#colouring is messy because I was going fast I just needed to get them out my brain asap

[cosmicjunkyard]

I've turned all of them into ducks and theres nothing you can do about it!

If you want me to draw your fav qsmp member as a duck: I will. I mean it. I'll turn all of them into ducks. Watch me.

[caxde]

still live | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary you and Eddie have been friends for ever, but have chosen to keep your feelings quiet, until a single afternoon changes it all. (2.7k)

warnings fem!reader, fluff (like a lot of it) hurt/comfort, friends in love, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn friends to lovers, idiots in love!!!, english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read! 

-

It had never been a question. 

You had started painting even before you learned how to talk, your house was always messy and stained because of you. As you grew up, stained carpet floors turned into stained old clothes, paint splattered all around your wardrobe, and a burning passion was developed. 

So, of course, when the dreaded question of what are you going to do after high school started going around, your answer had always been the same ‘art school’. 

But anxiety and stress were getting to you, you had been working hard on your portfolio, barely sleeping, painting canvases that were bigger than you, held by reclining it against your bedroom wall, and working in sketches nonstop, not even in the middle of class. 

He would tease you, everytime he heard the pencil scratch against the yellowish paper. He always does the same thing, he starts watching quietly, admiring the way your fingers hold the pencil ever so delicately, the way your eyes follow the grey stain so closely, concentration evident on your expression, and your hair messing your face when you look down.  When he couldn’t hold it any longer, a soft smile curves the end of his lips, as he brings his body closer to yours, and he always whispers, his voice always sweet and soft when he calls your name to get your attention. 

And he chuckles everytime you jump out of concentration as you breathe out his name. 

But today was different. 

Eddie knows you, better than anyone for that matter, and he also knows that you had been a little too stressed about it all. He knew you needed quiet company while you worked, so he asked you to come finish your last one over to his house. 

He had made his room tidier, in his own way. He cleared the floor, no dirty clothes could be seen, and the table was what he would charmingly call an “organized mess”, little piles of things in a neat position, a clean composition. Window open and clean air coming in, with a space under it so the smell of the acrylic paint can leave as fast as it comes. 

“You moved the bed.” You let out as soon as you step inside his room, looking at the open window. 

“You need to paint.” He answers, as he shrugs, trying not to give it that much meaning, even if he feels his pulse quickening as you smile grows deeper. 

“Thank you.” 

“No problem.” He answers quickly, really trying to not hyperfixate in the way your smile is caused by him, or the way it seems to illuminate the room a bit more. 

You laid the canvas against the wall, and started organizing your paint tubes in your particular way. Black, blue, red, yellow and white. The other fancy special colours away from them, the lilac, teal and silver pulled apart. 

He knew you needed your space, just as much as he knew you appreciated the quiet companionship. 

It was nice, being in the same room as him, not feeling alone, and knowing that he’ll be here when you inevitably feel tired or burned out and need a little push. 

And you liked feeling him look closely at you. Though you think he’s looking at the way the thin light blue haze is staining the pristine white of the canvas, he’s actually looking at the way your oversized, full-of-various-faded-splatters-of-paint shirt is hanging from you, the way it wraps on your waist, and the way your hair is falling down your back, your face tilted, only makes him more nervous, and in a way, realize even more that he wouldn’t do this for just anyone, so he might as well admit to himself that he does have some feelings for you. 

He played music on his guitar, quietly, and smiled deeply at the sound of you muttering the worlds of the songs he always chooses absentmindedly. Even if he only plays Bowie when you’re around. 

You're obvious to it all. You only focus on the way your hand won’t stop shaking, and you’re not even sure why, so the frustration is starting again, and with it so does the headache. You need to finish the stupid sketch so you can actually start painting, but your hand won’t stop shaking and you don’t even have a good enough reference. You’ve stopped singing and are instead biting your lip, an anxious tic that Eddie knows a bit too well. 

He doesn’t say anything, instead he stops playing, goes to the kitchen and brings two cups of tea. 

He decides to sit down beside you, and instead of startling you as he normally does, he instead leaves a soft touch on the small of your back, his fingers feeling the beginning of your jeans through your shirt. The familiar warmth left in both of your bodies. 

“Here” He whispers, a bit too close to your ear. 

You turn to him, realizing that he’s never been as close, that now you could if you wanted and had the time to count every single one of his eyelashes, and that his lips look pinker than ever. And in that moment, something seems to click, a warmth awakens in the inside of your chest, and you move a bit far away instinct kicking in. 

“Thanks” You whisper back, blood travelling fast to your cheeks as your fingers touch his for a moment, grabbing your tea. 

“So, what’s wrong?” He chooses his words carefully, his tone softer, his voice quieter. He raises his eyebrow in concern, making you frown for just a second. 

“It’s all wrong.” You whisper, in anxious shame, nervously, avoiding his eyes. 

“What do you mean it's all wrong?” He echoes your voice, not really following your train of thought. 

“It’s all wrong Eddie.” Your voice is stronger now, more impatient. But still barely above a whisper, it felt stupid to speak at a normal volume when he’s so close to you. “ The proportions are awful, the reference is shit, and I can’t start painting until I finish the stupid sketch but I can’t manage to finish it.” You’re trying your hardest to not stumble over your own words, it’s complicated, frustration getting the best of you, making your voice shake as you can feel the small tear threatening to form on the verge of your eyes. 

“Hey…” He whispers once more, the hand he had on your lower back petting you once again, trying to get you to calm down for a second. “Step by step, yeah?” He watches you nod at his question, and he waits for you to take a deep breath. “What can you do to fix it?” 

“I need to restart it all.” You answer in defeat, you were tired, and with a clear idea in mind that didn’t seem to transform as well as you wanted to. 

“Okay, so restart it, what can I do to help?” 

“Nothing really.” You add, looking back at him for once. You're captivated by him for a moment. The way his curls frame his face makes you really want to put the little flyaway away from his complexion, touch his pale face for a second, but instead, you hold the cup harder, your knuckles turning white. 

“What’s wrong with the reference?” He asks, trying to refocus you, snatching the photograph off the floor. A blurry image that’s barely recognizable, a kiss between two people that you don’t know. 

“It’s shit.” You admit, hiding a chuckle. “ I found it on the floor of The Hideout and thought that a kiss scene would be the perfect ending for my project, but… I’m not… I don’t know” You admit, defeated, tired, and anxious about you having to start the whole project again. 

“Why a kiss?” He asks, innocence in his tone. He tries to hide his curiosity with that Eddie grin, that stupid grin that makes you smile in return even if you're not aware of it. 

“I…” You look at him for a moment. Stopping at his lips for a second, and this time it doesn’t escape you that he does the same. “It’s about melancholy. The whole thing. Situations that have happened and you miss, and the ones that haven’t but you wish they did… Love… I wish it happened to me but… Yeah” You stop talking, as you feel his eyes not leave yours, it’s stupid, but talking about this in this space, for some reason is making your heart beat faster, and wherever your body touches his, it tingles, electricity flying between both of you. 

“You haven’t been in love?” The question took you out, it didn’t make sense for Eddie to ask this. It doesn’t fit the way he has always acted around you, but in a weird way, when you look back at him, and see the way his eyes look softer, kinder. 

You always saw Eddie repel the idea of love, avoiding it at all costs, so it was weird seeing him like that, like he was hopeful for an answer, as he wanted to tell you how he started feeling, he also knew he would never dare to tell you such a thing. Much too proud, much too careful. 

“I have. But, they don’t love me back.” You mutter, not ready to voice it fully. Not sure if this is the best time to say, yes, Eddie, I have been in love, I’ve been in love with you for ages. 

Because, even now, you’re slowly realising that what you’ve been feeling for him is love. 

“I understand.” He mutters, his sight leaving you for the first time, looking down at the photo, while he yells to himself, his brain is telling him to not do anything stupid, while his whole heart and body are begging for him to tell you that he could learn how to love you if you let him. 

For fucks sake, he tells himself, he cares so much about you, he wants you to be happy and loved and cared for so much it pains him a bit not knowing what to do to help. He slowly lifts his head up.

Coincidence, destiny or just dumb luck, he makes eye contact with his old, beaten up Polaroid and a stupid idea, oh so stupid crosses his mind, and he narrows his eyes. 

You notice. 

And before you can stop yourself you're asking him a soft and questionable “What?” that leaves him looking back at you. 

“We could take a picture.” He states, blankly looking back at the camera. A nervous smile that makes his eyes shine. 

“What picture?” You’re left even more confused, following his glance. 

“A kissing picture.” He says. Your body frozen, heart skipping a beat. Eddie’s does the same, amazed at himself for actually having said such a stupid thing. “Just so you have an actual reference… I just… Wanna help.” He’s now avoiding your sight, embarrassed about his idea, he begins to get flustered, and the only thing he can get himself to do now is stare at the floor. 

You need a second. 

A moment. 

Silence fills the room, as the only thing you can feel is the beating of your own heart, loud in your eardrums, a rhythmic rhythm that begs kissme kissme kissme. 

So, once again, it wasn’t even a question. 

“Who’s taking it?” You answer, sweet quiet voice. Your eyes also set on the floor, as you can feel your cheeks burning. Anticipation forming in the air. 

“I’ll do it.” He answers, his smile bigger than ever. As he stands up, you leave the cup on the floor, wiping your nervous hands on your jeans. One swipe, two, three. 

You’re left looking at him, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think that he was just as extremely excited and nervous as you are. And then it comes, the realisation of what was about to happen, he’s going to kiss you, and you’re going to kiss him. You’re about to do what you’ve been wanting to do for ages, all for some stupid excuse that you can’t be worried about. 

As he moves, gracefully, it all stops mattering for a brief moment. 

It doesn’t matter if the painting is good enough. 

It doesn’t matter if the admission committee thinks your work is good enough. 

It doesn’t matter if this complicates your friendship or not. 

He sits down beside you, a trembling hand pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his lips slightly parted, his eyes switching between your eyes and your lips. The electricity is tangible now, you almost feel like you could fill up jars with it, a weird anticipation, an excitement. A promise almost. 

“Are you ready?” He asks, his thumb gracing your lower lip, his breath so close to your lips you could actually drink it if you wanted to. He smells of vanilla and sandalwood.

“Yeah.”

Then it happens. 

Eddie kisses you, softly. 

A soft, sweet kiss is left on top of your lips, as you close your eyes and enjoy it, one of your hands travels slowly to the back of his neck, tentatively, you start playing with his hair. You see a flash, a bright light that makes you giggle, only brighter when you feel the way he’s also smiling. 

Eddie can’t stop kissing you. 

He’s delighted that he’s finally doing this. He doesn’t care that he can’t fully give in, somehow worried that the photo won’t turn out good, he takes a couple more. And then he finally gives in. One last touch, a small bite to your lower lip, and he gently pulls away. His forehead against yours. Catching his breath, you can feel the way your lips are left tingling now. How your heartbeat seems happier in a weird way, like something got fixed for a moment.

When Eddie opens his eyes, he can see that yours are still closed. And that your lips look pinker than before, that your cheeks are flushed and you’re breathing faster than usual. He smiles quietly to himself, and looks down, between your bodies, lays the camera and the polaroids spread around, proof that he didn’t imagine it all. Proof that he did just do it. 

He carefully bumps his forehead into yours, playfully almost. 

You open your eyes, looking down. 

He hands you one of the photographs, you can’t help but smile. 

“I don’t think I ever had such a beautiful photo” You whisper, as you’re taken back for an instance. You’re blooming with joy, an uncontrollable smile decorates your face. The shyness gone for this brief moment. 

“Me either.” Eddie adds as he holds another one. 

You’re both idiots. 

Happy idiots, unaware of each other's feelings, not knowing that it was more than a favour. 

“Thank you, Moon.” You tell him, as he blushes even harder. 

And he’s not sure if it was the eye contact, the way you look right now or the fact that you had just given him what might be his new favourite nickname. 

“Now, get back to work.” He teases, while he decides to lay down, resting on his forearms so he can still look at you. 

“Don’t distract me.” You add back, a flirty banter evident in the air now. 

“I won’t kiss you until you ask for it.” And in that moment it's clear, he’s being sincere. 

You can’t help but laugh, softly. And he can’t help himself, echoing your laugh. 

He doesn’t need to say anything, and neither do you. You just know that now he knows something more about you, you know that now that he’s tasted your lips he will be left craving for more, just as much as your craving for a new encounter. 

Eddie is left mesmerized, proud of you, seeing how now you’re determined to finish this painting, with a soft smile and quick brushstrokes. So, you spend the next afternoon painting, and stealing soft glances at him, as he just sits there, amazed by you, as he continues talking with you as if nothing has changed, as if his heart isn’t now all yours, even if you know as well as he does, that it is. 

[ma1dmer]

Elden Ring - Rennala Queen of the Full Moon NSFW

mother

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): she loves to cuddle, doesn't matter how messy you two have gotten she'll deal with that after, for now she needs you pressed up close to her, listening to her softly hum, your head placed gently on her chest as she comes down from her high, her fingers playing with your hair

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): she loves your hands, she carefully traces each digit first with her own then with her lips placing soft kisses on your knuckles and fingertips or bringing her mouth around them

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): she cries when she cums, soft tears spilling down her cheeks as she closes her eyes tightly and let's out a lot of soft yes yes yes'

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): definitely has some sort of mommy kink, she isn't sure she'd be able to go the entire way with it ,but she would at least enjoy you calling her that as she coos over you softly, telling you how good you are and how well you are doing for her

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): she has her experience but she treats every encounter like something entirely new something she can study almost, she takes joy in learning everything about what pleases her partners

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): on your sides her arms firmly around your body her face buried in your neck, behind you or in front of you holding you tightly

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): much much more serious, she would not understand if you started laughing in the middle of it, being either flustered or concerned

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.): she doesn't do anything to it, but she already has very fine hair, it's soft and much lighter than her hair colour

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): she calls you the most beautiful of nicknames, she is very sensual with her attention, she lavishes you in compliments

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): she doesn't have to, she is often busy or just doesn't feel the need for it, especially when she has you

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): mommy kink, nipple play, praise kink etc, she'd love "disciplining you" not so much the impact play itself, always going too softly when spanking you, because it isn't about the pain of the punishment

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): somewhere private away from prying eyes, and always after she's done with all her duties

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): knowing you want her, nothing is better than her coming to you and seeing you already so desperate, she'll blush and smile pleased before beginning to undress, urging you to undress if you aren't already naked

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): she does not like to share and she does not like degradation, especially targeted at her

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): her favourite, she loves being laid back letting you explore her with your tongue, she'll let herself get lost to the feeling and your attention, she gets selfish during those moments but who can blame her

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): torturously slow, her hands go everywhere besides the place you want them the most at first, she isn't doing it to tease you but she sees no reason to rush things

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): it will always be a no, strict about the things she does not enjoy

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): she is willing to experiment, nothing too wild, but here and there, she is willing to indulge you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): no stamina, this woman drops dead the second she cums, she can hold herself off just enough to make sure you are satisfied but after that she needs to doze off

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): i think she'd love having a few toys for you, she doesn't forbid you from owning and using any, but she'd like if you gave them to her and especially like you having to ask her if you want to use them, would also probably gift you a few, maybe a glass/crystal dildo or plug

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): not at all its not something she enjoys, and she isn't one to tease you either, at least not purposefully

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): she doesn't vocalise at all, she lets out a few stuttered breaths but she stays quiet mostly, wanting to hear you

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): she is definitely a switch, and she'd enjoy taking charge as much as having the control taken from her

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): not very high, but when she wants you she is not shy about telling you, her soft voice beckoning you to her

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): she always waits for you to fall asleep first before she can comfortably relax as well, she enjoys watching you for a bit, so calm like that

[foolforharrry]

Off The Deep End

Word count: 12.8k words

Summary: Harry is scared of how much he feels and goes about it like a fucking idiot.

