#i am but a speck of dust what use is it to ponder is where im at

[canthandlethishit]

i used to have gender crises and then i realized the world is burning and people are unknowingly and knowingly fanning the flames

[rainjazzvibe]

“I stand upon my desk to remind myself that we must constantly look at things in a different way. You see, the world looks very different from up here, you don’t believe me? Come see for yourself. Come on. Come on! Just when you think you know something, you have to look at it in another way. Even though it may seem silly or wrong, you must try!”

This, on the part that it is what makes us capable of intelligence. "The world looks very different from up here," is that true? Why is that so? How do you know there's something else besides what you see? You have to deliberately change the position your eyes, vision, unchaining them from a certain point of view to another, to a bigger field of vision, to recognize the true depth between the tangents and angles. Dimensional, as much if not more than the convoluted concept of space and time: that is the only thing there is that has no boundaries is how you perceive, and how you are perceived.

Uncertainty, existential limits, and missing knowledge are the components of our freedom. An exceptional opportunity exceeding morals, continuance, and humanity, that is the live a life with intelligence to wonder. To know for sure that you're not to here to know the meaning of life, but only to ponder.

"Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?"

Amongst the uncountable amount of notions, where are you and are you seen? Are you sung? Are you drowned? Are you better or best of the crowd? To displace yourself and put a personal mark, your identity, in place instead. Now that you're breathing, you keep adding and leaving marks, imperfectly; you are contributing to the uncertainty. A single speck of perfect dust (if there is even perfection to be reached), would not change anything, would not move the equation of spontaneity compared with certainty. But just to be, just to be, you drive us to the chaos and absurd that we are just to be born. Just to be.

I loved this movie throughout, each side of it that I can understand. It is naturally comprehensive, it is difficult to create such phenomenal messages that are breathing just right inside every dialogue and character.

Utterly ravishing. A chilling, yet warming call of warning. My heart's filled just the right amount—just almost to the brim.

(My girlfriend commended me this allure of a movie to me and I'm so grateful for that. It is 3:44 am at the time I'm writing this and it is more mind boggling than a lesson in human's physiological biochemistry. Thank you sweetheart!! I'll sleep soon)

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

I'm gonna be greedy and ask for both

😺 and 🎇

Ok <3

Worshipping in the house of God & Slow morning tenderness

Yes, I am quite aware these are most likely supposed to be headcanons and I'm writing short fics. Oops.

Also, why are these two written like this? I don't know, I've no clue what I'm doing uwu

written for the NSFT Emoji

NSFT GET LOST CHILDREN

tw: cunnilingus, handjob, blasphemy in church, cum-eating, Song of Solomon

😺 - Eating pussy

Bringing you pleasure with his mouth is got to be one of Father Paul’s most favourite activities. In his opinion, there’s just something nearly magical about being able to press his lips against, run his tongue over, and close his teeth gently around the place where you’re the most vulnerable, the most sensitive. It’s one of the proofs of the absolute trust you have in him, and Paul always goes above and beyond to prove to you he is worthy of this trust.

You came to see him one evening, after you returned from the mainland, finding him in Saint Patrick’s. The church was nearly dark, only a few candles by the altar illuminating the priest’s tall form. He turned around to face you when he heard the door open, and smiled one of his softest smiles. You walked slowly among the pews, then climbed the few steps separating you from your lover.

Paul pulled you in then, his large hands settling on your lower back, his lips closing in to capture yours. Steadily, he manoeuvred you until your backside hit the edge of the altar. One hand left you, so it could move the things behind you upon the altar to the side, before coming back to touch you. Paul grabbed the back of your thigh and squeezed it, motioning for you to jump up and sit. So you did. 

Between unhurried kisses, you told one another about your days, until you were ultimately tired of talking, and focused on only using your mouths for delivering more kisses instead. The Father’s lips then took to travelling, sliding over to your ear, your jaw, coming to bite on your pulse point - making your heartbeat increase and your breathing quicken. The priest gave you an intense look, before he stepped back and kneeled before you and the altar.

“You are altogether beautiful, my love, there is no flaw in you,” he cited from Song of Solomon, leaning his head to kiss your knee, slowly moving inwards, “How beautiful and pleasant you are, O loved one, with all your delights.” His lips pressed against your clothed core, making you shiver and reach out a hand, your fingers stroking Paul’s hair. You lift your hips a little, as clever digits hook around your underwear and begin pulling it away, hiking your skirt up at the same time to reveal your arousal to the priest’s hungry eyes. 

His face buries itself between your spread legs, open mouth kisses are planted along your damp folds. He moans deeply at your taste and you tug at the thick raven hair of your beloved. “I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh with my spice. I have eaten my honeycomb and my honey;  have drunk my wine and milk. Eat, friends, and drink; drink your fill of love” he speaks against your core, making you tremble with pleasure. His rich voice is mingling with your gasps and whimpers, echoing in the empty church.

He worships you like a deity, right there in the house of God. And perhaps you were God after all, and he was too, because what else is God if not love? You had no more time to ponder on such things though, for his mouth closed around your little lovebud and your head fell back in a sharp intake of breath. Your hips bucked unconsciously and two large hands came to grab them in a vice grip, fingers bruising the tender skin. A speck of dust wouldn’t fit between your heat and the priest’s face, there was no escape from those heavenly lips and their sweet torture. 

When you felt the coil inside you burst into a typhoon of lights and sensations, he drank from you deeply, greedily feasting on all you had to give him, long arms encircled you, and you sang his name to the heavens, calling out to your God. Your heart hammering and lungs burning with need for air, you quivered upon the altar, pleasure from your release pumping through every single artery, vein, capillary.  

Through foggy eyes, you looked at him, absolutely beautiful kneeling between your legs. Father Paul’s head was resting upon your thigh, large dark eyes looked at you both innocently and sinfully through thick lashes. Perfect cupid’s bow was damp with saliva and the proof of your pleasure, and the corners of his mouth were turned up slightly. Content, peaceful, adoring. Your hand, still in his now messy hair, began stroking through it once more, coming to run a thumb over his cheekbone. He leaned into your touch and closed his eyes. In the still and quiet of the little church you whispered:

“I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.”

🎇 - Orgasm

You loved it when he lost control. During every lovemaking there would come a moment when Father Paul would lose himself. Lose himself in pleasure, in your smell, taste, in the softness of your skin. It was then you knew he was close to his peak, his movements desperate, his mouth releasing prayers and curses. You thought he was beautiful, stripped of all inhibitions, unashamedly arching his back, begging you to never stop, and pleading for more, hands caressing everything at once and hips thrusting in reckless abandon. 

However, that didn’t mean you weren’t fond of the quiet, lazy mornings, during which you could take your time, slowly building up the other’s pleasure. One such morning, the priest was on his back, groaning softly into your willing mouth, tongues sliding against each other lazily. Your leg was thrown over his own and one of your hands was slowly pumping the Father’s manhood. You were delightfully warm, enveloped completely by Paul’s presence, by his arms, as the morning sun caressed your bare bodies. 

Paul looked angelic as you steadily brought him to his breaking point, his face blissful and so very open, cheeks flushed and beads of sweat gathering at his hairline. His eyes, darkened by lust, bore into yours intensely, parted reddened lips released soft sounds and choked gasps. His organ was throbbing in your hand, the tip sticky with pre-cum oozing out and dampening your hand. You licked into the priest’s pliant mouth, swallowing his pleasured sounds like a woman starved.

Finally, his arms tightened around your form, and he parted from your mouth to release a long sigh against your lips, his breath hot on your face. His eyes had such wonder in them, so much love, you could nearly see fireworks going off there, as he tried to keep them open to be able to look at you. Two ropes of cum spurted out of the priest’s cock and landed on his belly, more seed then wept out, running down your hand hotly. His thighs trembled slightly as he emptied himself, more sighs leaving his lips along with words of love and tenderness. 

You released the softening shaft, bringing your stained hand to your lips and licking the priest’s cum off. Paul greedily pulled you into him, making you share with him the product of his lust. You nestled into his arms, laying your body onto his own, uncaring of the mess on his stomach. “Mhm,” he hummed happily, hands stroking the warm skin on your back, “good morning, love.” You smiled against his pulse point and craned your head to steal another kiss.

I hope you enjoyed reading. You can also read this on my AO3, as well as all of my other Father Paul stories.

If you wish to request any of the emoji prompts, feel free to slide into my ask <3

[crowtrinkets]

A World Knowing You Aren’t in it

Prompt request from @mouselungs​ 

*forehead kiss* ty for that sweet sweet angst 

I wrote this at 1-2 am after watching a sad movie so uh yea I take my angst v seriously lol

Gender Neutral Pronouns for Apprentice, He/They Pronouns for Asra

Word Count: 2,208

I push my way into my shop, unwrapping my scarf from around my face. I take a deep slow breath of the not-so-fresh air mixed with dust and magical goods long since past their expiration. Wearing face coverings, just to go shopping in the market is necessary but I can't help but miss the days I could breathe in the fresh scents of spices and my favorite pumpkin bread without worry of getting sick.

"Asra? I'm back," I call out. I hear thumping traveling from the second floor and down the steps. A cloud of fluffy white hair pokes out from behind a curtain.

"Welcome home," he gives me a warm smile to which I return with my own.

"They were out of potatoes, something about merchants being scared of trade with Vesuvia," I follow them back up the stairs carrying my basket, sparse with groceries.

"I can't say I blame them," Asra mumbles to themself. I only hum in response, not wanting to push this topic further.

Asra has talked about leaving many times, but we had yet to do so, if we had the means we could but, there's no money in magic that can't heal a plague. Placing my basket on the counter of our kitchenette I pull out the food items I bought. Asra snatches an apple and bites into it but then grimaces.

"This apple is soft, like it's been left out," he goes to throw out the apple but I catch his arm.

"Don’t throw it out, if they're too soft I could make a cobbler or something out of them," taking the apple from Asra's hand I place it in a bowl with the other fruit I purchased.

"Oh, but they were out of sugar… maybe they're sweet enough on their own?" I mumble to myself.

"There's no need to go back out just for sugar, I'm sure we'll manage without it," Asra says with a smile that doesn't reach their eyes. They grab the lettuce I pulled from the basket out of my hand.

"Why don't I put these away while you go take a bath hmm? Wash the city air off of you," I give Asra a short nod and head off to the bathroom to wash up.

Suddenly feeling the weight of my day, running all the possible errands I can at once, so I am exposed less to the outside. I grab a towel from our tiny linen closet and pass by to give Faust chin scratches.

"Have you been bundled up here all day?" I question. She only responds by slithering closer so she can lean into my scratches. Her movement causes a blanket to fall, revealing a pile of books under it. My curiosity is piqued and I pick one up to read its cover. "Nopal Desert" it reads. I pick a map that was underneath it, depicting the better part of Vesuvia and surrounding territories. Nopal circled in ink. I hear Asra humming while he opens and closes the cabinets in the other room. I elect to bring it up after my bath.

The water is hot, almost too hot for my liking, but its burn soothes me in a way. Making me feel something other than the heavy burden that lays on the whole city's shoulders. I let myself sink down until the water cradles my head. Curling up so my whole body is submerged. I stare at the ceiling, watching the steam from the bath slowly rise, allowing condensation to sit on the wooden beams. I didn't bother to open the window so the bathroom could stay dry. I'll do that afterward. The water cups my ears, muffling the already quiet streets outside. My mind travels back to the books and maps I saw earlier. Was Asra trying to get us to leave? I explained in the past that I can't afford to pay rent on my shop and pay rent in a whole new area. Vesuvia is unsafe but the shop is my home, my lively hood. I can't give it up. I lie there, pondering and contemplating until the water has become lukewarm. My body aches after laying in the tub for far too long. After drying off my body and getting dressed I exit the bathroom, not bothering to stop my hair from dripping all over me. 

I walk towards my bed, finding the books and maps, untouched, and staring at me. I let out a frustrated sigh and collect the items.

I walk into the kitchen to find Asra nursing a cup of tea, and gazing out the window. They haven't noticed me yet. His eyes stare longingly out at the night sky. Sad and distant. I quietly approach and gently place the items on the table. Asra looks up at me in surprise. Neither one of us talks for a while. I clear my throat.

"What are these?" I motion to the map with the large black circle around the words that very obviously do not say Vesuvia. Asra places his cup down and fully faces me.

"Well I thought we could… stay there, I've heard the plague isn't present there and we could go, we could be safe and not have to worry about wearing face coverings just to go shopping," Asra's demeanor becomes meek the more he talks. I let out a sigh and collapse into the nearest chair.

"Asra I told you, I can't afford to keep my shop if I'm not here to work in it,"

"I can help you!" Asra says, straightening a little. "I-I've been painting masks to raise money, and we could go to Nopal for a few months, I could sell masks out there and you can have a makeshift shop in the desert," Asra reaches for my hand, taking it and rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. I give him a tired look.

"Asra, it's not that I doubt that you couldn't help me pay, it's just… Vesuvia is my home, our home, and I can't just leave at the drop of a hat like you," Asra winces and pulls away.

"Who knew you thought so little of me," he mumbles. I mentally kick myself for my choice of words.

"I'm sorry that’s not what I meant," I bring my head into my palm and lean my elbow on the table.

"What I'm trying to say is this is my home and I want to protect it so… I've decided I want to study medicine, to help with the plague," I look up to meet Asra's eyes. Their face pales and they sit back in their chair.

"Oh," is all he manages to say. I sit up fully and bring my hands into my lap, wringing them nervously together.

"I could use my magic to help too, and I want to be able to help the people, just like I did when I had people coming by regularly for magical ailments," I try to say something, anything to get Asra to stop looking at me the way he is. Scared, confused, frustrated, maybe even a little mad. He suddenly rises, his chair squeaking along the floor as it's pushed back.

"Asra please," I say barely above a whisper. Asra walks over the kitchenette and paces before turning to me, expression full of pain.

"That… That’s a terrible idea," he says. I suddenly feel taken aback.

"What wanting to help?" I say. Asra's face twists.

"You'll get sick, you'll… You will get hurt, you won't be safe!" he exclaims, starting to pace once again.

"There are people dying Asra I can't just sit around and let it happen! I want to do something, we can do something, we're both magicians!" I rise from my chair so I can fully face Asra as he frantically paces and runs his hands through his hair.

"How are we supposed to survive then, being exposed every day?" Asra looks me in the eye, his expression one of distress.

"Asra we're barely getting by as is," I motion to the bowl of fruit that I was organizing earlier. "The food isn't fresh, we have to go shopping all in one day so we don't risk exposure, and I am barely scraping by with my rent on the shop!" I let out an exasperated huff, folding my arms.

"I told you I would help you, I can sell masks, I can do fortune-telling just not here," Asra enunciates that last word by sharply pointing to the ground to make their point.

"I want to help, Asra… I want to be here," I shift awkwardly in place looking down at my feet. A lump begins to form in my throat, making it hard to breathe. Asra approaches me and places his hands on my forearms in an attempt to soothe me.

"Please, we can't stay here, let's just leave to where it's safe," He pleads, barely above a whisper. I slowly shake my head. Asra leans into me, trying to look into my eyes. His violet eyes, specked with tears in the corners.

"Why don't I help the people here? A-and you can stay home and make money off your painted masks," I say meeting his eyes.

"No, no no no," Asra begins to speak over me. He pulls away and faces his back to me, running his hands across his face.

"Asra I can't force you to stay here but you can't force me to leave," I say making my voice stern, hoping he understands my point. Asra quickly whips around tears falling down his face.

"Then how am I supposed to protect you!" he shouts. My breath hitches and I take a step back, my calves hitting the chair I was previously sitting on. The room grows eerily silent from his out burst.

"You can't protect me from everything, especially not this," I say, my own tears threatening to fall.

"Yes, I can! If you would just listen to me and leave! We could be safe," he approaches me, hands reaching out to me. I put my own hand up, stopping him from getting closer.

"Asra, I've made up my mind about this I'm not going anywhere," my chest aches, I want to leave with him, I want to leave because I'm scared. But I know I can help these people and I can't let my fears stop me.

"Please, you'll die," his voice cracks.

"If it saves the lives of even just a few people, then maybe was worth it,"

"No, you are too important to me!" they plead.

"Asra I have made up my mind! Nothing you can say will change it!" my volume begins to rise. Asra pleads my name and approaches once again gently grabbing my hands.

"Please it will kill you,"

"Asra..." my heart pounds in my chest.

"I can't live in a world knowing you aren't in it!"

"No Asra!" tears form in my eyes and my voice starts to crack.

"You will die-"

"Then death is better than this life we are living!" I shout. I didn't mean to. But I became so overwhelmed my temper flared-up. Asra takes a step back, releasing my hands.

"Is that how you feel," he says. I can't bring myself to answer, the lump in my throat has grown 3 times in size, swallowing my voice. "Very well," Asra turns away from me. Grabbing various clothing items as he goes. He disappears around a corner and I can hear him rummaging. I take in a painful deep breath. Wiping my tears as they fall. Asra comes back in with a bag, shoving items inside angrily, my eyes are too cloudy to fully see what he's doing but I can tell.

He's packing to leave.

"Asra," I croak. "Where are you going?" my voice comes out pathetically, as I try to compose myself. But my heart races in my chest. Asra ignores my question and continues to put items in multiple bags. All his clothes, his trinkets, their books. Anything they can carry.

"Asra please," I drag my feet as I try to follow him, but I can't stop the waterfall of tears escaping me. 

