some hair behind your ear before turning the page, completely engrossed by whatever it was you were reading. 

"Are you serious?" Pope jumped as his head swiveled to look at the voice that spoke.

Kie stood there, surfboard under her arm with an eyebrow raised, the two other boys behind her.

"What?" Pope shrugged, acting as casual as he could.

"Really? Playing dumb Pope? Thats JJ's job." She answered, setting down her board and sitting next to him.

"I take some offense to that, Kie." JJ told her which only caused the curly-haired girl to roll her eyes.

"Just go talk to her, Pope."

Pope widened his eyes. "Are you crazy, Kie?"

"If talking to someone you like is crazy then have me committed but last time I checked it was normal." 

"What would I even talk to her about?" 

"Oh, I don't know. She's only reading a book. Gosh if only you read." Kie told him, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Pope sighed before getting up. 

"Go get 'em, tiger." John B grinned as him and JJ took a seat next to Kie, watching as Pope made his way over.

He was about halfway to you before he turned around and walked back, shaking his head. "I can't do it. It's rude to interrupt someone's reading ya know. That and Toppers walking towards her." 

JJ scoffed. "Really, man. Toppers got nothing on you. Besides, I'm pretty sure they're just friends."

"Oh quite the opposite, JJ. He's got money and a way nicer boat." 

John B shot Pope a look. "How dare you insult the HMS Pogue like that."

"You know what I mean. He can buy her literally anything she asks for." 

"Okay. So he's got money and a nice boat. That means he's trying to compensate for something. Any guesses as to what that is?" Kie stared at Pope.

JJ grinned, deciding to answer for his best friend. "His di-"

"Personality, JJ" Kie cut off the blonde. "What he lacks in personality, he makes up for with money. Topper is boring as hell. He doesn't know the meaning of excitement and adventure. You do. I'm sure you have way more in common with her than Topper does." 

Pope took one last look at you, book open but ignored as Topper chatted with you. You just smiled and nodded before standing up and gathering your things, waving a small goodbye to Topper as you did. 

You glanced over and saw the Pogues watching you so you brought up your hand and sent them a small wave, blushing when Pope smiled and waved back at you.

The next time Pope saw you was at the library. He was getting a couple of books for a paper he had to write and you were there, scanning the shelves, trying to figure out what book you wanted to read next.

Pope had looked over and froze when he saw you just a few feet away from him, fingers ghosting over the spines of books as you read the titles. 

You had agreed to ride with Kelce to the library considering he needed a specific book to read and you needed a new book to read. You chewed on your lip, focusing on each one before pulling one out that caught your eye, reading the blurb before ultimately deciding that you didn’t want to read that one now. 

Pope took a deep breath before scanning the titles himself, attempting to find one that he had already read that he thought you would enjoy. He finally found one and grabbed it, walking over to you.

"Having troubles?" He asked.

You jumped slightly before looking at him. "Little bit. It's hard to find which one to read next, ya know."

Pope nodded before handing you the book. "You might like this one. I read it and could hardly put it down. It's definitely on my list of books to own." 

You took it with a smile. "Thanks."

 "It's no biggie." Pope shrugged. 

You smiled again before walking backwards towards the checkout counter. "I'll see you around, Pope." 

Pope grinned at the fact that you knew his name. "I hope so, Y/N."

You blushed slightly before turning around, meeting up with Kelce who immediately noticed your reddened cheeks.

"What's going on over here, Y/N/N?" He asked, pointing to his own cheeks.

"Nothing." You mumbled, placing your book and library card on the counter. 

Kelce looked around, trying to spot who was making his best friend blush before shrugging.

Later that night, you and Kelce were sitting on his living room floor with Rafe and Topper, a board game set out in front of the boys as you read your book and listened to their conversation. 

"Topper, St.Louis is not the capital of Illinois." Rafe said for what felt like the hundredth time. 

"What are you talking about? Yes it is!" 

Kelce took a deep breath before looking at Topper. "Top, sweetie, if you think St.Louis is the capital of Illinois, then what's the capital of Missouri?"

"Boise?"

You peered over your book with a blank look on your face, Kelce and Rafe having the same look on theirs.

"Come on guys, you know I'm bad at geography." Topper whined.

"I think," Rafe started, looking at Kelce, "We need to bust out that Sequence state capital game from second grade."

"I think I lost a brain cell during this conversation," Kelce rubbed his temples.

"Good thing you're not playing fucking jeopardy or you'd really be screwed, Top." You said.

Topper turned his attention to you. "Not all of us are book smart, Y/L/N." Topper leaned over to look at the page before squinting. "Whatcha reading that's better than playing a game with us, anyway?" 

You held up the book enough so they could read the title and Rafe raised an eyebrow. "Where'd ya find that one?"

"Someone recommended it to me." You blushed a little at the interaction with Pope earlier that day.

"Oh ho ho. That is the same blush you had at the library. You like this person." Kelce pointed.

"Shut up, Kelc."

"Wait. She was blushing? Oh snap."

"Spill the name, Y/N."

You rolled your eyes at your friends before replying. "I don't have to tell you three anything."

"Come on. If you're not gonna tell us then how will we tease you?" Rafe whined.

"That's exactly why I'm not gonna tell you. You'll just tease me and then whenever he's around, you'll act all juvenile."

Topper looked at the two boys before turning towards you. "If we promise that we will keep the teasing to a minimum when he's not around and that we act mature about this, will you tell us?"

You bit your lip before hesitantly nodding. Rafe, Topper and Kelce's eyes widened, eager to hear the name about to come out of your mouth.

You sighed, bookmarking your page. "His name is Marcel. He wears glasses and wears a sweater vest. A bit on the awkward side but very sweet."

Kelce and Topper shot each other confused glances, never having heard that name before. Rafe, on the other hand, cocked his head to the side with an unamused look and a 'really'.

"You know this Marcel, Cameron?" Topper asked.

"Yeah. If you watch the Best Song Ever music video, you'll meet him. I do have two sisters, remember." He answered.

You shrugged. "Worth a shot."

"Come on, Y/L/N. Just give us the name." 

You held up your hands in surrender. "Okay, okay." Your three friends leaned forward, staying quiet with raised eyebrows. "Pope Heyward." 

"Oh my God," Topper breathed.

"Can we not do the usual 'traitor' bullshit please? I feel like my mom is already going to have a fit."

"What makes you think we'd do that?" 

You shot each of them a look before standing up. "I gotta get going. You guys have fun and Topper," you looked at the blonde, "learn your damn capitals."

And then you were out the door.

****

Pope walked into The Wreck a few days later and spotted you in the corner, book in hand while you ate your food. Pope was so focused on you that he didn't even notice Kie appear next to him with a water pitcher in her hand.

"You gonna stand there all day or you gonna sit down with her and start up a conversation."

Pope whipped his head to look at his friend before shrugging. "I guess I could but sh-"

"She's reading and its rude to interrupt someone whos reading. I know." Kie rolled her eyes before walking over to your table.

He saw you smile at Kie and greet her before nodding. You looked past Kie and saw Pope. You grinned and waved him over which Pope happily did, taking a seat across from you.

"Want anything Pope?" Kie asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just get me the usual." 

Kie smiled before walking away towards the back.

"I finished that book you recommended to me last night and I was speechless. The ending was...wow." You leaned back in your chair, taking a drink of water. 

"I know right. That book made me want to read all his other works and they're all just so amazing." Pope grinned.

"His writing is so poetic that I was surprised I wasn't reading an actual poem."

"Exactly. He's such a good writer."

You two talked for hours about different authors and books you guys liked, eventually both of you started writing down names of books and authors for the other to check out.

"How long have they been like that?" John B asked, JJ sitting beside him along with the kook boys who joined them unexpectedly with no hassle whatsoever. 

"Lets see. You five have been here for 45 minutes to an hour, Pope showed up a couple of hours before you. So...almost four." Kie smiled before scurrying off to wait on another table.

"Four what? Hours?" JJ asked. 

"Yes, dumbass." Rafe rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to the table where you sat with Pope.

"They both look so happy." Topper commented.

"Because they are. They're in love." Kelce sighed with a dopey smile on his face, resting his head against his hand.

"Aren't they a little young for love?" John B raised an eyebrow.

Kelce shot him a look which caused John B to raise his hand in surrender. 

"What do you think they're talking about?"

"They're both nerds. Take a guess."

JJ opened his mouth to object, offended on behalf of his best friend but John B stopped him. "No, no. He has a point."

You glanced at your watch before standing up, saying something to Pope who nodded, handing each other your phones. 

JJ smirked. "My boy is getting some." Rafe, Kelce, and Topper all turned to look at JJ, unamused with his words. "Or not."

*****

Pope shook his head. "No way. That is one of the dumbest and most cliche tropes ever." 

It was a week later and you and Pope sat at The Wreck again, having a conversation about whatever you recently read and now, apparently, your favorite and least favorite tropes.

"I have to disagree. Enemies to lovers has my heart." You responded, taking a bite out of your burger after you spoke.

"One bed and they have to share reigns supreme." Pope popped a fry into his mouth like that was the end of discussion. 

You held up your finger as you finished chewing before swallowing. "You have to have some love for the enemies to lovers trope then because a lot of enemies to lovers involve sharing a bed." You pointed out.

"What about friends to lovers? Hmm? Hmmm? That right there is practically gold and bed sharing comes into play." 

You rolled your eyes. "At some point, a friend likes another. I can tell you in confidence that I had a crush on Topper, Kelce, and Rafe at some point in our friendship. It was bound to happen because we hang out so much. Enemies to lovers though? Who willingly hangs out with their enemy? No one." 

Pope laughed. "Alright. Sure. Whatever." 

"Don't whatever me Pope. I'm right and you know I am." You laughed. 

Pope held his hands up in surrender.  "Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Kiara walked over to your table and you smiled. "Lets ask Kie."

"Ask me what?" Her eyes darted between you and Pope.

Pope turned to Kie. "I want you to be honest with me, Kie. Which trope is better? Best friends to lovers or enemies to lovers."

Kie blinked slowly as she spoke. "I was just coming here to ask if you need refills or anything else."

"This is more important. Best friends to lovers or enemies to lovers?" 

You both looked at the girl expectedly and she shrugged. "I'm more of a fake dating girl myself so neither."

"Or both." You raised your eyebrows.

"True. Enemies could fake date or friends could. Sounds like a both thing for me."

Kie just turned and walked away, shaking her head with a small smile. 

Your phone dinged and you looked down, seeing a text from your mom. "Thats my mother paging me." You sighed as you stood up. "This has been a fun date, Pope." 

"Date?" 

You felt your face heat up from embarrassment."Oh, was this...not- I shouldn't have assumed. I'm sorry."  

"No, it was. I just didn't think you'd think of it as one." Pope quickly said.

You smiled before kissing his cheek. "I'll talk to you later then.'

Pope blushed as he watched you walk away, paying for your half of the meal before exiting the building.

****

It's been a month since you and Pope became official. A lot of your dates were either study dates, beach dates, or dates that consisted of you two eating at The Wreck while discussing anything under the sun.

Pope was kind of scared when you asked him what he wanted to do for a living, considering everyone else thought it was weird but you were supportive.

"That's cool." 

Popes eyes widened in shock at your words. "Really? No 'why would you choose a coroner' or 'why the hell would you wanna work with dead bodies'?"

You shrugged as you stole one of the fries from his plate. "I think it's cool. It's a job not many people want but it's an important one." 

That was probably when Pope knew that he was in deep with you. The fact that you didn't judge the things he was passionate about and what he wanted to do. That just made him fall for you more and let him know that you were the perfect girl for him.

Now here you were, spending the weekend together in the best way.

You sat in Pope's living room, okay laid in Pope's living room, watching Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Pope had the house all to himself for the weekend and invited you over for a Harry Potter movie marathon since you two just finished rereading the entire series. 

So here you were, curled into your boyfriend's side with his arm draped over your shoulders, holding you closer if that was even possible. 

You sighed as Alan Rickman appeared on the screen. "I miss him."

Pope kissed the top of your head as he rubbed your arm. "I know, sweetheart. You say that everytime he pops up on screen."

"I can't help it. He was just such a good soul." 

Pope smiled, twirling some of your hair around his finger. He loved listening to you talk about things and people you were passionate about. The smile on your face whenever someone, usually him, brought up one of those topics was worth it and he could listen to your voice for hours on end, which usually happened when a topic of interest was brought up. 

"Are you even listening to me?" You'd ask, tapping his wrist.

"Every word."

You'd lean back and cross your arms, a smirk on your face as you raised one of your eyebrows. "Oh really?"

He'd nod before speaking. "You were saying how you think iced coffee is better than regular hot coffee."

You'd make an impressed face. "Are you going to say anything at any point in this conversation."

He'd pretend to think about it before shaking his head. "I'm good." 

You'd roll your eyes before purposely bringing up a topic that would cause him to talk some because just like him, you were obsessed with seeing his smile when he was interested in a topic and hearing his voice.

"Pope, did you hear me?" 

Pope blinked before shaking his head. "No. Sorry. I was spacing this time."

"I asked if you wanted to make stir fry tonight?" You laughed lightly at the space cadet you called a boyfriend.

Pope smiled and nodded. "Sounds great. I'll ask dad if we can raid the store for whatever we don't have." 

You both pulled out your phones, you to get the recipe and Pope to ask his dad if it was okay to take whatever was needed for dinner. 