Warnings: There is smut. Nothing too crazy

This one has taken me forever to write and it got way longer than i intended it to. But I'm absolutely in love with them and I hope you guys like them too. But be nice to them please. They're my babies.

But I hope you like it anyway. And if you wanna read more of my work, I have it all linked on my masterlist.

Any feedback would be greatly appreciated and if you have any requests please feel free to give them to me and I will do my absolute best to do it.

Amber

“Fuck. Just like that, baby.”, Harry praises, dropping his forehead to my neck. His harsh breaths hit my sweaty skin making a shiver travel down my spine as I ride him. The need to make him feel good drowned out the burning in my thighs from the exertion.

As long as he feels good it doesn’t matter.

Burying my fingers in his damp hair, I hold onto it as if my life depends on it, the moans falling from my lips loud and unrestrained as I feel that pressure in my tummy starts to build.

With my thighs straddling him, knees digging into the mattress below us, Harry keeps his hands on my hips to guide them to his liking as he kneads the flesh of my ass. The low moans and whimpers of pleasure he lets out only fuel my own.

His hair is messy from how much I’ve pulled on it. Skin flushed and gleaming with sweat. The crease between his eyebrows is deeper than normal and his red, swollen lips are parted with needy moans.

My eyes flutter when I feel Harry place a hot open-mouthed kiss on the base of my neck before he starts sucking on the sensitive skin. Sharp stings of pain travel down my spine as he nips at the skin before gliding his tongue over it to soothe it again. It has me clenching and fluttering around his dick as I feel the unmistakable feeling of my orgasm growing as my hips falter in their work and I struggle to keep lifting myself up.

Harry must notice because he flips us so he’s on top, my head hitting the pillows next to where his just laid all without slipping out of me. And he picks up right where I left off, pulling out almost all the way so that just the tip of his cock is left inside of me before he slams his hips in, filling me all the way to the brim.

The new angle has me choking on a breath as he hits that spot that makes my toes curl and my eyes squeeze shut.

Harry supports his weight on his arms, his body hovering just above my own as he drops his sweaty forehead to mine. It feels like his eyes are staring right into my soul, pupils blown out from lust. “That feel good, baby? You like it when I fuck you like this, yeah?” His voice is deep and raspy and dripping with desire

I don’t even get the chance to answer him, interrupted by a harsh groan as he delivers an extra hard thrust that has my eyes rolling into the back of my head.

That should be answer enough.

The sound of skin slapping against skin is sinful enough. But the things Harry is saying in my ear could come straight from the devil himself.

“Fuck.”, I cry out when Harry shifts all his weight over to his left arm, attaching his thumb to my clit and rubbing it in fast, precise circles. It feels like too much and I’m gripping Harry’s shoulders as if I would float away if I let go when the intense pleasure that’s lighting my skin on fire makes it hard to breathe. Almost as if the air is too thin.

“Harry. I’m gonna-”, I try to warn him, but I’m cut off by my own moan. I don’t last as long as I would normally from all the teasing Harry has been doing all day. I’m defenceless against the fireworks just waiting to go off and make the sky bright with all the colours of the rainbow. And he knows it.

The dazed half-smirk on his face says it all as he nods, “I know, baby. Let go. Cum all around my cock. I need it.”

That’s all it takes and I’m toppling over the edge with Harry’s name on my tongue like a never-ending prayer. My cunt spasms and my body trembles with the blinding orgasm that makes my ears ring and my vision go white.

I’m so far up in the clouds I barely even register Harry’s thrusts faltering as he reaches his high not long after me.

When I’ve come down from my orgasm, it’s with Harry laying on top of me. Our bodies as close as they could physically be.

Still not opening my eyes, I run my fingers up his back, finding comfort in how warm and soft his skin is. The heat that spreads across my cheeks when I feel him smile against my neck makes me grateful that he can’t see my face right now.

I find myself not wanting this moment to ever end. Perfectly content just basking in post-orgasmic bliss and the warmth of Harry’s body. There have been times I’ve thought things couldn’t possibly get any better than they are. This moment right here might just take first place on the list though.

“You feel good?”, Harry breaks the silence, bringing me out of my head and placing a small kiss on my shoulder as he lifts himself up.

“Mhm.”, I hum, the tiredness from our activities settling in my body. “Really good.”

Even though I knew it was coming, I still can’t help the whimper from sensitivity when he pulls out. “I know, darling. I’m sorry.”

I feel his breath on my face as the mattress dips next to my head, telling me that he is hovering above me again. “Look at me.”

“No.” I shake my head, a small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, tucking my bottom lip into my mouth when his nose bumps against mine. An explosion of butterflies erupts in my stomach from the gesture.

Harry kisses the tip of my nose, then both my cheeks before he results to pepper kisses all over my face until I’m full-on laughing, opening my eyes to find him looking down at me with a cheesy smile on his face that has his dimples carving into his cheeks. “There she is.”

The words on the tip of my tongue falter at the next thing that comes from his; “You’re so damn beautiful.”

There isn’t a hint of sarcasm or irony. Just honesty. And dare I say affection?

If I wasn’t so tired right now, I might have started running around my apartment, screaming like a crazy woman.

Cupping the sides of his face, stroking his soft, glowing cheeks with the pads of my thumbs as my gaze switches between his eyes. Taking in the gentle green with speckles of gold so beautiful and delicate my breath gets caught in my throat all over again.

“You’re a special kind of beautiful too.”, I whisper, eyes widening in slight panic when I realise I said it out loud. That is not what I meant to say. It has my heart picking up in my chest as I search for any sign that I fucked up.

My anxieties prove to be without merit when the initial look of surprise on his face is washed away by a gleaming close-lipped smile, his bunny teeth digging into his bottom lip.

An emotion I can’t quite decipher flickers through his twinkling eyes before he dips down and connect out lips in a soft, tender kiss that has my eyes fluttering close. The kind of kiss that doesn’t lead anywhere.

It’s new and unlike the kisses we’ve shared in the time we’ve known each other. But I can’t lie and say that it doesn’t have a new kind of warmth glowing around my heart.

As terrifying as it is, it’s also something I find myself craving to feel again the second he pulls away.

The sound of my alarm is what pulls me out of my deep sleep.

Drowsily and blindly, I fumble around my nightstand for where the horrible noise is coming from so I can make it fucking stop.

After a few seconds of enjoying the silence, I notice the cold, empty mattress my arm is spread out on. Cold enough for it to have been unoccupied for quite some time now.

The realisation has me sitting up quickly, suddenly wide awake as I struggle to make out anything in the dark room. The only sound I can hear is the rustling of my sheets and my own breathing.

Although the smell of him is still lingering in the air, he’s not wrapped up in the duvet next to me anymore.

My stomach sinks in disappointment and confusion.

But instead of letting myself sit and overthink it, I throw the covers off my body, shuddering as the cold air meets the bare skin of my legs. I wrap my arms around myself as I get out of bed and pad on bare feet across the floor in the dark.

I need my morning pee.

However, I’m stopped in my tracks when I spot the post-it note stuck to my bathroom mirror just after I close the door behind me.

Nearly tripping over my feet, I snatch the yellow paper off the reflective surface, squinting my tired eyes as I make out the words written in messy handwriting.

Morning, sleepy head. Sorry to run out on you like this. Let me make it up to you? I’ll call you after you get home today.

Love, H

-

3 weeks later

I’ve never really been the type of girl who gets attached.

Never in my twenty-four years of life have I walked around and waited for a boy to call me back. Reaching for my phone the second the screen lights up with a notification only to have my heart drop to my stomach when I once again discover that it’s not who I hoped it was.

“No, Bon. It wasn’t just sex. I really liked him. And I thought he likes me too.”, I sigh, already prepared for the lecture sitting at the tip of her tongue.

And she gives it. “You know I love you, but I think maybe you should let this go. I don’t know him, but I do know you. Babe, you haven’t opened up to a guy ever since Dan. We both know what happened there and I just don’t think that having the first man you let in should be someone who will just ghost you for three weeks- What I mean is that you deserve someone who doesn’t hurt you like he’s obviously doing.”

“I’m not saying that you should just forget about Harry. Because you obviously feel something for him if you’re telling me about his eyelashes.” I laugh at that because she’s right. “I just don’t want you to take another six years to open your heart up again if he breaks it.”

“He said he would call me.” I cringe at how pathetic I sound.

Bonnie sighs, “I know. I wish I was there so I could kick his ass.” “You wouldn’t.”

“Get me a plane ticket and I’ll prove it to you.” I nearly drop the lid of my coffee cup to the floor from how aggressive she sounds. If it weren’t for the fact that I know that Bonnie is the sweetest person on this planet and would never hurt a fly, I would have believed her. “I’m sure you would.”

“Don’t you have to go now?”, she asks, effectively changing the topic. And looking at the time, she is again, absolutely right. I should’ve been out the door three minutes ago.

“Shit!”, I curse. “Ok, bye Bon. I love you.” I blow her a kiss and press the red hang-up button once she’s said goodbye too.

Practically ripping my coat off the hook, I stuff my feet into my black converse, figuring I’ll tie them later as the bottom of my black, mom jeans cover the tops of the shoes. Sliding my purse over my shoulder, coat folded over my forearm and tucked to my stomach as I close the door to my apartment behind me.

Once I’m sure the door is locked, checking the handle two times, I jog down the dark, dirty green carpeted floor of the hallway where the same carpet covers the steps of the staircase the next two floors down.

The chilly, autumn wind hits my face, and hands the seconds I push open the tired, wooden front door to my apartment complex. The wind even seeps through the thin material of the white cotton shirt I put on under my favourite chocolate brown and beige sweater vest.

Thankfully, my car is parked just on the other side of the road.

I had hoped that the twenty-minute drive to the school would give me enough time to get my head sorted and a certain someone out of it. And it worked until one of his fucking songs started playing.

It had completely slipped my mind that they were on the playlist I was listening to.

The urge I’d had to cry the second his voice seeped into my ears and made every cell in my body vibrate with the allure and grace he sang with isn’t ok. It’s like he put his own special kind of magic into every single note. Every lyric.

The same kind of magic that laced every kiss and every touch he laid on my skin.

It’s that magic that’s been haunting me.

This whole day, I haven’t been able to think about anything else. My mind hasn’t been on my pupils like it should, but on him and the magic he made me feel.

Thank God, they were all angels today and worked on their essays like they were supposed to and talked quietly amongst themselves.

During fourth period I found myself wondering what kind of student Harry was.

Was he the quiet, studious type who kept to himself or was he the one who always raised his hand? Maybe he was the kid that would always try to make everyone laugh. Did he get good grades or was he barely scraping by? The only thing I’m sure about is that there is no way he was a bully.

The possibility of that is as big as the possibility of me becoming a mega-rich actress tomorrow. Less than one percent.

I don’t know if it’s the fact that Harry is the first man I’ve been with who has been truly good that has me in such a twist over him. But it could definitely be a factor in my current struggle.

As I twist the key in the ignition, turning the car on after finishing up everything I needed to do at school, I wonder whether I hate it or just strongly dislike it.

I’m going to need longer than twenty minutes to figure that out.

Harry

“I think I fucked up, mate.”

Sprawled on top of my unmade bed with my eyes trained on the white ceiling and my phone by my ear, I wait for the ‘No you didn’t, don’t be stupid.’ But it doesn’t come.

“Um.”, Mitch starts. “Fucked up what?”

Right. I’ve only walked around thinking about it constantly like a psychopath for three weeks without saying a word about it to anyone.

That would have defeated the purpose of this whole thing.

But now I’m at the point where I can’t even remember why I decided to do this in the first place.

“Remember that girl I told you about?”, I ask, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

“The one from the plane? Amber, was it?”

I shouldn’t automatically smile at the mention of her name. But there is no denying that she has a beautiful one. Nowhere near as beautiful as she is, but beautiful nonetheless. “Yeah, that’s her.”

“What did you do now?” I haven’t even told him what I think I fucked up, and he sounds done with me already.

Before I open my mouth, I take a second to gather my thoughts. “I don’t even know why I did it anymore. It was going really well. She was everything I ever fucking dreamed of. Man, her laugh did things to me. And just the way she spoke about her students. You can tell that she truly cares about those kids.”

I remember when I’d asked her about her job, she had spoken so passionately about it. But the thing that stood out to me was that she the first thing she spoke about wasn’t what she got out of it or why she loved it specifically. No. She went on about how bright the kids truly are and went into detail about them individually. I’m not even sure how long I listened to her talk about these kids I hadn’t even met. But I would have happily done it for hours just to see the way her eyes shone.

But for Mitch’s sake, I skip over all of that and get to the part where I probably blew it.

“Like, three weeks ago. I fell asleep at her place even though I knew I was going to the studio early the next morning. I stayed as long as I could. Then left a note saying I would call her. And I was going to.”

I pause and my stomach twists painfully with guilt. Now that I’m about to admit it out loud, makes me truly realize how fucking shitty this was.

“You didn’t call her, did you?” Mitch guesses, tone neutral. Even though I don’t deserve it, I’m thankful that he isn’t judging me.

“I didn’t.”

It’s nothing more than a whisper, but he still hears it. “Harry.”

“I know. I’m a fucking dick.”, I mutter, hiding my face in my hands as if that’s going to make it better. It doesn’t.

“Ok, H.”, Mitch starts. “Whether you take my advice or not is up to you.”

I hum in agreement; the sound muffled my hands.

“You’re being fucking stupid. I know you’re crazy about her. You know it even if you don’t want to admit it. Amber sounds like a great person. Do you really want to let her slip away before you’ve given it a real shot because of what? You’re scared?”

He hit the nail on the head.

“Because I don’t think you do. And it’s not like you to not do something because you’re scared of the consequences.”

“What if she doesn’t want to?” For a second, I’m not even sure if he heard me and I am fighting the urge to hang up and never leave my house and talk to another soul for the rest of my life.

“Then it’s going to hurt. But at least you’ll know. And you won’t have to wonder for the rest of your life.”

“I should have called you earlier.”, I laugh, mentally slapping myself for having been so stupid.

Mitch snorts, “Yeah you should have. Now if you don’t go try and make it right, I will personally beat your ass black and blue. Understood?”

Unable to tell whether he is being serious or not, I sit up straight, saluting even though he can’t see me. “Yes sir.”

I don’t think I’ve ever been as nervous as I am right now.

Sitting on the hard, green carpet with my back against the wall and my knees tucked to my chest. Arms around them and my head tilted back as I study the different patterns in the wooden door in front of me to keep my mind occupied.

I’m worried if I think too hard about what I’m about to do, I will chicken out and drive right back home.

My palms are clammy, and I swear I haven’t been able to take a full breath since I put on my shoes almost three hours ago.

In an attempt to not seem like a stalker, I had left the house so I would be here at half past five. And I was. Amber is usually finished with work and safe home by five.

Apparently not today.

I started on the steps outside. Then it got a bit too cold and I rang the bell of a random person and said I was pizza delivery so they would buzz me in. It worked on the fourth try. Since then I’ve switched between pacing the length of the hallway and sitting just like I am right now.

This might have been one of the worst ideas I’ve ever had.

Not counting the one that put me in this position in the first place.

Just thinking back to it makes me want to rip my own hair out now that I’ve realized just how fucking idiotic I was.

Who in their right mind finds that one person it feels like you’ve known your whole life, and when the realization dawns on them, they ghost them for three weeks? And for what? Fear of that person maybe not feeling the same way? Falling too far too fast?

If I could do it all over, I would jump without a parachute for the chance that she might end up being the wings beneath my wings that make me fly.

Which is kind of what I’m trying to do right now.

“What are you doing here?”