Asra finally stops in the middle of the room, passing me. He has multiple bags on both shoulders. I stand at the hallway entrance and watch him. Faust quickly slithers out from behind me, Asra crouches allowing her to climb up his arm. He takes his hat off the hook and places it on his head. I stumble towards him reaching out.

"Asra I'm… I'm so-" their eyes meet mine, cold, angry, pained. I stop in my tracks

"This is the grave you made yourself, I will not be there to watch you get buried," he says. His voice cracking. Without another word, Asra turns and goes down the stairs and into my shop. 

I can only gawk in silence, in disbelief that he actually left. The wall-shaking slam of the door breaks me from my shock. I grip the fabric of my top, just over my heart. Feeling as though it has broken in two. I sink to the floor and sob, harder than I ever have because a piece of my heart has left me.

[junoscrybeofshadows]

The Photographer and the Shadow (Inscryption fan story pt 3)

(Part 3 of a four part story. Previous parts can be found here: Part 1, Part 2) .......................................................................................................................

This was the least he could do for her; Leshy held no anger towards the shadow. No resentment, no wrath, not like some of the other Scrybes. The two had always had a mutual respect to each other and at a time they were friends. And perhaps in someways they still were although the betrayal and pain buried that friendship far more than either could admit. And yet he could not help but give her a little kindness.. She was after all the only one to agree to be inscrybed without much of a fight. She even chose to forgo any further argument though a part of him question why. In turn He could at least answer a few of her questions to help put her worries at easy as he began to set up his camera.

“What is it you would like to know?”

It is a question the shadow could not help but ponder for a moment. Every question that she would ask she be worth its weight in the price for her life. Each one should give her an answer that would leave her feeling content before her time would be up. Glancing at the camera she continues to mewl over her thoughts for a moment longer. But before too long she soon ask one that she had always wondered first.

“If I was an animal..” She began “What kind of animal would I be?”

“Hmm..I always saw you as a Lynx." He began to exclaim with a thoughtful hum of his own. Pausing his work on his camera he leans over to his left. The sound of a latch coming undoes fills the air followed by the sound of a kind of rustling noise. He mutters something under his breath about reogranizing things but he promptly dismisses his own thought as he soon pulls something out of the darkness and sets it down onto the table. A totem; made of sturdy oaked and expertly carved to depict the face of cat like creature that stares at Juno with a hollow gaze.

"The secretive lynx represents controlled power, individualism, and sharp-sightedness. They are exceedingly observant, quiet, intelligent, and curious. Though their independent nature can strike some as aloof, they are often excellent guides and at times friends.. I think all those qualities fit you quite well. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes..And when I am made into a card what strength, health, cost and sigils would I have?”

“...You are rather curious about what value your card has aren’t you?”

“I believe it is within my right to know,” Juno proclaims sharply her words leaving a shallow wound on his soul but that sharpness quickly dulls with a small cough. Needing something to distract herself she reaches out towards the totem and carefully runs her features across its face giving her something to focus instead of that damndable camera. “After all I won’t be able to see it myself will I?”

“No..I suppose not.. Hmm For power, 3 should suffice, health will be the same of 3 and all the cost of 2 blood. As for sigils..I believe either the Sprinter or the Guardian sigil will work well for you though I am uncertain which I will use.”

The film roll clicks loudly into place with a small push of his thumb. The lens shutters flutters once or twice as he attempts to adjust the focus noting the small specks of dust and dirt that had gotten onto it. Time was running out. There was no telling how long he’d indulge her in her simple questions for once his camera was ready. A part of him debates on giving her more time but time wasn’t necessarily on either of their sides. It was now or never.

“Where are the others?” She promptly asked. Her question quickly gain the attention of the Scrybe across from her. His brows arching curiously as if he was trying to decipher why of all things did she choose to ask that? She knew that they were cards that much was certain. If she knew about Magnificus..if she knew about everything else that he did why would she ask such a trivial question like that. “..Allow me to specify what I mean..Are their cards in that deck of your’s like how the others use to do to you when they won control? Or did you put them someplace else entirely?”

Ah so that was it. She wanted to know where the cards were.. He recalled the P03 and Grimora asking the same question. Although only the later discovered where at least one of them were. He’d be damn if either of them discovered where that old wizard was. If he let either of them know it would only result in disaster. And now it is a question he could easily decline but..what was the harm in giving Juno just a little bit of information?

“P03 is shuffled into the cards. He will make a worthy starting card for players. His stats may be on the lower side, but it will do for certain. As for Magnificus, his location is one that you will shall never find; that much is certain.”

“....And…And..Grimora?”

“....She is..safe I promise.” He makes note of the sigh of relief that is exhaled from Juno’s lungs. It was as if all the worries in the world were expelled in that single breath as she slouches in her seat. The poor thing..He knew why she was so relieved to hear such news. He knew how close the two women had gotten over the years and easy it was for the other to worry about the other when trouble arised. But he could only imagine how the news of the necromancer’s supposed safety felt to the shadow. And whatever she felt he could not fault her for. “And worry not..Once you are inscrybe I shall put your cards with her’s..I maybe be a beast..but I am not heartless..”

“How kind, thank you Leshy that is rather reassuring to hear.."

"I am glad to hear that..Do you have any other questions that you wish to ask?"

"No..I believe that we’ve delayed this long enough.” Pressing her hands against the table the woman in blue rises to her feet her face painted with a look of sorrow the edges of her golden eye speckled with an ocean blue hue. Her hands rest over her waist clutching at the front of her corset as if she was trying to dig her fingers into it but its study material keeps it from getting it balled up. Nervousness no doubt. He would be surprised if she did not feel even the slightest bit nervous..all the others were after all. Although he supposed most of them were more fearful rather than simply nervous. There was no more time, no more stalling..it was time to end this. “Where shall I stand?”

“..Where you are now will be fine.” A twinge of sadness lingered in Leshy’s voice as he rose the camera to its face. Through the view finder her could make out Juno’s face, saddened yet still expressionless, to some degree. "Do you have..any final words?"

"No..." She admits softly. The feebleness in her voice is almost too much for him to bear. But he stays strong. He cannot cave. Not here, not now. What was done was done there was no stopping it now. And yet why did he feels such pity her? Perhaps it was because she was the only other scrybe next to Grimora that he saw as a friend unlike P03 and Magnificus..perhaps that was why his heart wretched at the sound of her quiet voice as all that she has left to say is

"Goodbye Leshy, May we meet again when the cycle starts again"

It was over...it was all over... Nodding his head he adjust his hold on the camera tightening it as his finger begins to press against the clicker. Hesitating for only a second as he takes one last look at the Scrybe of shadow through the camera's viewfinder

She stands there perfectly still, head raised to meet his gaze unmoving, and unafraid.. The Scrybe of Beasts silently thanks her for the lack of a fight and with a heavy heart he presses down on the camera’s switch. “Goodbye Juno..Have a pleasant rest..”

And within the blink of an eye the room was bathed in a blinding white light.

To be concluded in part 4

[shinriaaa]

Venus

Chapter 1

Summary: As his world faced the near extinction event, Levi Ackerman was coincidentally contacted by his cosmic relative. Unbeknownst to him, they are both alone in the universe as Ackermans. Not going to be replicated just like the others in different worlds, but to disappear once they’ll... die.

p/s another unedited fic soooo yea, please leave out your comments below if u guys wanted to let me continue this!

—

He was sure that the universe is playing his fate all along as if the mysterious void of different celestial bodies is just another speck of reality embedded in humanity’s mind like a whirlwind of eternal misery. Just another mind fuckery, making their species insane and pretty much useless if the world just began and ends in a blink of an eye.

Taking a break from his head aching stupor, he stood up and poured another cup of tea, an Earl Grey, which is safely tucked in a drawer of his domain at the moment for the past 70 years. The owner might have left it there for his pleasure but died like everyone else that was left in the world at the moment.

Sitting back on the swivel chair of the office, his computer— no, supercomputer suddenly gave a message. There is an email, an email and his eyes widened like it’s the most surreal thing that has happened ever since he was born on Earth. Emails er are long gone, and it was replaced by those electronic texts and all of the sudden, another automatic message receiving device has been invented that you immediately receive it to your head via a chip implanted there.

Levi stifled a laugh, much to his chagrin, he grinned silently. He clicked the notification, but his eyes widened when he saw the sender.

Mikasa… Ackerman.

To be honest, he doesn’t know her. He had no relatives with that name, and even if he did somehow, probably she’s on another side of the planet because of her name, which sounds Japanese. But why all of the sudden? Is she even alive? But where?

All those questions suddenly made him shiver when he realized that the Japanese peninsula was obliterated a year ago and the survivors fled into space.

He slowly read the letter, his eyes not even blinking. He swore that it all baffled him, like the universe itself and the world around him.

——

Dear Levi,

Hello. I’m Mikasa Ackerman.

I came from another world… and upon searching among the worlds that may still harbor life, I saw your surname. As silly as it is, I am hoping for you to email me back since I am all alone in the universe. You know that… we are the only ones who existed in the whole universe, even parallel ones. We are singular, Levi. We have only one life among the stars, and we are not going to be copied like the rest of the world be.

I wanted to reach out to you… Please. We are on the brink of extinction right now. An Ackerman alone in the universe is a terrible thing, and if I’m gone, no one will be like me again. Also you… you will turn to dust like the others, except you will not be copied into another universe. There is a wormhole, and I sent this to you at the quickest speed of light. I am in another universe, a parallel universe like the millions around us.

Save me and be with me. Please live. I cannot lose you.

Sincerely yours, Mikasa

——

He stared at the screen, his emotions are now in a sudden haze of confusion and bewilderment. As if on cue to his shocking discovery, he staggered back on his chair and fell on the floor when an explosion probably a thousand miles away from where he was temporarily living is obviously… obliterated by the force and the sudden drop of temperature made him shiver.

Another Higgs, and he’ll surely kill himself rather than being blasted by that damned bomb. He stood up, luckily the supercomputer wasn’t harmed and the bright light emitted from it made his place illuminated in contrast to the world outside his makeshift abandoned facility from decades long gone.

80 years ago, wars broke out. The earth slowly turned into ruins, and millions and billions of people died. The people lost control, and some of them ventured away towards the stars. The humans left here in this damned planet are always higged, turned to ashes, just for the sake of destruction. The Sun warmed, too warm and it killed everything.

The year 2113 wasn’t getting better either, it was far worse. It was almost an extinction-level event, and he feared the worst. The planet could potentially be obliterated by the species it gave life with, only the said species became its demise.

Now, in his apocalyptic world, he was sitting on his swivel chair, now called vintage by his timeline, and stared at the email outrageously, and remembered a story about a certain girl who wanted him to respond from years long gone. Levi heaved out a sigh, and if there’s any way that could get him out of this fucked up planet, he’ll do it. Even if it has consequences, or he will be eaten by aliens or whatsoever that awaits him up there in the void, he will find a way.

It’s not like humans can’t still offer a ride up to space and go to another hospitable planet, but unluckily for him, he was not a millionaire or a billionaire in this world. He can’t afford a seat— hell, he can’t even come inside that fucking rocket without a cash payment to offer. Because surviving is a damn expensive venture he’ll get into, and even though he’ll rob a bank here and now, he will probably end up dying or find nothing there.

Humanity is long gone.

And he was still here, looking at his computer, like he was so lucky, so lucky in fact, to even be contacted by someone even though it’s from another world or anything in this matter. As long as someone is still worried about his well-being.

Finally, after he pondered for a moment, he clicked the email button, well, a reply would suffice. His fingers hovered the keyboard, and it was so foreign for him to act like this— even to the world as living in at the moment, that he sent a message through a keyboard and a fucking computer at that.

He typed and typed, leaving out the details and he sighed. There is no turning back… he will just wait and see if there is a possibility that he will be free.

——

Dear Mikasa,

Hello… Yes, I’m Levi.

I’ve received your email. Please count the hours since you sent it so that we can properly talk through this… old type of sending messages. I am unlucky living on this Earth, probably too far away to reach you. If you need my help, it is probably too late. We are getting obliterated right now, and there’s more to come.

Mikasa, how can I save you when I couldn’t save myself from this fucked up world? Tell me how and I’ll gladly do it. Thank you for reaching out, even though you don’t need to.

By the way… are you safe? Because I’m fucking obviously not.

Yours, Levi Ackerman

——

Sending it… he slumped back on his not-so-comfortable swivel chair as the loading continued. But after a few seconds, he saw the ‘sent!’ notification and a small smile lit up his lips. By the thoughts of it, he hoped that it may reach her somehow… if not too late. Extinction, like his world, is probably common among the worlds that have a common ground— parallel. The multiverse is a common concept, and not like it was originally taken kindly, some people still doubt it until now. Levi thought if she was from another universe that is parallel to him, or maybe… if it is parallel to his world, she would probably be in front of a computer talking to him at the end of the world.

Sighing, he closed his eyes as the smell of apocalypse lingered around him. It smells filthy, deranged and he hates it. Loathes it, in fact.

Freedom… did it even exist? He wondered as he saw another thunder and a blast from up above, silently praying that there are no casualties in that land to become one of the dead.

But pondering what Mikasa said, they are luckily replicated to the other parallel universes. Maybe the people here are living there peacefully without the Higgs, and maybe they die but luckily be buried underneath the Earth.

But not him.

He never felt so alone until her email. If the universe is playing his fate, they sure want him to suffer.

—

It was a few minutes after he took a nap and a message suddenly came into his bright supercomputer, like it was a fire ignited from the wood. He looked up, seemingly deluded by the fact, that someone was communicating with him. Like it was not just a dream or trickery from his mind throughout this madness.

It was all true.

Mikasa is still alive, somewhere… but still alive.

Slowly clicking the email while his eyes glued to the screen, he finally read her reply. Bit by bit, slowly… like he can finally see the light.

——

Dear Levi,

Thank the Gods you’re alive!

To answer your request, I received your email after a few minutes when I sent my email to you. I think you quickly answered it, right? Also… I’m safe. I’m in a spaceship at the moment, but as you can see, humanity in this universe is on a brink of extinction. We are nearing the wormhole, in case you’re wondering why I can quickly send the message. Apparently…

We’re probably coming to your universe.

I doubt it… but I saw the map and it was headed towards your universe when I first searched your name, it has an address, and I knew, we’re going there. Levi, I can save you. I’ll save you if I can, I’ll control the spaceship since everyone is asleep…

Find a way to get into a rocketship. And I’ll meet you at your world’s moon base (if there’s any) and I’ll get you.

Sincerely yours, Mikasa

——

Levi inwardly smirked, as an idea sparked in his mind. Speaking of moon bases, he has a friend in NASA, still here at the Earth as of this moment. The flight towards the moon base will happen this afternoon… if he can see exactly the sun in the dark skies that indicates it was still morning.

He replied to her email, grabbed some supplies for his venture outside towards the 15-minute walk towards NASA's main building, and locked the door.

It was not a luxury seat on a starship ride, but the Moon is the door to his freedom.

——

Dear Mikasa,

Thank you. I think I found a way. I’ll meet you up. Though the ride will take place after three days, two and a half days is the minimum time of travel. Perhaps you can meet me after four to five days if possible.

Please be safe. And thank you for saving me. Email me up, and I’ll answer you later since I’ll be going on an errand.

Yours, Levi

——

Chapter Two

A/N Please let me know in the comments below about your thoughts! don’t be shy to leave a note, hehehehehe ily! ✨

[francoiserenaldt]

the last night

or the disgraced prince of morella receives a visitor.

warnings: a little gore toward the end, some incel logic

word count: 1.3k

note: this was a secret santa present but then I remembered @bladesappreciationweek was happening and I couldn’t not share this. enjoy. 

I hate you.

It’s all over her face; her expression appears tight and furrowed under what little moonlight slips into the castle dungeons through cracks of crumbling walls. Her knees are taut against her chest, her breathing shallow, as she rakes her eyes over every nook and cranny of the cramped holding cell, committing every detail to memory. 

Anything was better than looking at his face, he figures.

And yet, he can’t make sense of why she won’t just open her mouth and say it; after all, there’s not a soul within 100 miles of Morella that could argue that he doesn’t hate her too. 

And really, who's fault is it that he's in this predicament anyway? Sure, no one told him to stab the arrogant bastard he loathed to call his brother in a room full of witnesses or to kidnap a priestess and transport her into the Shadow Realm, but no one told her and her lackeys to make it so easy for him, either. She’d done it to herself. 

No one told him to put everything he had on the line at the first opportunity that showed itself just to fail in the end, but no one told her to revel in destroying everything he’s worked for in the name of being a hero. She had no right to hate him when everything about this night was her fault.

And despite everything she’s said and done to him, she sits outside of his holding cell in the King's Palace under the cloak of night, taunting him with her silence and scorn. 

What in the hells is she waiting for? 

He scoffs at the thought. The only thing she’s doing outside of his cell is wasting his time.

"Come to see me one last time?" He croons to her. The ache in his previously dormant throat is only quelled slightly by the deepened furrow in her brow.

"I'll be at the beheading tomorrow. That will be the last time." She retorts as the back of her head brushes against the rotted ivy along the walls.

"You want it to be the last time." The sentence borders on accusatory and she scoffs, far too loudly for the hour.

She rolls her eyes. "Of course I want it to be the last time. You’re not someone I look forward to seeing."

"Then why are you here?" Aerin hisses. “To watch me wither away?”