You walked into the kitchen and started pulling out whatever you could find that was needed for the stir fry before writing down on a notepad what was left.

"We got the go ahead." Pope told you and you held up the notepad.

"Then let's go on an adventure." 

You two paused the movie and made your way down the street towards Heywards hand in hand.

"Have you ever seen the Percy Jackson movies?" You asked, genuinely curious if Pope had or not. Pope shook his head and you let out a laugh. "Oh boy. We might have to take a break from good ol' HP so you can watch them." 

"Why?" Pope swung your arms as looked at you.

"You might find them...interesting. That's all." You shrugged.

"Are they good?" 

You smiled up at him as you leaned your head on his arm. "You'll have to see."

Normally, you wouldn't recommend watching the movies to anyone but when it came to Pope, you wanted him to see it. You wanted to see him rant about all the differences and how bad this adaptation was. You wanted to see him get all flustered at the smallest details that the movies got wrong and complain about how this doesn't do the books any justice. 

"Are you setting me up?" A small smile sat on Pope's lips.

You placed a hand to your heart.  "Ouch Pope. That stings."

He just laughed before kissing your temple as you approached Heywards. Pope unlocked the door and you followed him inside, picking up the rest of your ingredients before walking over to the counter and pulling a 20 out of your pocket, sliding it under one of the boxes for Mr.Heyward to find.

"Really? You know my dad loves you right? Like you don't have to pay him for this stuff. He gave us the okay." Pope said.

You shrugged. "It's fine and it's only right. I mean, I'm taking things from his store. The least I can do is pay him." You turned to the security camera and waved before pointing to the box the cash was under and doing the hand signal for money.

"You do know he cant check the system from his phone right?" 

"Yeah but if he plays it back, he'll know and no one else will see the footage." You smiled before turning back to your boyfriend. "Ready?" You asked as you placed your things in a bag. 

Pope grabbed your hand and the bag as he nodded. "Lets get cooking." 