I’m snapped out of my thoughts when I hear her voice. That voice I’ve replayed a thousand times over in my head as if it was my favourite record.

She’s standing right in front of me. I hadn’t even noticed she was there or that I had closed my eyes, too far in my own head.

Carefully, I open one eye followed by the other. And I swear the sight in front of me has my heart beating out of my chest with excitement and my throat going dry with dread.

Pulling a smile, I wave up at her. “Hi.”

Amber

Never underestimate what a nice, long drive and a bar of your favourite chocolate can do.

After leaving work, I’d decided that I would give myself one more day to think about him. Then I’d be done. I would put that behind me. Leave it in my rearview mirror. Harry would be a short chapter in my life. Wonderful and magical. But finished.

There were tears shed and another phone call made to Bonnie for some very badly needed encouragement and reminding that I don’t need a man to be happy.

I’m not even sure about how long I’ve been out, but it’s dark by the time I hear the sound of my car locking as I sling my purse over my shoulder. I can feel the fatigue settling in my bones from the day and I am so looking forward to cuddling up with my mountain of pillows and putting on some mindless show with ice cream until I fall asleep.

The second my eyes lock on the figure by my door, I’m suddenly wide awake again. The tiredness vanished like it was never even there as I’m stopping in my tracks.

I’d recognize him anywhere.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”, I mutter under my breath. This has got to be some fucking cosmic joke the universe is playing on me.

Of course, he would show up just when I decided that I was done. That I was going to let it be and move on with my life.

This is great.

Harry has his head on his knees, arms around his shins tucked to his torso. His hair is messy. Like he either hasn’t styled it today or ran his hand through it a billion times the way he does when he’s stressed or nervous.

His fingers are void of any of the usual rings that adorn them. From what I can tell, his nails are painted black now and he’s dressed in a pair of light-washed, ripped jeans and a mint green cardigan.

By the time it’s taken me to slowly make my way over to him, stopping right in front of him, he still hasn’t moved a muscle or done anything that shows that he’s aware of the fact that he’s not alone in the hallway anymore.

I find myself wondering how long he’s been sitting out here like this. Why he’s even here? I ask him the latter, hating how small I sound, “What are you doing here?”

Slowly, he drops his arms down to his side and cranes his head until our eyes meet and I can practically see the wheels in his head turning. It’s making the crease between his eyebrows deepen further in thought before he offers me a weak smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hi.”

I’m not sure why, but that short hi makes me take a step back, a pang of hurt hitting my chest. But it also makes me extremely frustrated.

“Hi, Harry.”, I say, stepping around him to unlock my door, not even making an attempt to mask the anger I’m feeling right now. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He scrambles to get to his feet, stuffing his hands in his pockets with an unsure look on his face. “I just wanted to…”, he trails off, voice dying out as if he doesn’t know what comes next.

“Did you come back here just to lie to me again?” I hope he doesn’t notice the crack of emotion, my throat tight as I push open the front door to my apartment.

Taking a deep breath to ground myself, which is easier said than done since I can practically feel his eyes burning a hole into to side of my head. I turn to meet his eye, hoping that he can’t tell how much I want to cry from the look on my face right now as I ignore the look of distress on his. “If that’s the case, then please just leave.”

I fully expect him to turn on his heel and leave. Or maybe he realised he forgot some things here that he wants to pick up. And that’s why he came. Then he’ll leave right after he’s got it.

That’s more likely, to be honest.

To my surprise, Harry lets out a sudden, humourless laugh. One that I’ve never heard from him. Then he shimmies himself between my body and the doorframe and into my apartment.

The strong whiff of his smell that hits my nose almost has me dizzy for a second before I shake my head and follow him.

Confusion takes over when Harry plops down on the edge of the beige sofa after kicking off his shoes without saying a word, his right foot tapping rapidly against the rug as he fiddles with his fingers where his rings usually are.

So…he isn’t here to pick something up?

Observing him carefully, I hang up my coat and take off my shoes, placing them neatly in their designated spot as the anger and hurt dim with the confusion that’s taking their place.

My apartment might not be much, but I keep it tidy.

Harry’s silence and nervous fiddling are making me more and more nervous the longer it goes on and I wish he would just spit out what he so obviously has on his mind.

“Can you please sit?”, is the first thing he eventually says. And he says it so softly he doesn’t sound like himself.

I’d had no idea what he was going to open with, but it for sure wasn’t that. Still, I quietly pad across my living room, sitting down on the sofa with the space of one person between us. My hands stay folded in my lap as I pinch the skin of my clammy palm, looking anywhere but him.

This is not ice cream and Netflix, that’s for sure.

“How have you been?” “Fine.”, I reply automatically, “And you?”

“A dick.” He says it so matter-of-factly and quickly it catches me by surprise and I can’t stop myself from peeking over at him. He’s not wrong.

When I don’t say anything he continues, his eyes boring into mine “I told you I would call you. In that note I left you. And I swear I meant to. And then I didn’t. And I fully understand if you never want to see my face again.”

“Why? If you didn’t have time for me or didn’t want to keep seeing me, then sure. But why the fuck didn’t you just tell me to my face that you didn’t want anything to do with me? Or at least send a fucking text.” I’m breathing harder by the time I’m done talking. But I swear it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders now that the question I’ve been wanting to ask him is finally out of my mouth.

Harry’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, looking like my words hit him like a ton of bricks. The way his shoulders deflated and the deep frown that settled on his face as his eyes glosses over.

And just like that the anger is back and I stand up suddenly, “You know what. I don’t want to know. Just please leave.” I point to my front door to further my point, ignoring the burning at the back of my eyes, keeping my face as hard as I possibly can. Somehow seeing him seeming so torn up over this makes it hurt all the more.

“No.”, Harry shakes his head firmly as he gets to his feet as well. That’s the first thing he’s done since I saw him today that hasn’t seemed riddled with nerves. “Let me explain.”

He takes my silence as an invitation to speak.

“I fully intended on calling you.” He takes a step forward, making me crane my neck slightly to maintain eye contact, searching his for any hint of untruthfulness. “And god did I want to. I wanted to hear that sweet fucking voice of yours more than you understand.”

“Then why didn’t you?”, I ask, hating how small I sound.

“Because I got fucking scared.” Harry takes another step, now so close that his cologne infiltrates my senses again.

I feel my jaw drop in surprise at his confession. But it doesn’t stay like that for long because Harry gently pushes it back up with his pointer finger on my chin. It’s like a jolt of electricity shoots out of his fingertip and travels through my whole body, making my heartbeat pick up and my breathing shallows at his touch.

Harry answers the question I had on the tip of my tongue before I get the chance to ask it, “I know this probably makes me more of a dick. But the way you make me feel, Ambs? It’s so exhilarating and wonderful and safe all at the same time. And that’s what makes it so damn terrifying.”

My eyes round in question as I tilt my head to the side, “Why didn’t you just tell me this instead of disappearing?”

“Because I was drowning when I met you. And I swear you took my hand and pulled me right up. I could finally breathe again. It felt like if my fears were true and you didn’t want me like I want you, I’d be thrown right off into the deep end again.”

Completely speechless at his honesty, my eyes flick between his as emotion builds in my throat again. My face is no doubt beet red. The only thing I manage to squeeze out is, “No wonder you write songs for a living.”

Harry laughs, eyebrows shooting up in surprise and I swear my heart jumps at the melodic sound. “I’m also a certified comedian.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh, turning my head to the side so I won’t snort straight into his face, my hand coming up to muffle the sound. There is no way in hell that’s true. Unless he paid someone to give him some paper that says he’s the funniest man in the business.

Immediately, Harry swats my hands away, turning my head right back with his hands now cupping both sides of my neck.

“Don’t hide from me.” It’s more of a demand than a request. I can’t even argue when he juts his bottom lip out in a pout, making his eyes round and big. His lashes are dark and long, contrasting with his pale green irises.

Tucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I fiddle with the button of his cardigan just below his chest absentmindedly.

My head tilts down, so I won’t have to look him in the eye. Now that I’m focusing on the individual stitches of his cardigan, I ask him nervously, “So you like me?”

When he doesn’t answer, I feel panic starting to bubble in my chest. My head screams that I fucked up and took everything he said the wrong way as I feel tears starting to form when he lets go of my neck. The puffs of air that fans over my forehead make my shame grow to the point where I wish for the ground to swallow me whole.

With embarrassment ringing in my ears, I go to take a step back so I’m out of his space, not even daring to look at his face. Too scared of what I’d find. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what I-”

I’m cut off by his lips crashing against mine with a force I haven’t felt before, his hands right back where they were before, stopping me from even taking one step as my eyes widen in surprise. Then I’m melting into the kiss, wringing the soft material of his cardigan in my fists as I kiss him back.

Every single worry in my mind went silent the second he kissed me and now it’s calm. The same way the world quiets once your head is submerged in water and all you can hear is the serene sound of the water dancing beautifully around you.

If Harry is magic, then his kiss is a spell that I would let him cast over me for the rest of my days.

“Does that answer your question?”, he asks, lips brushing against mine as he talks while his thumbs stroking my cheeks.

Our noses bump when I nod and I feel him smile against my lips.

Neither of us says anything. else for I don’t know how long. I can feel my heartbeat underneath his hands as I keep my hold on his cardigan, his chest pushing against my knuckles every time it expands. Our breaths mix in the millimetres of space between us.

All I want to do is kiss him.

The more time passes the harder my heart beats and the more the need to feel his lips on mine again grows.

At the same time, after going for three weeks without as much as laying my eyes on him. So as torturous as being so close to, and not kissing him is, I still bask in his presence. His smell and his touch. The feeling of stardust still lingering on my lips that I so desperately want to mould with his.

“I like your cardigan.”, I whisper, flattening my hands against his firm chest.

Harry sucks in a quick breath before I feel him smile against my lips. He drops his left hand to where mine are, wrapping his fingers around my wrist as he presses my hand firmer against his chest. “It’s yours.”, he confesses, tilting his head so our foreheads are aligned.

My eyes fly open as I look at him with wide eyes, pulling my face away from his. “No way! You stole my cardigan?”

He grins so wide that his eyes crinkle, completely contradicting the nonchalant shrug he gives, “Doesn’t seem like you missed it too much if you didn’t even realise it was yours.”

“Oh, shut up.”, I roll my eyes, pushing at his chest.

Without budging, he drops his hand from my wrist to my waist pulling my body flush against his. He keeps me there, splaying both his hands over the small of my back, that same blinding smile lighting up the room. “I look good in it though, don’t I?”

My arms loop around his neck, back arching as I giggle, “So much better than me.”

His smile drops, looking downright offended. “No. Absolutely not.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off before I get the chance to. “Don’t say that shit about yourself! You’re so fucking beautiful, baby. Just having you in my arms makes me the luckiest fucking man alive.”

At a loss for words, I blink rapidly before I grip his hair with my fingers as I stand up on my tiptoes to bring him into a kiss, hoping that understands.

Everything feels right the second his mouth is on mine.

Harry groans into the kiss, his hand sliding up my back as it arches more, a shiver travelling down my spine.

Keeping my body as close as possible to his, chest to chest, Harry doesn’t take long before he switches up in a way that makes my head spin.

The soft, tender kisses left behind as he slides his tongue over my bottom lip, asking for access. There was no need for coaxing. I grant it without question, feeling heat creeping through my body at the way he teases his tongue alone mine.

Dipping my own tongue into his mouth in return, running it along his teeth elicits a groan from his throat that has my thighs squeezing together.

That moment when he switches from kissing me softly to robbing my lungs of air with deep, hot kisses never fails to make me absolutely weak in the knees.

He drops his hand to my ass, squeezing the flesh in his palm as his mouth becomes hungrier, as do my own. I tug at his hair. Hard. Eliciting a groan from the back of his throat that has me smirking against his mouth at his reaction. I don’t get to gloat for long, because Harry suddenly turns around and sits down on the sofa, not disconnecting our mouths for a second. I follow him blindly. As if I would die if his lips weren’t on mine for one mere moment.

My thighs are on either side of his and all I can taste is his mouth on mine. All I can feel are his hands roaming my body and his soft, pillowy lips. All I can smell is his musky cologne and the warm scent of his shampoo. It’s all him. There isn’t one cell in my being that hasn’t been touched by him.

I’m not sure if I’m dizzy from the lack of oxygen or the way he is kissing me so deeply, but if I died right now, I would die a happy fucking woman.

As if he knew exactly what was going through my head, Harry gives my lips one final peck before he’s nudging me to tilt my head up and to the side with his nose for better access. He leaves hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jaw until he reaches the spot on my neck that’s just below it.

I can’t help the loud gasp I let out at the sensation when he alternated between sucking, licking and nipping at the skin of my neck and throat. He keeps at it until I’m squirming in his lap, throbbing with need.

Right now, I can’t even find it in me to care that my neck is most likely going to be littered with love bites in the morning.

Harry drops his hands to my hips, dragging them forward so I’m sitting right on top of his bulge, both of us gasping at the contact. I can feel him hardening through the material of our clothes, and it’s making a new wave of desire fly through my nervous system.

His head falls to my chest when I roll my hips forward experimentally. The whimper he lets out spurs me to keep doing it.

“Can I take off your shirt?”, he asks, his cheeks flush with red as he looks up at me. His hair messily lays over his forehead. The sweat that’s started accumulating on his skin makes it stick to his temples.

In this moment, Harry could ask me to jump off a roof and I’d ask if he wanted me to do a flip too.

“Please.”, I practically whine, brushing his hair out of his face before laying a tender kiss to the space between his eyebrows. His eyes flutter close for a second at the affection and I swear I could scream from the butterflies in my tummy.

Harry kisses the tip of my nose just as he drags both my sweater vest and shirt up my body. I lift my arms to help, left in only my bra as he discards my clothes somewhere. Eyes locked with mine, his fingers drag down my sides slowly in a way that has a shiver going down my spine.

When he does let his eyes wander, I don’t feel a hint of uncertainty or insecurity. All because of what Harry says under his breath; “Jesus fuck, you’ll be the death of me.”

“Maybe I should cover up then.”, I sing song, pretending like I’m about to go looking for my shirt again. But Harry is having none of that, gripping my hips and planting me right back down in his lap. “Fuck no.”, he says, guiding my hips to grind against his again, “I’d drop dead right now as long as I got to feel you.”

My breath quickens with the stimulation I’m getting from the way he drags my core against his solid erection. “it’s not really fair that I’m the only one topless, now, is it?”

The faintest smirk spreads on his face when I undo the two buttons on his cardigan, the simple white t-shirt he is wearing underneath revealing itself as he shrugs the cardigan off, throwing it over his shoulder. And God does that t-shirt look good on him.

It hugs him in all the right places, tight around his biceps and just sheer enough to be able to see the silhouettes of his tattoos through it.

Harry lets me take my time admiring him with his t-shirt on before I decide it’s time to rid him of that too, lifting his arms to help me get it off. “You feel better now?”, he asks with a laugh.

I just nod, unable to take my eyes off the artwork that is his body. It doesn’t matter that I’ve seen him before. His soft, golden skin stretches across his toned, defined muscles. Dark ink decorates his skin so perfectly. Soft hairs scattered over his broad chest so deliciously. The ferns tattoos that are partly hidden by his jeans have my mouth watering. Every dip and curve of his body is perfection and I have the urge to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.

I don’t realise that I’ve just been frozen, staring at him until I feel Harry pinch my side lightly, amusement evident in his voice, “Are you ok, baby?”

“Mhm.”, I hum, sliding my hand tantalisingly down the front of his body, his stomach sucking in with the sharp breath he takes. “Wanna know what would make it even better?”

“What?”

Harry swallows hard when I dip my finger just underneath the waistband of his jeans, leaning forward so the side of my face is aligned with his, his hands tightening on my hips when I tilt my head, lightly kissing and nipping at his earlobe.