"Something like that." Her furious expression falls into a lackadaisical smirk as she turns her head to peer at his crippled and disheveled form in the darkest corner of the cell. The whispers of corruption linger on his skin like burn scars and he knows that she wants nothing more than to dig into them. "You're looking even worse than I thought."

"You enjoy it, don’t you?” He snaps, glaring. “Seeing me like this."

Another scoff. "I don't enjoy anything about you, Aerin. Not anymore."

"Not anymore? You mean to tell me…" 

She curses under her breath and he grins for the first time since he exited the Shadow Realm. If he’s interpreting this correctly, then that means that she…

No, she couldn’t be that foolish. There’s no way.

Her expression is unreadable now, her gaze fixed on a medium-sized rock that lays at her feet. She punts it into the northernmost corner, grunting underneath her breath.

All this time he had thought she came to gloat about her outrageous victory when she really come to give him an earnest love confession. It was no wonder why she couldn’t look him in the eye; he too would be embarrassed beyond belief. Still, the thought of the great mage who conquered the Shadow Court paying him a visit to mourn her love for him—the absurdity can’t be lost on her, he refuses to believe it—rips a deep chuckle from his core.

"Oh, gods. You liked me. You thought that I was interested in you." He tilts his head back and releases a full-bellied cackle, an unusually bright sound considering his predicament. "All that time planning for my rise to power and I was beaten by a vigilante with a crush." Aerin's laughter subsides at last as he gazes upon the warrior with lidded eyes, shaking his head softly. "I never stood a chance, did I?"

"I am not a vigilante." 

"Of course not, with your shiny new medal and all. In case it wasn't clear by now, you're an idiot."

"I don't even want to think about what that makes you, Aerin." She snaps, rising to her feet and dusting herself off. Gods forbid that the hero of the kingdom sustains so much as a speck of dirt on her outfit. “Especially considering that you’ll be a dead man this time tomorrow.”

"Leaving so soon?” He purrs. After the hell he’d endured, he was going to have fun with this. “I thought you wanted to see me."

She growls before shaking her head. "I've seen more than enough of you for a lifetime."

"I don't think you've seen nearly enough," Aerin smirks. 

She, against all law of rational thought, turns back toward him. Gods, she really is a fool. "Really?"

"Really." He crawls toward the cell doors, catching her eye as he comes closer and closer to the light.

"What will you show me?"

"I'll show you anything you want, everything you want"

"I'm guessing this means that I need to break you out of here, don’t I?”

"No, no. All you have to do is come in with me."

"No can do, Prince Aerin.” His eyes narrow at the derision in her voice before he can stop them. “I have a life to return to and I get the feeling that you don't plan on letting me go."

Aerin leans forward, his dirt-covered face just inches from hers. "Does this mean that you'll take me with you?"

She grins. "Not a chance."

And then she's gone. Whether she's off to solve the next adventure and win some medal for inevitably saving the world or to sneak back into someone else's bed—he tries not to linger on the idea too long—he'll never figure out. His last night alive and she's left him alone with nothing but the cool, unattainable moonlight for company. 

The chill is too bitter for sleep tonight, so he lets his mind wander. He was never one to linger on his thoughts—thoughts were quickly turned to letters on parchment until they were safe to speak, a rarity with castle staff and Baldur around every corner—but he'll make an exception, just for tonight.

He thinks of the night the Dreadlord had approached him, promising to make all of his dreams come true.

He thinks of the night she kissed him and how great of a distraction it was from the pain. Something strange tugs him, but he dismisses it. He no longer had the luxury of pondering.

He thinks of the night he obtained the shards, how beautiful and powerful the Blade had been in his hand, and the rush he’d feel when he fed the Dreadlord to the priestess.

He thinks of her confession: the earnest way she'd seemed to give her loyalty to him, even after everything he'd done, and the insurmountable rage he'd felt when she snatched it from him. 

He thinks of his father, the man he used to admire more than anything, and how carelessly he'd thrown Aerin into the castle dungeons. 

He thinks until he’s yanked out of the solace of quiet and into the execution room, where the castle’s most pristine cleaver slices into his trachea at the first crack of dawn for all of Morella to see.

Fin.

[ineloqueent]

Starstruck: Part 7

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 7 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 6 / Part 8

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.  

Warnings: swearing, drinking, angst

Historical Inaccuracies: none that I can think of!

Word Count: 4.3k

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

The sun made you wonder. Made you wonder why it was shining in the first place. How wretched of it to shine so prettily when you felt so miserable.

It was a misery too out of reach to be pacified, for it was not the obvious sort, the kind in which you cry and shudder and feel like you’re suffocating. This was the kind of miserable in which you mope, staring out the window in a daze, and the only thing you are aware of is the frown on your lips; you opt for bitterness with every word and thought. This is the miserable where you feel detached and lost, like you exist in one universe and your feelings in a neighbouring dimension.

Brian hadn’t spoken to you for over a week.

It had rained every day since.

When classes had resumed the following Monday, Brian didn’t smile at you when you chanced a ‘good morning’. He merely pressed his lips together and ducked beneath his curls. That was how you knew he was avoiding you.

On Tuesday, Brian failed Carmichael’s test. This you knew because he ripped it in half as he stormed out of the door, following the lecture And he was glowering. You’d never thought that timid Brian could even have the ability to glower.

On Wednesday afternoon, Deacy called you.

“I was wondering if you’d like to join me and Rog for tea today?”

You bit your lip slowly. “Just you and Rog?”

“Yep!” he said. “I’ve told you that Veronica’s just gone up to see her parents for a couple of days, and that I’m working so she thought it best for me to stay behind, haven’t I?”

“Yes, you’ve told me,” you replied. “And Heather went with her.” Heather and Veronica had grown up in the same town, and so Heather, behind due to visit her own parents, had boarded the train with Ronnie.

“Oh, yes.” John paused, then asked hesitantly, “Are… are you okay with just me and Roger, for tea I mean?”

You breathed quietly in relief.

“Y/N? Who are you avoiding? You haven’t fallen out with Heather, have you?”

“Oh, no no,” you assured him.

“With Veronica, then? Surely not.”

“No, Deacy, she’s lovely.”

“She likes you too. You get along well. Maybe you should go shopping together or something sometime,” he babbled.

“Yeah,” you answered distractedly.

“Well, you have our number. And you know you’re always welcome over.”

“Thanks, Deacy—”

But Deacy was still trying to work out who it was you were supposedly at odds with. “Not Roger!” he cried. “That’s why you’re not sure about lunch. You and Roger are arguing, aren’t you?”

“No, Roger and I are fine, John.”

“Oh, good,” he sighed. “I was worried for a moment. And I’ve already had to diffuse so many fights this week, in the band, y’know.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he sighed, “you wouldn’t believe it. So many. It’s like cats and dogs at the moment. Not sure why. Yelling and throwing various instrumental gear. Drumsticks, microphone stands, cables… clumsily. Almost an amp, yesterday.”

You winced, “That sounds, uh, violent?”

“Actually,” he considered, meanwhile you pondered the reason he was jabbering nineteen a dozen, “they’ve all sort of been started by… Oh dear.”

“What is it?”

“Oh, Y/N, dear,” he said in a pitiful tone. “You’re avoiding Brian.”

“Am not!” you exclaimed.

“Are you not?” He sounded genuinely surprised this time.

“If anything, he’s avoiding me,” you grumbled, because at this point, Brian deliberately turned his head away when you passed him in the mornings. He seemed so pained by your presence that wondered if perhaps there was something more to the death of his aunt, if you had unknowingly poured salt on a second wound.

“Well…” began Deacy, seemingly at a loss. “Well, why, if you don’t mind me asking?”

You rubbed your eyes tiredly. You’d not been sleeping well for the past few nights, awake and alone with your pestering thoughts. “I asked where he’d been, when he disappeared off to god knows where the other week.”

John’s puzzlement was apparent. “And?” he said.

“And nothing. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“That’s terribly odd, Y/N. I asked. We all asked. He said he’d been up to visit his parents when they lost power in a storm. Whole phone lines came crashing down, apparently. Too much of a mess to get any sort of communication through to anywhere, and he figured we wouldn’t worry badly.”

You shook your head, then remembered that you were on the phone. “That can’t be true, Deacy. And even if it were, we did worry, remember?”

“I suppose we did worry,” Deacy conceded. “But what do you mean, that can’t be true? Did he not tell you the same thing?”

The air gasped from your lungs.

He hadn’t told anyone.

Except you.

“No, Deacy,” you said. “He— he said… His aunt died.”

“What?”

“His aunt died.”

“Yes, I heard you, Y/N, but… He lied to us?”

“Or he didn’t tell you the whole truth,” you suggested. It was something you did often; you didn’t like to lie, but naturally, you didn’t want everyone to know everything.

“I suppose. That’s just so terribly unlike Brian,” John said concernedly. “He doesn’t like lying.”

“Um… who do you know that actively enjoys lying?”

“Oh, Freddie’s near-pathological,” Deacy said off-handedly. “But Brian’s got more of a moral compass than I have!”

“That’s slightly concerning…” you remarked. “So, how is Freddie?”

“I talked to him and he said he was well,” Deacy related, “but now I’m not so sure. He’s seemed a bit off lately. Something to do with Mary, I think.”

You frowned. “Yeah, I think something’s wrong.”

Deacy sighed. “I’m beginning to think the only people who are okay are Veronica and myself.”

“Roger isn’t okay?”

“He’s usually the person Brian takes his temper out on.”

“Oh.”

“Tell you what,” said Deacy, “come to tea at mine at seven tonight and we’ll talk more then. I imagine you’ve got lectures to get to.”

“Just finished with the last one for today, but some studying wouldn’t hurt,” you replied. “I’ll see you at seven.”

“Okay, see you at seven. Bye bye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Deacy.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You spent the rest of the afternoon studying. Or rather, you tried to study. The formulas and theories and diagrams mostly swirled across your page today, as much a spiral galaxy as the Milky Way. You speculated your lack of sleep and your lack of water could be the cause. Or maybe your lack of interaction with other humans. No Heather, no Freddie, no Roger, barely John. And no Brian. It was a wonder you’d not yet become a total hermit.

At six thirty you threw on your scarf and coat and went out the door, a bottle of wine in one hand.

At six thirty-two, you had boarded the tube and remembered that the scarf wasn’t actually your own. It was the rainbow scarf. You nestled your face into the wool and fibres tickled the tip of your nose, subtle scents of coffee and lilies shrouding you in their homely warmth.

You missed the owner of that scarf.

At seven precisely, you rang the Deacon-Tetzlaff doorbell.

The door swung open and John Deacon beamed at you. “Ah, Y/N! You’ve made it to my little party.”

“Careful, Deacy,” you admonished, “you’re beginning to sound an awful lot like those old film villains.”

“I think I’ll need more evidence than that,” Deacy kissed your cheek in greeting. You returned the gesture and went on inside, offering the wine bottle which he accepted cheerily. He was just closing the door when there came a shout from the street.

“Hold the door, will you, Deacy?”

Roger had arrived, dressed extravagantly in a fur coat and thin, orange-tinted sunglasses.

“Bit over the top for tea at mine, Roggie?” Deacy laughed.

You nodded to Roger’s sunglasses. “Surely those aren’t necessary.”

“They just complete the look. And honestly, you two are daft. Coat’s for warmth. It’s bloody well snowing.”

“Snowing?” you and Deacy repeated, leaning out the door.

Roger was right; little flakes fluttered down from the dappled grey sky, dusting his hair, and now yours as well.

“And so it is,” John said with another laugh. You held out your hand and let the glittery while specks fall into your palm. Despite your love for warmth, you liked snow. It was like catching stardust.

“Brimi would love that analogy,” Roger kissed your cheek as well, and you realised that you’d spoken aloud. You swallowed, settling your features back into a mask of nonchalance.

“He wouldn’t love that fur coat, though,” you tapped Roger’s sleeve.  

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” grumbled Roger.

“At the moment, he doesn’t love much at all, really,” Deacy remarked as he shut the door when you were all inside.

“Yes,” Roger echoed the sentiment, “can we discuss that? He’s a right bore.”

“More than usual?” John joked.

“God, yes. Thinking of throwing my bloody hi-hat at him next time.”

“He didn’t get the message from the drumsticks?”

“Apparently not. Went past his house this afternoon. He’s still moping.”

You tried not to think about the fact that you were the reason why Brian was moping. Meanwhile, John and Roger bantered on as you hung up your coat and— and the scarf.

You missed the majority of the conversation, having drifted into the abyss of your own thoughts once more. It was becoming a bad habit.

“Champagne? Oh, perfect!” John was saying. You’d reached the kitchen. “And it’s Moët et Chandon, too. Fred would be proud of you.”

“Funny, it was actually his idea,” Roger mused, closing his sunglasses around the collar of his shirt.

Deacy’s eyes widened as he pulled a tray from the oven. “Freddie better not have suggested anything else.”

Roger raised his eyebrows. “What would he have suggested, John?”

You wondered whether Roger was alluding to Freddie’s dampened temperament of the past many days, his tearfulness on the floor of a public bathroom, his obvious discomfort when you spoke of Mary.

Deacy waved an oven mitt and squinted through the steam that rose from the loaf of bread he had pulled from the oven.

“Deacy?” you said when the latter did not answer.

“Food’s ready!” he said brightly, and you all gathered around the kitchen table, Roger’s question forgotten.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You’d eaten your fill of John’s homemade risotto and bread, which was quite a large portion. Deacy was an excellent cook, in contrast with the likes of Freddie and Roger, neither of whom knew how to boil an egg.

“That was lovely, Deacy,” you said, positioning your knife and fork at twenty-past four.

“Agreed,” Roger nodded from beside you. “I’d ask you to give me the recipe,” he addressed Deacy, “but you know I can’t cook.”

“Oh, yes, we all know, Roger,” John sniggered.

“Freddie can’t cook either,” Roger pointed out petulantly, as though this made up for his own downfalls as a twenty-four-year-old who had moved away from home without learning certain basics.

“So, why are we here, Deacs?” you said.

“Mm,” said Roger. “You never call meetings, John. That’s always Freddie. And if it was about Queen, you would have actually invited the other two idiots over. Not Cinderella, here,” he elbowed you in the ribs.

“Ow!” you yelped. “Better Cinderella than an idiot, though.”

Roger narrowed his eyes at you. “Then dress the part. Otherwise I’ll have to take back the title.”

“Dress… in cinders and dirt, like you have?”

“This is an expensive shirt!”

“Hey!” Deacy interjected, but you and Roger only paid attention after he stood and tapped his knife to his wine glass.

You looked at Roger and grinned. Roger waggled his eyebrows; he had the same idea. You took a breath—

“Speech! Speech! Speech!” you cried together.

Deacy rolled his eyes. “How I put up with any of you is a wonder. Might as well not tell you, now.” He made to sit down.

“Well, I wanna hear it,” Roger pouted.

“Yeah, go on Deacy,” you patted his side of the table.

He tried not to smile, but he couldn’t. He glanced down at the tablecloth instead, adjusted the cutlery on his plate with two fingers, then inhaled slowly.

“You’re not dying, are you?” said Roger. You elbowed him to shut him up.

“Right then,” Deacy straightened up. “Y/N, Roger,” he toasted you each with his glass and you smiled back bemusedly. He paused for dramatic effect. Then, “Ronnie’s pregnant!”

Your mouth fell open.

“Oh, Deacy, you sly bastard,” Roger stood and clapped his friend on the back.

Deacy rolled his eyes again, but he was still beaming.

“John, that’s wonderful!” you said. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Deacy replied, pleased as punch. “Freddie and Brian found out by accident, and they were both busy tonight anyway, and I wanted to tell you before Veronica came back because she was going up to tell her parents,” he gushed, “and by then Freddie wouldn’t have been able to keep the surprise a surprise anymore.” Deacy practically shone, he was truly so happy. You couldn’t imagine more of a family man than John Deacon would be. He doted on Veronica and would dote upon his children even more.

Roger suddenly laughed, and you and Deacy looked at him. “Now I get it,” he said.

“Get what, Rog?”

“The champagne.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Thursday, you woke up with a violent headache. You had definitely overdone the champagne last night.

You rolled over to turn off your alarm clock, but instead rolled over the edge of a sofa.

And kicked Roger Taylor in the face.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N,” Roger groaned, pulling his fur coat up over his face. He had used it as a blanket for the night, rejecting Deacy’s offer of actual bedding. “If you wanted to sleep on the floor, you could just have said so, not kicked me awake to take my spot.”

“I was perfectly fine with the sofa, thanks,” you mumbled, rubbing your temples.

Roger sat up blearily. “God, what a headache,” he complained.

You nodded in agreement, your eyes screwed shut.

“Good morning!” John appeared in the doorway to the living room.

“Shhhhh,” Roger hummed.

“Not my fault you never learnt to be responsible,” Deacy shrugged. “Can I interest anyone in coffee?”

“May I order some silence?” you asked. “And a black coffee, please.”

“On my way,” Deacy left for the kitchen.

“Yes please, I’ll have a cup,” Roger called hoarsely after Deacy. “With one and three-sevenths sugars.”

“One black, one with one sugar?” John called back.

“One and three-sevenths sugars, please.”

“Three sugars, Rog?”

“No, one and three-sevenths.”

“Seven sugars?!”

“DEACY. One and three-sevenths!”