You laughed as you followed him back outside, waiting for him to lock the door before beginning the short journey back to his, the pair of you thinking about how lucky you were to have someone like the other.

~~~~~~

[macorni]

Talk To Me

  Ship: Moceit

Date I wrote this: 12/10/20 (December 10th, 2020.)   

  Mini-Fic                                TW: Arguing, crying, self-harm in a way, unhealthy coping, and swearing. Just Janus Angst.                                                janus angst

Word Count: 2023 

Janus felt as if the world was ending, his best and only friend broke up with him (meaning they're no longer friends) after a misuse of words during an argument, Janus covered his mouth and laid on his bed to soften any cries and to be at least comfortable The argument was silly and useless, Janus recently gotten back from another discussion with the Light Sides and Remus was there waiting for him, "You might as well be another Virgil." Remus told him, Janus raised a brow, "What is that supposed to mean?" Remus rolled his eyes, "It means you're going to friend them and leave me alone, even if you say you're not leaving, as Virgil once said, 'I will not leave.' But we all now know that was a lie. So, are you gonna leave as well?" Janus was taken back by that statement.

"What? That is prosperous! No I will not." Janus gritted through his teeth, he hated to be compared to that emo. He felt a bit of himself die when Remus said, "You're a liar, how am I supposed to know, Deceit?" Now, Remus knows Janus's name, so it hurt to be called 'Deceit' when he's not Deceit, he is Janus. He didn't want to be only seen as Deceit, just how Remus didn't want to be seen as only 'Intrusive Thoughts' but he kept his mouth shut about that statement, "I don't lie all the time, you should know that, but again, you're a monster, not logical." Janus felt the words slip through his mouth. It sounded so sour and harsh but in such a careless tone. It sounded like nothing at all. Remus's breath fastened, and Janus slapped his hand over his mouth afterwards, it was a very loud silence, "Remus, I- Uh- I-" Janus stuttered but Remus interrupted, "No no, if that's how you feel then so be it." Remus snapped, going to his brother, leaving Janus alone.

That leaves Janus here, in present, sobbing on his bed. He didn't mean any harm but he speaks too fast, and words cloud his mind like air pollution and the words fall out like a waterfall. He shouldn't be crying, he didn't get hurt, Remus did. This was so fucking selfish and stupid. He gasped for breath but it seemed as if his lungs gave up on him, eyes watering and burning. He can't lose his one and only best friend, no, not again. He can't lose anyone else- first "O"(Orange Side who left to god who knows where when they were teens), then Virgil, and now Remus? Not to mention Roman will definitely tell everyone else and everyone will hate him more.

Janus shuttered at the thought. He can't handle emotions well, he tries to hide the bad ones, but he rarely laughs at anything at all anymore. He watched an 15 minute vine compilation and laughed- more of a soft huff- three times. Janus has breakdowns pretty often but he doesn't tell anymore or wants anyone to know, so when he does, he takes the anger and confusion out on himself, example being: He hits him, sometimes the head, or stomach, or the legs. He holds his breath until he is about to pass out. He scratches at the covered scales. He also rips up old photos, to the point where he makes 2x copies of the same picture because he will rip it eventually.

He decided to head to the library in the mindscape, or the light mindscape. The dark sides don't have much, which includes a library which Janus hates. He waited until he was presentable, tidied up his outfit, and then started to venture to the library. He'll definitely see Logan. Janus walked into the library and sure enough, blue boy was there reading a book about philosophy during the Ancient times and up to the 1980's. Estimated 500 pages from the looks of the thick dark green book with golden text on it saying, "Philosophy Throughout The Ancients to 1980's." with a smaller text with the author.

Janus disregarded the man, Logan and him we're on neutral terms, though Logan found it frustrating when Janus would deceive the others as him, and Janus found it frustrating when Logan would constantly lie about how he felt. Logan noticed the yellow side wandering by him, "Salutations, Janus." Logan greeted and Janus gave him an awkward wave, "Hi." Janus walked to a Psychology area and grabbed the books labeled, "Understanding Emotions." "Opening up." "Life Advice." and "How to deal and help with mental illnesses."  Janus sat down at a small table, 3 tables away from Logan, and began to read the first book, "Understanding Emotions."

Janus read for about an hour before Roman and Patton entered to hangout with Logan. Roman's face twisted in disappointment when he saw Janus sitting down, Patton smiled, he didn't mind the snake after the previous Sanders Sides episode, not counting the Asides. "Salutations, Roman and Patton." Logan told the two, waving. "Hi Logan!"  Patton smiled widely and Roman responded with a simple yo. The 3 we're relatively loud but Janus liked some noise then none. Silence was sometimes so violent, it drove Janus insane, being left alone in your thoughts. Patton decided to talk to Janus, and made his way to the other side, sitting down across from him.

"Hi Janus!" Patton smiled, "Hello Patton, do you need anything?" Janus asked, not many people willingly talked to him. Most hated him, including himself. "Nah, I just wanted to chat. We never chat outside of discussions, I want to know you better." Patton explained, Janus was taken back from his kindness, even if he didn't sense it, he convinced himself it was a lie, "Oh okay, I'm not very interesting, just a fair warning." Janus smirked, Patton giggled a little, "Everyone has some sort of interesting piece of them." Janus shrugged,  "I'm kind of ordinary. Besides appearance wise." Janus continued to read, "Whatcha reading?" Patton tried to read it upside down, and failed miserably, "A book about understanding emotions better." Janus told him, "Ooooh! Neat!" Patton moved next to him, leaning over and reading along.

"You should read funner books." Patton suggested, which triggered Logan's grammar sense, "Patton, 'Funner' is not a word, it is pronounced 'More fun.'" Logan said loud enough for him to hear, which caused Janus to chuckle, "Sorryyy!" Patton said fast, "I would but I don't feel like it has a educational benefit for the next crisis." Janus said honestly, "For someone who was people to self care and do what they want- if it's not dangerous- you really don't take your own advice, do you?" Patton explained, Janus paused, "W-Well that is because I don't feel as if I need it. I need to be doing my work and learning more. I gotta help Thomas, ya know." Janus found the right words to say. "You don't feel as if you need it?" Patton said, more quietly, Janus nodded. "I actually have a question, could you help me?" Patton asked, "Uh sure." Janus shrugged, looking away from the tan pages to the freckled boy, "Could you help me choose what gift I should get Remus for Christmas?" Patton whispered, not wanting Roman to hear, Janus nodded.

The two went to Patton's room, "So, Remus would most definitely hate a more colorful makeup pallet- since he does a lot of Special Effects Makeup." Janus suggested, "Ohh, thank you!" Patton smiled, writing that down. Janus got up to leave but Patton grabbed his arm which in response, Janus flinched and pulled away a bit, "Uh, yeah?" Janus asked, "Can we talk?" Patton asked, Janus sat down, nodding. "Have you actually been taking care of yourself?" Patton asked, Janus hesitated, "Uh, of course." He lied, "Janus, I saw your books. Are you okay?" Patton asked, as if he actually cared, which was way to absurd and unrealistic in Janus's mind. The words stung, does he actually want to know? Janus has so many questions, "Hey, I won't tell anyone anything, talk to me." Patton grabbed Janus's hands in a soft manner, smiling. Janus felt tears prick, "You don't really care, do you?" Janus asked, forcing the tears back down, "Pitying me?" Janus assumed. The light blue side shook his head, "No, I really do care," Patton started and Janus looked away but Patton took one of his hands and turned his face turns him and cupped his cheek in the same hand, "just talk to me, I'll listen." he finished.

Janus felt a single tear stroll down his face, nobody ever wanted to listen, he know he shouldn't but he does anyways, "Emotions confuse me. I don't know how to help them or react. Whenever something bad happens, I get obviously sad, and I began to cry too much or too little. And when I don't know what to do, I break down. I don't know how to.. stop breaking down. I always end up hurting myself or breaking some valuable. You're probably annoyed now, I'll shu-" Patton shushed him, "No no, rant to me, I like the sound, I like your voice." he smiled, lovingly, which made Janus confused on why he cared, "If you insist.. I can't talk to anymore or be my own self because I am too scared of being even less likeable, and if I open up too much it'll scare people away, make them uncomfy, or I'll be too much and they leave me. I-I just feel so lost and I do no good, even when I try. Maybe me leaving all together would help everyone, including Thomas. Having no denial or deceit may be good, but the bad of having absolutely no self preservation could do. I feel like him on auto-pilot now." Janus couldn't stop talking but Patton didn't mind.

"Sometimes, I feel like I'd be better dead. I mean, in the long run I'd be helpful if I just went awa-" Janus got cut off by a bone- crushing hug from Patton, "Just lay down, okay?" Patton suggested and Janus did, he laid down on the bed and Patton laid down too, the two facing each other. Patton wrapped his arms around Janus's waist and pulled him closer, and Janus wrapped his arms around Patton's neck, Janus's head resting in the crook of the others neck. "..See, just stay like this.. You'll feel better soon."

Janus felt the tears just pour from his eyes, he sobbed onto Patton knowing he'll never feel this type of love again. Patton rubbed circles into his back, Janus was so vulnerable, anything could just hurt him right now, a shaking, sobbing mess. Patton never knew Janus held in so much, he didn't know one of the 2nd most serious side held so much pain within, he knows that Logan is going through it too. "P-P-Please don't t-tell anyone about t-this.." Janus said in between sobs, gripping onto Patton and his shirt, "I wont ever tell anyone, promise." Patton said softly. They stayed like this for at least 15 minutes, then Janus stopped crying, he was just shaking.

"We can stay like this for awhile.." Patton told him, noticing the boy still shaking, "S-Sure." Janus repositioned himself so he was laying on his right side and Patton cupped him, rubbing his chest. "Cute." Patton told him, "Uh-huh, ssssssso cute." Janus lightheartedly said and rolling his eyes in a playful manner, and hissed, Patton giggled at this hiss. Janus took off his hat and threw it onto Patton's desk chair. "Thank you ssssso much, Patton." Janus smiled.

"No problem."

- Minific by m.acorni

[kz-i-co]

Within This Room: Part II

» Summary: In fear of ruining an engagement might sending you packing sooner then you thought.

» Pairing: Taeyong x Reader

» Genre: smut x angst

» Words: 3.3k

» Part 1  ╫ Part 3

» m.list ╫ nct 127 masterlist

-

"Hi." You froze. "I'm (Y/N)."

"Nice to meet you." She smiled warmly. "How do you know Taeyong."

"Oh we're old friends."

"Of course, you went to this school. Such a shame what's happening."

You just nodded awkwardly as Taeyong was distracting himself from something in the distance. He was uncomfortable as much as you.

"I better help my mom, but it was nice to meet you." You said and quickly took off.

"I can't do this. I should of never come." You panicked as you made it over to your sister.

"Whats wrong?" She asked.

"His fiancé is here."

Your sister followed your eyes. "Oh shit, he's engaged?" She laughed but didn't realize how it was effecting you. "What's wrong it's been 6 years since you both were together."

"I know it's crazy but I think I still have feeling for him and I probably fucked up everything last night."

"Wait-"

"Girls come help me with these." Your mother was calling you over.

"What happened?" Your sister was trying to get it out of you while heading over to your mother.

"I can't tell you here. Later."

"These are being sent to the board, so put these in his box." Your mother handed you some plaques of different achievements.

....

"Ooo, your year book." Taeyong and his fiancé were helping out in the library and she happened to find the 2014 class yearbook. "Can't wait to see how handsome my man was."

Taeyong just turned his back going through another shelf not fazed. He couldn't stop thinking about you and last night. He couldn't help himself from smiling at how beautiful you have become.

"You were prom King? You didn't tell me you were popular. I mean I could of guessed but..." She laughed to herself. She flipped through more pages seeing you and Taeyong together more and more. "Wait a minute? That girl from earlier is your ex?"

"Taeyong?" She raised her voice getting his attention.

"What?" She held up the book stating the obvious.

"What's your point? I don't ask you about your ex's." He shrugged.

"Looks like you guys are still close?" She said getting annoyed.

"We've only seen each other for the first time yesterday in 6 years." He said then turned back towards his books.

She didn't pressure him any further since the atmosphere was tense.

....

"Come on, lets take a break. There's plenty of food from last night." Your mother said. "So have you caught up with Taeyong last night?"

"Yeah." You smiled sarcastically not really wanting to talk about it.

"I can't believe he's engaged. I was hoping the sparks were still there-"

"Mom.....please let's stay out of their business. Okay." Your sister looked at you with concern.

"She's not even that pretty." Your sister whispered as she bumped you with her elbow.

"Not nice." The fact was that she was EXTREMELY pretty. She was clean and priss and she seemed to have her life together.

....

You were taking your old prize winners (paintings) to your car, clearly struggling to the car as your mother and sister were way ahead of you.

You took a deep breath as you stopped for a second to take a breather.

"Let me help you." He took the canvas off your hands and you finally could see in front of you at the handsome face that still caused butterflies.

"Thank you. I don't even know why I'm taking this old junk." There was a huge dumpster to clean out the school and you were just tempted to toss the old embarrassment but your mother insisted on keeping them as a reminder of how far you've come.

"It's not junk (Y/N)." He chuckled and looked behind him losing his smile. "Actually I was wondering if we could talk about last night? How long are you staying?" He said more quietly.

"Well a few days the most. But I can't stay away from work for that long."

"You want to go out for dinner tonight. Jaehyun and Mark are here for the weekend."

"Hanging out with your bro's like old times? Huh?" You teased.

"Also Johnny and Ren will be there as well since they are engaged-"

"Johnny is her new fiancé? They hated each other."

"I guess they just had sexual attraction for each other."

"I see." You giggled.

"May I keep this?" He was referring to your old painting.

"It's all yours." You laughed at his ridiculous question.

"See you later." He walked away leaving to travel back alone.

....

"How do I look?" Your sister said as you finally finished your sketch.

"Beautiful." You turned your book around.

"Wow. I look so cute." She smiled. "May I keep it?"

"Sure." You rolled your eyes as you tore out the page out of your sketch book.

"Have you ever thought about selling your art work on eBay? I saw it on tik tok."

"You and that app are driving me crazy." You giggled.

"I get bidders at the gallery, they're just all cheapskates in the city." You continued.

"Your art deserves more credit. You should be making MILLIONS." Your sister was over dramatic like usual.

"Unfortunately that doesn't happen to an artist until their dead." Your sister pouted at your dark response.

"You're no fun. But anyway are you and Taeyong hanging out tonight? Did I hear dinner?"

"It's a friendly get together and it's not just me, it's with some old friends."

"Okay." She smirked. "Just be careful."

You sat there to think. Not just what your sister said but over everything. Last night was a mistake and you had to straighten it out. If Taeyong was happy with his fiancé, you couldn't ruin it for your own selfishness.

...

You decided on a simple black dress with a denim jacket and doc martens and you waited outside for your Uber driver and before you know it you were standing outside the restaurant, too scared to even go in.

"(Y/N)! Oh my god!" You heard screaming and all of a sudden you were being crushed by two pairs of arms. Once you got to turn around and make contact, you were faced with a pink hair Ren.

You hugged her back tightly as you both screamed causing Johnny to plug his ears. "How are you?"

"I'm great, how are you?" You responded. "Your hair is pink."

"My hair is pink. I didn't think you could get more gorgeous, you suck Miss Prom Queen." She laughed.

"You're gorgeous. And you're engaged I hear....to him?" You looked at Johnny with a teasing look.

"I know, it's insane." She laughed.

"So where were you last night?" You asked.

"I don't care about some dumb school reunion. I had better things to do." She continued. "Come on let's get inside. It's freezing."

You followed her and Johnny inside ready to begin your night. You took a deep breath as you saw Taeyong looking beautiful as ever. You can do this. You can be just friends right?

There was a few more of his friends already at the table as well once the host assisted you.

"(Y/N)! How's it going I haven't seen you in forever." Mark was the first to get up and hug you.

"Where were you guys last night? I missed you." You said still embraced in his arms and eventually made your way around to Jaehyun and Doyoung.