“Your cock down my throat.”, I whisper in his ear as if I was telling him my darkest secret, gracing my fingertips over the bulge in his jeans.

He drops his forehead to my shoulder with a groan sounding so wound up I can’t help but laugh, earning myself a smack on the ass. “It’s not funny.”, Harry grumbles.

“Do you want to whine about that, or do you want me to give you head?”, I ask after placing a kiss on the top of his head.

It’s almost comical how fast he straightens up, his eyes darting between mine. “Please.”

Shocked at how fast he got to the state of saying, please, I still decide to not make it too easy on him. “Please what?”, I ask as I start leaving open-mouthed, hot kisses down his jaw, latching onto the sensitive spot just below his jaw while palming him through his jeans.

Harry tilts his head, his chest rising faster than before. “Please touch me.”

“Now that wasn’t, so hard, was it?” I pull away from his neck with a pleased smirk on my face, I brush the pad of my thumb across his bottom lip, nearly losing my composure when Harry wraps his lips around my finger, holding it in place with his teeth as he sucks on it.

But I regain it fast enough, patting his cheek when he releases my thumb with a pop. I can tell that he has something to say, but he bites his tongue. Probably so I will give him what he needs. Which is exactly what I’m gonna do.

Sliding off his lap and settling myself on my knees between his spread thighs. I leave a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses all the way from the base of his throat to the fern tattoos that lead right where he needs me the most.

Glancing up at him, the look on his face gives me a large confidence boost. Swollen, red lips and his delicate features hardened with lust and impatience. The way his chin is tucked against his chest, his eyes locked on me as if he would doesn’t want to miss a single move I make. His breath falters when I begin unbuckling his belt, licking his lips in anticipation.

If it weren’t for the fact that I don’t have a shred of patience left in my body, I would’ve dragged this out much longer.

Harry lifts his hips to help me get off both his jeans and his underwear in one go, his body sagging with relief once he springs free. I scoot a little bit away to allow him to kick them and his socks off his feet before I shuffle back, sitting on the back of my heels.

And God does he look heavenly. Love bites are already starting to form in the path I took down his body. His hair a mess and his bottom lip tucked under his teeth. His cock is resting against his stomach. Fully hard, almost to the point where it looks painful.

My mouth waters at the sight of him.

I look back up at him, about to open my mouth. But he seems to have read my mind, “Just touch me? I’m dying. Please.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice.

I spit in my hand before I wrap it around him, using my spit as lubrication as I teasingly pump his solid length. The second I touch him his abdominal muscles tense and his hands curl into fists. It’s when I twist my hand around the head of his cock that his mouth parts, “Fuck that feels good.”

Without stopping what I’m doing with my hand, I kiss the soft skin of his inner thighs, the muscles tensing in response when I leave a love bite on the sensitive skin. Harry tucks my hair behind my ear, directing my attention back to his face where he’s got a dazed look in his eyes.

Like I did to him, he traces my lips with his fingers, eyes hooded as he twitches in my hand.

Leaning forward, I take his tip into my mouth, giving it a gentle suck after tracing the prominent vein with my tongue. Harry moans a praise when I take more of him into my mouth, hollowing out my cheeks as I work the head of his cock with my mouth and tongue.

Pulling back momentarily, I gather my spit in the front of my mouth before I let it drop the short distance. He hisses as the glob of saliva makes contact with his sensitive tip before we both watch it drip down the side of his length, leaving a shiny trail in its wake.

“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me.”, Harry breathes out when I take him in my mouth again, this time going further. I hum, the vibrations from it have his jaw going slack as his muscles tense. His hands pull my hair out of my face, gathering it in a ponytail as I bob my head up and down his dick. I use my hand to jerk off what I don’t have in my mouth, his velvety skin wet with my spit.

When Harry’s hips start to thrust up to meet my mouth on their own accord, the broken moans spilling from him, I take a second to prepare myself before I take him all the way, my eyes watering as he curves down my throat and my nose brushes against his pelvis. “Oh, fuck.”, he curses, fingers tightening in my hair making me whine at the sting. “That’s it. Such a good girl, oh my god.”

I let him take the lead, moving my head with the grip on my hair to meet his thrusts as he fucks my mouth just how he wants. The head of his cock hits the back of my throat each time, spit dribbling down my chin.

Looking up at him through my lashes. I would happily die like this if it meant I’d go out being the reason for his pleasure.

The sweat glistening and reflecting the light has him looking otherworldly. His face and neck are flush with colour. Ragged breaths, whimpers and moans escape his strained throat as he gets closer and closer to reaching his orgasm.

Locking eyes with him, the corners of his lips quirk up in a blissed-out smile that’s quickly wiped off when I swallow around him, his head falling back and his abs quiver. “I’m gonna cum. Fuck. If you don’t want-”

I cut off his warning, bobbing my head without his prompt to tell him that I want him to. After that, it doesn’t take long for him to reach his climax.

And when he does, it’s with a shout of my name on his tongue.

His thighs and abdominal muscles shake, moans and whimpers spilling from him like I’ve never heard before. Spurts of hot, salty cum shoot from his dick and I swallow everything, helping him through his high.

Harry is panting slightly when he comes down, eyes still hazy. “You feeling ok, baby?”, I check as I get off my now sore knees and sit down next to him, body facing his.

“I’m fucking great.” A lazy grin graces his beautiful face. His kind, eyes twinkle as they meet mine. “You’re bloody amazing. You know that?”

I raise an eyebrow but can’t help but match his smile, “Am I amazing or are you just in another world right now?”

“Why can’t it be both?”, he shrugs, laying a kiss on my bare shoulder.

Giggling, I press my lips to the top of his head, “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”, Harry pouts as he looks up at me, his face still holding an ethereal glow that has me wanting to smother every inch of it in kisses and affection.

I twirl a longer strand of his hair around my finger before tucking it behind his hair. “It’s quite the opposite. I love that you’re yourself so unapologetically.”

When I notice Harry’s eyes gloss over momentarily, I worry that I said something wrong. But before I get to ask what’s wrong, he grabs my face in his hands and kisses me. Long and hard, his nose squishing against my cheek before he pulls away momentarily. He then moulds our lips together softly one, two three times. So tenderly and delicately I almost can’t bear it.

Brushing his nose with mine, Harry whispers against my lips, “I wanna make you feel good.” If my heart wasn’t beating fast before, it definitely is now.

“Will you let me?” He kisses the corner of my mouth and I feel his hand move to my thigh. His other hand hovers just over the clasp of my bra as he makes his mouth busy kissing down my jaw.

“Yes, please.”, I say, nodding feverishly not even caring how desperate I probably sound.

He laughs fondly, pressing a kiss to my nose as he undoes my bra with expertise. “Tell me what you want, and you’ve got it, my eager girl.”

Trailing my finger up his back, I bite my lip to keep my smile at bay. “Anything?”

Harry carelessly throws my bra to the side, placing a kiss between my breasts. “Anything.” Hand creeping further up my thigh, my legs spreading on their own. “Do you want my hands?”

“Yes.” If he doesn’t touch me soon, I feel like I might die from the burning ache between my legs. And it only gets worse and better all at the same time when he wraps his lips around my sensitive nipple, his warm, wet tongue flicking over it. I can’t help but throw my head back with a whine.

Snaking his hand from my back, gracing the underside of my boob. It has my spine curving, chest pushed out further and Harry hums, seeming pleased with my reaction. He switches to suck on my other nipple, leaving a trail of affection between the two.

The attention to my breasts only has the need to feel himself somewhere else growing by the second.

And does he fucking know it.

Harry looks up at me, his eyes narrowing as he smiles at me in satisfaction. “Do you want my mouth?”, he asks, batting his eyelashes at me as if he were innocent. He is anything but. “Maybe both?”

Cupping his face, I say in the most serious tone I can muster at the moment; “If you don’t stop teasing, I’m gonna fucking do it myself.”

“Oh well, then.”, Harry chuckles, getting down on his knees before me, undoing my jeans before tapping my hips. “Let’s take these off, shall we?” Not wasting a moment, I lift my hips as I help him wiggle them off along with my panties, leaving me fully naked and exposed.

“So fucking beautiful.” Harry drags his eyes over my body, seeming to take in every curve and dip like he’s admiring his favourite view. The crushing vulnerability and lack of uncertainty he seems to instil in me in moments like these can only be described as intoxicating. Leaving me with a mind centred around him and him alone.

Gentle touches and kisses that are meant to be of adoration, but they have the pit of desire and arousal in my stomach near unbearable.

Wrapping his arms around the backs of my thighs, Harry drapes my legs over his shoulders, making my body slide further down on the sofa. I can feel his breath fanning over my soaked cunt and it’s sending shivers down my spine.

Catching his eye, Harry maintains eye contact as he drags his tongue through my folds, painfully slow. The vibration of his hum has my breath caught in my throat as I lace my fingers through his locks.

When he teasingly licks at my clit, a whine leaves my lips. A whine that turns into a moan when he suddenly sucks the bundle of nerves into his warm mouth, caressing it with his tongue at the same time.

The way he is alternating between licks and kisses that are barely there and the eye-crossing, powerful motions has reduced me to a panting, moaning mess before I even know it. My skin feels like it’s on fire, sweat making my hair stick to the side of my face and neck. Sounds of pleasure come out with no care.

It’s like the rest of the world has faded away and I’m hyperaware of every touch from Harry.

His strong, muscled arms wrapped around my thighs. The way they squeeze around my upper thigh. One hand on my thigh and the other on my hip. How warm his palms are and the way the hand on my hip is inching closer and closer to my pussy where he is eating me out like he’s a starving man. The slight stubble on his face brings that slight sting along with the little nibbles from his teeth that only make that feeling of ecstasy grow stronger and more powerful.

Deep moans and hums against my nerves that have me throwing my head back, my own fingers pulling his soft, damp curls tighter. That same head of hair brushes against the skin of my inner thighs.

Mindless praises fly from my mouth, messy and intelligible. Not that he seems to mind. With each choked word of encouragement, he gets just a little bit more eager.

I force myself to peel my eyes open, needing to see him.

There is something about taking in the man on his knees between my legs. So attentive to my reaction to everything he does. His pinkie finger barely brushes the fleshy skin of my hip and he doesn’t seem like he would rather be anywhere in the world but right where he is. And even though he is literally eating me out like a thirsting man, I realise it’s not close enough.

I can’t keep the tears from falling when I do from the pleasure and the surge of emotions that has a pathetic sob erupting from my chest. The second he hears it, his eyes fly open, and he stops immediately.

Concern laces his features as he takes in the tears rolling down my cheeks. “Darling, what’s wrong?” He lets go of my thighs, both sliding off his broad shoulders as he shuffles to get up from his knees.

The intense, overwhelming fire of pleasure fizzles out but I can’t even find it in me to care. All I want is him as close as humanly possible.

“Need you.”, is all I manage to croak out, nuzzling into his hand when he cradles my face. Harry swipes my tears away with the pads of his thumbs, only for more to fall as he tilts his head in confusion. “I’m right here, baby.”

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself down, I press a quick kiss to the inside of his wrist, my hand wrapped around his forearm to keep his just where they are. The smell of his skin filtering through my nostrils soothes me as his voice does. Enough to take a deep breath and allow my heart to slow down.

“I need you inside of me.”

“Oh.”, his mouth forms into a small o-shape before it morphs into a smile that matches the crinkles by his eyes. “Are you sure?”

I nod fervently, mirroring his grin.

“What my girl wants, she gets.” Harry pecks my lips, my eyes fluttering close as I hum against his lips, elongating the kiss with a hand switching to the back of his neck to keep him in place as I trace his bottom lip with my tongue.

The taste of myself on his lips makes my stomach twist in desire and need, gripping his hair tighter when Harry suddenly manoeuvres me around so my back hits the cushion of the sofa and my head falls into the throw pillows stacked at the corner. His lips are quick to find mine again, moulding together in lust and passion. His hips drop against mine and I cross my ankles against the back of his thighs. My left thigh is slightly squeezed between his body and the back of the sofa.

I gasp at the shock of pleasure that goes through my system when he shifts his hips, his rock-solid cock rubbing against my sensitive folds, no doubt soaked by my arousal. Needing to feel feeling again, I buck my hips up against his, jaw dropping when Harry meets my movement with a whine against my mouth.

“Baby, please.”, I beg again. It almost hurts to be so close to where I need to be but still not quite there.

With one last kiss to my lips, Harry shifts all his weight to his right elbow tilting his body to the side as he positions the head of his cock right at my entrance. “You ready?”, he asks, searching my eyes for any sign that I’m not.

The second he has the ok to, he pushes in slowly, eyes locked on my face the entire time as mine threaten to close. “Oh my- Fuck.”, I pant.

The overwhelming stretch of him followed by the pleasure that only grows the further he sinks inside me is a feeling I am never going to get tired of. Neither is the look of concentration and bliss etched on Harry’s face. His pretty lips parts with a soft moan as his eyebrows pinches together.

This is what I needed. To be as close to him as physically possible. My hot and sweaty skin ismflush against his. The way his grip on my thigh gets harder momentarily when I clench around him unintentionally. Our noses nearly touch from how close our faces are. Every single one of my senses centred around him.

Once he’s all the way in, tip nudged against my g-spot deliciously, his now glossy eyes dart between mine. I can practically see the wheels churning in his head as he lands on the words he utters so quietly it’s as if he’s telling me something sacred and just for us. “Missed you so much.”

My throat tightens with emotion, and I can once again feel my waterline overflow with salty tears as I tuck my bottom lip into my mouth. “I missed you too.”

I really, really did. But I don’t want to think about that right now.

He seems to catch on because instead of saying anything else, he draws his hips back until just the tip of him is left before he pushes in to the hilt again. He puts more and more force behind each thrust every time until he finds the one that has me clutching onto his shoulders, nails no doubt digging into his warm skin.

Moans fall freely from my lips as my eyes fall shut. Harry drops his forehead to mine when I move my hips to meet his. “Fuck me. You’re doing so fucking good for me.”, he pants.

Before long, I’m right back at the point I was before. A ball of tightknit pleasure in the pit of my stomach that makes my body tingle in anticipation. The wet sounds of mine and Harry’s arousal mixed with skin slapping against skin are filthy and only push me closer and closer to my high.

I can feel myself clenching and unclenching around Harry’s cock as he keeps his thrusts the same steady pace.

He connects his lips with mine again although neither of us can concentrate on keeping it anything but messy. One particularly well-angled thrust has my jaw nearly dropping to my chest and my eyebrows scrunching together in pleasure as it hits my g-spot perfectly.

“Right there.”, I gasp, burying the back of my head further into the pillows, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes and down the sides of my face. “I’m so fucking close.”

Harry keeps his thrusts exactly the same, murmuring praises and encouraging words in my ear. The warm air from his breath fans across my neck and when he latches onto the damp skin, suctioning it hard before he glides his tongue over it, it’s the final push I need before I’m finishing.

My eyes roll into the back of my head as ecstasy rushes through every nerve ending in my body. My heartbeat is pounding in my ears as I feel myself hold onto Harry like my life depends on it. And he doesn’t stop either.

He keeps working me through my high with increasingly sloppy strokes of his hips. His name is like a never-ending prayer as I finish out my trip to heaven. The sound of Harry’s moans like a distant symphony of angels.

At last, coming down from my climax, I’m having a weird sense of Deja-vu.

Weighed down entirely by Harry’s body like a big, warm blanket of safety and home. His arms are wrapped fully around my torso. His face tucked into the crook of my neck, hair sticking to our sweaty temples. A serene silence surrounds us and reflects in my own mind. Our hearts aligned both physically and metaphorically.

We’re in our own little bubble of post-orgasmic bliss and comfort.