Laughter trickled through the kitchen door. “I’m just winding you up, Roger,” Deacy returned to the living room.

Roger sighed. “Well, thank god. I was beginning to rethink our friendship. You should know how I take my coffee.”

“We’re not married, Rog. And if you really felt so fondly about me, you should have told me so before I took my girlfriend to bed sometime last year.”

“Which was far too long ago.” Roger took his mug of coffee when Deacy offered it to him. “You take a long time to fall in love with, Deacs. Couldn’t possibly have beaten Ronnie to that chase.”

“Speaking of rethinking our friendship…” John muttered.

After finishing your coffee, you swore at the time the clock on Deacy’s mantlepiece displayed, made your apologies, and rushed off to your morning lecture.

And still Brian would not even look at you.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

At nine o’clock that night, you sat down in your armchair by the fireplace and made two phone calls.

First, you called your mum.

Then you called Brian, who had neglected to turn up for the evening’s derivatives-and-guitar session.

Three guesses as to who took your call and who did not.

You went to bed soon after that, but sleep would not draw you away until two hours past midnight.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

On Friday evening, two of your housemates decided to get shit-faced. As Heather and Roger had taken up residency in your room, you decided to join in the getting-shit-faced.

Joan and Paulie were waiting for you in the kitchen and cheered when you entered.

“Our favourite Y/N!” Paulie hugged you, and Joan grinned from where she sat atop the kitchen counter, already holding a poured drink.

“What’s the occasion?” you asked. But this was apparently the wrong question, because Paulie’s bright eyes turned suddenly tearful.

Joan hopped down from the counter and wrapped an arm around Paulie’s shoulder.

“Just some hypocrite called Paulie a slag,” Joan sipped her drink. “Now we’re celebrating the fact that little Pauline here packed her first punch, eh, sweetheart?”

Paulie blushed crimson, and it was clear that she was not on her first drink either.

She turned to you, “What’ve you come to celebrate, Y/N?”

You laughed bitterly. “Perhaps my wasted heart.”

“It’ll be a large drink, then?”

You nodded, and Paulie frowned sympathetically. Joan stuck you a glass, filling it to the brim with alcohol.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

It was midnight, but tonight, there was no magic in the hour.

You sat in the window seat and leaned your head against the wood of the window frame.

The heating was broken and it was raining ice outdoors. Sleet. Yes, that was what it was called. Your muddled brain struggled to keep up with your racing heart.

You’d left Joan and Paulie in the kitchen, because the thing about Joan and Paulie was that they were mad for each other, though they appeared to be the only two people in the world who were blind to the phenomenon. Tonight, however, they’d made some discoveries regarding that area of their lives. They’d stopped drinking early on and had begun snogging instead, so you’d taken a bottle of mulled wine with you to the window seat and now sat drinking alone in the darkness.

Or perhaps the darkness was what you were drinking, and what was drinking you.

From the cinema next door to the house, you could vaguely hear laughter, and the smell of popcorn lightly permeated the air that drifted in through your open window. It was no longer raining, and the sky with its spatter of stars was once more dimly visible above the silhouettes of London in the nighttime. The mulled wine was made of elderflower and blackberries, and it had heated your cheeks and filled your head with poetry and your eyes with a mist.

Swirling the wine in your glass, you imagined this was what it would be like to live on the cusp between tragedy and comedy in a Shakespearian work.

“Doubt thou the stars are fire,” slipped the words of Hamlet from your lips, “doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love.”

You sighed and wished for the night to grow day as you stared out the window, searching for planets and solar systems you knew very well could not be found by the naked eye.

The rainbow scarf warmed your skin.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Saturday, as went without saying, was characterised by a fierce headache. Again.

And with Sunday came the Sunday Blues.

Well, really, you’d had the All-Week Blues, but Sunday did not care about this; you could now add the coming week of studying and assessments to your list of worries.

You listened to Freddie’s records and mindlessly memorised every word, every line. The music was your anchor, as it had always been. But it was now more so than ever.

You hated feeling worthless, but there was nothing you could do to not feel so.

Freddie and Roger and Deacy and Brian, they had each other. They wouldn’t have missed you, you told yourself, and it was only fuel to fire that Freddie did not trust you enough to tell you what it was that was going on with him. Then there was Heather, and Heather had Roger. And then Joan— Joan had Paulie. And Kate’s friends were Amélie and Jenny. No one was yours alone.

No one was yours at all.

And the fact that Brian May so actively avoided you just proved it all— who needs you?

Who needs you, it was in his lowered eyes.

Who needs you, it was in his silence.

Who needs you, it was in your head.

It was all only in your head. But sometimes, it was difficult to discern the world from your head.

So you picked up your guitar to prove your head, the world, wrong.

The strings stung your skin, and the memory of gentle smiles ghosted along your pulse where fingers had once applied their tender touch.

Your misery rose a wave and crashed as anger.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Two more weeks cycled past on bell-less bicycles; they passed utterly without consequence.

February had yielded March, and snow had melted to an incessant rain. But the rain fostered new leaves and flowers, and turned London to all the colours of the rainbow in the glory of Spring.

It would have been pleasant, to leave classes and hurry through warm, sprinkling rain and spots of sunshine, for but the claustrophobia that the gaze of a tall and blushing young man provided you with, in every waking hour of your life, whether in person or by way of imagination.

You waited for everyone else to enter the lecture hall, hanging back so that you would be the last.

When the final dawdler had passed into the hall, you approached Brian, who, of course, was holding the door.

“Bri,” you began gently, willing him to look at you. He didn’t. “I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve already said that.” He radiated hostility, but you felt uplifted by the fact that he’d acknowledged you at all.

“I know. But I meant it. And I mean it.”

His eyes flicked over you. “We’re going to be late.”

He let go of the door.

You grasped the handle before the frame could smack you in the face. The edges of your patience were tampered with by his gaze; they had now become short and sharp.

If he was going to behave so pettily, then you would stoop to his level.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

It began as stealing Carmichael’s questions before Brian could answer them.

Then it was politely saying ‘good morning’ to everyone you encountered, except Brian.

Then you temporarily overcame your hatred for mornings in order to arrive at the lectures early, before Brian. You held the door for everyone. Until he arrived. Then you let go and went inside.

On the third morning that this occurred, Brian glared at you and you sneered back.

How quickly you had gone from friends to… to rivals was slightly disconcerting.

Freddie seemed to think so too. He invited you to rehearsal one evening, and though you clenched your jaw at having to be in the same room as Brian Harold “Petty” May, Freddie begged and pleaded and wore you down.

But when you arrived at one of Imperial College’s unused lecture halls that evening, Brian was the first person you saw, and at the sour twist of his lips, you huffed and stormed back out the door.

Freddie and John were calling after you, and you vaguely heard Roger ask Brian what the hell was wrong with him. Yet, you kept walking.

And then you ran.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

I’d had it with Brian. I really had.

So caught up in that bloody head of his, and for what? What had Y/N even said? What could have been so bad? She, like the rest of us, had naturally been worried by Brian’s disappearance, and he owed it to us, to her, to let us know that he had been at least physically all right.

I’d gotten it out of Deacs that Brian had lied to us about where he was the other week, and I’d been furious— how could he lie to us? Brian never lied.

I’d been good and well ready to knock him about a bit, that was what I’d been, and I had threatened to do just so, before Freddie materialised, as he often did, and pushed me back onto the drum stool before I could go anywhere. He demanded to know why I was so pissed off, and John explained.

Freddie frowned. “Yes, that is rather unlike him. And he’s utterly miffed, constantly. Looks about as cross as a cat caught in a rainstorm. Has done for fucking weeks.”

“Yes…” John folded his arms over his bass. “It’s got to stop. We’re not getting anything done.”

“We need to start working on the next album, and with him in this state, he won’t write anything of use,” said Freddie in agreement. “His muse is sadness, not anger.”

“That makes one of us,” I grumbled. “Gimme his guitar and I’ll write you a song, right here and now.”

“I would, darling,” Freddie sighed, “except that you’d probably destroy it, and you know he never lets it out of his sight anyway.”

“Hmph.”

Deacy ran a hand through his hair. “We have to intervene.”

“Mm,” said Freddie. “There’s only room in this band for one hysterical queen.”

“Any ideas?” Deacy asked. “Freddie?”

“Not a thing, dearie. Got enough troubles of my own, right now.”

“Rog?”

I was about to shake my head, no, when I remembered a trick I’d pulled on two of my mates back in school, years ago.

I smiled. “Oh yes. I’ve got a plan.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

A/N: I definitely wrote Joan and Paulie to resemble John Lennon and Paul McCartney, oops :)

taglist: @melting-obelisks​ @hgmercury39​  @stardust-killer-queen​  @topsecretdeacon

Masterpost / Part 6 / Part 8

[datbeantho]

Meet Orion!

Orion is 13 and male.

Orion is Asexual.

Orion also has a base hp of 240.

His height is 5’8”.

He wears an orange, yellow, and pale white splotched scarf. His cape reaches down to his calves. The cape is orange and the one and a half third at the end is yellow.

Orion’s shoes are running sneakers that are cream orange with the (tongue?) a pale mint green.

Orion’s left eye is a pale yellow save point star while his left eye is the same but a faded white circle around it. The cause of this irregularity is unknown at the time.

Orion wears a very pale yellow T-shirt with a light pale shade of blue-green at the end. The middle of the shirt consists of a yellow centered shooting star; the points of the star, a dark but faded orange. The trail is of the same orange color to a buttercup yellow tail. The outside of the shooting star consists of cartoony dark stars in the shape of asterisks.

(Color ref)

He has Regular skeleton limbs, I can’t draw ;3;

His fears: Being alone (he always is :< ), not finding survivors, Severe arachnophobia (To the point where passes out if he sees a bug on him, but he in space, so...) (how? It’s a soul fear he had in his previous life.)

What he likes: He enjoys word searches and sporting activites. He also wishes to hear what “music” is. He daydreams often at the stars...even though he is one.

His wish: “Moon goddess? I...I wish I could feel...anything...I do not understand why I was created with no emotion...”

Favorite snack? Moon cakes

Least favorite snack? Bitter moon candy.

Orion’s powers: Able to summon a stardust staff, able to make Light yellow portals/shortcuts

Backstory: After Asriel had passed away, the villagers informed the 7 wizards, believing there to be a some form of “hole” in the barrier, leading monsters to “attack the humans out of revenge.”

The 7 wizards massacred the entire monster population except for several boss monster souls to leave the underground. The seven souls preserved were: Sans, Undyne, Asgore, Papyrus, Alphys, Toriel, and [REDACTED].

The seven wizards quickly realized, they no longer needed a barrier since there were no more monsters left. Their magic was preserving the souls to keep them from shattering. But that didn’t stop the souls from starting to quickly crack after being deceased for so long. The wizards destroyed the barrier they had cast so long ago and as a victory symbol, sent the souls to float up into space. Most of the souls did not survive after a few minutes of being too far from the wizards’ magic aura, containing them. Each shattering completely along the way. 2 remained. Sans’ soul and Ŗ̴̪̈̄͞ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊d̸̡̩͍̔ͥ͜Ȧ̶̵̗̳c̷̹͖͋́̃t̴͕͖͓̀ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊d̸̡̩͍̔ͥ͜'s̩͙͖̋͛͟ survived the trip to

space before drifting apart with each moment, eventually FAR out of sight. Sans’ soul was sturdy but not invincible. Passing by the moon, the ancient moon goddess saw the soul’s ever upcoming end. She pondered and gave the gift of life to the monster soul.

Sans’ soul quickly shattered before rebuilding itself from stardust, a small speck of his original soul left to stay as a base. The stardust formed his body and soul. The soul stardust solidifying and reshaping itself into a star.

This was no longer sans. Even with that speck of his original soul, it wasn’t him. The moon goddess gave the new being a name...she looked up at the constellations...then it hit her...

Orion

Orion had no emotions due to his lack of “real monster soul.” He was basically a reanimated corpse made out of dust. A zombie-ish kind of state. Though, some of his traits stayed, along with new ones. He wasn’t lazy, he couldn’t understand any emotions the moon goddess felt. The moon goddess told him one day, hoping he’d feel something.

“Something horrible happened to you a long time ago...you had a family...humans killed your kind...I am not a human...merely a moon spirit if you will...”

Orion’s soul thumped. The word “human” made him have the desire to hurt...to kill those who have harmed him and his family. No emotions still...he will never have any form of emotion.

He will not accept “homemade souls” because he rather have a speck of himself inside his soul than someone else’s foreign soul. He does not like socializing for too long because he only grew up around one person (moon goddess.)

One day, he decided he will try to find survivors and...see if he had surviving family somewhere out there...

He still searches to this day

Please do NOT use my character without permission. You may draw him though.

Orion’s theme? He has none yet ;3;

[meow364]

The morning was crawling bright and blessed over the Alpine landscape that day. The sun rays were just barely starting to stretch upon the green clearing, and if the frizzy air could be any color it would have been bright blue, quiet and beautiful and only flecked with faint noises from the cows and the ever feverish chatter of the bugs. Polly was leaning his head against the little window of their carriage, the glass was still retaining a faint ghost of the chill from the previous night. He was eagerly drinking in the landscape, telling himself it was for the purpose of assimilating it for future inspiration but knowing it was because he'd never really manage to grow tired of it. His gloved hands were resting peacefully atop of his walking stick, and there was no trace of their usual restless itch. Beside him, Jonathan was turned in the direction of that same little window, but he couldn't care less of what was outside, as he was looking at the way the sun caught on the little curls atop of Polly's head with a rapt smile.

"Jonathan, I hope you know you have a window of your very own on your side of the carriage." said Polly out of the blue, just so he could turn around and watch a delectable blush dust over his cheeks.

Jonathan tried his best to ignore him. "It is a lovely morning, isn't it?" he asked, turning to spare a look at the view he had from his side, and finding it nowhere near as enticing as the former. He heard the fabric of Polly's tailcoat rustling as he leaned forwards, trying to catch his eye. He really didn't have to pretend to resist, so he turned to look at him, helpless to the intelligent twinkle in his eyes.

"It really is." he sighed. "Enchanting, I would dare say.", and he was looking straight into his eyes.

Jonathan couldn't help the smile that grew on his face. "I wish all mornings were this tranquil." he admitted, a comment a little too heartfelt perhaps, because he unthinkingly averted his gaze. It wasn't unlike Jonathan to get awfully pensive in a matter of seconds, and after all, if anyone had the right to it was him. Polly followed his gaze as he turned to gaze out of the window again, and then stopped to look wistfully at his hair. Although he thought the gray made him look handsome, his heart still clenched at the thought of the strain a body would have to undergo for the hair that framed such a youthful face to turn the color of gloomy winter fog.

That unpleasant thought to him was a memory to Jonathan, a scorching one, that usually left him no clue on how long it would have lasted. He was used to it, they had become accustomed to the other's plumbeous silences.

He reached out a hand and very carefully placed it atop of Jonathan's, that were resting piled up on his lap, trying not to startle him, but it turned out to be a useless concern because he was expecting it.

Jonathan turned back to him and his sweet, gentle eyes were brimming with tears. Polly thought that if it wasn't heartwrenching, it would actually look lovely.

"Have you ever felt that way again?" Jonathan asked, and Polly assumed he was referring to his former lover and all the pain that time of his life drew from him. He assumed Jonathan was trying to ask if their memories would ever stop sending the both of them plummeting into darkness, and quite frankly, he had no idea what to tell him. They had not stopped for him yet, and that was all he knew for sure.

"I have.. I probably will again, but I also think there is more to this. I think that does not devalue what I feel when I don't feel that way."

He really thought that would be of help to Jonathan but he was wrong, because his eyes just widened as he turned around a little too fast and caught his hand in between his own, holding it tightly, with desperate gravity.

"Please, Polly, please tell me, what can I do to help you?"

Polly was intensely confused, and he furrowed his brows. "What do you mean, Jonathan? I am not understanding."

Jonathan's hands clenched around his and then he brought it up to his own heart, holding it there firmly. "I mean that I am sorry if this is egoistic of me, but I cannot afford to lose you, and I will do anything to prevent it if you deem it possible."

Polly saw that Jonathan wasn't tangled up in the kind of thoughts he had assumed, but was worried about Polly's lugubrious ponderings, the ones about ending his life that he told him about one night over an empty bottle of liquor. He didn't know what made him so suddenly victim of that kind of concerns, but he hurried to bring his free hand to his face so that he could force him to look into his eyes, thumb idly stroking his cheekbone. "Jonathan, I do not want to leave a world in which you love me so tenderly. This I can swear to you." he whispered, and he saw a spark of want flickering in his eyes as he glanced down at his lips, but he just settled on giving him a taut smile, nodding at him a little overwhelmed. Polly briefly squeezed the hand he had around his cheek in response and glanced at his lips right back, wanting nothing more than to fall into his embrace. He turned to look at the fresh, misty violet of the Alps again instead, delicately letting go of Jonathan's cheek, feeling a warmth build inside him that he couldn't quite compare to anything else.

The timid light of dawn was still lazily yawning above them, the wide green expanse of grass was soothing to the eye and the rhythmic up and downs of the carriage were lulling him back to a serene, dreamless rest. His hand was still warm and safe in between Jonathan's.

"Polly."

Jonathan's voice came distant and goopy, from miles and miles away.

"Polly, darling, wake up."

He felt his hand resting on his shoulder, hesitating and then coming up to his cheek, gentle knuckles repeatedly brushing over it all the way to his hairline.