"I couldn't make it and these guys had their own reunion." Mark said taking his seat.

"We already got a lecture from Dayoung." Ren said as you sat down between her and Taeyong.

"Speaking of Dayoung, where is she?" You asked.

"She was gonna come but she's having a lot of back pain so she rather stay home."

"When is her baby due?" You continued to ask since you lacked information from your old friends.

"December 7."

"That's just a little over a month." You couldn't believe she was that pregnant.

"I know." She laughed. "But she might be sooner then that, her baby is already 8lbs."

"Can I get you something to drink." The waitress was finally here cutting off your conversation.

"Soju?" Johnny asked and everyone agreed. You on the other hand rather stick with a simple water but your friends insisted and you didn't want to seem lame now you were older.

....

"You idiot, you were the reason we got caught skipping 4th period." Ren and Mark were arguing non stop and the alcohol on top was causing more of a scene but the rest of you were laughing, enjoying the show.

"Was not. You were the one that went to the wrong car."

"You said it was your car."

"No I said it looked like my car."

"Will you two just shut up." Doyoung took another sip.

"Shall we get going soon? I rather talk to you alone." Taeyong spoke quietly next to you, only you can hear.

You nodded. "Alright guys, we're going to head out." Taeyong pulled out his wallet and tossed cash on the table.

"Where are you two going?" Ren pouted.

"I promised (Y/N) I'd drive her home and I don't want to be out later then Jiyoon gets out of work." He made a concerned expression.

"You two still fighting?" Mark asked as you and Taeyong got up.

"It's every little thing with her, but she's been better." He nodded.

"Alright man, take care.....you to (Y/N) it was nice seeing you." You both said your goodbyes.

"Promised me a ride?" You teased your tone being flirtier then you wanted.

"Well, I needed to talk to you about last night. Alone." He began as he guided you to his car.

You bit your lip awkwardly, wanting to avoid the whole thing. You wanted to just pretend it didn't happen and move on.

You got in the car waiting for him to begin but he was just as uncomfortable as you. "Are you alright to drive?"

"I only had one shot. I feel fine." He looked at you leaning your head on the seat. "What about you?"

"I'm not driving." You looked at him confused.

"No I mean, how are you?" He laughed. "You good." He waved his hand in front of your face.

You laughed smacking his hand away playfully. "I only had two shots."

You both laughed until the car filled with silence as he finally took off.

"Do you ever miss being back here?" He asked.

"A little. But I love where I live."

"So you have no thoughts on moving back?" You were surprised from his sudden question.

"No. I mean I love my family but I live in my dream home now.....well....a nicer apartment would be nice." You giggled not realizing the car stopped outside of your house.

"Do I have to wait another six years to see you?" He asked turning the mood down again. "I want us to stay friends (Y/N)."

"We can. We can FaceTime and-"

"So until you're back for the holidays?"

"I really can't afford to visit, that's why I don't.....If I sell a piece, I get $1000 the most and that only goes to my bills and food-"

"I get it (Y/N). It's okay. I just miss you that's all." You both made eye contact and you could feel the pain he was holding.

"We left things off, really shitty." You started. "Especially me."

"You were hurt, I get it." He shrugged.

"I just want to apologize......And also apologize for last night. It was wrong and I'm sorry for everything." You continued. "Just seeing that room........you, I missed my old life."

"I just.....I don't want to leave thinking I caused so much chaos. It's probably just best if we pretend it didn't happen. You're fiancé seems to be really nice and I just want you guys to be happy."

"You're right." He said causing your lip to tremble. You knew he was thinking the same thing, you didn't know why it was so unexpected.

"R-right, exactly."

"It was wrong." You nodded. "But that doesn't mean I want to pretend it didn't happen."

"Taeyong I want you to understand my intentions.....I don't want to-"

You were cut off with his lips attached to yours. Your heart was beating faster then it ever was before. What was he doing? You were hesitant to responde but there was comfort with his lips. A feeling only he could cause. He gently caressed his hand around your neck bringing you closer as the kiss deepened.

The kiss grew more desperate quickly as he pulled you to straddle his lap. He had his hands under your dress caressing your thighs. You couldn't help but rock against him causing more friction between the both of you. He moaned against your lips from by the way you effected him. You had to pull away to catch your breath but quickly leaned down farther to kiss down his jaw.

He pushed your jacket down and letting it fall behind you, hitting the wheel as you were taking your time with his buttons letting more of his chest to be exposed.

He brought his lips back towards yours before he was working on the top of your dress letting it fall off your chest exposing your strapless bra. He was quick to kiss down your chest letting your bra fall more uncomfortably. You could feel him full erected underneath you as you were still rocking against him.

His breathing became heavier that he stopped what he was doing to lean his head against the back of the seat for a second. He looked you in the eyes before they drifted down focusing on your undies. You lifted yourself to help take them off as you began to unbuckle his pants. You gently took him in your hand and slowly jerked him only enough to lubricate. You leaned forward guiding him in and relaxed as you could adjust.

His muffled sounds were so beautiful as you began your movements. The pleasure was unreal. You only wish it was only a dream, to save you from trouble. You knew it was wrong but why couldn't you stop?

You leaned down kissing him passionately as you quickened your pace. Once you lifted for air, you grabbed his hands leading them to your chest. You tilted your head back enjoying the pleasure.

As you felt like you were lost in your own world, he grabbed your hips helping you keep the rhythm. You moved your hand to the front of your folds to guide your climax closer to the edge. Just as you were about to release, he beat you to it causing the room to spin. You felt numbness scattered throughout your body.

You collapse on top of his body as you both could catch your breath. You felt happy at the moment, like you didn't want to move but the guilt came rushing back causing you quickly run away. You got yourself redressed as Taeyong looked at you with concern.

"This was a mistake." You felt your eyes water. Taeyong was quick to dress as well from you being so upset. "I shouldn't have come back here."

"I'm sorry Taeyong but we can't see each other anymore, not even as friends." You were panicked.

"(Y/N) this is my dumb mistake too."

"Unless you're ending it with your fiancé, I can't be in the picture no more." You looked at him for a response but he looked down staying silent.

"Okay then. Goodbye."

He grabbed your hand before you could leave the car. "You're just upset. Can we talk about this tomorrow?"

"No because as long as we're alone together I can't help my feelings around you and that's not fair for your fiancé."

"I can't anymore." You finally left his car and quickly made your way inside. Why were you so weak?

-

You've done it again. You had to leave as soon as possible, the guilt was killing you.

"You leaving?" Your sister asked as she saw you packing your bag.

"Yeah, Haejin called me and said I'm needed back at work." You lied.

"Oh." She pouted.

"Aren't you leaving? You have school tomorrow."

"I'm leaving tonight." She was lucky she had a car.

"A few more years and you can live with me." You winked.

"Sure." She smiled.

"There's one more thing I want to do before I go, can I borrow the car?" She nodded and you quickly left so you can go back home.

You stopped at a cute little townhouse village and followed the number Mark gave you. You just hoped it wasn't some random address giving you more chances not to trust him. You knocked on the door and waited until someone finally answered it, causing your stomach to drop.

"Oh hi (Y/N)." Jiyoon smiled at you but it didn't feel very genuine.

"Hi. I'm leaving I just wanted to say goodbye to Taeyong." You said sweetly.

"Taeyong is at work unfortunately." She shrugged.

"Oh. Just let him know I said goodbye and oh yeah....congratulations for you two."

"Thank you. We still don't know our date but it's probably the beginning of next year the latest."

"Can I be honest with you (Y/N)?" You looked at her confused. "I know you and Taeyong were very serious and I can't help but feel a little uncomfortable with you two still being close."

"I'm sorry you feel that way." You looked at her with concern to hide the fact you really wanted to pull her hair out.

"I have bad experiences with ex's too and I have to compromise for Tae so I'm sorry if I make him do the same thing."

"You have nothing to worry about. I live in Seoul."

"Oh that's great." She smiled at you once again and it seemed more fake then before. "I hope you don't get offended if I don't invite you to our wedding."

"I'm sorry but is Taeyong okay with that?" You finally showed your real expressions.

"He'll understand."

"Taeyong and I split up 6 years ago."

"Like I said compromise."

"Maybe I should talk to Taeyong about this?"

"I'll doubt he'll talk to you."

"Why's that?" You crossed your arms.

"I don't know. He just seemed pissed off at you after he came home last night. He even tossed your painting in our garbage. Did you want it back?" Fake fake fake.

"I'm sorry to hear that, I'm not sure why.....Have a great day....." You walked back to the car. "Bitch."

You didn't know what to believe. He could be upset the way you left last night but on the other hand he seemed more upset then angry. Was she lying? The best thing was to just get back home and that's what you did.

The train seemed longer then on your way there, probably from your lack of sleep that eat up the time last time. You couldn't get Taeyong out of your head. Even if she was lying, it was still clean you weren't invited to the wedding. How messed up is that?

The worst part of it all was you never got the chance to ask for Taeyong's cell number. You couldn't imagine him having the same phone from 6 years ago.

You got off the train, being greeted by Haejin. "I never missed you so much in my life."

"So how was everything?"

"Terrible." She looked at you concerned as you got in her car. "I did something really bad."

"I saw my high school sweetheart again."

"Okay?" Haejin listened.

"And we kind of slept together.....twice."

"What's wrong with that?" Haejin winked.

"He's engaged.....and the worst part is I still have feelings for him."

-

to be continued....

[king-finnigan]

I'm week for historic au stuff. Like Geralt becomes a retired soldier and Jaskier is a scholar type thing and they keep meeting through the ages stuff? Just me? Feel free to ignore me 😖

Actually, I really love that, honestly. I wasn’t sure whether I would write it like a reincarnation AU, or if Geralt would keep living while Jaskier kept getting reincarnated, but I decided that that’s simply too sad. So I went for a Good Omens type thingie! (featuring: enemies to lovers)

Disclaimer: I don’t know anything about history, so there’s a big chance I’m being very very inaccurate!

EDIT: I couldn’t help but make it a little sad at the end, but it’s just bittersweet.

---

They first meet during the Hundred Years’ War, in England.

Jaskier is a monk, transcribing Latin scrolls in the dungeons of the castle for a living. Really, he never wanted to be a monk, but it was the only way for a farmer boy like him to learn how to read and write, something he’d always been fascinated by.

He writes. It’s what he does. No matter how cold it gets in the dungeons during the winter, no matter how much his hand cramps up after a few hours, no matter how many times he has to start over when he makes a mistake. He keeps going, keeps writing. 

It’s what he does.

Autumn, 1438. After a particularly long day, writing down biblical text after biblical text, he’s climbing the stairs of the castle, walking through the long hallways to the monestary. That’s when he sees him for the first time.

The most insufferable person he’ll ever meet.

He’s standing by the door that leads to one of the conference chambers - presumably where the King must be at that moment. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, snow-white hair tied behind his head. Amber eyes look at Jaskier suspiciously as he approaches.

He gives the man a curt nod and a tight smile, sighing when the guard flings an arm out, stopping Jaskier in his tracks. 

The scholar rolls his eyes for a split second, before turning to the guard. “Is there a problem, sir?”

The knight cocks his head. “Who are you?”

The scholar frowns. “I’m Jaskier. I’ve worked here for twelve years. And you are?”

“I ask the questions. What are you doing here so late?”

Jaskier sighs, rolling his eyes. “I was busy transcribing in the dungeons. It gets very hard to tell the time when there are no windows, and I accidentally worked too long. As for why I’m here, specifically, this is the shortest way to the monestary. Now who are you? I haven’t seen you before. Are you new?”

The knight clenches his jaw. “Like I said, you don’t get to ask questions. Now move along before I make you.”

Jaskier scoffs, continuing his way to the monestary. After a few steps, he stops. “You know,” he calls over his shoulder, “monks are well respected here, and I don’t think the King will appreciate it if he finds out one of his guards has been talking to a monk like that. Just something you might want to keep in mind next time.”

He looks back for a second, smirking at the glare the knight gives him, then turns back around, continuing to the monestary. 

***

They continue like that for the next few months, exchanging quips whenever they pass each other in the halls.

The knight asks him what he’s doing in that specific part of the castle, Jaskier tells him it’s none of his business and asks who he thinks he is, the knight says that Jaskier doesn’t get to ask questions, Jaskier threatens to tell the King.

Of course, he doesn’t mean a word of it. After all, it doesn’t really matter if the knight keeps asking him what he’s doing there, and it doesn’t matter that Jaskier never gets to learn his name. It shouldn’t matter, at least.

He’s started asking around for the whereabouts of the King every morning, changing the route he takes to the monestary depending on what the servants say. He’s doing it to make the days less monotone and change things up a little. He does not do it to make sure he passes the knight every evening.

And when the King is called away a few months later to France to lead their army in the war, taking the white-haired knight with him, Jaskier is not disappointed.

And when he has to move away a few years later to a different part of the country when he realizes the hairs on his head aren’t greying and there are no crows’ feet appearing at the corners of his eyes, he does not feel sad that he didn’t get the chance to see the white-haired knight again.

***

Autumn, 1605, Florence. He’s in the city library, picking book after book on the human body from the shelves, the pile in his arms growing ever higher.

197. That’s how old he is, by now, and he still doesn’t know why he’s been blessed - or cursed, depending on which day you ask him - with a long life. He’s fallen in and out of love countless of times, seeing the beauty in every person passing him by, and he’s had his heart broken twice as often. Death, sickness, growing apart - all normal things in life, but when your life is unnaturally long, those things start weighing on you.

So, five years ago, he went to Florence. He’d heard of the impressive library the Italians had collected, and he had decided that, if he wasn’t going to die a natural death, he might as well find out why.

Except he hasn’t, so far. He’s looked through these books countless of times, thumbed through the pages night after night, coming up empty-handed. There aren’t exactly many books on immortality, and the ones that he did find mostly seemed like a bunch of philosophical nonsense - nothing he could use to figure out why he was the way he was, anyways.

So, now, as he piles the same books into his arms as always, he can’t help but feel a little hopeless, and he knows he probably won’t get the answers he needs. Not anytime soon, at least, and not in Florence.

He reaches up, trying to take the last book from a high shelf, but the pile he’s carrying with the other arm wobbles dangerously, and he almost loses his footing.

Suddenly, a strong hand wraps around his upper arm, stabilizing him, another reaching over his head to grab the book for him, putting it on the pile. Jaskier turns around carefully. “Grazie-” his voice catches in his throat, as he meets the amber eyes of a silver-haired man.

“You,” he breathes out, when he recognizes him, seeing recognition in those golden eyes as well. “You’re the knight-”

The man blinks, then frowns. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He turns around, stalking away from Jaskier.

The scholar deposits the pile of books on a nearby table, ignoring the dirty glances the other scholars shoot at him for not putting them back on the shelves, as he hurries out of the library, into the afternoon sunlight.

He looks around, spotting the white-haired man weaving between the people, disappearing into an alley. 

“Hey! Wait!” Jaskier yells, running after the knight. “Wait!”

His chest is heaving by the time he catches up with the man. He grabs the knight by the wrist, forcing him to turn around. “You. I know you, you were in England,” he almost swallows his next words, bringing his voice down to a whisper, “a hundred and fifty years ago.”