Every so gently, I trace the shapes and dips of his back and shoulders with the tip of my fingers. Keeping my eyes closed I try to memorize this exact feeling. Mentally filling up bottle after bottle after bottle with it.

The delicate pucker of lips against the crook of my neck has my heart doing somersaults in my chest and a lazy grin spreading on my face.

“He’s alive.”, I whisper. “It’s a miracle.”

Soft melodic laughter reaches my ears shortly after I feel him laughing on top of me. Another kiss.

“Since when was I dead?” His voice is muffled but I can still understand him perfectly.

My hand drifts to the back of his neck, twirling his hair around my fingers. “One starts to wonder when you’re laying like the dead.”

Removing himself from my neck, he cranes his neck, making me tuck my chin down to look at his face.

Why does he look so good?

“You’re comfy and warm.”, he says matter-of-factly. Hair messy on his head and his face still has a flush of colour to it.

The instant pout his face adopts when I lightly pinch the flesh of his side is one I wish to frame and keep in my wallet. “Could say the same thing for you too.”

“Good.”, he smiles, seeming satisfied with my answer. He stuffs his face right back where it was, wiggling to get comfortable again.

The wiggle reminds me that he is still tucked inside of me, and I almost feel bad for what I’m about to do with how content Harry seems to just stay like this. “H, we gotta get up.” “Or we could just stay here.”, Harry hums, not moving a muscle.

“We’re gonna ruin my sofa if we do that.”, I explain, waiting patiently for him to connect the dots in that beautiful mind of his.

And when he does, he sighs. “I’m so tired.”

“We can take a bath, yeah?”, I suggest when he reluctantly lifts his head again, brushing back the hair that’s fallen over his forehead with my fingers. “Get all nice and clean. And if you want you can stay over?”

“That sounds nice.” He really does look tired.

Smiling softly, I place a short peck just where the faint shadow if his dimple is. “I’ll get it ready and you just relax, ok?”

“Yes ma’am.”, he grins, before pecking my cheek three times.

Unsticking his body from mine slowly but surely, he says sorry when as pulls out, kissing my shoulder apologetically at the same time. The sensitivity has me hissing through gritted teeth, but the second he’s out, I miss the feeling of being full of him.

Stupid, comfy sofa.

“I’ll be right back.”, I promise as he plops down on the sofa, pecking his cheek as I find both mine and his underwear on the floor where we discarded them earlier. Sliding my panties back on, I take the route behind the sofa on my way to the kitchen, dropping his next to him as I do.

I can feel his tired eyes on me as I shuffle around the kitchen, grabbing a large glass and filling it with water. I take a few sips of the cold, refreshing liquid before handing it to Harry.

He takes it with a grateful smile, “Thank you, baby.”

“You sure it tastes bad?”, Harry questions for the fourth time, the now lukewarm water splashing as he sticks his knee out of the water again. Shaking my head, I momentarily stop kneading his shoulders. “It’s soap, darling. Of course, it tastes bad.”

The top of his back is almost dry now from how long it’s been up from the water. A few droplets here and there drip from his hair down the nape of his neck before trailing down his strong back and into the water.

Why he is so insistent on knowing what my ‘fruit bowl’ body wash tastes like? I have no idea. But can’t say it isn’t nice to get this side of him again though.

Between the small talk we’ve made about everything and nothing and the body wash questions, my mind keeps drifting off to how only hours ago I thought I wouldn’t see any side of him again. Lavender oil and bath salts sadly aren’t a cure for worries and negative thoughts.

Worry that even though he said he regrets it, he is going to disappear again. That he’ll get spooked and be gone for good. It feels like right now is too good to be true.

It’s too good with him to be true.

I do believe that he meant it when he said that he likes me. I believe his reasoning for what happened. But I still can’t help the anxious pit in my stomach that he’ll be gone in the morning again like before. But I don’t want to drag down his good, relaxed mood and make it all serious and tense again.

For the time being I’m going to bask in the sunlight that is Harry. Regardless of the clouds thundering around inside my head.

I’m brought back to reality when Harry twists his upper body, the water splashing in small waves as he does. “It’s getting a bit cold.”

“It is.”, I agree. I honestly have no concept of just how long we’ve been submerged in water and lavender together. Harry makes it feel like time goes so fast while stopping at a standstill all at once.

But judging by the serious case of raisin hands we’re both sporting and the fact that I was half asleep at one point, I would say we’ve been here for long enough.

We rinse off in the shower wrapped up in each other’s arms while the bathtub drains. I have to physically take the fruit-scented body wash bottle from his hands as he kept saying he was going to squirt some in his mouth and swallow it.

We stand side by side, now wrapped in towels. Mine knotted over my chest and around my hair. His are low on his hips. Although he doesn’t really need it, he still chose to wrap his hair up in a towel claiming that I shouldn’t shame short-haired people when I asked him why he did it.

Harry looks how I feel right now. Like he could fall asleep standing upright.

Meeting his eyes in our reflection, I lean my tired body against his, smiling through my toothpaste when he slings his arm around my shoulders. “You feelin sleepy, Ambs?”

I nod, finishing up with my teeth so I can spit the toothpaste into the sink. After rolling water around in my mouth to rinse it out, I step aside to let harry do the same thing. He shouldn’t be able to make something so simple as rinsing the toothpaste out of his mouth look good.

An uncontainable, sleepy smile creeps up my face when he leans over me to reach the jar of moisturiser by the mirror. Something about how he unscrews the lid and scoops some out then applies it to his slightly tan face makes me all warm in my heart.

I didn’t realise I was just blankly staring at the side of his face until he suddenly twists his head, a shit-eating grin on his shiny face as he smears something chilly and moist across my forehead with the pad of his thumb. Humour and laughter in his tone as he says; “Simba.”

It takes me a few seconds to connect the dots. When I do, my head falls back in laughter.

“You fucking idiot.”, I shove at his chest, not even making Harry budge. My stomach is still tight with giggles and I know that my cheeks are making me look like a chipmunk from how wide my smile is.

Unphased by my insincere insult, Harry drags the product from my forehead down the bridge of my nose and across my cheeks with one finger before he switches to using both of his hands to massage the familiarly scented moisturiser into my skin. I let my eyes fall shut and enjoy the relaxing motions of his fingers, a blush spreading on my cheeks when he traces my lips. A whisper of “beautiful” reaches my ear as he does.

He is going to give me heart palpitations if he keeps going like this.

“What time do you think it is?”, I ask when I open my eyes, my heart beating a little bit faster when I catch his intense, moss-green eyes.

With his hands still holding my face, Harry kisses my forehead, making my heart skip a beat again before he says; “I think it’s time for us to go to bed.”

Nodding, I let my hands find his hips, smoothing my fingers over the supple skin. “I still have the clothes you left.”, I tell him, watching as his face softens entirely. “Oh. And you also left your guitar.”

“Surprised you didn’t burn them.”, Harry teases, his cheeks gaining a pink tint.

I shrug my shoulders. “If I burnt it, I couldn’t get rich selling everything on eBay, now could I?”

“is that all I am to you now, hm?”, he raises an eyebrow in question. “A way to make some easy money off my fans?” I can tell by the playful glint in his eye that he knows I’m not serious and is playing along.

Truth is that even if I never saw him again, I would probably keep the articles of clothing to myself to serve as a reminder that it was all real and not just a figment of my own imagination.

At least that’s what they’ve been over the past three weeks.

“I have a jar of your hair hidden in my closet.”, I add, relishing in the sunny glint in his eyes shining just as brightly as his smile. Harry shakes his head with a hearty laugh as he brushes up the tip of my nose with his finger. “Let’s get to bed, yeah?”

Agreeing, we make our way to the bedroom where I hand Harry the bag of his stuff that he’s left behind previously, landing a sweet kiss on his shoulder before I shuffle over to my closet.

Once I’ve slid a fresh pair of underwear up my legs, I grab the white beastie boys t-shirt I may or may not have adopted as my sleep shirt lately and pull it over my head. The fabric is soft and cool against my skin, ending just below my butt.

“Ok, I see how it is.”, I hear from behind me just before I feel a pair of arms snake around my waist from behind.

Leaning into the warmth of his body, my back against his front, I place my arms on top of his. “And how is that?” Harry hums in my ear, swaying us from side to side slowly and I can feel his heartbeat through the thin layer of cotton separating us.

“You give me grief about stealing your cardigan. Yet here you are in my clothes. Wanna explain that to me?”

“Are you sure you want me to?”, I ask, turning around in his arms. I loop mine around his neck, curving my spine so I can look at him. The half-smirk tugging at the left corner of his mouth has butterflies swarming my tummy.

When he nods confidently, I do just that. “Because it reminds me of you. And I realised I liked that. So why wouldn’t I wear it?”

Even in the dim lighting shining in from the hallway, I can see his cheeks turning a shade darker before moves his head closer. I can feel his breath against the shell of my ear as he speaks, “Can I tell you a secret?”

His voice is low and deep, so so close, and all I can do is nod my head once. My heart is beating hard against my ribs and I’m very aware of how his hands are locked at my lower back.

“I like it better on you.”

-

I really hope you guys liked this!!

if you did please do leave a comment, like or reblog. And feel free to let me know if there is something you want me to write.

[medstudydiary]

Study tips I wish I knew and followed sooner

15/8/2024

Hello everyone! I haven’t posed for a while because I was preparing this post. I’m so excited to share it!!!

Here I collected everything I was able to think about study tips. Obviously these are things that work for me so it’s absolutely okay if different things work for you, maybe share them in the comments so we can help and inspire each other🌸

I’ll maybe update the list as I learn more tips, or if you prefer I can collect new tips in a part two or give each tip a post, again let me now in the comments what you’d prefer💕

Less is more when underlining. Do use highlighter for key words, than circle words of secondary importance and underline something else. Absolutely do not underline/highlight/circle everything you’ll study, just those words that will help you remember the rest of that paragraph. It can help to use different colours but only when there are lists or categories because it helps you remember things as distinguished from one another. But I wouldn’t go crazy with colours in other situations

Take notes during lectures just to follow the explanation. Unless the subject is really easy and it’s fast to summarise it (which is usually the case in high school but not really in university), do NOT turn those notes into the thing you’ll study from or you’ll end up summarising the whole book and rewriting your notes to make them more pleasant and understandable. Just let yourself be messy if needed and use them to pay attention during class and to write things you didn’t understand or connections you want to explicitly see on paper. Paying attention in class really does pay off because you’ve already been exposed to the material before you actually study it

Start as early as possible, do not procrastinate until it’s gonna be really hard to prepare the exam. The pain of studying is better than the pain of regret in my opinion. Plus, you’ll be at peace and relaxed during exam season too when everyone else will be panicking because you won’t feel behind in your work

Get ready to study. Make yourself pretty. You can have everything, if you’re dressed for it. You don’t need to be uncomfortable with heels or anything like that, but wear something that makes you feel confident and determined

Moving your body before studying or during a break can help you be more present and remove brain fog. A simple walk outside really does the trick for me, it doesn’t need to be anything intense

Do not set an amount of pages to study per day as a goal at first. The first days just study for a chosen amount of hours and see how many pages you get to do a day of that particularly subject. Than you’ll be able to choose a realistic daily goal of pages to study. That’s because not every subject is the same and maybe you’d be setting unrealistic daily goals that will just demotivate you. This is why it’s important to start early: you get to find your rhythm for studying that subject and if it’s just 15 pages a day you’ll be able to do so without stressing

Give yourself a week or two depending on you and the exam of just revising before an exam. It’s important so that if you have days where you can’t function because of anxiety or if you need to clarify things you can do that without stressing

If the exam requires exercising, start practicing as soon as possible

If you only have a multiple choice kind of exam, memorise through quizzing yourself and exercises if needed

If the exam is (also) oral, you should (also) practice talking from the start by studying out loud

Sit in front of the class during lectures to pay attention better

Paper>digital because digital screens cause bad eyesight, digital things can get you distracted and because as you proceed on paper you’ll turn pages and you’ll get the feeling of progressing while seeing yourself going further in the book

Do not compare. Not everyone has the same strengths nor experience to get the same performance. But with discipline you can still get the same results, or even better

Study with a friend. You don’t neeed to study out loud together, the company is enough motivation because you feel accountable for one another and that stimulates you to do better. Plus, breaks are much more fulfilling and actually resting because you talk to another human being instead of going on your phone

Removing distractions means out of sight out of mind. Do not just turn off your phone and let it on the desk. Move it to another room and leave it there

Discipline is like a muscle. Resist the urge to do something else (checking your phone, watching Netflix, going to eat something, …). Acknowledge the urge and just stop yourself from satisfying it. If you can’t concentrate either, that’s okay. Just sit still without doing anything until the urge passes, then you can go back to studying with more concentration

Kill the fear whilst it’s small. Don’t procrastinate, instead face your challenges as soon as you can. The only way out is through

Talk to someone if you need help. If you need someone to check in on you, ask your roommate or relatives. If you didn’t understand something, ask the professor or your classmates. If you need emotional support, talk to the people close to you. It really does help

Go to the exam. Even if everything tells you that you’ll fail. Because you never know if you get lucky and only get asked the things you know. It happened to me quite a few times. The worst thing that can happen is that you have to do the exam again, the best is that you passed the exam. You never lose

Positive attitude and responsibility are key. Find the positive thing in every situation and realise that you have a huge responsibility in preparing for exams. You can’t control everything, but you can control the work you put into the preparation and that’s amazing because nobody can take that from you

There’s not a right time for anything. There’s just time and what you do with it. If it’s 5:17 pm you don’t need to wait until 5:30 pm to start studying. Just count to three and start. Do not look for the best time to study on the internet. Some people will tell you it’s 6 am, others will tell you something different. Listen to your body and pay attention to your mind. When are you the most concentrated? Than handle the day according to that. When you are the most active and concentrated you should study new material. When you are still energised but less focused, you should revise previous work and/or practice it

Sport, friends, family, hobbies and sleep are not a plus but a must. They have been a plus for me for so many years and I’ve been burnt out for almost a year. You need to take that hour or half hour to workout, preferably outside so you get that vitamin D. You need to see friends and family to avoid isolation. You need hobbies to feel rewarded for your hard work. You need to sleep because during sleep you strengthen neuronal patterns about the things you’ve studied, and sleeping helps you lower cortisol which is the stress hormone and keeping high levels of it is really bad and counterproductive. You need to balance everything because you gotta avoid at all costs chronic stress

Fear of failure is such a useless thing. It freezes you and makes you feel like the world is gonna explode if you fail. That’s bullshit of course. You are so much more than what you fail in, especially if you put in the work anyway. Don’t worry about how many times you fall, because the real difference is made by how many times you get up and try again. Fail, then fail better. Until you get it. Who cares? And even if someone does care, it’s their problem. As long as you are trying, you’re doing progress because remember that little progress is still progress. To worry less about failing, do the things you’re scared to fail at. If you fail, you’ll realise nothing bad really happens. And if you succeed, you’ll surprise yourself. Doubt kills way more opportunities than failure ever will, remember that

Be careful who you surround yourself with. If you are already really well organised and following a balanced lifestyle, then stay with whoever you like. But if you’re working on your lifestyle and don’t feel really productive nor satisfied with it yet, surround yourself with people who do have the lifestyle you’re looking for. That’s because when you’re still working on it you’re more likely to pick up habits from those around you

Be honest with yourself. Was the professor really a dick or did you not study that topic? Do you really need to rest are do you just want to avoid the work? Will you be able to do the work you wanted to if you go out right now? Telling yourself excuses makes you accumulate feelings of rage and subconscious disappointment and you enter the victim mentality instead of taking accountability and realising you can do a lot to change a situation. If you tell yourself excuses you’ll end up not trusting yourself and that’s so hard to fix