He pried his eyes open half-heartedly, feeling scruffy and tender, and the light of the late morning was now harsh enough to force him to squint. He was just starting to regain possession of his body and he felt all of the stinging sores his awkward sleeping position had brought him, fingers teeming and swollen and all of his muscles in need of a thorough stretch.

"Wake up, my angel." Jonathan repeated, feeling much closer than earlier, his breath brushing warm on his ear. Polly hummed lazily and he chuckled, leaning in all the way to place a kiss to his closed eye, and Polly couldn't resist looking at him any longer. He forced his lashes to unfurl, drinking in the misty, hazy look of the specks of dust floating in the carriage, catching the light. He smiled up at Jonathan without even noticing, and that earned an even bigger grin in return. "There you are. I missed you." he murmured, and Polly immediately felt his eyes welling up. Jonathan always knew how to tug at his heartstrings.

"You look radiant." he immediately added, and kissed the patch of strawberry sweet tinge blooming on his cheek.

"Radiant?" Polly parroted, amused, but Jonathan wasn't japing. "Yes, positively. You're splendid." he punctuated with a long kiss to his nose, then the corner of his eye. "You're a vision. You're magnificent." another kiss, this time to the spot where his nose met his forehead. "You're a dream."

Polly's throat was starting to burn, and the sweet tension pulling at the sides of his cheeks and under eyes promised the usual sting of tears to come poking at his eyes.

"How long till you stop trying to make me go mad and just kiss my lips?" Jonathan huffed a laugh that made Polly's lids tremble, then he leaned down and caught his mouth in a mellifluous kiss. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth eagerly and Polly sighed, letting him climb up and lick deep and slow into his mouth. His breath was shaky as it came out of his nose, and his arms even shakier as they wrapped around his neck. Jonathan tilted his head and his hands came up to tenderly grasp both sides of Polly's face, thumbs resting along the line of his lower lip, brushing against it every time he opened his mouth a little wider.

Polly's cheeks were scorching under his fingers, his body was almost trembling all wrapped up in his own, and one of his hands helplessly fell captive to his irresistible slim waist, slipping under the tail coat and resting on his flank, stroking it absentmindedly yet intently through his vest. Polly whined at that and had to very reluctantly part from him, trying to take in gulps of air hoping it would calm him down, but Jonathan didn't let him.

"Oh, Polly.." he murmured, enraptured, and pried his mouth back open for another scorching kiss.

The hand over his vest had grown restless and was now trying its hardest to slither underneath it, after successfully managing to rip his shirt out of his snug breeches.

Polly was leaning his head back, letting all the weight of it fall on Jonathan's hand that had crawled to the nape of his neck, holding him up, keeping him in place. The position was exposing his throat exquisitely.

Jonathan pulled away, eyes transfixed on the glittery film on Polly's lips and the way they looked savory and tempting like a ripe fruit, and through his own, rendered almost numb by the use, he murmured, "I could kiss you for a million years and I would not grow tired of your mouth." before leaning down, nudging Polly's chin up a little bit more with his nose and plunging teeth first into the alabaster curve of his neck, biting down hard on it.

A sob tore out from Polly's throat, and stubborn little tears forced their way out of the corner of his eyes and rolled along his cheekbone only to be caught by Jonathan's thumb.

Polly gasped when his grip tightened on his bare skin, fingers digging into it to drag him closer. Jonathan pulled away from his neck and dabbed his tongue lightly on the sore spot that blossomed in the shape of his teeth.

"I long for you all the time. I cannot get you out of my mind and heart." and it didn't sound as sweet as earlier, it had a rough edge to it, making it feel almost like a growl on Polly's delicate skin. It rippled all throughout his body, making him shiver helplessly, and he breathed "Oh, Jonathan, but you have me.".

It came out a crooked thing, all jagged at the edges, and it made Jonathan moan and his hands clench possessively where they were holding him, stinging just exquisitely.

"I am all yours." he reiterated in a strained moan, and Jonathan pulled away to look fiercely in his eyes, then he swooped down fervently, ravaging his mouth again.

Polly's breeches were growing ever tighter and more uncomfortable, and when Jonathan nudged his knees apart to fit in between them he grunted quite harshly, making him pull away. He stared at his mouth, enthralled, the rough pad of his thumb coming up to stroke Polly's plump lower lip and push against it, toying with it, the heat of the spots where his fingers rested on his face almost burning holes in Polly's skin. He leaned in to catch it in his mouth and bite on it hard enough to make Polly whimper.

"I have never learned how to resist you." he murmured, caressing his warm cheek tenderly enough to draw another sob from him.

"I do not want you to." he stuttered, a little tear peeking from the inner corner of his eye. Jonathan pressed his thumb down on it, catching it before it could fall, then kissed him again, slow and sugary as his nails dragged hard on the skin of his waist, the sharp contrast making Polly gasp.

"I need you, Jonathan, please, please take me." he whined, and Jonathan hugged him and pulled him up, effectively manhandling until he could sit him down on one of his thighs.

Polly keened and tensed all over before sighing and dropping his head on Jonathan's shoulder, a bit more than overwhelmed, and immediately started rutting down on him. His nose was a little wet and the cold smudge on Johnathan's skin made him shudder.

Jonathan grasped Polly's hair and pulled his head back, and Polly looked down at him under droopy lids and unfocused eyes, lips hanging open, cheeks crimson and wet. His hand caressed his way from his thigh to his crotch and gave him a hard squeeze through his breeches, making his body twitch with it, another droplet falling from his lashes and rolling helpless down his cheek. He sniffled delicately and took a few broken, shuddery breaths, eyes falling shut, squeezing another few little tears out, tempting lips trembling with every little gasp as he resumed his graceless grinding against Jonathan's thigh.

"Polly.. Polly, my darling.." he shushed him, caressing his face, leaning in to nuzzle his hot skin. He gripped his ass tightly with one hand and pulled him in closer, guiding him as he thrust haphazardly up his thigh. He placed a kiss high on his cheekbone and he followed the path of tears down to his chin, peppering his face with light touches of his lips, he tasted cold and salty.

He made him look down, tenderly and carefully, with little nudges of his nose and cheek, until he could meet his lips again in a searing kiss.

Polly whined into his mouth, and Jonathan's hand clenched on his ass, dragging him up until their groins met and he could reply to his thrusts just as vigorously.

Jonathan's arms flew up to circle his body, hugging him close as he started to tremble helplessly, and Polly hurried to hide his face into his neck again, weeping into his skin until he tensed up like a violin string and sobbed once, loud and drawn out as he reached his orgasm.

He slumped out all at once, arms shakily hugging Jonathan's neck as he let himself be held and shushed.

Jonathan hummed quietly, lulling them gently and swinging slowly from side to side until Polly hummed and wiggled out of his grip just enough to look at him through pearly, sticky lashes and reddened eyes. "I love you dearly, Jonathan." he whimpered, a barely-there smile making its way on his face and a trembling hand sliding down to stroke his cheek.

"But damn you all the way to hell, look at what you did to me! How can I go around like this now?" he exclaimed, nodding towards his general state, disheveled clothing, reddened neck and sodden breeches.

"You have nothing to worry about, my dear, I have a solution for all of your troubles." murmured Jonathan suavely, and he jostled them both until he could sit Polly back down in his place. He then leaned forwards and grabbed his tophat that they discarded upon entering the carriage, raised his eyebrows at him, amused, and placed it on top of the dark stain that was rapidly widening on his light breeches. "Et Voilà. You just have to carry this." he smiled innocently up at him and Polly's mouth fell open, ready to protest.

Jonathan just leaned in and kissed him stupid instead.

[gauntie-o-dimm]

Emiel Regis X Reader | What Will Remain Of Us | Chapter 1-10

Originally posted on AO3. From chapter 25-30 will have a warning change, keep an eye on that. These are just small fluffy standalone fics. Domestic self-indulgence. Enjoy.

Word count: 1500+ Warnings: Smut 

Chapter 1 - Broken

The scent that came from the bathroom was so utterly familiar to him that it made the hairs of his neck stand on end.

A rapid knock onto the door in an attempt to get her attention.

'What are you doing?'

On the other side, a pair of eyes flickered open from their drowsy state, moving to the source of the sudden noise.

'Nothing.' she lied. He knew.

For a moment, his appearance turned into one of dust, blue smoke creeping under the door. Once recovered to his corporeal shell, he turned to her.

'Leave, Emiel.' he noticed the blood on the floor and seeping from her wrists, staining her gown crimson.

He knelt down next to her, taking her into his arms. The scent was nearly overwhelming, but he could fight it. His panic was well suppressed.

'Let me go. Please.' her pleas were in vain.

'No.' he softly whispered in her ear.

'We have so little time together, just a speck in the timeline of the universe, just a small gust of wind in a large storm. I will not let you cut that short.'

Chapter 2 - Cold

'Are you cold?'

'No.'

'You are a terrible liar.' he snuggled closer, crooked nose buried in her soft hair. 'You have goosebumps on your skin.'

A small smile covered her lips, eyes flickering playfully. 'You are observant.'

A low chuckle ripped from Regis' throat, his arms wrapping tighter around her. 'As always.'

Chapter 3 - Herbs

'No, stop, do not eat that.'

She dropped the herb as if it was burning hot, her lips slightly apart. Regis smiled as she looked at him in what seemed like shock.

'That is toxic. And besides, it is for a potion.'

'I might die if I eat it?'

Regis chuckled, shaking his head. He reached for the leaf, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger whilst his dark eyes studied it.

'No, this plant has a... Ah, it enhances certain performances of the male body.'

'Toxic you say? If you eat it you will get sexually aroused?'

The bridge of Regis' nose dusted in bright pink as she burst out into laughter, her fingers trying to pry the plant from his fingers.

'I've never needed it.' he softly spoke, pressing his lips to the palm of her hand.

In a peaceful silence, they continued sorting herbs.

Chapter 4 - Fading

The way her naked body was pressed against his made him sigh in satisfaction. His fingers found their way to her hip, lazily caressing circles on the skin.

'Can you promise me something?' she suddenly spoke, startling the higher vampire slightly. He hummed in response.

'Don't forget about me.'

'Do not say that, my darling. I will not forget.' he felt her form tense.

'But how long do I have left? Sixty years? Seventy? Just such a small fraction of your immortal life.'

Emiel Regis shut her up by pressing his mouth to hers. He pulled back the second he tasted salt.

'Don't cry.'

'The one thing that will remain of us are memories. When I am gone, they will eventually slip from your mind.'

The vampire swallowed thickly, his wise eyes resting upon her distressed face. He kissed her tears away.

'There will be a day that you will not remember my scent anymore. My appearance and name will soon follow.'

'Stop saying those things. They make me sad. I love you so much. I will never be able to forget you, my dearest. I will hear your name in the wind and see your face in the stars until the end of time, and beyond that.'

Chapter 5 - Cuddles

'For how long have you been standing there?'

'I think you know.'

Regis smiled at her as she stood in the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame, arms crossed. He put down his book and invited her in by patting his legs. She approached, sitting down on his lap, wrapping her arms around him. 'I needed some attention. You've been working for hours now'

His fangs flickered in the light of the candles as he showed her one of his uncommon smiles. 'I figured that you did.'

She sighed, dragging her hand through his hair before pressing her body against his, hugging him.

A fond feeling came over the vampire as he held her close, inhaling her scent to make sure it was deeply settled into his memory.

Chapter 6 - Mirrors

The air bathroom smelt like lavender and thyme as she slipped into the small space, his back turned to her. He had a razor in his hand, attempting to shave his facial hair to be in a more proper state. She gently wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his bare shoulderblades.

'Let me help you.' she whispered, kissing his pale skin. He smiled, turning around to face her. She took the razor from him, trimming down the edges of his sideburns to make them look more even. Emiel chuckled, nearly causing her to accidentally break skin.

'You know, sometimes I really despise the fact that I am not able to look in a mirror. But then, sometimes it has it's advantages.'

A small, playful smile spread on her features as she finished the task, carefully handing the blade to her lover.

'Do you think it is the most wise thing to do, letting me handle such a thing? Before you know it, I will shave your beard in a funny shape.'

Regis scoffed but could not fight a smirk forming on his lips. 'Oh please, no.'

Chapter 7 - Baby

'Regis.'

'Hm?'

She took a deep breath before speaking.

'Let's have a baby. I think we would do a great job at raising a child.'

Emiel swallowed, staring at her for a few seconds.

'Perhaps. But I am old and so is my seed.'

'We can try?' she looked at him with pleading eyes, making his heart jump.

'What about adoption? Plenty of orphans who would love a cozy home like we have.' he proposed.

'No. I want us to make a life together. Something that is purely us.'

Regis smiled fondly at her, reaching over to take his hand in his. He softly squeezed.

'If that is what you really want, I'm with you, as I promised to be.'

Chapter 8 - Mornings

She awoke next to him, his arms wrapped around her form as if he was afraid that she would get away.

Regis was vast asleep, lips slightly parted as light breaths left them.

A small smile spread on her face as she leaned closer to kiss him on the lips. He stirred and for a moment his eyelids fluttered before they opened, his gaze landing on her.

'Good morning.' she whispered. Regis smiled, squinting a bit against the light of the sunlight that leaked through the opening between the curtains.

'Hm, good morning my beloved.'

Her heart jumped at the loving nickname, cuddling into him more. He kissed the top of her head, her nose and the corner of her mouth.

'I have to go to the toilet.' she muttered against his lips, sighing.

'I don't want to let you go. You're so cute like this.'

'Emiel, let me go. Or I will just pee right here and now.'

That was enough to let his grip on her loosen. She slipped out from underneath the covers. Regis' eyes rested upon her naked form for a moment, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth while she reached for a robe.

'Promise me to come back soon.' he spoke with a soft tone. She smiled, leaning over to him, pressing a kiss on his forehead before leaving the room.

Chapter 9 - Dinner

'Let me take you out for dinner tonight.'

She frowned, looking away from her horse which she was feeding a moment ago.

'Dinner?'

Regis smiled, patting Draakul on the neck as the mule rubbed its head against him.

'Yes, just the two of us. Something fancy, perhaps.'

'Never took you for someone who appreciated luxury.'

The higher vampire looked at her for a second, pondering. He carrot in his hand was snatched away by his steed.

'Just one evening can't hurt. I know this place in Beauclair where the Duquessa herself tends to eat sometimes.'

'That must be so expensive, let's do something else.'

'I am a familiar face to her court. There is no problem with getting some kind of discount.'

She nodded, accepting his proposal.

'That sounds lovely.'

Chapter 10 - Heat

She felt his hands creeping over her naked skin, across her waist, resting where her back curved into her bottom.

Emiel Regis sighed deeply, mouth pressed to her delicate neck as she rolled her hips, her nipples roughing against his coarse chest as she rested her hands on his biceps, riding him ever closer to his release.

This was what he craved, this feeling he always wanted to cherish, her scent as she reached her high, her walls clamping around his length, the flavour of her skin as she came undone, nearly collapsing on top of him.

He loved her, the way she felt against him, naked, sweaty bodies pressed together as if there was no tomorrow.

And one day there would be no tomorrow, for her at least, and that was the tomorrow he dreaded since the moment he laid eyes on her.

So he held her close, face buried in her neck, listening to her breathing that slowly began to steady, and as if he had just witnessed a falling star he wished to cherish this moment forever.

[jonogueirawrites]

Save me from myself.

Chapter 3

AO3

Summary:

After months looking for the correct man, Lillian finally got what she wanted, and with that came unwanted people.

TW: none.

Champagne and broken bones.

Her fingers brushed the wine silk of her long dress. The transparent, bubbly liquid in her flute touched her red lips, but not her tongue. The single long earring caressed her left shoulder when she turned to watch the cellist who played a beautiful sad song for the captivated audience.

Lilly threw her hair back to its place and walked to the restroom to retouch her lipstick, at least that’s what she wanted everyone to think, when in truth she was going to adjust the switchblade on her inner thigh, and check if the equipment she had installed were still working.

Leaving the restroom, she turned right and discreetly headed to the balcony, her target was about to arrive, and she needed some air to focus her mind.

For six months, she had been chasing the information the woman was going to give her, wanting or not.

-----

It was the fifth time he adjusted his tie and collar in the last thirty minutes. He hated those clothes, how tight everything was, and how vulnerable he felt.  His metal arm was impossibly constrained, and he was afraid the fabric was going to tear at any given minute.

The super soldier dragged him to that mission, saying it was something simple; fast. He had also said it would be good for him to go out a little, see how everything had changed. He hated his clothes, but he hated himself even more at that moment for letting Steve convince him.

His fingers curled on the glass, and he finished his drink in one swig. How he wished he could get drunk again.

Not being able to be around those people anymore, he headed to the fire escape and closed the door behind him. He thanked the gods for the minute of silence.

-----

The woman, whose name she had repeated so many times, was talking to an older gentleman near the violinists. She looked at the instruments, and a feeling of longing filled her heart; her fingers touched invisible strings and played a long-forgotten song.

Her eyes fell on a young couple that reminded her of her parents, and for a second her resolve faltered, but when she lifted her head and her eyes met the woman’s, her hands balled and she felt her nails digging into her skin.

“Arisanna.” She dipped her head in respect and waited for the woman to address her.

Arisanna looked her up and down, and Lilly could see judgment in her eyes. Whatever it was that she saw resulted in her approval because she decided to grant Lilly a second of her time.