The man clenches his jaw again. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Like hell you do,” Jaskier hisses back. “I know you recognize me, I know it’s you, and you know it’s me.”

The man looks around, then leans in closer to Jaskier. “Fuck off and leave me be.”

He makes a move to get away, but Jaskier grips his wrist tighter. “No! You haven’t aged a day. Why?”

He startles as the man’s other hand comes up, grabbing him by his throat, pushing him against the wall. “Keep your voice down,” the knight hisses at him, and Jaskier glares at him until he loosens his grip a bit.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“I’m not going to. Now fuck off and leave me be.” He lets go of Jaskier’s neck, stalking through the alley to the city square. 

“Wait!” Jaskier calls behind him. “What’s your name?”

The knight is long gone, disappearing into the crowd.

***

Autumn, 1718, well... wherever, really. Somewhere between Britain and America. He sighs, the slight swaying of the boat making his stomach act up, and he has to swallow a wave of nausea.

He’d heard a lot about America, heard about people finding their luck there in the new cities and large fields. It would be a new chance for Jaskier, another place for him to build a life before having to abandon it after a couple of decades, when his lack of aging starts to grow suspicious to the people around him. 

Well, at least it’ll be something new, after all these years. He’s getting tired of Europe. 

Tomorrow is his 310th birthday, he realizes, though it brings him no joy. It’s been a while since he’s celebrated his birthday, celebrated the end of another year on this cursed planet.

He’s tired, so tired. Of having to scrape together money, day in, day out, year after long year, decade after long decade, before having to take off again, leaving his life and home behind, after twenty or thirty years.

It’s been a while since he’s had any close friends or relationships of any sort. He can’t risk getting close to people he knows he’ll lose, eventually, inevitably, and he can’t risk them finding out his secret. Because they’ll either claim him insane, putting him in an asylum, or he’ll become a shiny new test subject for scientists to poke and prod at. No thank you.

So, off to America, he went. They’re expected to arrive in a week or so, and he’s looking forward to the moment he can get off this blasted ship that’s messing with his stomach so much.

He perks up as he hears a few men shouting on the top deck, and gets to his feet as he hears the loud pangs of gunfire. He reaches for his own weapon, a dagger strapped to his hip. Though, he realizes now - probably too late - that it won’t do much if someone tries to shoot him.

The door slams open, and he takes a step back, holding his meagre dagger in his shaking hand. He nearly drops it, mouth opening in confusion and realization.

“It’s you again!” he shouts, hand clenching around the hilt of his weapon. “Seriously?”

It’s the white-haired knight again, one hand on the doorknob, the other holding a gun. He looks confused and annoyed, amber eyes fixed on Jaskier. 

The scholar lowers his weapon. “You’ve really fallen far, sir. You were a knight three hundred years or so ago, and now you’re” he gestures vaguely with his hand, nose scrunching in confusion “a pirate? I really expected better from you.”

The white-haired man lowers his weapon as well. “Gotta make a living, somehow.” He shrugs. “The world doesn’t need knights anymore.” And, bless all the angels in the heavens above, he smiles. “At least I’m doing something different with my life. It seems like you haven’t evolved past ‘pansy little scholar’.”

Jaskier gasps in mock offense, laying a hand on his chest dramatically. “How dare you? I may be a pansy scholar, but I sure as hell am not little, sir knight.”

The white-haired man chuckles, rolling his eyes a bit. Footsteps barge down the stairs, and the knight turns back to one of his fellow pirates. “Just people, no valuable cargo,” he tells the other man, “let’s get out of here.”

The other pirate looks a bit confused, glancing at Jaskier. “You sure you don’t want to eliminate any witnesses?”

The knight shakes his head. “No, it’s good. He won’t talk, will he?” He looks at the scholar.

Jaskier shakes his head quickly, hands in the air. “No, won’t say a word.”

The other pirate nods, content, heading back upstairs, the knight following closely behind. Jaskier lowers his hands, eyes squeezing shut tightly. “Shite,” he mutters to himself, “I still don’t know his name.”

***

Autumn, 1915. He hadn’t wanted to go back to Europe, but he didn’t want to not serve his country in the war. So, he had gone back to England, and had enlisted to go to the front in Belgium.

The training officers command him for his fighting technique and quick learning skills, and Jaskier has to swallow back a comment about how it’s easy to pick up a thing or two about fighting when you’ve lived for 507 years.

He spots a familiar head of white hair in the trenches, but it disappears behind a cloud of mud and dirt when a shell explodes between them. After that, he can’t find the white-haired man anymore.

***

Autumn, 1941. He’s standing outside when Japanese planes fly over, dropping bombs on the ships in Pearl Harbour. He spots a familiar form with white hair on one of the ships, and he tries to shout to the knight, but he’s blown to the ground by another bomb.

After that, he has to flee. He doesn’t get the chance to search for the white-haired man between the dead, the day after.

***

Autumn, 1945. He’s sitting in a movie theatre, watching the news about the end of the war. They show the celebrations in the major cities, and Jaskier sighs in relief as he spots a broad-shouldered, white-haired man in the crowd in Times Square.

***

Autumn, 1985. He’s dancing at a club in New York, lifting his hands above his head as he lets the music flow through him. It’s always fun to discover new things after being on this mess of a planet for 577 years, really, and the ability to simply lose himself in the deep bass and steady beat of the music seems God-given, at this point.

He’s tired. Tired of the years weighing down on him, tired of not being able to get the rest he so desperately wants, tired of being pushed down by the heaviness of the ages, yet floating through the years, flitting from place to place, not being able to settle down.

It’s become so hard to hide what he is, with the upcoming digitalization and registration of everyone’s date of birth, place of birth, etcetera. He can no longer just move to a different town and call himself a different name and start a new life. It doesn’t work like that anymore, and he knows it’s only a matter of time until he’s found out, until someone realizes he’s not who he says he is.

The worries weigh down on him, so he loses himself in the music.

Someone bumps into him, and he shouts in annoyance as they spill their drink all over him. He turns around, ready to curse out whoever is so stupid enough to do this, but he freezes, mouth open slightly.

“You again?” he breathes out, and before the white-haired man can say anything, Jaskier takes him by his arm, dragging him out of the club, into the side alley. He turns back around, facing the man, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Before you say anything, what is your name?”

The knight- pirate- soldier- man furrows his brow, shaking his head slightly. “Geralt.”

Jaskier throws his hands up in exparation. “Fucking finally! Do you know how hard it is to try to find someone for 500 years when you don’t even know their name?”

Geralt frowns at him. “You’ve been trying to find me?”

Jaskier shakes his head a bit in confusion. “Yes, of course! You’re like me! You don’t age, either, do you?” Geralt shakes his head. “Exactly. I wanna know what the hell is wrong with us so I can finally just die. I’m tired of this planet.”

“I don’t know why we don’t age, though.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Jaskier leans against the wall, head in his hands. After a few moments, he lifts his face up to Geralt, who’s gone to stand in front of him. “I don’t understand. Why can’t we die? And why do we keep running into each other? It’s a small world but not that small, right?”

Geralt shrugs again. “I don’t know. All I know is that I keep seeing that pansy little scholar everywhere I go.” 

Jaskier snorts. “And I keep seeing a thick-headed old man everywhere I go.”

“I’m not old.”

“You’re 500 years old.”

“You’re 500 years old as well, what's your point?”

Jaskier laughs, shaking his head slightly. Geralt smiles back, and something ancient flutters in Jaskier’s chest, which he recognizes as the thing he had felt when he had traded insults with Geralt in the castle hall, when he had seen him again in Florence, when he had been spared on the ship, when he had seen white hair in the heat of the battle, when he had spotted him on Times Square.

He recognizes it as the thing he had felt every time their paths had crossed.

And maybe, for the first time in over 500 years, he realizes what it is. 

Love.

They both lean toward each other at the same time, lips crashing into each other, hands tangling in each other’s hair, noses brushing, breaths intertwining.

And Jaskier can’t get enough of this feeling he always gets when he’s close to Geralt, willingly loses himself in the warmth that spreads through his veins, lifting the heavy years off his tired shoulders, in the fluttering in his stomach that sets his soul alight.

They pull back after a few seconds, foreheads leaning against one another. And maybe, Jaskier realizes, suffering eternity won’t be so bad if he’s got Geralt by his side, this time around.

***

Though, he knows that won’t be necessary, when he discovers his first grey hair, fifteen years later. When he finds his first wrinkle, a few years after that.

When he finally, at last, starts seeing the effects of time appearing on his face. When he sees the lines in his love’s skin.

When their bones start creaking and aching. When their voices grow hoarse and their sight blurry.

And when they drift off to sleep in each other’s arms, sixty-four years after their first kiss, he feels perfectly at peace.

[criminally--reid]

library lovers

I h8 the title- n e ways... here's the fix that's been promised to be posted at least twice a week for the past month 😌✋🏽also if u want untagged yk who u are smsbsj lmk,, i just thought id use the anon tag so u could see it snsbsj n e ways let's get on wiv d shit show

warnings: awkward chaotic gay, general smutty stuff y'know, mutual masturbation, i’ve never written mxm fic before so yonkers :| 

word count: 2.6k

Pairing: bi!spencer x (dom-ish)male!reader 

//a.n.\\ somehow the reader ends up in charge and i kinda like it tbh. i'm shit at storylines,  but honestly,, highschool homophobe masturbating with spencer reid? Call that character development 

`°•○●○•°`

You hadn't seen Spencer in years. Remembering the terms the two of you ended on, you weren't surprised either. All throughout highschool, you were the movie-esque tormentors of the frail, nerdy kid. The bully that wasn't actually supposed to exist. The absolute nightmare that had kids like Spencer trembling, dreading to relive the same terror another day. 

Shock couldn't even begin to cover what you felt the day you watched him walk into the library you now owned. You had been working on forgetting him since graduation. Just when you thought the remnants of Spencer had dripped entirely from your memory, everything came flooding in the matter of milliseconds the moment he walked through your door. All the times you watched him eat alone, pick his things up alone after someone had thrown them out of his hands; all the times you could've stepped up and just chose not to. You promised yourself you'd be different. Now was your chance. 

You subtly watch Spencer as he looks through the many isles of books. Beginning at young adult, trailing quickly to non-fiction, and eventually ending up in the classic section. He doesn't spend much time amongst the books - 5 minutes at the most since he walked in - before bringing a stack of 6 books up to the counter; you anxiously waiting to scan him in. 

"Did- did you find all your books alright?" You manage to ask. Spencer merely nods his head, crossing his arms and bringing one of his hands up to his mouth, chewing on his fingernails. His brows furrow and you're worried he's about to say something. 

"I'm a little surprised to see you working here actually." This throws you off. You did not plan for this- this confrontation. 

"I take it you remember me?" 

"I'm not really one to forget things, you know." Fair enough. 

"Well, yes. I actually run the place now. My grandfather had passed it on to me." 

"Oh he's…? I'm so sorry for your loss." 

Spencer's look of sincerity throws you off. After all the years of you being his worst fear, he still had room in his heart to be genuinely kind towards you. 

"It's fine, really. It was so long ago now. And besides- now I have this grand, ancient bookstore." You end with a chuckle and finish scanning the barcodes in each of his books. 

"Thank you- uh actually, could you help me find something else?"

"Of course! What're you looking for?" 

"Everyone keeps recommending me Donna Tart, where could I find some of her work?" 

"Follow me," you gesture and move from behind the counter. 

You walk him over to the very back of the store where all the dark academia-esq books are. While sifting through the books, he asks you a question that catches you completely off guard; his voice nothing above a whisper. 

"And I take it that you don't still hate me-" 

You immediately know what he's talking about. How silly of you to think the past wouldn’t be brought up.  

You clear your throat before speaking up. "I- n-no of course not. I- I uh- I know this is extremely cliche, and I'm not trying to excuse away any of the horrible things I did to you but- I was hiding." 

"From what?" Spencer chimes in quietly. 

"I just didn't know how to feel about myself. Gay this and gay that- it was all so negative. I didn't want to be known for something that was apparently so wrong. I definitely couldn't let the football playing circle jerkers I called my friends know about how I felt towards other guys. An-and I saw how they treated people like you and I didn't want that, so I joined them." 

"So you're gay?" Spencer asks, and you nod slowly. "And you and your 'circle jerking buddies' tortured me because you all thought I was gay?" 

"Well- I- we uh- that's what they said. I knew it wasn't good, but I didn't do anything because of what I was. I know the word 'sorry' will never make up for anything I've ever done or said to you, but I am so so sorry, Spencer." 

"You guys just knew I was gay? -Gaydar that strong, huh?" Spencer ends in a chuckle, easing up your tension, allowing you to slip out a soft laugh, too. 

"Obviously, it wasn't too good. I somehow managed to skate by for four years." 

"That you did." For the first time in years, when you look at Spencer, he doesn't look upset. A content, lazy smile accompanies his happy eyes as he. "Well- actually, I'm not entirely gay so I guess their gaydar needed some tweeking, hm?" 

"Oh, you're-" you attempt, but get cut-off. 

"Bi? Yeah. I realized I was bi when I realized I had a crush on you and your tenth grade girlfriend. What about you?" 

Still skimming the pages of a Donna Tart book, never looking up from it. So nonchalant. Him being so upfront with you was honestly exciting. You never imagined that you'd be remotely friendly with Spencer Reid, let alone him revealing he had a crush on you. "Ah, about junior year, I figured out I kinda had a thing for you." 

"Say, uh," Spencer started, tucking his hair behind his ear and slipping the book back onto the shelf. "I liked you; you liked me. Why don't we hang out sometime or something-" 

You could tell Spencer was trying hard to mask his enthusiasm. You were too. 

"Erm- yeah totally! I get off in about an hour actually; I could call you, and we could grab coffee or something." 

"Sounds great," Spencer says hurriedly as he fishes around in his pocket, drawing out a small slip of paper and drawing the pen from his shirt pocket. He hands you the freshly used paper with his number inscribed on it in smudged black ink. 

The next hour, excitement coursed through you. You're bustling around, fidgeting, unshelving and re-shelving books, sweeping, mopping - anything to keep your mind off of the end of your shift. The busiest yet slowest hour of your life. Your shift ends and your excitement reaches its peak. Your finger hovers over the call button at the bottom of your screen, hesitating. For a split second you get the courage to press call, but then you immediately regret it - that is until his hurried, excited voice slips through the speaker. 

"Hey, y/n! It's Spencer! Uh- you know.. that.. of course. Anyways, uh there's this coffee shop about a block away from my place. I wondered if maybe you'd wanna go and have an early dinner or something." 

You can't help but chuckle at his excitement; trying to calm down your own. "That sounds great, Spencer. What's the place?" 

"Café Negra-" 

"What?!" you cut him off "I go there all the time! How have I never seen you?" 

"What? That's insane. How have we not crossed each other there?" 

"No clue.. Anyways I'll meet you there- uh about 20?" 

"Perfect." Spencer hangs up without any formal goodbyes, but you couldn't care less - you couldn't wait to meet him at the coffee shop. 

The date - which neither of you bothered to assign that title to the event, but you both knew it was, in fact, a date - went impressively well. It's like you two had never been enemies in the first place. Those four years in high school wiped clean of any hard feelings as the two of you drank coffee way too strong for 6p.m., ate double chocolate muffins, and laughed away. 

When it comes time to leave, Spencer stands up first, throwing away his cup and muffin wrapper; you follow quickly and do the same. 

A mutual agreement was somehow made to take it back to Spencer's place. Maybe it was the lack of goodbyes that he seemed prone to. Whatever it was, the evening didn't feel finished. 

Once inside his cozy apartment, he welcomes you to his couch before maneuvering to the tv stand, kneeling down and pulling out three movies. He gestures for you to choose one, and you choose Titanic. Not the greatest choice of the three, but you had a feeling you wouldn't be focused on the movie too much anyways. 