Often what people say about a professor is completely subjective, usually because they’ve had a bad experience with her/him and therefore want (usually subconsciously) to scare other students by sharing it. So you never really know if they are lying so that you have a bad experience with that teacher too, or maybe they deserved that strict treatments because they were rude and unprepared, … You really never know until you experience it first hand. Do ask many students and go attend to other people’s exam if possible so that you get an idea of who the professor is and how he structures the exam, make sure to listen to more opinions and never take them for granted. Know that everything might be biased

Take advices, but remember that many people want to see you do good, but never better than them. This doesn’t apply for everyone of course, but to many people yes

Pomodoro technique or deep work? Who fucking knows honestly lmao. Not everything will have the same rhythm and difficulty. For some topics or subjects you’ll have a headache after one hour trying to understand two pages. For others you’ll study without stopping for four hours because everything will seem to just be clear to you and to be sticking to your brain. Don’t follow a rule, just start and have a break when you’re struggling to fit in other informations

What you eat matters. Light meals to avoid feeling sleepy right afterwards help you study right after eating. Water keeps your brain in shape. Proteins keep you full and carbs keep you going. Sugar is tricky because it gives you energy right away but after little time you’ll need more, leading you to eating too much sugar and feeling foggy. Prefer healthy carbs instead of sugar (do eat some sugary treats if you want of course lol) like rice to have a more sustained energy release and mental clarity. These are the things that work for me anyway, you can experiment and see if you work better when eating many small meals or fewer big meals. Everyone is different and I’m not a nutritionist so listen to your body and try to be healthy

Celebrate small victories

Realistic goals please. Wanting to study 100 pages everyday is usually pretty unrealistic in a healthy and even in an unhealthy lifestyle. Not achieving your goals makes you feel like you can’t trust nor rely on yourself and that demotivates you

To focus try to think about the material. Read a sentence and tell yourself what it’s explaining you. Associate it with other things you’ve studied or experienced. Create little stories into your mind to remember a series of events. Anagrams for lists of names. Highlight, circle and underline as explained in one of the first points. Even give titles to paragraphs if you need to. Do this things with your own words and if you need to write them, do it right next to the paragraph. If you do these things you can’t think about something else because these require effort and attention. This a called active studying because you’re not passively reading and highlighting or repeating word for word without understanding but you’re really absorbing what you’re studying

Revise things constantly. Not a week later, but the next day. And if the next day you still don’t feel like you’ve memorised it, repeat it again the following day. If you remember it, repeat it 3 or 5 or 7 days later based on how much you retain things and how much you feel like you’ve memorised it. And after you’ve reached one week, keep repeating based on your needs. This is absolutely a game changer otherwise one or two weeks before the exam when you’ll want to revise everything again, you’ll realise you’ll have to study again a lot of things because you haven’t revised then. Such a waste! This is called spaced repetition, but instead of telling you a specific technique, I believe you need to listen to yourself and realise how much you’ve retained something to understand when to revise it again. Not every topic is the same and not everything you’ve memorised is relevant to you, so some things require more repetition than others and it’s up to you to see when it’s more for. But be honest with yourself, don’t tell yourself you know something just because you don’t want to revise. Reading again something is not revising it because just because it will feel familiar, doesn’t mean you’re able to talk about it completely recalling from memory. It’s important for you to repeat from memory, even if you struggle and feel like you don’t remember. Give yourself more credit and try to remember for at least 10 seconds before peeking on the book

Have something you enjoy while studying. It can be music (only music that does NOT have lyrics like lofi music or rain), a cup of tea, a candle, …

Switch up the location if you can’t focus

You don’t need a thousand pens, notebooks and colours to be productive and organised, but I believe it’s not a bad idea to have a different notebook for each subject where you take notes and write diagrams or whatever you need to better comprehend that subject

[upsidedownwithsteve]

I need to know that she's going to art school in philly. A reunion, maybe Eddie helping her move. Her meeting Wayne pls. love your writing!!

The acceptance letter came and two weeks later, you were on a flight.

It had been easy to pack up another suitcase, clothes and belongings flung into the bag, shoes still stained with mud from camp, Eddie’s sweater folded on top, his mixtape in your walkman, never taken out. You packed Polaroids in the front covers of books, printed emails folded neatly between the pages, the letter from the university tucked beside it.

You’d told your parents, got yelled at and then watched them cry. It was simultaneously the hardest and easiest thing you’d ever done. You’d spent the rest of summer at home, thinking you’d craved the camp grounds, the noise, the forest. But each email that pinged into your inbox brought the same excitement and eventually, you realised that it was Eddie you missed the most.

You called him the day the letter arrived. Hands shaking on the plastic receiver, the paper clutched to your chest and you stuttered and stammered your way through an introduction when his uncle

Wayne picked up but god, the feeling that came over you when the man yelled for his nephew and said, ‘it’s your girl, son,’ was completely and utterly indescribable.

You bought your tickets the next day. You didn’t have an apartment lined up, not yet. But your parents took you to the airport and they both hugged you, told you to stay safe and call them when you landed, so things didn’t seem as scary as they once did.

Eddie told you he’d meet you in arrivals and you spent the flight wondering if he’d changed, I’d he’d looked different, if he’d feel different when you hugged him. ‘Cause it had been almost six weeks since you last saw him and almost every bit of communication you’d had with him since had been in black and white, words on a computer screen.

Philadelphia looked like the biggest city you’d ever seen from the sky, and god, maybe it’s cause it was. You’d barely strayed from Michigan before, a summer spent in a forest in Indiana the most adventurous it had gotten. The plane seemed to skim the tops of skyscrapers as it came into land, the sky blue and the ground grey concrete and littered with cars that looked like multi-colored ants.

Big bridges, long stretches of water, roads that criss-crossed over each other and somewhere, hopefully, amongst the brownstones and suburbs, would be your future apartment. You dreamt about paint colours, thrift store coffee tables, how you’d get a couch in the front door, a bed you didn’t have to make every morning.

You thought of Eddie in it, more often than not, maybe, eventually. Eddie in your kitchen, a tiny space, more than likely, Eddie at the stove, sleepy eyed and shirtless with messy hair and coffee for you and him. You thought about the boy in your bed, a proper bed that fit both of you, where you could do more than just kiss and let hands wander.

Your stomach flipped at that, heart cartwheeling in your chest. But maybe that’s just because the plane had hit the runway with a bump and a jerk and oh my god? You were in Philadelphia.

Home.

Eddie was waiting where he said he would, his last email tucked under your arm with the rest of your documents, your boarding pass, your paperwork for the rest of your luggage that wouldn’t be arriving for another few days.

‘I’ll get you in arrivals,’ he’d typed. ‘I’ll be beside the coffee shop there, there’s a huge ass plant, look for that.’

Your heart thumped to the same rhythm of the roll of your suitcase, the wheels clickclickclicking over the tiles and everyone was simultaneously moving to slow and too fast at the same time. You wondered if Eddie smelled the same, if he used the same cologne, if he’d still smell like summer and rain and smoke now that he wasn’t at camp.

Would he look at you the same way? Would he still like you? Would he still want you? Was this a mistake?

You paused, chest heaving and eyes blinking back tears that were brought on with from the familiar feeling of panic but then you looked across the lounge and saw a face in the crowd, right next to a huge fern, right where he said he’d be.

Eddie looked the same, black jeans ripped at the knees, a T-shirt with a band logo on the front that you’d never heard of, faded and sun bleached. He looked a little tan still, like he’d spent just as much time outside in the city that summer as he had at camp. His hair was the same, except he’d cut his bangs, a tiny bit squint, just like he’d told you in an email. You knew there was a new tattoo on his right forearm, a line of trees in black ink, the keast metal thing on his body, he’d said. But it reminded him of camp and summer and a second home.

You couldn’t wait to see it, you’d told him.

You were walking over before you realised, your feet carrying you across the large room with less panic than you previously had. ‘Cause looking at Eddie was like waking up on a summer morning, hazy blue skies outside your bedroom window, cotton sheets, bed warm skin, the smell of sunscreen, rainstorms from the night before, coffee through pine tree forests.

It was familiar, comforting, like home.

He saw you then, grinned like you remembered, wide and all consuming, a bright stretch of a smile across his face, dimples deepening at the sight of you. You picked up your pace when he stepped forward, feet almost tripping over themselves and you flung yourself at him, suitcase rolling away abandoned.

Eddie caught you, groaning into your neck as his arms wound themselves around your waist and he sounded relieved. He smelled the same. Like smoke and rain and summer and Eddie and you clung to him, arms a vice around his neck, squealing when he lifted you from the floor.

“Fuck,” he murmured into your skin, nose pressed to your pulse point. His voice was a rough rasp, thick with emotion. “I fuckin’ missed you.”

You nodded, agreeing, pulling back to press your nose against his, pressing a your lips to his in what was more a shared smile than a kiss - but it felt just as good, just as nice.

[tsa-smth]

Re-introducing an OC because I'm not thinking things through

Changing the 'shroom's name, timeline, origins, connections and interests because some lore points were not convinient to keep as they were

Jī Tuǐgū - a Shaggy Ink Cap yao from Megapolis

About 100 years old physically and equivalent of human 25 y.o.

Any pronouns

Environmental engineer

Current voice claim: something similar to Jimmy Somerville’s high voice ( example )

Appearance

150cm, slim, pale, androgynous, messy shaggy hair. Always has a headband to pull their bangs back and shoes with thick soles or platforms to separate them from the ground. Prefers using outfits with black-and-white base and colour accents

Backstory

For centuries Tuigu was just a mycelium of Shaggy Ink Cap mushrooms that liked to listen to the city's citizens and learn from their experiences. Somewhere a century ago, the local mushrooms started to feel too sentient for the folk’s taste and became an urban legend about the suspicious spying ‘srooms. After a while people learned that’s not a part of a malicious scheme but a curious yao kid. The young yao spawned in the city and learned from private lectures it spied how to grow and dissolve its ‘shrooms fast and transform into a human child. In the end it was adopted into a family of chicken yaoguai as the youngest kid

Personality

They lament the fact they need to restore Megapolis’ green areas over and over again because of all those attacks. She is a chill-looking extrovert, likes outdoor activities, likes going into abandoned-looking places and talking about Megapolis’ modern lore. He tends to be too noisy and a know-it-all for their own good, but if they need to get out of trouble, they can dissolve into the ground and reappear somewhere else

Abilities

Transformation - can transform into human, chicken and maybe some other beings. As how JTTW Zhu Bajie has trouble transforming into something gentle and elegant, Tuigu can’t transform into something more threatening that an average human

Mushroom growth - can grow mycelium and fruiting bodies

Basidiocarp spying - can hear and sense things through its fruiting bodies

Dissolving - can dissolve its mushroom system and her main body into a cluster of slimy goo (just as Shaggy Ink Cap dissolves its cap into a slimy mess). He can move through the ground in this form. Can’t remain gooey for a long time or else it’s going to be overwhelmed

Advanced sense of chemistry - they’re just naturally more sensitive to the difference in chemical substance of objects and environment

Plant reading - understands hormonal plant signals to some extends

Bad sense of dao and magic - he did learned stuff but of boy their knowledge is lacking

Do I have plans for Tuigu? Not really except for @/lmk-oc-competition in August

[the-kr8tor]

AAAAAAAAAAA- THEY CALLED ME A CUTIE WHAT IS GOING ON- I THOUGHT THEY HAD A CRUSH ON A BOY WHAT HAPPENED? Daily Hobie HC! September, the harvest moon. Big, bright and beautiful in the sky as it slowly climbed over the horizon. Yet, Hobie didn't need to look at the sky when he could just see the reflection in your wide eyes. He gently nudged your shoulder, noticing the enchantment you were trying to place on his instrument slowly disintegrating. Hobie watched as your eyes quickly looked back down, your hands holding onto the instrument firmly. He watched as you closed your eyes, beginning to hum as a coloured, teal-green glow emitted from the pads of your fingertips. The glow began to etch its way into the wood of his instrument. Once you were done, he had to refrain from grabbing your face and drowning you in kisses and nips of appreciation for casting an enchantment on his instrument. Now, not only is his instrument practically unbreakable, but the carving meant that it was tipped with attacking/defensive magic, meaning he could use it as a weapon. Hobie smiled warmly towards you as you handed the instrument back, leaning into you as you both watched the moon continue to rise, unaware of the confused looks Pav, Gwen and Miles were giving each other, clearly gesturing at the two of you. Fast forwards to when Hobie can actually use his instrument in combat, everyone was ecstatic when it first occurred. He swung the instrument towards the enemies, successfully knocking them back as a ray of teal-green light shot out and collided with the surrounded assaulters. Miles had also been practicing his archery, getting better at aiming for moving targets done with you tying something to the base of your tail and running around him. 7 times out of 10, he managed to hit. Gwen has been filling her journal with new herbs and mixtures as she cheered from the sidelines as Miles practiced his archery on those days, with Hobie and Pavitr casually chatting while Pavitr attempted to be able to summon fire intentionally from the golden markings of his palm. During the casual days, and the difficult days where you'd come back injured, there's no doubt that they've all been by your side. Hell, it's now permanently Hobie's job to carry you in the makeshift carrier backpack, with your face resting at his shoulder on all times. Miles and Gwen roll their eyes in mild, feigned disgust, all while being hypocrites and holding hands. And Pavitr? Obviously treating this all like some stereotypical Hindi romance movie because let's be honest, it probably is. The moment the stars collide, however, is tonight. It's Hobie's birthday, and everyone's taken a break from regular travelling and training. Hobie smiles awkwardly at all the birthday attention he's been getting. Of course, he's appreciative as ever, but he had no idea how to react accordingly. Even as you all bring out a cake (which you totally didn't nick ingredients for), Hobie is flabbergasted by the sole appearance of one, but still grateful nonetheless. As he cuts the cake with a cleaned dagger, Pavitr quickly speaks up about a tradition he heard that if the 'knife' came out dirty, he'd have to kiss the nearest person near him. And low and behold, the nearest person to him was you, standing right next to him as he cut the cake. As he pulls out the dagger, obviously messy, and set it aside. Hobie reached over for a very flustered foxy-witch, pulling you close to with his hands gently brushing against your waist. He leans in close, his lips ghosting over yours as he mutters a low ask if you're fine with this. You nod a little too eagerly, him now gently planting his lips against yours, to which you uncontrollably smile through. -🐦‍⬛

Well they're correct!

Daily Hobie HC!!!

Hobie's guitar is now a weapon! Hell yeah!!! I bet every time he looks at it he remembers you 🥺

Miles glaring at Hobie's arm around your shoulders: you see this shit, Gwen?

Gwen, who's currently squeezing his hand and having a competition on who can squeeze the hardest: Disgusting

Poor Pav he's the 5th wheel 😭😭😭

AWWW THEY KISSED ON HIS BDAY!!! I've never heard of the knife thing! That's adorable tho 😍

[jbbartram-illu]

Hey hi hello!

I’m a big fan of your work, I bought a small raven witch from you, which I love and cherish, and I was wondering if I could ask you what kind of tools you’re using for your sgraffito?

I’m getting back into ceramics myself, and I just got a little jackalope cup back from the kiln, where I tried to sgraffito détails in my slip, but the cobalt was meltier than I anticipated and it covered most of them. I think I need to work on my application, but also that a thicker line might help, and I was wondering what you were using?

You can check my stuffs at @unnamedartist-portfolio if you want, and if you have any advice, I would be so honored to hear them!

Hope you have a fantastic day! :)

Hello @iam-adreamwalker! My apologies for taking 500yrs to reply to this - I've only just now found the time to take some better photos of my sgraffito gear.