“How may I help you, child?”

“My name is Bian. I believe Logan has spoken of me.” She prayed the old thief was true to his word.

“Ah, yes. The little girl who is between a rock and a hard place.” Not understanding what the woman meant, Lillian raised her eyebrow. “Do you believe in the occult?” She asked curiously and continued after she shook her head. “Well, I do. What do you think the most dangerous thing about it is?”

Lilly wanted to roll her eyes but reminded herself she needed the information and calmed down, entertaining the old lady.

“I honestly don’t know, but please tell me.” She showed Arisanna her winning smile.

“When you see what lurks in the shadows, they see you in return.” The old lady narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure you want to be seen by them?”

The warning in the woman’s words echoed in her mind, and after a few seconds of pondering, she gave the old lady a short nod.

With sadness in her action, Arisanna used her chin to point to a far corner. A tall man with skin as white as snow and hair touched by the sun talked to a woman who could only be his complete opposite.

The man had his hair short; even from this side of the room, Lillian could see his ice-blue eyes gleaming with intelligence. His black suit was impeccably clean and straight; she dared say there weren’t wrinkles on his clothes nor his skin. On his long thin fingers, a single silver ring displayed his true colors; red, black, and white.

The woman, on the other hand, let her long black hair loose on her back. The yellow dress she dressed was provocative and elegant, her powerful dark brown legs could be seen through the double slits of its skirt. The diamonds on her jewelry alone could buy Lillian’s house and more.

With a shuddering breath, Lillian walked towards the pair. Excitement sent goosebumps all over her skin, and she could feel the chase nearing its end.

-----

Through his earpiece, Bucky got Steve’s confirmation. Their target was in the party, but he had been stopped from advancing and needed him to keep his eyes and ears open.

Making sure his clothes were okay, and that damned tie was in place, he opened the door and entered the party with a deep breath. The musicians played something that he guessed was Beethoven. The cellos, violins, and piano resonated around the room, and the vibrations from the instruments were felt in his bones.

His eyes scanned the area and landed on a beautiful lady who was talking to a man he guessed was German. Her nimble fingers brushed an invisible speck of dust from the man’s spotless suit, and her lips displayed him an inviting smile, one that the man’s eyes showed growing interest.

Bucky walked in their direction. His hand grabbed a flute from the tray of one of the waiters, but the glass never reached his lips and was soon lost on one of the nearby tables. The closer he got to the woman, the more the noise around him became low in his ears.

The piano notes grounded him to that moment, and each new violin chord was a step forward. The smell in the air intoxicated his senses, and his eyes stared at the couple.

A meter from them, his fingertips caressed the soft skin of a woman's bare back, and her soft long black hair curled around his rough fingers. Her scent reached his nostrils, and he paused for a moment, completely forgetting his target as the woman in question turned to him and their eyes met for the first time since the beginning of that endless night.

The depth and darkness in her tempting eyes made Bucky remember things he desperately wished he could undo, but besides the shadows, which threatened to drown him, he could also see everything she had suffered, everything he had taken from her.

-----

Lillian let out a soft gasp when cold fingers touched her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. Her first reaction was to turn with a strained smile to whoever dared interrupt her, but as soon as she saw the reason for her distraction, her lips stopped midway their curve up and her face turned into a scowl.

-----

They stared at each other for what seemed forever. No words were spoken through their mouths, but judgment was passed through their narrowed eyelashes.

-----

His hand rested on her waist. The fabric of her dress was smooth under his fingertips, and he unconsciously curled his hand on the small of her back, bringing her closer to him when one of the guests walked behind her heading somewhere he didn’t care.

Her midnight black hair was loose on her back, and he could feel it on the back of his hand, the mint scent coming from it filled his lungs and he stopped the urge of bringing a lock to his nose and breath its smell in. The red lips taunted him, dared him to feel how soft they were, how delicious they could be. He got drunk from the wine color of her dress, and the pale skin of her shoulders demanded to be touched; to be kissed and worship.

When his eyes met hers again in the next second, his mind ended his reveries.

-----

His hair was cut a bit shorter since the last time she had seen him. His beard was trimmed and taken care of, leaving his lips beautifully framed. It was the first time she had paid them some attention. The first time they met, he had his face covered; the second she had more important things on her mind than those full and tempting lips hiding perfect white teeth behind them.

With his chest so close to her, she could feel the warmth and power irradiating from him. His suit fit him perfectly, and she stopped herself from running her fingers on his lapel and adjusting his tie. Cursing herself, she pressed her hands to her sides to prevent them from caressing his shoulder and tangling his hair around her fingers.

His warm palm pulled against her skin, bringing her body closer to his. He was taller than her, and she had to lift her chin to look at his mesmerizing blue eyes that stared at hers; that saw her secrets and fears; that saw her soul.

“How dare you touch me?” Lillian had to muster every bit of restraint not to shout and punch him.

“I didn’t know it was you.” Bucky released her from his grasp. “I apologize.” Giving her a short nod, he continued on his way. His hand mourned the loss of contact.

A few steps later, his wrist was caught in a firm grip by soft fingers.

“What are you doing here?” She asked him in a whisper. Crossing her arms over her chest, she prevented him from going further.

“I cannot give you the information you are looking for, Lillian.” He saw the way she closed her eyes and wrinkled her nose when he used her name. “I am here with Steve. You can go and ask him, in the meantime, there’s something I have to do.”

She interrupted his path again, her hand on his chest and an accusatory tone on her words.

“Who are you murdering this time? What’s the name of the child who is becoming an orphan tonight?” He felt her hold his tie.

Curling his fingers around hers, he gave her hand a light squeeze and made sure to look into her eyes.

“I’m not the monster you think I am,…” Bucky closed his eyes, and his next words came out in an unsteady breath and low whisper, “not that monster at least…” He let his words float in the air and rolled his head with a deep breath.

The Winter Soldier could fool Steve but not her, not after everything he had done.

“I am not a defenseless child anymore. I will not let you harm anyone else. I will show everyone what your true colors are; I’ll show them all where your loyalty lies.” Lillian made sure to grab his tie and bring him closer.

“Good,” Bucky straightened his back and took her hand from his clothes once again, “it is a favor you’ll do us both.” He left her there speechless.

Approaching the pair, Bucky realized that he had no clue of what to say or what to do. He knew he had to get the information from the woman, and it would be such an easy thing to do if only it were some years back, but after being the Winter Soldier for so long, he had to admit he didn’t know where to start. He was grateful for Lillian’s interruption for the first time.

“Good evening, lady.” Lilly gave the woman a warm smile and a nod. “Gentleman.” To the man, her smile was bigger. Her eyes were more mischievous. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but I need a word with you.” she turned her body to the man and opened her arm, silently asking him to follow her. “Arisanna’s spoken wonders about you.” As soon as he heard the old woman’s name the man followed behind her.

Bucky could only watch as they disappeared among the crowd. The woman behind him cleared her throat, and as if waking from a dream, he turned to her.

“The name is Vanessa. It is a pleasure to meet you!” She studied Bucky from his head to his toes, and by the sly smile on her face, he knew she liked what she saw. “And you would be?”

“Good evening!” He tried to give her a warm smile, but all he managed was a short nod. Over her shoulder, Bucky saw Steve approaching and he let out a long breath.

“Evening, ma’am!” Steve saw the woman raise her left eyebrow at him.

“Mister Captain America,” Vanessa picked a speck of imaginary dirt off her nail and gave him a side glance, “what can I do for you?” She took the last sip of her glass and caught the attention of one of the waiters who were waiting nearby.

“If you follow us. There are some things we’d like to ask you.”

“Such as?”

Steve dropped his smile, and his Captain America stance took place.

“There is a new gang spreading its territory, and we happen to know you have information that would lead us to the leader.” Bucky took a step closer to them.

“Well,…” Vanessa tucked her hair behind her ear, “whoever gave you that information must be desperate to tarnish my reputation.” She turned to Bucky and ran a finger over his shoulder. “Still, what would you have offered me if I possessed such delicate knowledge” Without taking her eyes, which were filled with lust from Bucky, she asked Steve.

“For starters, we would overlook the fact that you were seen with members of said gang,” she snapped her head to him, “and then we would give you some time to think about what you really want for your future.” His smile was big and showed all his teeth.

For a moment, the woman narrowed her eyes at him and bit her lower lip. Steve and Bucky looked at each other; none of them wanted an open confrontation.

“Fine!” Vanessa huffed. “But my name will never be mentioned after this.” He gave the men a pointed look.

Steve, Vanessa, and Bucky walked to an empty spare room where Steve activated his blocking device to have a quiet and secret conversation.

With the information collected and warnings made, they left the building heading to the HQ. Bucky finally took his tie off, almost tearing it in two. Crumpling it with his metal hand, he shoved it into his pocket while Steve chuckled by his side.

The noise of struggle coming from the alley caught their attention, and they cautiously made their way there.

About to turn the corner, Steve had to take a step back when a man was thrown on the sidewalk in front of him.

His hair was disheveled, and his clothes torn and dirt. Bucky noticed his right shoe was missing, and how he cradled his right fingers on his left hand, there was also blood trickling down his eyebrow. Inspecting the man with more attention, he immediately recognized him.

“Thank you for the handkerchief, Mr. Schneider.” Bucky’s eyes fell on the woman who was cleaning her hands on the piece of fabric. “I’ll have you know that the intel you gave me will be used wisely.” Her sly grin reached her eyes when she threw the object onto his face.  

Lillian finally noticed their presence, and with a nod of her head, the man scurried away almost falling in the process.

“Steve.” She acknowledged his presence while walking away from them.

“Is everything alright, Lilly?” He fell into step beside her, and when she ignored his question, he stopped her progress, putting his body in front of hers. “Lilly?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Peachy!” She tried to sidestep him, but her attempt to walk away was once again stopped.

“That’s all you have to say after more than six months?” Steve placed his hands in his pocket and tilted his head. “Who was that man? What did you want from him?”

Sighing and fixing her clothes, she avoided looking at him.

“I’m so sorry, Steve, but I cannot tell you right now.” She eyed Bucky who caught up with them and stopped a few steps away. “I see you’re keeping him close.” This time she was the one who crossed her arms.

“If you hadn’t fled-”

“Fled?” She laughed. “I didn’t flee, Steve. I left.” She gathered her hair and made a messy bun over her head. “You expected me to be near him?” She pointed at Bucky without looking at him. “With the murderer of my parents?”

She waited for Steve’s reply, but he clenched his jaw and she was done waiting. Walking to Bucky, she poked his chest.

“Why? What information was more valuable than their lives?” Tears pooled on her eyelashes. “Say something!” She punched his chest and shoulders.

Seeing that she wasn’t going to stop and that Bucky wasn’t going to defend himself, Steve pulled her away from his friend.

“Lilly, please!” He stood in between them and held her by the elbow.

“Of course, you’ll defend him!” She took a deep breath and cleaned the hot tears that ran down her cheeks. “Stop looking for me, Cap.” When he raised an eyebrow, she continued. “I know you’ve been looking for me. Just stop.” She pushed his hand away. “One last thing before I go, Steve. Watch your back, they are closer than you think. And you Winter Soldier,” Bucky lifted his head to take a good look at her, “I’ll see you around.” With that, she walked away.

There was a loud thunder that rattled their bones, and thick drops of water soon cooled their skin and started to drench their clothes.

The men saw her wave a cab, and when she entered the car, Bucky felt a shiver ran down his spine, and his metal arm shifted, waiting for something he didn’t know what. But what he did know was that she was set on proving him guilty, no matter how many times he said that himself.

If what he saw in the man’s hand was what he thought. If the object around his little finger was the reason for her warning… he knew she was on the right track, and that he had to keep his guard up.

-----

Not far from the trio and leaning on a smelly garbage container, Schneider gingerly placed his cellphone back into his pocket.

Holding his broken fingers and clenching his jaw, he snapped the bones back into place. After a few moments of deep and irregular breathing, the man walked away from the dirty alley.

Twirling his ring around his little finger, the man spoke with pride in his voice.

“Hail Hydra!” A smile tugged the side of his lips.

I hope you liked.

Likes and reblogs are super appreciated!

Next chapter

[cruciformity]

Why did God make it so that the sins of one could negatively impact another?

Recently I posed this question: "why did God create a world (or put in place the processes that would create a world) in which the sins of one individual could negatively impact another through no fault of their own?" in the following post.

Unfortunately I did not foresee that it might be interpreted as being specifically about Adam and Eve which set off a debate on one of the forums where I asked. I don't want to talk about that understanding of my question here, but I will point to an earlier article I wrote: Is the story of Adam and Eve a theodicy rather than a historical event? and quote one response that I found pertinent: "Quit blaming Adam and Eve. If you have to blame someone blame me, I have to have all these tragedies around me to get up and start doing something."

What I was really trying to ask is what I added as an EDIT later: "Imagine a hypothetical world in which every action or inaction has a positive or negative consequence, but negative consequences only ever affect the sinning individual never innocent targets or bystanders. This would be a more just world than our current one and if I can imagine it, then I am sure God could too and could make it if He wanted - so why wouldn't He?"

I want to highlight here several lines of thought that I found helpful and relevant based on the many that I received from various different forums for which I offer my gratitude.

The first says that there is no answer, that we cannot understand why the world we live in is as it is and that we must just trust in God's love for us. This is just one of those mysteries we're not going to solve just like the problem of evil more generally where some explanations cause us to stumble into calling evil good and lapse into "schadenfreude" - pleasure at someone else's misfortune or tragedy.

Another way of thinking about it says that we live in the best of all possible worlds. As one respondent put it "Simply because we can imagine a hypothetically better world than the one we inhabit it does not follow that God can create it." Perhaps the only way to create the imagined world of the OP is to take away free will altogether. To use theologian David Bentley Hart's words "the only necessity in the divine act of creation is the impossibility of any hindrance upon God’s expression of his goodness".

One reason why this might be so is simply that we overestimate our importance - our planet is a tiny part of the universe and the collective weight of all our sin, although colossal to us, is but a speck of dust in the infinite vastness of Creation. As one commenter poetically wrote: "His plan for us, with us, will sail on into the eternal cosmos. We haven't the faintest idea of the wonder and glory that awaits."

An angle on the problem which I think is vitally important acknowledges that we are all connected. What one does affects the whole, because we are not really separate. One respondent said "Most mystics and deeply meditative people realize this sense of connectedness in stillness."

This fits in with a previous article entitled Coronavirus - a symptom of Creation's brokenness in which I said: "The Earth has many interconnected natural systems almost as if it was a mega-organism in its own right. Humans are a part of that latticework, appointed by God to be stewards of our little corner of Creation. When we do our job poorly, it has serious ramifications including the Coronavirus." Similarly, the negative consequences of sin on others could also be considered as a severe complication that results when we do our job as kingdom bearers poorly.

We can also ponder the logic of the question by looking at how we define sin. Frequently it is explained as missing the mark. Brad Jersak describes it as "turning away from God’s life-giving love towards self-will, independence and alienation," characteristics that stem from what I have written is the root of all sins: selfishness.

When we become self-centred, then that comes at the expense of others. The wrongness of sin comes from the fact that it harms people. "Sin is what negatively affects another" as one commenter said. If it didn't, then we would run the risk of finding it tolerable rather than something to avoid. By taking away the negative consequences of sin, the ability to actually commit it is removed. A great analogy I received was: "If I stub my toe, even if I did it on purpose, we don't call it sin, because why does it matter? We do call it sin if I stamp on someone else's toe on purpose."

The cruciform approach to why God would make it so that the sins of one could negatively impact another became apparent to me from this response: "Simply: Jesus displays the character of God that all of us should be transformed into. Self-sacrificial love. When he’s abused by Pharisees, he loves in return. When he’s betrayed and abandoned by disciples - he loves in return. We all have this opportunity, all the time."

If the sins of others did not affect us, then there would be no crucifixion, no demonstration of the extent to which God will go to show us His grace. We would have no opportunity to be "born again" as a people willing to turn the other cheek when faced with hostility. For us to try to emulate the kind of love that Christ did in His life requires that we face suffering and come out of it transformed a little bit closer to the image of God. Join the discussion on reddit at r/cruciformity.

[escapedchickens]

The Soapiest Moment

A prompt I wrote for @gavimp and I thought it would be fun to add here since it relates to the light side of the AU. The above picture is from me, while the other is from her. This is also the last DBH related post of this blog, as future ones will be on the side blog @yorkshire-androids-au

The Soapiest Moment Ever

By Canuck

Today is Sunday, and it is Babs’ turn to wash the bathroom. Willard tidied up the washroom out of habit, but drops it when he sees Melisha walking by the Hallways with an AX 0017 model. He looks back at the washroom before fetching Babs from the living room. The android waits patiently at the living, eyeing her little knitting projects. Humming a positive tune and looking around in a flighty look before seeing Willard approaching her. “Morning Willard, did you and the Missus have a good breakfast?”

“That I did, Babs. Are you ready for today’s chores?”

“Oh, I am more than ready, Willard,” She says happily as she stuffs the knitting project in her apron and picks up a basket of cleaning supplies. “What area am I cleaning first?”

“You will do the East wing today; it comprises one of our Bathrooms, the guest room, the den and reading area. If you can start with the bathroom, that will be ideal. You think you can be alright cleaning it?”

“Of course, that is what I am programmed to do: sweep here, wipe there, just making sure the house is a home.”