He puts the disc into the player before joining you on the couch. About twenty minutes into the movie, he moves closer to you, resting his shoulder slowly, cautiously as if asking permission. You ease his nerves by welcoming his head on your shoulder and leaning against him in return. The next half an hour is full of stolen glances, light touches, and snuggling. All innocent until Spencer slides his hand up your thigh. You try not to mind it much. Maybe he's just absentminded in all the contact. He doesn't know what he's doing. You try to focus on the movie and not on his hand getting ever so dangerously close until you just can't anymore. Looking down at him, he's already making eye contact with you, driving you wild. Instinctually you connect your lips with his. 

Spencer shuffles over and straddles your lap, never disconnecting your lips. Your hands roam around his shoulders and back before dipping underneath the hem of his shirt and pulling it off. He makes quick work of returning the favor. After a few more chaste kisses, he stands up, pulling you up with him, and pushes his pants to the floor with you following suit. Spencer places his fingers under your chin, bringing your face up to his in an attempt to place another open-mouthed kiss on your bite-swollen lips. However, you muster up a burst of courage and manage to flip the script. Placing your fingers on Spencer’s chest and holding him at arm's length, you keep eye contact while you take a seat on one end of the couch. You motion for him to take his seat at the other end. 

Spencer, still unsure of the current situation, watches you move. He watches as you run your fingertips up and down your thighs. As you wet the palm of your hand with your tongue before running it up and down your shaft. Lightly tracing your fingertips over your reddened head, hissing at the contact. 

“Your turn,” you say barely above a whisper. 

Spencer’s eyes go wide, but he still obliges, wetting his hand and repeating your actions on himself. Hissing and cursing at the contact with his eager cock. He soon gets lost in his own world of pleasure. Moving faster and moaning barely-there profanities. Watching the show, you bring your hand back to yourself. Your eyes shut as you listen to Spencer; his pretty gasps like music to your ears. 

“Y-y/n? I’m- I’m close.” 

“Awh, so soon? You sure you can’t hold on for me just a little longer?” 

Spencer lets out a strangled moan and forces himself to slow his pace. Watching him struggle to contain himself turns you on even more. His desperate whines and pleas for release getting you closer to the edge. “Look at me, bubbas,” you coax. 

Spencer looks up at you, pushing a tuft of hair from his eyes. His other hand still desperately attached to the base of his cock, awaiting further instruction. 

“Listen.. We’re gonna cum together okay?” Spencer only manages a nod in response so you continue. “I want you to move faster again; get closer. But I want you to let me know when you’re about to cum, okay?” 

You’re met with a furious nod for an answer as he works at his waist, bringing himself closer to his climax; you simultaneously doing the same.

“F-fuck fuckfuckfuck! -M gonna cum. Shit! I’m cumming!” Spencer's cries of pleasure send you over the edge and you both spill over together. Your head dips back over the armrest of the couch as you try to catch your breath. You bring your head back up and look at Spencer, only to see him leaning sideways against the back of the couch, still out of breath and coates in a layer of sweat. 

“Why don’t we go get cleaned up, hm?” 

Spencer nods his head in agreement before getting up off the couch and leading you to the bathroom. You definitely aren’t going home tonight.  

[fuwafuwamedb]

The Mummy (Mummy AU) (Hakuno, Enkidu, Shinji)

Glimmering golds, stones upon stones, gems that gleamed from glass cases and were lit up with the carefully screwed in bulbs from various small lights; the room held an eerie suspense. The walls themselves had been carefully painted above the waist high trim, adorned in the loving works of the ancient peoples that had once stood upon these lands.

Each step deeper and deeper into the room brought one further and further away from the large flickering lights that hung outside the room. It brought one deeper between the dark shelves filled to the edges with texts and maps. Various parchments showed wear and tear. Some were stained with the blood of those whom had delved deep into this world of obsession and glory.

Her fingers ran over the pages in loving respect. Her feet carried her further and further into the distance, away from the lights and towards the precious crates of the next room.

The light overhead here would only work during the most inopportune of times. No matter how many times the light was switched or the wires were redone, this room just here would never be lit. It eluded the light of man just as it eluded the light of the sun and the gods.

The light flickered back and forth.

Over and over, it showed the jars, standing in a row. It showed the blackened tar, sealing them shut. She had seen so many like them. So very many jars just like them, but they had always been of ivories and precious clays. Never had she seen such jars look like this.

Why were they sealed in this manner?

Her hands reached forth, reaching for the opportunity to hold them and investigate them. She wanted to know what secrets lay within. She wanted to be able to resolve the mysteries they contained.

Yet, it felt like they were still so far.

Countless writings and artifacts stood between her and them.

Stepping into this room…

No, standing amongst these precious pieces of another life…

It is my duty to learn the truth.

She had to learn the truth.

Just a bit further.

Just a bit more…

“…Hakuno.”

With reading the jars, she would be able to know the person whom they contained the essence of. She would be able to go forth and find the sarcophagus and reveal them to their people. They would be reborn, alive through the hearts and minds of thousands of visitors to museums and-

“HAKUNO!”

Hakuno jumped in the air, feeling someone jab her side. Her shriek was met with the groan of the man nearby, his arms crossing.

“Falling asleep in the library! And you call yourself a librarian!”

“Shinji,” Hakuno rubbed at her side, wincing at the pain. “I thought you were off on an expedition.”

“I will be soon enough!” The man smirked, holding up his official documents. “I’ve gotten Leo and Twice to agree to fund the trip.”

Her eyes read over the contract, widening as she read along the page.

Half payments up front, all costs paid by Leo and Twice. What’s more, the two were going to see that the artifacts were-

She froze.

The funders will decide the resting place of all artifacts found. Based upon the value of these artifacts, a generous donation will be given to Shinji Matou in accordance. So long as Mr. Matou does not attempt to seek further funding for these items, the museum will also be given a .5% fraction of his donation on a yearly basis.

.5%?!

“SHINJI!”

“Ah, don’t bother me!” The man shoved her back, banging her against the desk lightly. “You’re nothing more than the secretary for this place anyway. Shouldn’t you be daydreaming or something? Don’t you have books to rearrange or documents to translate for the real field workers?”

Real expedition historians and librarians needed to be translating their own works!

Hakuno could feel her fists curl at the thought of this idiot going out there into the field with those long time scholars. How many bridges would he burn out there? How much of a fool would he make them all out to look like.

“Shinji, about my application,” she followed. She had to follow after him. She needed- no she simply required this chance. No one else was given the opportunity. She’d seen Rin and Rani transfer to cleaning artifacts in other museums. Hell, Rin had gone all the way to the frigid top of the world to the lands west of England to avoid this stress.

But she couldn’t abandon what was her chance to get closer to her blood’s origin. She simply had to dig through the soils of Egypt and what had once been Sumer eventually.  

“Shinji!”

“I’m not going to ask,” the man practically sang. “What use is there in a woman joining the crew? Don’t you know that the scholars find it to be bad luck?”

Bad-

Oh that loathsome toad!

“ARE YOU TELLING THEM THOSE SUPERSTITIONS AGAIN?”

Oh but she was going to kill him.

She’d use one of the wands in the room and stick it up his nose, swirling it around and trying to find whatever brain matter was remaining in that useless head of his!

She would! This time, she knew for certain that he was conspiring with the scholars and the funding groups! He was making it so she was trapped in these rooms forever! Unable to even publish a bloody article!

Her hands were just about on him when the door opened.

“Kishinami!”

SHIT.

Hakuno paused, glancing over to the man entering the room. Shinji ducked behind him, shaking his head.

“The woman’s gone entirely hormonal. What does one expect-“

“Leave us.”

Twice’s command was instant, earning a nod before Shinji was gone.

Taking one look around, the man sighed.

In her great efforts to slaughter Shinji, she’d forgotten why she had been assigned to this room. The toppled bookshelves from her earlier attempts at organizing were still lying in a mess. She still had no idea how to fix them either, since they weren’t exactly the lightest shelves.

Damn you, Shinji.

It was his fault. It was always his fault.

“I want this room spotless before you leave,” Twice informed her. “And, should I see you bother a newfound scholar again-“

“Scholar?!”

“Matou has shown a great proclivity for reading the Egyptian,” Twice informed her. “His talents for that were only exceeded by his reading of Sumerian. The articles he had on the pharaoh, Ozymandias were both enlightening and in great depth about his affection for his first wife, Nefertari.”

His…

He stole my papers.

Her blood was freezing in place. Her mind revolving around the revelation.

Not only was he getting the field work offer, not only was he getting the overarching goal that she’d been seeking by doing that field work; Shinji had gotten into her bedchambers in her own home and had stolen her articles that she’d been writing for her resubmission to become a scholar. All of the efforts she’d agonized and starved over, all the nights of persuading her precious adopted sibling into helping her hide and write her articles…

Twice left.

He simply closed the door on her pains and her distraught nature and left her to mourn all that hard effort.

“Women are so insane,” Shinji was saying outside the door. “My companions from another trip have found some artifacts. We believe we can find the pathway to Hamunaptra.”

“The city of the dead?”

“That’s the one!” Shinji was laughing. “Come have a drink with me. My companions should be finishing their drinks about now.”

You bastard.

That absolute bastard.

What was she going to do now? She could transfer, but…

Something shifted from one of the smaller sarcophagi nearby.

She must have imagined it. Why would she hear something from them?

Her attention turned to the documents nearby, beginning to at least pile them up nicely. It would take a while, but she could perhaps persuade once of the gentlemen who would wander back later tonight to straighten the bookshelves back up.

Or perhaps her brother…

More scratches.

Hakuno glanced back at the ancient artifact, her eyes drifting over the lid.

Perhaps a bug or-

The lid shifted.

I need one of the scholars…

No. That would only humiliate her more. Better to die at the hands of a mummy than have to face more humiliation. She could-

The lid slid down further. She could see bandages, old and tattered, attached to darkened fingers. They were so tightly wrapped.

“GAH!”

She shrieked, a split second sound that was followed by throwing her hands filled with paperwork at the idiot.

“ENKIDU!”

Her brother laughed, climbing out of the artifact and looking around.

“You idiot! You scared the hell out of me!”

“Well, at least you’re left with the good bits,” Enkidu yawned. “I was waiting to hear noises, but I guess I fell asleep in there. The company’s a real bag of bones.”

That wasn’t funny.

Why do I find them funny?

“Hmm?” Enkidu leaned forward, their green hair cascading over their shoulder. “Is something wrong? Don’t tell me the scholars turned you down again.”

“Worse.”

She didn’t want to explain. She couldn’t. Her poor pride, what little she’d acquired over so long a period of time, was in shambles.

“Are they mad about you not having field experience still?”

“It’s more than that,” Hakuno sighed. “Help me with the shelves, will you? I knocked them down earlier and the curator is still mad at me.”

“Ah, Twice is twice the fool if he doesn’t realize your potential.” Enkidu moved over to the shelving, beginning to slowly right them one by one. Their movements were so lively, so chipper compared to her mood. If only she could get away with getting up to as much trouble as her sibling and somehow managing to be able to hold her head as high and her dignity in place.

I have no dignity, they would tell her.

She rather doubted that.

“I would need something truly revolutionary in order to become a scholar now,” Hakuno told them, picking up papers in mass from the floor and stacking them. Tomorrow she could see about organizing them. It was her day off, sure, but she could spare the time.

“Oh yeah?”

She nodded.

Only a find of enormous value would get her in good with those old fools.

To do that though, she’d need funding. Trips didn’t fund themselves. Either that, or she’d need someone she could trust to travel with her and her brother, if they could persuade the being to leave this watering hole of a city. It would take far more than some ancient writing to get Enkidu out of Cairo.

“Hakuno.”

Her sibling leaned over her, smiling proudly.

“Tell me you love me.”

She closed her eyes, smiling despite it all.

“I love you so much,” she told them. “I love you more than the pharaohs of this land loved their children and their people. You’re my precious being and there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you… and you know that very well, don’t you?”

Her lips pressed against their cheek.

“So who was it that you pissed off this time?”

There was only one reason that the being would be enacting their love demands like this and that was: they’d done something that needed the other’s assistance.

“Who says I did anything?” Enkidu shrugged, backing a couple paces away. “Old dusty butt and I were just mingling for a while since you were catching a nap at the desk and then before that I had a drink-“

“Enkidu,” Hakuno drawled.

“I did gamble a bit,” they confessed. “But if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have gotten you such a beautiful, lovely gift!”

“A gift?”

The being pulled the object from their pocket, holding it up for her.

The strange octagon shape was-

“This is a keystone!”

Hakuno beamed at the sight, pulling it from the being’s grasp and looking over the fine edges.

“A keystone?” Enkidu moved forward. “What are you unlocking with that? Jewels? Gold? Rich tablets we could sell and live on an island somewhere?”

“Better.”

She set the thing down on the table, motioning for Enkidu to lend a little more of a hand by picking up more of the papers. They were so fast at working. It really kind of made a mockery of her attempts to clean up her mess.

Tonight, she’d make dinner and draw them a bath as thanks.

For now though, she had her gift to investigate.

The keystone was engraved with warnings not to use it. Standard issue, she thought to herself. They were so fickle about leaving their mummies in tombs, but that would not help immortalize them. It wouldn’t let the people have the chance to admire them.

No, these things were made because they’d known they would be ignored.

“AH HA!”

The keystone clicked, showing a bit of papyrus rolled up inside.

Her hands pulled the paper out, feeling Enkidu wrapping their arms around her and leaning over her shoulder. She could see the directions about using the stone. The details about…

“This talks about Hamunaptra!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Enkidu!” Hakuno beamed at them. “This would resolve everything!”

Gods, but she could kiss her sibling for this! She peppered their cheeks endlessly as they laughed and shook their head.

“Alright alright! Where do we go? I can get us a boat and some horses-“

“We need to find the person who found this. I want to know where they got it.”

Enkidu tensed.

“Once we know where they had been, we can go forth and find either more artifacts leading to Hamunaptra or we can find the city itself! It won’t take long. I can take my vacation days and we can do this right!”

Field experience!

Artifacts!

Being a scholar and being able to show people the great histories of the world!

Sumer!

“Ah… Hakuno.”

“Hmm?” Right. First, they needed to talk to the fellow that Enkidu had gambled with. It wouldn’t take long, maybe five minutes? Ten?

“The ah… The authorities may have been carting the man I got this from out of the bar last night.”

“That’s alright.”

It wouldn’t be difficult to speak to someone behind bars. She could even put some money forth for their bail if she really like he was helping them.

“Tell me you love me?”

“Enkidu…”

What on earth was wrong with them?

How badly had this fool gotten into trouble?

[mobius-prime]

124. Sonic the Hedgehog #71

Heeeyyy, is that a pair of green eyes I see up there? Have we finally reached the issue where Sonic's eyes become his trademark green? Guess we'll have to dive into this "strangest issue ever" to find out…

In the Beginning…

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Art Mawhinney Colors: Barry Grossman

Hey, why is the secondary story being told first? Hm…

Amy has led Tails to the same part of town she and Dulcy explored several issues ago, when they looked around the Mobotropolis Library for Kirby books. Tails is a bit nervous, but Amy excitedly leads him inside, and happily greets a Mobian dog sitting on the floor surrounded by books. But who is this person?