These are basically all of my sgraffito tools, but you definitely don't need this many (I just have a pottery-tool-buying PROBLEM). My core tools are the ones to the left - the two pointy sticks & the two carve-y guys. Both of the wire loop tools are by Kemper, and I'm not 100% sure the brands of the sticks. The colourful set is from Xiem and is nice if you're doing a ton of sgraffito work, because it offers so many options for carving! I especially like the round-loop tools for carving feathers.

Here are some close-ups of my main tool gang:

I especially like the darker-brown stick tool because its point is slightly rounded, making it easier to scrape the slip off the surface of the clay vs. just making a deeper line that won't be as dramatic (more on technique later!).

Speaking of rounded-tip tools, I just realized I forgot my other favourite, a core tool that could replace the lighter-wood pointy stick in my Most Important Sgraffito Tools ranking - the ball-ended, double-sided stylus! This thing is a tiny powerhouse and, like the more rounded point on the dark-wood stick, it gently draws the slip off the clay rather than gouging:

Next up, slip! I'm not sure what you were using as your colour layer, because you mentioned that it ran/moved on the surface of the clay, which my stained slip doesn't do. Did you mix glaze into the slip? Or were you working with a powered pigment?

When I'm making coloured slip, I use a powdered pigment called Mason Stain, which can be used to dye slip, clay, and clear glaze bases (eg. to make translucent celadon glazes). I use a couple different brands, but it's all called Mason Stain.

If you're a sensible person you can find proper recipes for mixing the slip and the stain, but I honestly go by how it looks - I add it to the slip a few spoonfuls at a time, mix, and see how pigmented the slip looks. If you want to really make sure the pigment is well-mixed you can get a stick blender from a thrift store or attach a mixing head onto an electric drill (something I'd like to upgrade to as the stick blender is SUPER messy & hard to clean out), but I mostly just mix it really well with a stir stick.

Once it's mixed, I keep my slips in these little self-sealing glass containers from IKEA, which stop it from drying out too fast (I tried keeping slip in regular jars & it turned into a rock...you definitely need a container with a rubber seal on it!). You'll still need to add water here & there, but it can sit for weeks without too much concern.

My slip is a little thick & gloopy, so I usually brush two layers of slip onto the leather-hard sculpture, letting each dry before I put on the next coat, and I let it dry until it's no longer at all tacky before I start carving (otherwise things WILL smudge and it WILL be terribly messy.

Finally, technique! I did take a look at your blog & the sgraffito project you mentioned & one thing I noticed was that your scratch marks were very deep and didn't reveal much clay under the scratched-away slip. This is an easy thing to have happen, especially if your slip/clay/both are still too wet or you're putting too much pressure on the carving tool.

My best tips for remedying this are:

Make sure the slip isn't at all tacky to the touch & that the clay underneath is leather hard.

Go very gently at first! It doesn't take much to scratch the slip away and you can always come back and take away more slip/make your carving area deeper if you want to, but you can't put the clay back!

Use the carving tools at an angle to the clay (somewhere around 45º ish, this is not a hard science), not perpendicular to it - this will stop you from stabbing straight down instead of scraping. If you've ever done linocut prints, think of the angle you hold the linocut tool at - sgraffito is generally a pulling-towards motion vs. a pushing away one for lino, but the angle is important either way!

Having even just a small variety of tools (eg. my core 4-5 as shown above) will also help, as you'll have options for line-weight/how much slip a tool takes off.

Phew! I sort of got carried away there, but I hope this was helpful?? If you have any more questions (or if anyone else does), please don't hesitate to ask! I'm still planning on making a proper sgraffito tutorial/series of tutorials, but need to find the time for all the filming/editing that requires.

[badblood-lesmis]

i am quite obsessed with Enjolras' mother & the trope of going voluntarily insane to escape but this is just a small thing for now

He would like to have said that he hasn’t spoken to his mother in years. He would also like to have said that he never knew his mother. Both of those things would be true and not true at the same time. He did, of course, speak to his mother, although that often felt like an overstatement. He nodded to his mother when he saw her coming down the stairs, he sometimes asked her something mundane just to remember what her voice sounded like. If she had slept well. If she would like something to drink. She had this way of turning her head towards him and giving him a long cloudy stare which always made him want to seize her by the shoulders and shake her and scream hello i am your son the one you gave birth to and it would really be nice sometimes if you didn’t look like you were trying to remember what my name is or who i am every single time you look at me. He never did, of course, and she eventually seemed to settle on some sort of conclusion of who he was, because she would arrange her mouth in a smile and say

“Fine, darling. Thank you.”

This was his only indicator that he is somehow different from the servants, that she actually knew the difference. Servants were dears, not darlings, but the guests were also darlings sometimes so in this there could be no certainty. Eventually he almost stopped doing that too — only if he was angry and wanted to make himself even angrier. He really really wanted to be angry. The angrier, the better, until he was so consumed by rage he saw red. Sometimes he wished she was dead, it would make it much easier. Dead people are more convenient when they are actually dead, not when they are walking around the house in a haze of madness and laudanum.

Sometimes he thought her madness was of the same nature as his rage. A carefully constructed and meticulously supported structure, allowing her to survive her husband and this house for sixteen years. Where Enjolras have chosen red, she chose no colour at all. For all intents and purposes, it wouldn’t make much of a difference had she been a ghost. Perhaps she would even be happier as one.

** *

Window glass rattled loudly like it was trying to be pushed out of the frame, a heavy beak knocking on it with insistence. A raven with glistening eyes stared inside the boys bedroom where his addressee was fast asleep along with two other boys. He knocked on the glass again, this time waking one of them. A messy head of hair rose from the pillow, looking around for the source of the noise. He knocked again, stirring, eager to get away from the freezing January air. Eager to get back to his own family, to fulfil his part of the deal, a crumpled piece of paper burning his leg.

The boy took his time, incredulously opening the window to let him in. The raven hopped inside, perching himself on the frame of one of the boys’ bed. The one he needed was still sleeping, not even the cold air waking him up.

“Who’re you then?” Asked the one who let him in. “Who uses ravens now, anyway?”

The raven thought poorly of owls. Undignified creatures, too much brawn, not enough brain, but he said nothing to that remark. Instead he bent his head down and slipped a small knot with his beak, letting a crumpled piece of paper fall on a nightstand, shook his feathers a bit and in a business-like manner proceeded back to the window. His family waited for him and he didn’t have time to wait for the boy to wake up. He considered his part of the deal done. Sealed and delivered.

“Weirdo.” Commented the boy when letting him back out. He was going to return to his own bed, when his curiosity got the better of him. Quietly, he snuck to Enjolras’ bedside table and unwrapped a small square of paper. In a very thin and shaky handwriting it said

Darling. You’ve done better than me. Never dare to return.

The boy stared at the note for a moment and folded it back before placing it on the nightstand again. “Cryptic weirdo,” he muttered to himself, getting into his bed. “Bloody dark wizards, his lot.”

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Ooh new chapter!

Well, there goes his plan on waiting until he forgets that he's human. Good. Though the thought of Shifting-Sickness is kind of terrifying. It was bad enough when it just meant forgetting your human self, losing that part of yourself, but this is. Well, it makes sense, I guess? You'd lose so much, after all, it would make sense for someone's psyche not to survive that either.

Okay, that's harsh. It's not entirely a lie, but it's very much exagerated and harsh. Like I said, the "tantrum to get his attention again" is, I don't know. It's true that Dabi wants to get his attention again, but calling it a tantrum feels wrong. Especially since he really does want to kill him and is ready to see everything else burn, too.

I'm glad Dabi gets to talk to someone about his past. I'm also glad Stain can give him more information about shifters. It's interesting that Shouto is a shifter as well! I wonder if he knows? I wonder if Rei knows and told him to hide it, too? Not telling them about each other would be cruel, but since they never interact anyway, I could kind of see where the thought is coming from? Hmm.

Ouch. I mean yeah, the situation is messed up and at least Shigaraki should know Dabi is a shifter, but Dabi keeps getting thrown in the deep end, doesn't he? Again and again and again he feels terrible about what is going on. Again and again there are new reasons for him to feel like that.

Dabi is planning on sacrificing himself. Not only to kill his father, but to try and take away some of the pain the League will feel after he dies. He still worries about them so much. He's in love with Shigaraki and it shows. He says he hates that he's being selfish and he tries to make decisions to protect the others but it won't work because he needs to talk to them for that.

I love when Stain and Shigaraki get along. That duo is so funny. Also, I'm glad Shigaraki has someone he can talk to about this stuff.

Oh my god. You didn't. Holy shit, that is one hell of a way for that reveal to go. Of course, Dabi immediately focuses on the important things (like Shigaraki's eyes).

Nobody in this house is normal. Shigaraki doesn't even consider that Dabi might be a spy, he's just fucking terrified of losing Onigiri again. Of losing that first good thing that happened to him.

Well, that's a shift in dynamic. Though I guess I can see why. Dabi just confessed to him and he's definitely pretty and when you think about everything Dabi has been doing under the light that he's human, yeah, okay. Though I'm a bit worried that Shigaraki also did that to keep him. Because he's scared that if he doesn't give Dabi this, he'll leave. Their dynamic is very messy here. I hope they talk about it and work it out once they're no longer this on edge.

Dabi wants to show that he is useful. Oh, the boy wants to do whatever it takes to be able to stay. Also, he really needs to get over the fact that he's colour blind as a cat fast or things are going to be even more awkward. It's already bad enough that he knows way more than he should and that he needs to be careful with what he says (and also that he has had way too little human interaction).

Boyfriend reveal, lol. Dabi is going to have to put the work in to get along with the rest of the League, especially since he really can't interact with Onigiri for that. Stain is an absolute bastard (who wants to make sure at least Shigaraki knows).

Oof, this is a lot. The fact that Shigaraki is absolutely jealous that Stain knee before him hurts, but is understandable. Dabi will have to put in a lot of work before the others accept him. They don't think he's good for Tomura and I can see why, but also that's kinda fucked up.

Aw, they're working out a routine! Also, Shigaraki is absolutely right, Dabi would do absolutely anything if he said it would make him happy. He's such a simp.

Stain is such a menace oh my God. He's going to keep poking at Dabi until he sets someone on fire. Just made a joke about his quirk directly after having a very serious talk. I love this man.

Dabi is trying so, so hard. Especially since the others are already sad about the fact that Onigiri isn't around. Do they think that Dabi and Onigiri don't get along? That would explain at least some of the cold attitude. Or do they think Dabi too was send by AfO? Do they think he's trying too hard? God, Dabi just wants his family to like him :(.

They're bonding! "Their guilty consciences bullied them for me." Is a very funny line.

Mmm very good smut. Pet play and Master kink! It's been a while. Though I can't help but remember that they have thin walls... I guess the others will just have to deal with that.

It's cool that Dabi gets more cat-like urges as a human when he's so out of his head! I'm sure Shigaraki won't mind letting Dabi clean him up some time :).

This chapter sure was a ride! I'm glad Shigaraki knows now, and I'm looking forward to seeing Dabi interact with the rest of the League more! I do wonder, is Shigaraki going to make Dabi the leader for the summercamp job again? How will everyone feel about that? Guess we'll have to wait and see! (Just like Dabi has to wait and see if he ever gets to know Stain's animal form).

Thank you so much!

Stain is definitely harsh, but not everyone is going to look at a revenge plot and think it's something worth dying over no matter what the reason their doing it is. For someone who's entire goal is to change the world through his violence and not let himself be stopped until he's finished with his work and surrenders, Dabi just having the plan to scream his trauma to the world and then immediately go out in a blaze of glory after killing one guy would be pretty pathetic to him

Stain and Shigaraki have such sibling energy in this fic and I'm kind of living for it, supreme bitchiness and effectiveness all at once

NO ONE IN THAT HOUSE IS NORMAL

Dabi and Shig are both a mess throughout this chapter but they are doing their best to figure it out! The League and Stain just to happen to be REALLY not helping as they do.

They do have thin walls :) and I'm sure that won't come back to haunt them at all :)

Thanks for commenting!

[powderblueblood]

any additional thoughts on fandom and writing? I liked what you touched on earlier and wondered if there's more you'd like to share

HELLO! Need to start this off by saying everybody’s different everybody’s valid whatever ya want ya should go and do I’m not the king of even MY OWN little shitheap

BUT

I’m gonna throw these out willy nilly style and ye can chat to me about them again if you want. I may not be phrasing myself impeccably here because I’m a toucheen hungova but bear with

- writing dialogue is a hard exercise YES but a worthy one, nothing takes me out of a story faster than bad dialogue. I’m not saying you have to be cracking jokes and that but especially with fic, it serves to study the way a character talks in the source material beyond the use of just one nickname. scribble out a whole scene that’s just dialogue, no action! It’s fun. It’s good

- PERSONAL OPINION ALERT I have become so much more keen to read x OC stories or more specific x reader stories because I find the over generalisation of x reader fic extremely repetitive and boring which is moreso a me thing and I know that. But I’m just saying. If you ever want anyone to chat to about your fandom or indeed fandomless OCs…. Please hit my fucking line

- shy!reader…. Enough. I want a reader with the right allocations who is fast and thorough and sharp as a tack they’re playing with their jewellery they’re putting up their hair they’re touring the facility and picking up slack I want a reader with a short skirt and a lonnnnnnnng……………………………… jacket

- i also think we should be brave and write characters that aren’t immediately beloved by the children. actually nothing is more humanising, pathetic and funny than trying to get a middle schooler to like you

- more characters of colour, forever, thanks sm

and since we’re here, here’s the stuff about the stranger things fandom in particular that I personally feel as in are my personal onion not doctrine not law. But

- steddie to me is very much any two guys syndrome. I don’t get it, never have. Harringrove makes more sense to me and I don’t even fucking go there but I actually think that it could make an incredible talented mr ripley au wait WHAT

- write ronance messy already. I know no one owes anyone anything but that wouldn’t stop steve being mad upset that his best friend is dating his ex girlfriend that he floated the idea of having six kids with. like. sorry. also write Nancy having complicated feelings about robin and Steve. also writing Nancy having complicated feelings. also write Nancy

- i feel alienated from the fandom at large and that’s actually fine, esp being an older person. the space I’ve begun to cultivate on here isn’t for everyone but I wish youse the best and I hope you have fun

[khazadspoon]

👀 sex worker au, either Blondie or Manco, your pick

I was considering Manco but then you mentioned escort Blondie and this sort of flew out this morning… it feels like the introduction to something much longer and more in depth so that might be worth exploring later

———

Over the years he’s worked, there have only been a few clients he had needed to send out with a bloody nose or broken arm. Only one he’d had to kill. It had been a messy business, but he always makes it through.

Now, however… now he has protection.

It isn’t nice protection, not like some of the girls (and young boys) he has worked with before dreamed about. No, it’s not some fancy gentleman with lots of money who cares more than he should. It isn’t a dignified English Lord who fell in love with a pretty face.

It’s a man with eyes the colour of cracked earth at the height of summer, features sharper than any knife, and a list for money above all else. He isn’t a kind man and he doesn’t care about anyone but himself, but he doesn’t lie and he keeps Blondie fed and watered. Keeps him clean, too. Makes sure he has a bed to lay in at night and clothes he hasn’t had to patch up more times than he can remember.

Angel Eyes isn’t a kind man, but he is honest in his own particular way.

He had seen Blondie in a cat house just north of the border and taken him to bed, paid a pretty penny to give so few orders it had seemed almost pointless to call it a transaction. He’d come back every evening at sundown over the course of three weeks. He never said what he did in the day or through the night, never gave anything away about himself, and Blondie had buried his curiosity about the gun at his waist and the real gold he paid with.

He kept that curiosity inside until Angel Eyes killed four men all because they had tried to pay Blondie for a night between them.

Now he is what those fancy folk up north might call an escort in public and a whore in private. Angel Eyes just calls him boy or angel.