Willard nods as he guides her to the washroom. The washroom is not too messy, as he tidied up a bit earlier today, but he cannot help but feel guilty for leaving it in a state. “Some places could have been better but a little help would do. Perhaps you would like some help as well?”

Babs bobs her head to the side and enters. “Oh no thank you, I am sure I can get it done soon. What is life without a little challenge? I will let you know if I need something.”

“Of course, I’ll let you to it.” Willard nods and continues on the rest of the East wing of the mansion. Out of habit, he picks up any bit of papers lying around and place them in a bag for recycling. Next, he goes to the broom closet and neatly set the vacuum at the corner of the den, and a broom and dustbin at the reading area. It should be enough to make cleaning a little easier. He more or less feel accomplished at his part of the task, as he feels more involved in his androids tasks than just doing nothing. He hears a high-pitched yelp from the bathroom and runs to the room. Here, he sees Babs’ frilly dress sticking out from the edge of the tub while her feet are kicking up in the air.

Willard leans over to grab Babs by the hand and pulls her to her feet. He feels a slight slip under the floor and grabs onto the counter. Babs looks down and up at Willard, already with an apologetic look.

“Oh, I am sorry, Willard,” says the android. “I thought I was done with the bathroom until I noticed the grimy ring around it. It would be wrong to leave it. I really tried to scrub, but the thing is just so stubborn. I may have used more soap and chemicals than intended.”

Willard shakes his head and pats her hand “No worries, love, you were simply doing your job. The bathtub can be hard to keep nice and polished. But don’t fret, I could barely see it, you did quite well in the bathroom.”

“You think so?”

“I know so, Babs,” Willard place some paper towels on the floor and guides the AX 0017 model to the hallway. He picks them up and place them in the trash. “There you go, all clean. Now, how about we go to the next room?”

“I like that.” Babs goes to the corner of the den starts the vacuum. Willard watches the bot cleans with ease, taking up all the little bits of specks to her vacuum in one setting and turns off to empty the filter into the trash bag. She places the filter back to the vacuum and sweeps off the remaining dust with a small brush. From the shelves, to the floor. She notices Willard chuckling and gets up with a smile, laughing along with him. “What is it, Willard?”

“It’s just, seeing the soapy floor all over reminded me of something I did with Jack and myself.”

“Oh, what thing?” She picks up the trash and recycling bin to the next room. “Did he get clumsy with cleaning too?”

Willard laughs and picks up one bin. “Not really, but a lot of cleaning was involved, I’ll tell you while you clean the next room.”

“Sure thing!” Babs replies in a chipper tone. She enters the reading area and sweeps the floor. Willard smiles and grabs a cloth the wipe the shelves. “Soap on the floor reminds me of a time Jack and I attempt to do this silly thing with bath bombs.”

“Bath bombs? Oh, those little ball thingies that dissolves and makes the bathtub all colourful?”

“Yes, yes, those things. When Jack was around, he and I were getting into those things and enjoy watching them dissolve whenever we have some bath time. It feels like watching art in the bathtub. We were so into them, that we had the bright idea to see what happens if we release them all at once.” “All at once?” Babs pauses and looks at Willard in confusion, tilting her head to her right. “Won’t it make the bathtub messier than a faint ring?”

“Yes, I know, I know, but we let fun got in the way of common sense. That is not the craziest part though….”

The date was, June 28, 2027

We have a big box of bath bombs around the bathroom, and being silly young lads, we thought it would be interesting to see what happens if we have them dissolve all at once?

We had the water running to fill in the tub while Jack strips off his shirt and playfully shows off himself into black trunks before getting into the tub. He sinks in, taking into the warm water of the bathtub, when he looks up to me and asks: “Are you getting in, Willard? The water is nice.”

“No thanks, Jack. Someone has to be the dry party.” I laughed, watching him relax at the tub. I was wearing some grey trunks and an old t-shirt to keep me warm as we cranked the AC up. Next to Jack was a box full of colourful bath bombs, letting off a strong scent that combines flowers and citrus fruit. The scent was overwhelming but a simple wipe of my nose should help with that. Jack was just smiling widely, waiting for the time to spill in the bathtub. He was way too happy for this experiment. I turned on the camera and pressed record.

“Afternoon world, and family. I am Jack Tweedy and this is my brother, Willard Tweedy holding the camera. Say hello, Willard.”

I turned the camera to the mirror so I can see myself waving hello to it. I turn back to see Jack sitting up and holding the box already.

“We are going to do a small test on what happens if we place hundreds upon hundreds of bath bombs all at once. Before that, I should let you know that we have taken precautions and prepared our tub. Why don’t you show everyone what we did?”

“We place lots of towels and bath mats around the tub, we made sure no wires were around and no holes.  The caulk is very secure so no worries about leaks and mold. And more towels in case it got out of hand.”

“That’s right, Willard, safety is first.” Jack sits up and rattles the first box over his head. “Are you ready, Willard?”

“More than ready!”

“Last call to get in with me.”

I pondered for a bit, wondering if I should. I want to get a good shot of our first experience with this. It sounds silly to overthink this, but we are less likely to do this again. I have the camera sitting on the counter where I know it won’t fall on to the possibly wet floor and gently get inside the tub. The water became lukewarm, but it was a good temperature for me to get in. Having him in the tub certainly helps. We both counted down to the three and watch him pour all the bath bombs in the water.

It went as well as it imagined. All the bath bombs diffused, and it became a colourful bomb in the water. It was pretty to see all the colours spread out like a mosaic, hear that satisfying hiss of the balls getting smaller and smaller. It was fun to watch… for a while. Before then, we noticed that the bathtub was starting to flood the bathroom. Watching the foamy colours spill over the tub went from beautiful to surreal real quick. We anticipated the washroom floor getting wet, so we have some towels on the floor to soak up the water. But we did not intend for the water to over soak the towels to the point where it looks like the whole area is soaked. Next thing we knew, we watched the carpets getting soaked with water and rainbow foam. We grabbed all the dish rags, towels, and paper rolls available to stop it from getting all over the halls. But alas, it was moot, and we found ourselves in a soapy situation. The whole carpet was just soaked, it was squishing underneath us. But that is not the crazy part.

We go downstairs and see tiny drips going to the living room. They may be tiny but we will not risk having those little holes get any bigger so we have to grab any available container and get cleaning. We wiped them out as fast as possible while the bath drains. It took only two hours, but it felt like it took all day. Nonetheless, we had a good workout getting the place dry and a laugh about it. As for the holes, I did not want to risk getting mold in between the cracks, so we called a professional to help us out. As long as we don’t overflow the bath again, it should be fine. After a two weeks of just showers, we can finally enjoy the tub as we did as lads: relaxing side by side and drinking ciders.

“Aah, so, you can take baths again after you got your floor and ceiling all fixed?” ask Babs, mindlessly knitting away at this whole story.

Willard giggles and feels the soft wool project from his maid. “I do, just not as much. Baths became more like Melisha’s thing. I do enjoy it, it is just not just the same without Jack. We just chill, talk, have cold ones. With Melisha, it is different. Even with wine at our hands, we just sit there and talk about our day like business partners, not a couple. But hey, we worked together to get you this nice farm, right?”

Babs pause her knitting and looks over. Her LED circles yellow and taps her needles against her shins before resuming her work and the LED going back to blue. “Yes, yes, it is. Some things improved but I can’t help shake it off that things can be… different. I like my role and this farm, it's just something about it I can’t think off.”

Willard eyes the android, suspecting of her deviating. He cannot really tell since Babs’ chipper attitude and work ethic is part of her program, but the little things about something not right with them seems off. Perhaps she did deviate but it is not as abrasive as how Ginger or Bunty did. Just how many of his androids deviated? Five, twenty, forty? Maybe more than that. He rubs the bridge of his brow as he hears his wife’s berating him at the idea of them scheming.

“They’re only tools that look like people. They don’t scheme, they don’t organize or form unions. They can’t do anything! All they did is work day in and day out with little to no complaint. Get it to your head, Willard!”

Willard shakes it off and pats Babs’ shoulder, “We’ll see what we can do. If anything, just feel free to let me know. I promise that will take it to consideration and see what we can do. How about you finish the last room and go downstairs, yes?”

“Yes, Willard,” Babs have the farmer lift her hand as she stands up and picks up her cleaning tools to the last room. “You know, those little moments makes the silver lining a little brighter. Like, how the light seems shinier behind a cloud, making it easier to see than if it is just one big sun? Because you can’t look at the sun. It will damage both a human and an android’s eyes. Funny how we keep finding little things that we have in common.”

“I think it’s funny in a cute sort of way. Nothing to brash, right?” Willard hears a text from his phone and looks at it. He sighs and puts it away after a quick text. “Will you be okay doing today’s work by yourself?”

“Yes, Willard.”

“Good, I have to meet with Melisha for a side project. You take care now, okay?”

“You bet, see you later, Willard.” Babs says, waving goodbye, watching Willard going downstairs and out the door. She continues of the last room with her cleaning supplies handy and watches the water turn into a colourful soapy texture, as it reminds her of the story.

[caspian-skye]

Last of the Inyan, Part 2: Love’s Confusion

Reposting because I’m pretty sure some words I had in the disclaimer made it not show up in tags? Idk tumblr is odd ya feel

Over time, I got used to my isolation. I don’t mean to say I grew to like it, nor do I mean I never felt it. But after some time, I forgot what it meant to have family, friends.

I ended up with a decent system. Through wielding dust, I could make a shelter from stone wherever I pleased. A campfire needed only desert scrub and a snap of my fingers. Luckily, my father taught me navigation through the stars. I’ve grown to recognize certain landmarks near consistent sources of food and water, and several of Vacuo’s more permanent settlements.  

I’ve also crafted a flute from the desert stone, to keep me occupied. I at first sung the songs my mother taught me, but my voice did the melodies no justice. Even so, I could get no more than a handful of notes in before tears began to fall.

As I never learned much more than rudimentary weaving, and the search for gems and stones of value was purely up to chance, I resorted to selling cheap stone crafted into people, animals, whatever I found would sell. They were nowhere near as valuable as the Inyan’s cloth and gems, but I was alone, so I didn’t need as much money anyway. I would use my money earned for food and water, taking time to bathe whenever and wherever I could. Sometimes, on the luckiest of nights, I could find a cheap inn or a nice family to take me for the night.

It was one of these nights I learned a part of who I am. A part I fear I’ll never learn to accept.

I think I was fifteen. I had been travelling most of the day. Summer had long since passed, and so even at the Sun’s most intense I was still comfortable travelling, so long as I had enough water. I walked along the edge of a plateau, as I often do when searching for a settlement, river, or even a rare patch of greenery.

The Sun had set, and the countless specks of light painting the darkness began to stretch out above me, Remnant’s shattered Moon among them. I held my hands behind me, palms to the ground, and summoned a flat seat of stone. I plopped backward onto it, unscrewing the cap of my remade stone jug.

I drank to the last drop.

I pulled back from my sip, and held my hand out under the lip of my jug.

Nothing.

My heart sunk, and I looked around in desperation. The desert was black. Yet amid this darkness, a single cluster of lights below the horizon.

The walk took about half an hour, during which the skies had turned from dusk to total darkness. As I approached, I saw the lights to be from a farmhouse, one on the front porch and two on the back deck, which overlooked a small field with a shed at the far corner. Two windows facing me gave a warm glow through their curtains.

I considered whether I should knock. After all, it was past dark, and with all the criminals and conmen running round, Vacuo isn’t exactly known for its hospitality. But I figured I, a fifteen year old girl, wasn’t all too threatening. All I wanted was a refill of water, and if the criminals and conmen were the ones inside the house, I’ve definitely defended myself against worse.

I heard shuffling behind the door. A shadow passed in front of the peephole, and I heard a voice.

“Cerys, were you expecting a friend?”

A second voice whose words I couldn’t make out.

Eventually, I heard the doorknob. The door pulled back a bit, and a grey-haired woman’s face peeked around it.

I smiled. “Hi! I’m... well, I’m a nomad. I live in the desert, and I was just wondering if I could stop in to refill my water?”

The old woman’s eyes narrowed. I began to strategize my route to the hose I saw coiled up in back of the house.

From behind her, another woman. She was much younger, perhaps only a year or two older than myself. Curly fuschia hair tumbled past her shoulders, and was matched by a basic tee shirt. Her baggy, tough overalls were light blue, tinged tan by years of farmwork. My heart fluttered when we made eye contact.

“Let her in, gran! She won’t hurt us, I’m sure of it!” Cerys pleaded. She stepped over to me, arms outstretched as if seeking an embrace. “Come on in. I’ll feed you too. Do you need your clothes washed?”

“How long do you plan to keep her?” Cerys’s grandmother questioned, as if I was some mangy dog that had wandered into their living room.

“Gran, this girl lives out in the desert, alone! She deserves a bit of hospitality from time to time!” Cerys protested. She started with sudden realization. “We have that spare bed we never use!”

“Fine. She’s your responsibility,” the old woman concluded with a dismissive wave of her hand.

I was caught off guard by the girl’s kindness, my eyes widening and words having trouble escaping my lips. “Oh... thank you, but if it’s too much trouble, I can really just get water and go,” I finally offered. “Maybe, well, there is that shed in the back...”

Cerys shook her head, and bounded over to me. “I won’t have you sleep with the pigs!” she protested. She smiled brightly, pushing up her rosy, freckled cheeks. “Come on, I’ll show you around!”

She took my hand in hers, and guided me around her modest home. She then allowed me to shower, taking my dress and cloak to be washed. The machine rumbled in the background as I ate the meal she prepared for me, a steak of ham, with a side of canned beans and fruit. It was the heartiest meal I could remember eating, perhaps in my entire life. The clothes she gave me to wear while mine washed were rough and scratchy, a few sizes too big. But I didn’t mind.

As I ate, we talked. My heart swelled when she spoke, and I found myself seeking her smile, telling jokes and giving compliments and gratitude when I could. She was beautiful, I thought. We talked long after I finished my meal, taking a break only when she moved my dress and cloak to the white box apparently used for drying clothes.

“Want to go somewhere a bit more comfortable?” She asked as she cleaned my plate in the kitchen sink.

“Sure! Is it fine if I sit there?” I asked, pointing to the couch.

“I was thinking we could go to my room,” she quietly replied. “It’s getting late, after all.”

She guided me to her room, and pushed four pillows upright where her bed met the wall. She sat with her back against them, and beckoned me to sit next to her. We began to talk again. Half an hour or so passed, and her arm was around me. Another, and my head rested on her chest. Her hand, so warm and soft, gently took mine.

The warmth from her hand seemed to radiate throughout my body. I felt so incredibly at peace, relieved to be sharing this moment with such a beautiful girl after being alone for so long. A strange feeling arose in my chest as she wrapped her other arm around me, and kissed my forehead.

“Hey, can I admit something?” Cerys finally asked.

“Oh... yeah, what is it?” I nervously answered.

“I want you to stay,” she finally admitted. “I know gran won’t allow it, but I want you to stay here. The desert is dangerous, and I... I think you’re really cute.”

“You think I’m cute?” I asked, the strange feeling spreading to my limbs and rising into my throat. It was warm, a kind of tension? I don’t remember. I haven’t felt it since.

Cerys nodded.

“You’re beautiful,” I finally admitted. The area was nice enough, I thought. Maybe I couldn’t stay in the farmhouse, but I could settle into a smaller territory, a handful of miles in each direction, visiting her whenever I could.

Cerys lifted my chin, and kissed me.

I won’t go into detail about what we did. I was too young to be doing it, and writing it out would just make the pain of what happened that much worse. I remember the seconds of panic as we heard the doorknob twist, the rush to cover ourselves as Cerys’s “gran” burst into the room, shouting profanities and wielding a fireplace poker.

“GODS, DAMN IT ALL!” She screamed. “I KNEW I shouldn’t have let some VAGRANT into my home!”

“Gran, wait!” Cerys protested.

“NOT A WORD!” The grey-haired woman snapped. “This... lesbian freak of nature seduced you!” her head snapped to me. “GET OUT OF MY HOME!”

Tears welling in my eyes, the tumult of confusion ripping through my mind like a maelstrom, I turned to face Cerys.

“Alexandra... You should leave.”

I broke down, face coated in my tears.

“Good girl!” the old woman continued. She lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of my hair and wrenching me off the bed. Despite my protests, she continued until she flung me out the front door, across the porch and into the dirt.

All I could do was sit and sob at the corner of the house, my bare skin providing no destination for the tears to flow. Some time later, I heard the door.

Cerys walked out. Without a word, she laid my clothes and water jug before me. She turned back, and the lights in her home flicked off.

I didn’t sleep that night. I remembered when I would go to villages, little things about particular girls stuck out to me-- their smiles, the shininess of their hair, even their figures. Yet I just... never noticed boys. I had never thought there was anything wrong with me. But the more I pondered, the more I realized. Every single marriage in the Inyan tribe was between a husband and wife. A husband and wife who would become a mother and father.

Maybe that’s nature, I thought. There must be something wrong with me. Some unnatural trait, some moral failure.

A moral failure I thought I could correct.

The next several months, I continued as usual. One thing was different. When I found a settlement to sell in, I’d spent the night with any man who would take me. I wanted to prove to the world, to myself, that I could change. Yet every morning I would slip out before dawn, disgusted with myself and physically sick. The regret began to weigh me down in the form of exhaustion. I would wander just far enough into the desert to get the settlement out of my sight, and have an uneasy, feverish sleep the rest of the day.