So yeah, no telling how this guy somehow survived ten years inside Robotnik's own city without being captured, or how he kept the library in such pristine condition since then, but as you may have guessed this is the guy who made the noises - accidentally, due to creaky doors - that scared Amy and Dulcy off the first time. But now, in the intervening time, Amy has returned and made friends with him, and has been getting access to all sorts of Kirby books to read. Tails takes the book Jeremiah is holding and discovers it to be a book of the history of Mobius, which Jeremiah claims his grandfather had been working on right up until Robotnik seized power. He doesn't bother going into the issue of, say, whether Kirby is even still alive after the war, but Tails jumps right into the book, reading it aloud for Amy to enjoy as well. In the beginning of time, life evolved after a meteor struck the planet, eventually branching off into different species. The most advanced of them all was apparently the echidna, because even when Kenders isn't working on his own pet sister series, he still has to make the echidnas, like, the best ever. One day, a squirrel named Alexander decided he wanted to unite every Mobian species to advance knowledge together and build a stronger society. The only ones who refused him were the echidnas, who went off to build their own society, and the Overlanders, who were too violent and acted with aggression when offered this choice. However, with nearly every other species agreeing, the building of a kingdom began…

This oddly seems to conflict with the history of Mobotropolis we were given just a few issues ago, where it was stated that it was built to commemorate Nate inventing ring technology and bringing the kingdom out of the medieval era. I mean, I suppose the beginning of the Acorn line could have coincided with the construction of Mobotropolis, but it seems odd, then, that Nate would have been omitted from such an important piece of history. It would also basically make King Max only the second Acorn king ever, since Nate was essentially an adopted uncle to him, which incidentally also makes the king's line about Sally being the "first female Acorn" to be immersed in the Source of All kind of silly if there were only two males before her. Even more ridiculously, this simply would not leave enough time for the echidnas, after rejecting the offer of multiculturality, to go off and found Albion, split off, build Echidnaopolis, raise the Floating Island, and go through like six hundred more years of history with the Brotherhood of Guardians before reaching the present day. Honestly, I think this is just a genuine continuity mistake, but it's not really a big deal, as one could suppose that, say, Mobotropolis was merely rebuilt to the standards of modern technology when Nate arrived. This is somewhat supported by Tails' next line, which references the beginning of the Great War with the Overlanders… dun dun duuuunnn!

And now is when I add the title, writer, penciller, and colorist for the next story, right? R-right?

Oh, we're just jumping right into it, are we? Well okay then. Sonic indeed has his green eyes now, as well as shoe buckles which are important to Sally for whatever reason, but we don't even know the story behind it. Well, we were promised a bizarre issue, and we're getting one - this entire story is told in reverse! We essentially have to follow the events backwards to figure out what caused everything we're seeing. So jump backwards twenty minutes before the above page, and everyone in Mobotropolis is celebrating that the energy beam that was about to destroy reality has vanished, with Nate crediting Sonic using his speed, along with a super emerald. Sally, in Knothole, feels woozy, but then reasons that if she's woozy, she's alive, which must mean Sonic succeeded. Uh… succeeded in what, though?

Sonic essentially starts pulling a Superman-style time reversal, running insanely fast around and around the entire globe, which begins to force him into shifts of alternate forms - first Super Sonic, then Ultra Sonic from when he fought Naugus. Then, passing through the desert near Sand-Blast City, he begins to experience never-before-seen forms, beginning with Solar Sonic, which turns him a brownish-orange. In the Southern Tundra, he becomes Polar Sonic with white-blue fur, and in the Great Rainforest he turns into Eco-Sonic. The glowing time-beam, which he is attempting to attract to him with his speed, turns and begins to follow him, and before he can get away from it, it strikes him…

Back to thirty minutes prior! Sonic is in Mobotropolis, staring at the beam from the palace along with Nate and the king. The beam is focused on Knothole, causing it to slowly shift back to its proper place within the flow of time. However, if left unchecked, the beam will eventually screw up time all over the planet, destroying it. Sonic asks Nate how they'll handle it, and he suddenly pulls out, presumably from his own anal cavity since it's never addressed where he was keeping this giant thing, a white Super Emerald.

Back up ten minutes! Sonic has just broken through the time barrier around Knothole separating it from the rest of the world, but Sally, to his surprise, isn't with him. He tries to head back in through the Great Oak Slide to find her, but the slide is glowing so brightly - three times more brightly than when he entered - that he doesn't want to risk blindness. Instead, he races off to Mobotropolis to find help.

Rewind eight minutes, and Sally and Sonic have just entered Knothole. Everything within is incredibly bizarre, and things seem to be moving backwards, even people's speech.

Just in case you have trouble reading backwards, by the way, Jules is saying "Where on Mobius is our son, Bernie? He's been avoiding us for weeks now," to which Bernie responds "I'm sure he'll communicate with us when he's ready, Jules, my darling," which is totally how people talk to each other. Sonic and Sally, realizing that time is even more messed up here than it already was before with the whole three-hours-ahead thing, try to leave the village so they can find out what's going on, but the odd glow surrounding them, somehow protecting them from the backwards flow of time, also prevents them from interacting with anything in the area, including the Great Oak Slide. Sonic gets a crazy idea of how to escape anyway - just go through the time barrier!

Well now we know why he was surprised that Sally wasn't with him before, but say, what was happening ten minutes before now? Well, Sonic and Sally were sliding down the Great Oak Slide, of course! It's filled with a blinding yellow light, which Sonic reasons must be connected to the bright light he saw a few minutes ago. What bright light? Well, going back seven minutes should give us the answer! Sally and Sonic are walking around in the forest, discussing his previous disobedience of the king's order not to go after Nate. Sally reassures him that her father wasn't actually angry, just had to keep up appearances, and after a brief discussion of Queen Alicia's static state and Dr. Quack's continued efforts to find a cure for her, the topic turns to Sonic's own parents, and how Sally thinks he hasn't been spending enough time with them as they've been worried about him. Sonic, somewhat stunned, realizes she's right, and claims he "still hasn't got this parent thing figured out yet," which is… honestly really sad. Remember, this kid, since he was five, believed that his parents were dead, and not long after that lost the only other person he could see as a parent figure when Uncle Chuck was captured and roboticized. He's been so long without real parents that now that he suddenly has both his mom and dad back, he has no idea how to really interact with them. Their conversation is suddenly interrupted, however, by a flash of light from the entrance to Knothole…

Back to fifteen minutes ago, and Sonic, Elias, and the Secret Service have just returned to Mobotropolis, bringing Nate with them safe and sound. Despite Elias and Sonic sharing a broment together over their success, the king chews them out for jumping into danger despite his orders.

Well, the only unanswered question we have now is - where did the time beam come from that almost destroyed everything? The answer comes, of course, in the form of another satellite sequence which happened fifty-nine minutes earlier, with an O-SAT unit activating, focusing on the planet's surface, and ominously firing.

Because this issue is so confusing when read backwards (although I do admit to liking the dramatic effect it creates, especially with the final page showing the satellite firing), I'll just summarize in chronological order what happened, just in case anyone's head is reeling. While Sonic, Elias, Nate and the others were on their way back from West Robotropolis, the satellite fired a time beam towards the surface. The king ordered Sally to escort Sonic back to Knothole, where they witnessed a beam of light emit from the entrance. After entering, time was running backwards, and they attempted to escape to figure out the cause, but only Sonic managed to get out. He ran to Mobotropolis for help, where Nate concocted a plan to use Sonic's speed along with a Super Emerald to attract the beam to him instead. Sonic was hit by the beam, and as Knothole resumed an ordinary flow of time, Sonic's appearance changed to include buckles on his shoes and green eyes. Somehow, no negative effects came of this, and everyone lived happily ever after including Sonic, unfazed by his new form. Funnily enough, Sonic is the only character they bothered concocting a story for to explain how his eyes changed from black to green. Every other classic-styled character from the games who started with the black eyes just randomly, without any fanfare whatsoever, starts to develop colorful eyes as the issues progress, as we've already seen happening intermittently with Tails and Knuckles. I guess since Sonic is the main character, he gets special treatment? Eh, doesn't really matter. Oh, and of course, we've forgotten one more thing - the title and credits that were missing from the beginning of the story, but appeared on the final page in keeping with the whole reverse theme! I'll just go ahead and reprint them here exactly as they're spelled out in the issue itself…

Colors: odrailgaG knarF Pencils: reltuB nevetS Writer: srelloB lraK

Retro Activity

Oh, yeah. They went there.

[lannpaige-blog]

So, I saw The List was getting a few notes again and I wanted to talk about some stuff related to it because there’s a lot to unpack and I wanted to vent. I haven’t actually vented about this outside talking about it to friends and that one story, so I thought this was a good time to write out my feelings, mainly because I feel like it relates to some of the things I talked about in personal posts.

At the beginning of February, I went through what could possibly be described as the worst break-up I have ever experienced. I say “possibly” only out of habit. The truth is everything about the break-up sucked from the time I knew that it was a possibility until, well, now.

Let me explain.

When I had a blog on here before under a different username, I met a girl. This girl and I hit it off when she started talking to me. You know, as it happens when two people like similar things. But this girl liked me, a lot. She would send anon messages to me about how much she loved me and I, eventually, started to like her back when we started talking more. Eventually, I asked her out and she said yes! Score!

The relationship only lasted five months. The first two of those months were great, mainly because it was long distance. The last three months, she moved in with some family near my place, and suddenly the relationship became a mess for so many reasons. Some of that was my fault, in particular in the last month when I was emotionally focused on problems in my life to an obsessive degree. There were other issues that happened due to things I said or did. We’ll get back to this. But I was not entirely at fault. That wouldn’t be fair to say given that there are always two people in a relationship. And, let’s be honest, this isn’t the kind of story that ends well.

So, all of January was, in no uncertain terms, awful. Family dog died, I got injured at work, was forced to leave my job because they refused to provide accommodations for said injury (I will rant about this too if given the chance I am still heated even though I’ve gotten another much better job since then), and I ended up being an emotional, depressed, anxious mess. Again, emotionally checked out. By the end of the month, I realized “oh shit, I’ve been a fucking terrible girlfriend”, and messaged my girlfriend, apologized, told her I’d make it up to her, and started looking for full-time jobs that would provide me health insurance so I could get all this mental health crap figured out. I wanted this relationship to work, after all, so I needed to work on me so I could be there for her.

She responds with, “Yeah, we need to talk.”

Now, admittedly, I could have handled this better. But it was a Tuesday when she sent this and she absolutely refused to talk to me until we could speak in person. She said she couldn’t do that until Saturday because of work. I begged her to talk to me before that, even online, because I wanted to have the conversation, but she kept saying that she wanted to have it in person even though it was causing me massive anxiety. She already knew I had, and still have, depression and anxiety. We have talked about this before. But she still refused. She wanted to have the conversation on her terms no matter what mental pain that caused me.

Wednesday to Friday was basically torture for me. I barely ate, I didn’t sleep a lot, I didn’t talk to people, I just existed in this nauseated stream of anxiety until, finally, Saturday came along and I went to meet her for breakfast.

We agreed to meet at a place that ended up being really busy. She didn’t want to have the conversation there. So we ate, she paid for my breakfast, and we went next door to a Dillion’s that had a dining area which, thankfully, was empty. We sat at a corner table - I across from her - and then she decides to start.

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a list.

I want to explain that she has a terrible memory, so there is a chance she believed that she wouldn’t get to say what she wanted if she didn’t have this list in front of her. But, like the story I wrote, that list was printed, bullet pointed, and four fucking pages long. She didn’t have a printer at her house, so what did she do? She went to the library and printed it. And when I say “the library”, I don’t mean a library close to her house. She went out of the way to go to the library close to where we were meeting for breakfast, a library she had to get directions for, to do this.

Anyway, so asked me to sit there in silence while she read it so she could get through it. I sat there and listened to her read off this list and provide examples for an hour and a half. I just sat there. I thought if I took it, the relationship could work out and I could be a better girlfriend.

Now, I want to say that some of the things on the list weren’t about me. Some of them were about her. She didn’t tell me when I did things that made her feel bad, was the main thing. She wasn’t honest with me in the five months we were together. I never did anything to make her super uncomfortable, but there were times I pissed her off and she never told me. That little “here’s what she did” part of the list was maybe fifteen minutes of that hour and a half. The rest of it was her picking apart everything I’d done wrong, what personality things she didn’t care for, what interests got in the way, certain quirks that she felt “got in the way”, and, worst of all, my relationship with my parents.

And I sat there and took all of it. I listened. I was so patient. I said nothing.

She gets to the last page, the final five minutes, and goes, “We have different end goals and I’m asexual so I want to break up.” Then she puts the list face down, looks at me, and says, “I need to make sure you’re okay before I leave so I want you to talk about your feelings.”

By the time she finished, there were people in the diner. I didn’t want her to cause a scene if I got up and left because I’m too nice and didn’t want the attention. So what did I do? I fucking sat there and talk to her about some semblance of my feelings.

For. Four. Hours.

In truth, I didn’t know what I was feeling. I was so stunned my emotions couldn’t be processed. So I just tried to come up with something to talk about. Eventually I was able to convince her I was fine. In truth, I have no idea what I told her. I don’t remember any of the conversation. I just remember being absolutely crushed and assumed it was just the break-up.

When I did finally leave and get a chance to talk to someone about it, I talked to my mother, and she was furious. This was the first time I realized that what I went through wasn’t okay. Every single person I talked to after that was also pissed for me. Some of them even wanted her contact information so they could go off. I refused, of course. I wouldn’t do that.

Now, months later, I realize it’s a lot more than that.

As I mentioned before, I got a new job. I am now terrified of really connecting to my coworkers. And I have a new blog, here, and I am terrified of talking to anyone on here too, even though I have been. It wouldn’t be fair to expect another list like this, especially since a lot of the reblogs that story has gotten have been “wow that list is shitty” or something to that effect. But my mind refuses to believe this won’t happen again. Now I’m waiting for it. It’s like an inevitability.

In addition, this girl still wanted to be friends. She messaged me a few times early on. I messaged her twice and told her I wasn’t ready. The last message she sent me was on my birthday, February 22nd, and I haven’t responded. Her birthday just passed. I debated on whether or not I should message her all day, and then decided not to.