Angel Eyes encourages him to practice shooting, something he is more than just good at. He takes Blondie out some days and some nights. They collect information for people, share that information for money, and Angel Eyes takes lives in exchange for more gold.

They don’t sleep together as often as Blondie had expected after that first three weeks. Angel Eyes might ask for something every few days, might drag him into his lap and take pleasure in his bony weight, but rare are the nights when he takes Blondie to bed and takes him with an almost sweet deliberateness. It never hurts. Blondie is never left wanting, Angel Eyes prides himself on seeing every job through. They never kiss.

Until they do, of course. Then it’s like kissing is all this strange, sharp stranger wants for nearly a month.

In San Antonio they make a lot of money. Blondie finds the information, takes a man’s life, and feels no remorse about the act. He climbs into Angel Eyes’ lap when he gets back to their room and rides him hard and fast, relishes the sting he conceals, wonders how long they have left before he has to extricate himself from the situation he’s found himself in.

Two years later, five in total after that cat house north of the Mexican border, he catches sight of a poster. A man worth two thousand dollars. He wonders what tricks they could pull to make that figure go up.

[dark-side-blog3]

I’ve never heard of your OCs!!! If you’re feeling it, can you tell me ab them? Like, what’s their type, what kind of yandere are they, etc. I tried to search em but nothing came up so I guess they’re from the old blog lol

-Jojo

They are from the old blog, that is right! I've still got to update my tag post I've been using for searches on there-- but I'll post that and it should make it easier to read up on them! I'll reblog some stuff too!

I have two OC's and a third bastard child I never developed past like a couple of concept posts, and their names are Cyril and Dalton!

I thought it would be funny to name the idiot character "Dalton" Because of the insult 'dolt' -> 'dolt one' -> 'Dalton'.

And Cyril is named as such: 'see, here's eel' -> 'see, e're eel' -> 'Cyril'

Dalton came first, and he is a jellyfish merman based off the pink meanie jellyfish found of the gulf of Mexico. He has translucent pink skin that can change colours depending on what he has eaten, long messy hair, human hands, and a massive skirtlike membrane at his waist that acts as the natural fleshy cover for his thousands of thin tendrils-- each loaded with extremely painful toxin.

The venom is fast acting and makes your skin slough off from chemical burn damage, and if you don't treat the stings, you could potentially die from blood loss (not the venom itself). Dalton is dumb as a sack of bricks (inspired by the fact that jellyfish don't have brains), obsessive, delusional, and sadly for you: extremely affectionate, with a touchy disposition. He'll cling to you every chance he gets.

Dalton is so stupid that he cannot feel pain-- for most merfolk, walking on land is agonizing. Dalton can't fathom this, and just continues to beach himself until he can crawl, his fragile membrane and tendrils drying out and ripping, spilling vital goop as they shift into legs. Each step would be extremely painful, but Dalton can't understand what he's feeling, or what's causing it. And because he doesn't know walking is what's causing it, he'll continue to walk, searching for his "best friends" who must have gotten lost. Dalton believes that Cyril, and you, are his best friends. And you must have gotten lost on your way to find him again. So he'll go out and find you, and everything will work out in the end.

Cyril is a smarter, yet sadistic merfolk, based off of the electric eel found in South America's Amazon River and Oronocio basin. Cyril, unlike Dalton, is a freshwater merfolk, and is capable of being drowned in the brackish water Dalton prefers. And unlike Dalton, Cyril can comprehend the pain in drowning. As well as the pain in being stung by venomous tendrils, and walking. Cyril has chronic pain (as most merfolk do). If he can avoid walking, he will.

He has long, greasy black hair-- washing it does him no good, as getting wet just turns his body back into his natural form, which causes him to secrete slick mucus. His skin is opaque, unlike a jellymer. If he doesn't show you his true form, you might just assume he's a lazy but bougie guy, adorned in gold jewelry he's stolen from other's homes before having to flee the scene. Despite his inactivity, Cyrils' body is on the leaner side due to his high metabolism. He has no visible muscle, but who really needs that when you're an ambush predator that can stun others anyways?

Cyril has worked many odd jobs that helped him live a more lavish life than just hunting and eating whatever got close enough to the river bank. He's acquired a taste for grapes, sliced and microwaved. Any hot fruit would do, but grapes are his favourite. This has become an integral part of his lore, because once Cyril learns of fruit, and then heating the fruit up, and all the devices you can use to heat food up (not just fruit, though he thinks its the height of luxury), and where those devices are stored... It's how Cyril ends up breaking into his darling's home in the first place. They have shelter, water, and all sorts of devices with which to make hot meals. And he needs for this to be perfect is someone who he can force to fetch him things from other rooms once he finds the couch.

He probably doesn't even like you at first. You're just someone he's bluffing out of his ass to let stay here. Cyril will use whatever tactics needed to make you let him stay. He'll go the pity route-- he's a poor misunderstood man, kicked out of housing, turned down everywhere because people don't agree with his life choices... He just wanted to crash here for the night, he didn't know you were here, he thought you were on vacation and he could squat here.

If that doesn't work, he'll resort to threats. He doesn't want to hurt you, he wants to mind his own business here, but if you call for help or tell anyone he's here against your will, he will kill them and you, before eating you. As much as it pains him to walk, he'll trudge over to your bathroom with you in tow, to show you his transformation in your shower/tub. He's a dangerous monster, and you don't know what he can do! His long tail wraps around you, slime secreted from his skin soaking through your clothes, constricting your ribs as he slowly crushes you, before you get hit with a painful shock-- knocking you to the ground and convulsing with painful spasms. Life for you will be easier if you just do what he says. It's not like he's asking for much anyways.

And at first, he's not. He's just asking you to fetch him some food every now and again, or to refill the cup he's been using for water. To buy him a laptop so he can work from home-- this way he'll pay for his own food, and you're not against that are you? Unless you like him mooching off your budget.

Cyril slowly gets more possessive as time goes on. It's not that he likes you; he likes your things, and he likes making you serve him, and he likes hurting you when you do something wrong. That's completely different than liking you. And you were three hours late coming home the other day. Cyril had to get himself a glass of water. Scandalous.

And while he thinks of it, he's not really a good threat if you start thinking you can stay out of the house, and avoid him. How is he supposed to hurt you if you're not around?

He should add a new rule: You have to start staying home with him more, and you have to be in the same room. And if you don't... Then he's going to start breaking your things, changing your password on everything, texting everyone your compromising photos and destroying relationships...

And if you refuse to come home... Then he's just going to have to get up and go hunt you down. You may have forgotten he can actually walk from how little he does it, but if need be he can track you down to the ends of the earth. Eel merfolk have a heightened sense of smell, so Cyril can track you down.

Dalton may stumble upon either you or Cyril one day-- a terrible mix of fate, because the idiot has just been wandering following Cyril, and you know Cyril, which means you're going to all be best friends.

Dalton doesn't mind you doing your own thing, he just wants to watch. He follows you everywhere, forcing himself through doors that you'd closed until they bust down so he can watch whatever you're doing, holding your hand, a grip on your legs, or resting his chin on your shoulder. If you leave the house before he can know where you are, there's a chance he'll go out to look for you-- you must have gotten lost again!

But if he has faith you'll come back, then Dalton will spend his days exploring your home. What happens when he sticks his hand or face in your oven? In the freezer? Through the window? What if he puts your sheets in his mouth? What does your soap smell like? Taste like? Dalton wants to know. And he'll find out everything about you.

Including you. Dalton is clingy, but he's exceptionally touchy. It's not enough to have you next to him, he needs to constantly touch you. Holding your hand is a large part of his day. But his fingers will find their way to your gums to inspect your blunt teeth and bumps on your tongue. Your eyebrows. Dalton opens your eyes with his fingers as he stares at how your pupils shrink and grow in response to light or the air he blows onto them. Bending your fingers and legs as far back as they can. He doesn't mean to hurt you, Dalton is just curious.

Dalton and Cyril can maintain human forms if they stay dry, but if they get significantly wet, their body shifts back into their true forms. A full shower will have Cyril a writhing mass of a slimy tail. And getting caught in a thunderstorm will have Dalton crawling around, ripping his fragile bell membrane, ripping out his tendrils. And while Cyril can intentionally use his ability to shock you regardless of if he's in his true form or not, Dalton's tendrils are only a danger to you if he's soaked and in his true form... Something he rarely thinks to do. All he cares about is following his favourite people around and being close to them. But if Dalton ever gets in a body of water and you're in arms reach, he will drag you into the water, wrapping his tendrils around you, the pain making you pass out in the bloody water...

When you wake up, perched on top of his bell membrane, Dalton apologizes-- he didn't mean to hurt you! He just wanted to swim with you! He doesn't even know how you got hurt! Maybe you just need to be held tighter? A cracked rib is a small price to pay if it keeps you awake, and in his mind, happy.

As far as merfolk go, they're both disasters. As far as yandere's go, they're completely useless. You'd be better off with literal leeches than these two bleeding you dry.

[sapphosarchive]

I really struggle playing the sims 4 now. The glitches are irritating. It's beyond a joke. Glitches in the other games don't break the game or feel the same. My child sim looking like spaghetti in ts3 for 3 seconds once in a blue moon is fun, but the sims 4 has serious problems. I hate how even when I choose what pronouns I want the game to use, it STILL defaults to they/them every time. It's such a small thing but it irritates me lol. When I don't choose pronouns, it defaults to they/them. If I do, it still they/themifies my sims. I can't be immersed in the game because it feels so empty in comparison to the sims 2 and 3. I love sims 2 and 3, and despite the differences, I can be immersed in both of those games. Sims 4? I can't anymore. I just open the game and I feel so bored so fast. There's nothing to do for me. The sims feel so empty. I had to turn the wants and fears off because it was implemented so poorly. It's frustrating how things we ask for are implemented badly and don't work, so then you look unhinged when you complain about it. The wants are boring like "read a book." The sims themselves feel like empty shells with no personality. In the sims 3, the traits are incredible and the sims feel so unique and alive. Even sims with the same traits feel so different. The wants make sense. In the sims 2 the fears made sense and you had real consequences for going into aspiration failure. The sims 4 is also so.... PG? People would call it problematic if they brought the therapist back or the social bunny from ts2 and it's so annoying how they want to appease chronically online people in that way. As I said, I had to turn off wants and fears in ts4 because they don't work. My sim had a deadend job fear every other day, despite loving their job. And the thing is, the wants and fears still show up sometimes even when turned off! If my sim is flirting, they'll have a want to kiss the sim even though it's turned off. We have bars and lounges to go to, which is good, but the game still feels so empty. In the sims 3 the world felt so alive and it just doesn't feel that way in the sims4. The Sims 3 is my absolute favourite, and it's incredibly jarring to go to the sims 4 and see it. Sims 4 only expanded skintones in 2020, after massive outrage over a Black man being murdered by police in the US. I mean, how ridiculous is that? Sims 3 had a slider and you could make skintones easily. The sims team are forced to release things half finished, the code is messy, you need to buy so many expansions and game packs to get things that should've all come as one. The kits are ridiculous, the fact you had to pay for a halloween stuff pack to even be able to trick or treat because it didn't come with seasons is so sad too. It's just cash grab after cash grab and yet people eat it up because of the aesthetic. The game just feels like aesthetics and hollow beauty. Inside it's just so devoid of passion and care. It's so empty and lacklustre to me and I hate to say it and I also hate to sound like a broken record, but I can't ignore it anymore. Lately I just can't play the game anymore and it makes me sad. Things have shifted and something has changed. The game has so many bugs now that destroy and break it. Tiny things add up. I hate how they add things from packs into the base game, and re-use the same objects from other packs but add different swatches. They literally removed features from realm of magic. They were supposed to have cool eye colours the way vampires do but they removed it and never out it back? And no-one seems to have ever noticed? It's shit like that. I just can't enjoy it anymore.

[aashipping]

Adeline: Hmmph, it's April already, huh? Time's really flying so fast.

Susato: I heard that there's an activity called "Easter hunting eggs" in Western Countries. I wonder what's that and have you ever doing that before, Miss Adeline?

Adeline: Oh the finding eggs one? Well, I don't really remember, but I think I'm over the year to do that anymore. Maybe you could do this in 221B?

Susato: Oww that's too bad. And I doubt I could find all the eggs in the house, you knew how messy they could be. Especially Naruhodo-sama.

Adeline: Fair points.

Lady Duffy: Adeline!! How are you my lovely lady?

Adeline: Lady Duffy! It's surprising to see you! I heard that you were in America?

Lady Duffy: Well, yeah, but I came back two weeks ago. The America trip inspired me so much that I can't wait to design new night gowns.

Adeline and Susato:

Lady Duffy: Speaking of it, why don't you two become my models? I've just made some design for Easter days.

Adeline: Well, we appreciate your invitation, but I am not sure if we could be the proper model......

Lady Duffy: Nonsense! Two pretty young ladies just what I need. Now, let's head back to my mansion, shall we?

Adeline: Pull the tips if you feel uncomfortable, Susato. Call Naruhodo and Asogi ASAP so that they'll come to the rescue. *Whisper to Susato*

Susato: Don't you want to contact them or Lord Van Zieks right now, Miss Adeline?

Adeline: Nah I thinks it's interesting, and I am really curious about the design that Lady Duffy wants to show me, it could be my new inspiration for the next book.

Adeline: But I get that if you don't want to come with me. And I don't want to force you.

Susato: ... It's a good way to learn more about other culture, and I am not alone. So yeah, let's do this!

*Looking at the outfits*

Adeline:......

Susato: Do we really ... have to wear this? This... this fabric?

Lady Duffy: Awww you're so shy aren't you, my little bunnies?

Susato: Li-little bunnies...?

Lady Duffy: I know——. You two have some suitors, and these ourfits are our weapons for those men, ladies.

Adeline: I suppose that would be some gowns but not this, this—— I can't say that.

Lady Duffy: Just something new, my dear. The British are too old for the night activities sometimes. We deserve to have some fun in our bedroom, wouldn't you agree?

Adeline: Perhaps you're not wrong but——

Lady Duffy: Excellent! Now change them for me, I can't wait to see you two adorable bunnies come out! *Shove the clothes to them and push them into the change room*

Adeline: *turns the doorknob and found it's locked* I guess we don't have choice right now.

Susato: Can we call Kazuma-sama and Naruhodo-sama right here?

Adeline: Yeah go ahead, please! And then we can leave here soon.

⟦Prosecutor's Office building⟧

Naruhodo: ...Yes, it's Naruhodo Ryunosuke. Susato: Naruhodo-sama!! Naruhodo: !? Ye-yes I heard you, Susato-san, what's wrong? You sound like we have an emergency. Susato: Because it is! Miss Adeline and I came to Lady Duffy's new fashion show models, but the outfits were too hilarious and inappropriate to wear! Still, we don't think we can leave Lady Duffy's mansion alone. So...... Asogi, who listened to the whole words Susato just said: Susato, we'll come to you, don't worry about it.

Susato: Kazuma-sama, Susato...don't know how to say more to convey my appreciation.

Barok: Lady Duffy you said? The famous designer for ladies' gowns?

Susato:... Yes, Lord Van Zieks. Miss Adeline and her seem to be friends.

Barok: How is my feline friend going? She's not there, with you?

Susato: Miss Adeline took the outfit and went to change it minutes ago.

Barok: Now I know where you are, refuse if you don't want to fulfil her desire, Miss Mikotoba.

Before the phone hung up, the three gentlemen heard the doors open and another woman's voice.

Lady Duffy: Oh my lady, why are you still in your kimono? Don't you like my design? Or the colour?

*loud click sound*

Barok: Lady Duffy's mansion is on the south side of London. We'll take my carriage to get there. There's no time to waste.

Naruhodo: Better hurry, It's rare that Susato would be so anxious and ask for help. They might be in danger.

Asogi: Time to save the princesses.