I used to look back on these days and think I was stupid. Now I think naive is a better word for it. The first person in years to show me genuine human contact was taken away from me the first night I met her, the same night I was told I was some... freak of nature. I haven’t exactly accepted myself, but at least now I know I can’t change.

I was naive, but lucky too. Looking back on it, I could have contracted some horrible illness, been abducted and sold off somewhere -probably separated from Crown Jewel-, or had a child. Any one of those things could have been a death sentence to me. I gave up eventually. The nights I would spend alone, just myself and the suffocating silence of the desert at midnight, soon became the nights I preferred. Often, though I��m embarrassed to admit, I would sculpt from the stone the form of a woman’s body beside me as I slept.

These lonesome nights passed one after the other, blending together as the years passed behind me.

[minniemonu-reverie]

SRK Part Five - What’s A Hobi?

~Super Rich Kids~

Master List in bio

Part Five- What’s A Hobi?  Genre: Humour, Fluff, Smol Angst

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

You woke up in an absolute panic, faintly remembering that you had not only invited Jimin to stay the night, but you even cuddled up to him?! You turned over, expecting to meet his face, but he wasn’t there. You bolted upright, looking around your room and listening for any motion. Nothing. Relief flooded your veins, your posture softening. Either last night had been a dream, or he snuck out early as if you had a one-night stand. You rubbed your forehead and laid back on the pillow throwing your hands over your head. What was last night even? Ugh, I’m going to have to face him sometime. I don’t even know what’s going on… The door creaked as the knob turned slowly. “W-who’s there?!” You stammered, grabbing every blanket for protection. The door opened slowly, and a wave of food smell entered the room. “Y/N! You’re awake!” Jimin’s cheerful voice sang through the doorway. You dropped the blankets, a questioning stare on your face. Jimin walked into the room carrying a tray with plates and orange juice. “I hope you don’t mind, but I made us breakfast.”

             A smile spread on your face and a small giggle left your mouth, flustered was an understatement to how you felt. What a sight to behold. Jimin handed you the tray and climbed onto the bed, sitting beside you, his hair still tousled from sleep. “Thanks. Chim, this is really sweet of you.” Jimin beamed at you, taking a plate of food and a glass. He held the glass to you, and you clinked yours against his. “Cheers to a new friendship.” He said before taking a sip. Your heart panged painfully hearing him say friendship, and you weren’t quite sure why, but you kept the smile on your face. “Cheers!” The two of you had barely started eating before you heard your phone going bananas. “Who’s messaging you this early?” Jimin questioned, watching your phone vibrate across your nightstand. “Probably Remi… And with this number of messages, it sounds like she’s in crisis.” You grabbed your phone and checked your messages, Remi was indeed in a crisis. Hoseok was at the coffee shop. “Shit, Jimin, I’m sorry but I have to go.” You jumped off the bed and went for your closet throwing clothes left and right. Jimin continued to sit on your bed, fork in his mouth, eyebrows raised. “What’s going on?” “Oh, you know. Hoseok is at Remi’s coffee shop and she’s having a mental breakdown.” “Hobi? What’s he doing there?” You turned around, an outfit hanging haphazardly off your arm.  “Hobi?? What’s a Hobi?” “Oh, that’s Hoseok’s nickname.” Jimin laughed, jumping off the bed. “Well if he’s there, then I’m coming with you!”  “Jimin, you still have yesterday’s clothes on…”  “Well my place is on the way, so we can stop by really quick and I’ll change! Besides, I feel like you’ll need me as backup.”

             You pondered this for a moment before agreeing. The two of you cleaned up quickly before heading out the door. Jimin didn’t live too far from you, which surprised you. Apparently the seven of them shared a house. Jimin invited you in, saying the guys were probably still asleep anyway. He went off to his room to change and you decided to sit in the living room, ready for an escape at any time. A couple minutes went by, and you started shifting uncomfortably. The house was rather silent, which made you even more wary. Even though a bunch of rowdy guys lived here, the house was very well-kempt. Not a speck of dust, and the furniture didn’t look like it was infested with disease. You could even smell a vanilla candle burning? Thoughts continued to overwhelm you as you quietly studied the objects in the room, trying to decipher who these boys really were. Suddenly, footsteps echoed in the hall heading your way and you prayed it was Jimin.

Namjoon appeared in the doorway, half asleep. He was rubbing his eyes, and his white t-shirt hung loosely on his lean, toned frame. Your mouth dropped open at the sight.  He looked so different without that cold exterior. He looked, dare you say, cute. “Jimin, jeeze I didn’t expect you to get back from Y/N’s this early. Did she kick you out? I mean with the way you’ve been tailing her around like a dog I wouldn’t blame her…” Namjoon blinked a couple times, realization dawning on him. “Aw, shit.” He muttered, his face reddening. “Uh…” You paused, not entirely sure how to continue your sentence. “So… You’re not Jimin. I assume he asked you to wait for him?” “Yeah, sorry for intruding…”  “You’re not intruding.” You looked down at your hands, trying not to make eye contact. Namjoon hadn’t moved from the doorway, his shoulders hunched as he crossed his arms. Awkward silence filled the air. He continued staring at your small form on the couch, his eyes unreadable, his mouth a hard line forcing his dimples to pop out.  Your mind spun so quickly that fainting seemed like it would be in your near future if you didn’t figure something out, so you opened your mouth again. “So, uh, our first partner assignment is this Friday. Are you finished your piece for editing?”  Your voice came out a lot higher than you had hoped, and you prayed he didn’t notice. School was a safe conversation. It was easy, you’d be able to talk to him about this. “Yeah, I finished it last night actually.” “Oh, cool. I’m still unsure of what I want to write about.” Silence. He coughed.  Great. You were both conversation killers, or maybe he was making you uncomfortable on purpose. “What made you go into English? Do you enjoy writing? I heard you, Hoseok and Yoongi were working on something, does it have to do with that?” Words poured out of you, grasping at anything to fill the dead air. 

             Namjoon grumbled, making you look up. His expression had changed from unreadable to downright terrifying. His eyes had darkened, his jaw was clenched. “S-sorry, I didn’t know…” “Don’t worry about it.” He cut you off and straightened his posture, his eyes finally leaving you. “Why are you so cryptic, I was just trying to keep a conversation.” You felt a little attacked by the way he had responded. “It’s none of your business.” You jerked back, eyebrows raised. “Well it’s not like I’m a mind reader, Namjoon.” “God, you’re so annoying. I don’t need this.” “Then why are you still standing in the doorway if I’m bothering you so much?” “Hey guys! What’s going…on…” Jimin entered the room cheerfully until he noticed you and Namjoon giving each other dagger eyes. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders from behind. “Come on, Y/N we gotta go see Remi and Hobi.”  You didn’t take your eyes off Namjoon as you leaned back into Jimin.  “You’re right. Let’s go. I was just finished with this conversation anyway.”  Namjoon sneered in your direction, turning around.  “Pathetic.” He murmured as he disappeared down the hall.

             Jimin grabbed your clenched fists, rubbing them softly and you looked up at him. “Don’t worry about Namjoon, he’s having a hard time right now.” “Why does everyone keep defending him and saying that lame ass excuse?” Jimin gave you his puppy dog eyes and you rolled yours. “Fine. But that doesn’t make treating me like I’m some sort of parasite appropriate.” “Soon Y/N, I hope you get to see the real Namjoon. He isn’t like this normally I swear. He’s a kind and thoughtful guy.” “Yeah, whatever. So kind. Come on, let’s get to the coffee shop before Remi jumps through my phone and kills both of us.” You got off the couch and stormed out the door, Jimin following close behind.

             The two of you got to the coffee shop rather quickly. Jimin had been jogging to keep up with your angry walking pace. Why was Namjoon always such a jerk? What did I do? You kept mumbling to yourself as you walked inside. You quickly looked around, trying to find Remi. Sure enough, she was in her usual hiding spot: behind a bookshelf. You looked at Jimin. “I don’t know how Remi’s going to respond to your presence…” “She’ll be fine, I mean it’s just lil ole me.” He responded, cupping his face and pushing out his pouty lips. The uwus attacked you and you allowed him to follow you over to where Remi was stationed. She was rearranging the same 3 books, trying to make herself look busy. “Hey. Rem. What’s up? Where’s Hoseok anyway?”  Remi squeaked, throwing her hands over her face.  “Don’t say his name. What if he HEARS YOU?” You looked behind you and found Hoseok sitting at a corner table beside the window. He looked entranced in whatever he was working on, eyes scrunched, pen tapping, papers scattered. He definitely didn’t hear you quietly say his name. “Girl, he’s clearly working on something, he won’t hear me.” “Yeah, Hobi gets really into his work. You should see him at the dance studio.” Jimin piped in. Remi squeaked again.  “WHAT IS HE DOING HERE? Also dance studio? Hobi? What the hell is a Hobi?”  You threw your hands up, stopping her before her head spun off into another dimension.  “It’s fine, we’re both here for you Remi. Besides, how can we deal with Hoseok without having some sort of backup? We both know neither of us would be able to get out more than three words before dying.” Remi’s eyebrow shot up and she looked over Jimin. She started nodding her head. “You’re right. We do need him. Okay then, welcome to the team Jimin. Last time we met I didn’t really introduce myself properly, so I’m Remi. Y/N’s best friend and protector, so don’t fuck with her or you’ll be dealing with me.” She held out her fist for a bump, but Jimin being Jimin he giddily ran over to her, embracing her. Her face flushed and she looked to you for any sign of help. You shrugged your shoulders. “That’s Jimin. You’re gonna have to deal. There’s nothing any of us can do. He’s out of control.” “Heyyyy, I am not out of control!” He whined, crossing his arms defensively. “Come on Jiminie we have things to do.”

             He gave you two a thumbs up, spinning on his heel and walked over to where Hoseok was sitting, leaving your and Remi trailing behind him sheepishly. “Hobi-hyunggg. What are you doing?” Hoseok looked up, surprise written on his face. “Jimin? What are you doing here? And why are you alone?” “Hey, I asked first and I’m not here alone, I’m with Y/N and Remi.�� Jimin looked behind him and gave you a look to come closer. You froze in place, replaying the last time you had talked to Hoseok. Jimin scrunched his face at you. Remi pushed you forward. “Ah, yeah. Hey Hoseok.” You blurted out awkwardly. He immediately broke into a grin and sat up straight. “Y/N! Come sit down! Order some coffee!” He quickly gathered his papers, shoving them into a black folder. Scribbles adorned the pages, some things had been crossed out and it made you wonder yet again, what in the world was he working on? The three of you sat down, Jimin taking a seat beside Hoseok. “Remi, are you okay to sit with us?” Jimin inquired, remembering that she was working. “Hmm? Oh, yeah I’m on my break so I have freedom.”  “Oh, who is this?” Hoseok, turned his attention to Remi, causing her to sink back in the seat.  “R-Remi…” She mumbled. “You know what, maybe I need to get back to work…” Jimin frowned and grabbed her hand from across the table. “Remi, you just started your break, relax with us!” “Relax? How can I relax?” She sputtered out. You looked over at her worriedly. “Don’t worry Remi, we’re cool! I’m cool!” Hoseok held out his fist, smiling brightly. Remi gave him a shaky fist bump and retreated into her seat. “So, you work here? Do you like it?” “Yeah, I love it here. Y/N and I used to hang out here a lot as teenagers. I love the smell of books and coffee. It’s really relaxing.”  “Yeah! It’s really cute here and the coffee is great! I think I’ll come by more often, so you better get used to seeing me. I won’t let you get away without saying hi.” Hoseok was leaning forward on his hands, his eyes disappearing as his smile widened. Remi returned his smile, but couldn’t meet his eyes. “Oh, Hobi, I was telling them about how you dance!” Jimin interrupted, bouncing in his seat and you laughed at his cute antics. Remi’s shoulders relaxed slightly as she felt his attention shift from her.

             Hoseok beamed as he explained that he was a hip-hop dancer and did some instructing on his spare time. “Oh? You teach? You should show me some moves sometime!” Remi spoke excitedly, relaxing further and Hoseok nodded enthusiastically. “I would love to show you! Oh, I almost forgot. Are you in school as well?” “Yeah, I’m in Psychology. I have an obsession with the way the brain works. I grew up watching CSI, so I figured why not take my interest and turn it into a job?” “Oh wow, that’s so cool. Have you seen a brain? I don’t think I could handle that.” Hoseok’s face twisted at the thought of blood. Remi giggled. “Naw no real-life brains, yet.”

             The four of you talked well over Remi’s allotted break time, but she didn’t care, she was finally enjoying herself. You had noticed that Remi and Hoseok were getting along quite well, and he hadn’t stopped watching her. You and Jimin exchanged glances, knowing your work here was done. Just as you two were going to get up to leave, you heard a couple voices, one of which you recognized all too well. Jimin’s face paled as he watched yours turn red in anger. Remi and Hoseok looked between the both of you before noticing the two walking over to your group. “Unbelievable. You’re here too?” Namjoon complained, running a hand through his hair out of irritation. Yoongi stepped beside him looking at your group with his eyebrows raised. “Having a little party here without inviting me? What’s up with that?” He joked walking around Namjoon and towards the seat where Hoseok and Jimin were.

“Yoongi!” Hoseok slid over allowing him to take a seat. Namjoon continued to stand, posture unapproachable, sending a death glare at you. You felt your annoyance bubbling into rage. The amount of dislike he had for you, for no apparent reason, made your skin burn. Having enough of his disgusted face, you stood up and walked over to him, hands on your hips. “Y/N, uh…” Jimin squeaked and Remi shook her head at Jimin. She knew once you were on a roll you couldn’t be stopped. Everyone could feel the tension rising between you two and Yoongi looked around like he had missed an important detail. Namjoon towered over you, but that didn’t stop you from staring him down. You wouldn’t let him intimidate you. Not this time. “What. Is. Your. Freaking. Deal.” Your teeth clenched as you seethed. Namjoon rolled his eyes and went to walk around you, but you moved in front of him again.  “You’re in my way, step aside.” “No. I demand an answer. What did I ever do to you?” “Can you just move?” His voice came out exasperated as he continued to try and shift around you. “I’m already having a shit day and you’re just adding to it.” “Well maybe you wouldn’t be in such an awful mood if you knew how to take the stick out of your ass.”  

             Jimin audibly choked and Yoongi burst into a fit laughter, stomping his feet. Your eyes bore into Namjoon’s now surprised ones. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. You crossed your arms, arching an eyebrow, daring him to say something back. Hoseok was looking for something to help ease the situation but wasn’t having much luck. “Hey guys, why don’t we all just relax and grab a cup of coffee?” He suggested, raising his mug. Namjoon snorted, and turned around. “Come find me when you’re ready to work.” “You don’t need to leave Namjoonie…Y/N and I were just on our way out.” Jimin stood up and grabbed your hand, giving it a light squeeze. You breathed out some of your frustration, your shoulders easing back down. “Yeah, please don’t let my presence get in the way of your precious work.” Namjoon glared at you before turning his attention to Jimin. “Why are you taking her side Jimin? You’ve only known her for like five seconds. She seems like a world-class wreck. No manners whatsoever. This isn’t good for your modelling image.” You ripped your hand out of Jimin’s and pointed your finger in Namjoon’s face. “Are you still going on about me interrupting you? Is that why you don’t like me? It was an accident you Neanderthal. I embarrassed the shit out of myself and you couldn’t even show one ounce of empathy. Instead you bring out the victim card. This world doesn’t revolve around you, asshat.” “Ah, the words of a well-educated woman who wants to be a writer.” His words dripped with sarcasm, and you almost ripped your hair out due to frustration. “I don’t know why I even bother. Come on Jimin. Bye guys, bye Rem. Sorry I couldn’t hang out with you Yoongi.” “You are the coolest girl I have ever met Y/N. Putting Joon in his place like that, I applaud you.” Yoongi had a smirk on his face as he casually stretched out in his seat. Namjoon sighed loudly, ignoring Yoongi. Suddenly, a thought crossed your mind. You walked over and handed Yoongi your phone.  “Thanks, give me your number and we can hang out some time. I would love to get to know you better.” If Namjoon didn’t like you around his friends, then you were going to do everything in your power to get as close to them as possible. Hoseok, Remi and Jimin’s jaws dropped. Yoongi put his number in, that grin never leaving his face. He gave you a wink as he passed your phone back. Your face blushed automatically. “I’ll text you later Yoongi. Alright Jimin, let’s get going.” You shoved your way past Namjoon who watched you silently, and out the door of the café, Jimin trailing behind you, shoulders slumped and a pout on his face.

             “Y/N how could you?!” Jimin whined as he followed you down the street.  “How could I what?” “Give Yoongi your number before meeeee!” You paused and looked at him with a puzzled expression.  “Oh, shit. I didn’t even realize I never gave it to you. Sorry Jiminie. Forgive me?” He shoved his phone in your face demanding your number. You laughed it off and gave it to him. “Feel better?” “Much. Also, do you have class today?” “Nope. I do have to work on an assignment though… Not sure what to write about to be honest.” “Ah, why don’t we go down to the water front then? Maybe you can get some inspiration!” “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. While we’re there we should get some ice cream! Ice cream gives me the most inspiration.” The two of you laughed and headed to the water together, your mind finally wandering away from Namjoon.