I don’t know if I can trust her again. And because of what she did, I’m having a hard time trusting all the new people I’m interacting with, online and offline. I just want to be friendly and loving and give my all to these new communities I’m a part of, this fandom included, but the amount of fear associated with that break-up, that list, is absolutely insane. I got into this fandom in the first place because I needed an escape from the emotional turmoil I was in and found Thomas Sanders’s YouTube channel via his Instagram. Now I’m afraid to interact in the fandom because of the very break-up that brought me here in the first place.

It’s a goddamn mess.

And now I feel like I should apologize and I’m on the verge of tears and I just... I don’t know, I need something? Words? Assurances? A hug? I’m not sure. But I have a need.

[hindbodes]

The Floods: Lost ...its structural integrity somewhere back there

Colin Thompson has been a great illustrator for children’s books, and occasionally a very neat author. But don’t let that cloud your judgement, because this novel is exactly as bad as it looks. The illustrations here certainly aren’t his best work, but lately they have been his only work, as his art style has morphed into this flat, computer-generated collage of photos and gritty rubber humans.

By the time it was over, this book put into me more than four instances of something in the narrative being overpowered, at least one pretty big continuity error, numerous typos, and even that thing the author sometimes does where he uses the wrong name to address a character. It also, of course, had the usual Belgian racism, because Colin Thompson still hates Belgian people for some reason.

If you’re not familiar with The Floods, it’s a gross children’s novel series about these morally dubious witches and wizards - a family - who do gross and sometimes epic shit, with very few reality-limitations put in place. I’ve been following it for quite some time.

Within the first two pages of the main story of Lost, Colin Thompson abruptly establishes that two of the main characters - and I’ll get back to you on how “main characters” is a weird concept in this series - got married and had a kid, who not only was very developed for a baby, but could literally talk in every word of the English language within a month of birth. Which is something that I expect by the next book to become another thing Colin Thompson completely forgets.

The book is about two women, Edna and Maldegard, keeping themselves occupied by traveling all over the country of Transylvania Waters and giving streets, towns, and mountains their own names. Because there weren’t any before. Which concerns me. I don’t recall the third-book-prequel having no names for anything, and I hope I just didn’t notice. In short, they’re mapping Transylvania Waters for the first time.

One thing I’m quite grateful for is that sometimes Colin Thomspon does designate things that The Floods are incapable of. The list is short, but the things that are on it really help. One of them is this thing in The Floods: Lost where Winchflat is super powerful at creating technology and can make a machine for anything, but there’s a really bizarre shack in the middle of a courtyard that he can’t penetrate or even use X-rays to look into. It’s one of the more Douglas Adamsian parts of CT’s bibliography. One time a paper booklet in a library told me that if you’re looking for more authors like Douglas Adams, try Eoin Colfer or Colin Thompson. The way I see it is more “Eoin Colfer is the poor man’s Douglas Adams, and Colin Thompson is the very poor man’s Eoin Colfer. Colin Thompson is also a very rich man’s surreal weirdo and therefore quite often worth it”.

Colin Thompson has a serious problem with “show, don’t tell”. I know that sounds crazy, because of how this is a book and “that’s how books work”, but I assure you that Colin Thompson still manages to abuse saying what happened instead of describing events like they’re actually happening. The last four Colin Thompson novels I read felt like almost the entire thing was a timelapse of seasons passing, and things end up being incredibly dialogue-driven.

100 pages of saying what happened later, interesting events in the story start to happen. There seem to be a number of villains in this sequel, and an asshole shapeshifter who’s in the form of a house, with a downright cannibalistic monster wife of his who he wants freed from prison, is the first one to make an appearance.

I don’t want to spoil how they take this man down, but it’s partly redundancies in writing and partly some pretty funny ideas that didn’t end up fully-fledged in my opinion. It sounds like a spoiler that I reveal he’s disguised as a house, but don’t worry, the book makes it incredibly obvious before telling the audience the reveal about four paragraphs later.

While that’s going on, there’s this subplot about how Mordonna and Nerlin, the parents, are trying to set up parliament in Transylvania Waters, to give the illusion to tourists that the country is a democracy or something. They live as kings and queens in a castle, and it’s not, but that will become clearer soon.

For some reason, CT goes ahead and chooses nerds as the acceptable target for narrator’s abuse, and the minor characters for the role of trying to set up a political party of the people.

Colin Thompson makes a pretty good point about how parliament sucks, especially when he says it’s because one party spends 3 or 6 years doing one thing, and then somebody else gets voted in and spends the same amount of time doing the opposite, but I don’t think the scene where Mordonna’s seven grotesque children suddenly walk in and get rollcalled just to form a bigger political party - The Royal Party - than the nerds’ one so that the nerds don’t get to have any say, sets a better precedent for the future. These characters? Well, the Floods are a pretty established large family, but they only used to get the spotlight. Nowadays, Colin Thompson always pushes his original main characters out of the spotlight, and other characters become “main” characters, purely as a freak accident. The book doesn’t give a single line to Valla or Merlinmary.

After the shapeshifter thing is resolved, the next villains are all Winchflat’s fault. Using a bunch of bones they found, this overpowered joke of a scientist character uses his cloning machines to bring fossilized creatures back from the extinction of time. Somehow, they are developed and aware enough to function in this new world quite quickly, not going into shock from the changes made to the world or having to relearn the alphabet.

First, Winchflat brings back an intelligent chicken, who starts a conversation with Winchflat. Of course this means Colin Thompson is gonna throw down that Ethel reference, because he sure loves his Chicken Named Ethel. He also brought back a whole bunch of regular chickens, oddly enough.

Basically, the chicken Ethel has delusions of grandeur and wants to be the rightful leader of everything in sight. This is a pretty funny prospect, but if the joke was handled right, it would still be spoiled by the overdose of characters-finding-it-funny-themselves-and-laughing. So I guess it wasn’t handled right then...

Naturally, the chicken gets totally dominated by The Floods, because of course it did. That’s how it works. Winchflat’s next mistake is to bring a four headed accountant - homo calculus - back to life, which actually ends up being a lot scarier than one would expect.

Good Stuff, Bad Stuff

This book isn’t perfect, but there’s at least one thing in there that considerably had an effect on me when I read it. I’ve already said a lot of bad stuff about this book. There is good stuff in it. I will tell you that thing.

As it turns out, that four-headed accountant from the pre-historic ages that Winchflat reanimated wasn’t just a joke about how “accountants suck” but actually something quite sinister, even bringing up a few dark implications about how the world used to be.

The creature’s name is Fiscal Matters, or just Fiscal. He has four bald heads, a cut moustache on each one, and pairs of glasses. Kinda looks like a caveman. His complusion is to count things, regardless of the value of what he’s counting. All homo calculus do that, and earlier on it’s said that many species went extinct because this behaviour bored them to death.

Winchflat talks to Fiscal for a bit, and then some pretty scary revelations happen. First, Fiscal thinks Winchflat is a servant to him, because apparently in the past, all witches and wizards were servants to his race. You can only wonder what kind of batshit insane forces were powerful enough to subdue the race that Winchflat comes from, but anyway...

Fiscal, second, wants Winchflat to open the strange room in the middle of the courtyard. You know, the weird one that Winchflat can’t open. Winchflat tells him about that, but then Fiscal says “I know how to open it.” So whatever’s in that crazy fucking shed, Fiscal knows what it is and wants to get in. It’s made worse by the fact that Fiscal Matters is getting increasingly aggressive with his “servant”.

The last one is that inside the weird room is a thing called The Ark of the Incontinent. The book never reveals exactly what it is, what it looks like, or how it got its name, but Fiscal wants to go in there so he can contact the rest of his species in outer space. They’re still alive and out there.

The resolution to this arc is pretty anticlimactic, but still unsettling. Basically, after Winchflat tells Fiscal to stay there and not open the door so he can walk away and consult his family, he gets back to find Fiscal counting stones on the shack. Counting how many stones are in the wall is the only way to access The Ark of the Incontinent, and Fiscal can’t, because the amount of stones changed over time and there’s no longer as many in the wall as there are supposed to be.

By the end of the book, Fiscal is still there. He’s still counting, and still hasn’t got into the shack. The Flood family just leaves him to his own devices, and feels perfectly secure about letting somebody with membership of an advanced, dangerous race keep trying to open the one doorway to contacting that race and unleashing war on the planet. Mordonna messes with Fiscal by changing the amount of stones in the walls randomly every now and then, but I think you can imagine how eventually that might turn out to be a bad idea. The probability involved sounds very dangerously high to me.

Lost

Guys... I don’t know. I have been reading this book series for a very long time, and wonder sometimes why I put so much effort into it. I always tell myself “this book will be the last one I read” but it never sticks. I guess I just still think there’s something in there that’s entertaining for me, and maybe there is. I don’t know if I want to continue reading until the very last book or not.

Bottom line is, it’s SBIG. SBIG at best, really. You read what I said up there, you know what’s wrong with it. And I think previous Floods books were better. But lately, as I finished reading this book, I’ve felt more interested in reading the next one. Colin Thompson finally gave continuity nods to things like The Knights Intolerant, which is a really big step forward for this series and means future books might have something I want to read. Read the book if you must, but I’ve been down the path of reading a sequel book before reading its pre-books. It doesn’t go well.

Your alternative is to read 9 big-text-novels until your quest to read the comedically-bad Lost pays off, but I think you have to be a pretty big Colin Thompson fanperson to want to do that. You either read one book in the middle and feel confused, or you read all of them in order and feel disappointed.

You know, fuck it. I’ve been told that books will set you free, and my eyesight and quota-for-consuming-fiction aren’t getting any better - I should just borrow the next book. I should borrow The Floods 11 and do something with my time that involves entering a weird and fantastical story. No more days of nothing but videogames, browser feeds and let’s plays...

[braindamageforbeginners]

Stories

So, i originally had a much more ambitious post planned (and mostly-written) last night. Tumblr ate it. I spent most of today recreating it, Tumblr ate that, too, when I went to a writing workshop earlier this evening; I’ll get it to you guys very shortly, in the meantime...

Previously, I’ve discussed the difference between intentions and outcome (and why that’s crucial to cancer patients), and why tangible help and competence beats intent, hands-down, all the time. One could make a compelling case that tangible help actually reveals your intent.

HOWEVER, I remembered an anecdote from my own alma mater. I went to a tiny liberal-arts school you’ve never heard of (it had less than 1000 students), in the back-woods of Southern Vermont. There is a stereotype of Vermont inhabitants being hippie relics of the 1960s - and, I won’t deny, that’s not a completely-inapplicable stereotype - I went to school with people that were considered too weird and freakish for main-stream VT. At the same time, even though there is a solid freak streak in New England, most New Englanders - the hard-core ones, anyway; the ones that know winters suck and you need to get your snow tires checked and rotated in September, and that you never go for the cheapest tool kit at the hardware store - are governed by an unbeatable pragmatism and lack of sentimentality (again, I might be condensing things for the sake of the piece, and this is not to say you won’t find romantic or maudlin New Englanders, just that, like me, they’re not interested in how a bad situation makes you feel; they want sustainable solutions to the problem). So, you have a student body populated by refugees from a Phish concert, a staff/faculty that’s there because the school let you make up your own rules on the fly (sort of), to fix any problems that might arise; and an administration that has to keep this insane educational experiment financially afloat. It was pretty much Kraken Kollege - again, I’m condensing and emphasizing/deemphasizing certain aspects of this whole thing to keep the story tight and get to the punchline. I’m sure the normal population thinks I’m making this up; but I’d bet there’s a lot of my classmates, mentors, and assorted mortal enemies reading this and saying, “That’s not how I’d describe it, but he’s not inaccurate.” So, because the admin, staff, and financial folks were resourceful and cunning, they managed to hammer out some sort of obscure financial aid package where students can work in the library and/or dining hall and get most of their costs covered (many of my friends took advantage of this program); working in the dining hall was considered the top-tier part of that package, because it automatically included board (although not room, but my information is outdated and somewhat limited because I was a scholarship student)(which, in retrospect, was a hilariously bad investment on their part). Allegedly - and, full disclosure, this is a tale passed down from upperclassmen to sophomores in a small community, so there’s a 90% chance this is just an entertaining student urban legend - at some point many years before I came along, some poor student had a complete scholarship/financial aid package, and things went merrily. Until some federal funding rule changed, and he could no longer afford to live in the dorms or find affordable, near-by, off-campus housing. Now, we didn’t have a standard athletics program - we had a program that would, for a $20-a-semester fee, lend you whatever sports items they had in inventory. So, the now-homeless student, kraken-like, comes up with a plan - he’ll stay in school, keep his job at the dining hall, and just camp out in the woods, using rented school-gear, until federal funding changes, or he gets a better offer. And, according to school legend, it worked for the better part of a semester, and almost no one was the wiser. Until the school president got wind of rumors, and started making some inquiries, because it’s always hard to keep this school running, even if there aren’t weird pagan cults of semi-homeless students in the surrounding forest. And, because it’s a small place, the president eventually figures out the student’s campsite location, and decides to pay him (the student) a visit to figure things out. However, this is in the middle of one of those infamous New England storms, which are right up there with cancer in terms of random, violent Old Testament smitings. The student supposedly gets back to his tent late in the evening, only to find that the storm has smashed/ripped/destroyed/smeared his tent and campsite to pieces. And the student - allegedly - just sort of starts to crumble, as one would in a situation that’s gone from bad to nightmare. And, onto this scene enters the school president - a man who even I would describe as gruff and a little intimidating (I met the guy years later at some event, and even I found him a bit on the severe side)(sadly, it never occurred to me to ask him about this story). President surveys scene, turns to student, and says (and this is all caps, because this president - again, I met him - speaks at 200 decibels at all times), “THIS ISN’T SOME SORT OF EXPERIMENTAL, HIPPIE, BACK-TO-THE-LAND THOREAUVIAN BULLSHIT, IS IT? BECAUSE WE CAN PROBABLY FIND YOU BETTER QUARTERS.” And, according school legend, they found some unused, semi-furnished attic area near the dining hall, and the student just hunkered down there for a few semesters, despite the fifth-degree burns he’d received from the president.

The point of this weird, off-beat memory - apart from there are a lot of weird little half-memories that I keep running into these days (that’s how eidetic associative memory works; it’s kind of like a mid-90′s search engine (FUCK, I’M OLD), it’ll access the entire Internet, but it’s not always very reliable in bringing up the most-crucial web page to the top of the search) - is that you will, when you find yourself neck-deep in it, occasionally be reliant on charity or the good-will of others, even if it’s humiliating and/or comes from people you might otherwise dislike. Grab any and all help you can, now; put it to good use. Pride and independence are wonderful, but you can’t eat them or cure disease with them.