#i drew this while literally falling asleep so the colors are a little weird but look a silly :)

[transredguy]

erm

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

3 Oct. Suptober: Rainbows

With his finger, Dean traced the outline of one of the rainbows arced on Cas's knee. "Is it weird that rainbows remind me of you?"

s15 au; deancas

In hindsight, Cas was preoccupied, not only by the task at hand but by the person he was undertaking it on behalf of, which was likely why he didn't realize he had company in the bunker kitchen until Sam said, "Hey, Cas," and Cas almost fumbled the glass into the sink. 

"Oof, sorry," Sam rushed to say next. 

His expression was a variety of things, none of which Cas clocked as fundamentally apologetic while he refilled the glass. 

Sam cleared his throat. "Whatcha doing?"

Cas squinted at him. Maybe Sam was drunk, or ill. "Just getting a drink of water." He left the statement there; Sam had seen him consume water before.

Sam fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt and did not look at Cas. "Sure. You." He made some kind of gesture with his hands that did not seem relevant to anything. "You seen Dean lately?"

"He's asleep," Cas offered, since he knew it to be correct.

"In his room?" Sam's voice cracked on the second word.

Cas drew out the word 'yes' into something of a question. What was Sam looking at on the ceiling anyway?

"His room. Which. You just left?" Sam bounced on the balls of his feet for a second.

Cas looked around for intruders, hex bags, strange fogs, spooky auras, blood stains, a bucket of empty beer cans -- something that might explain why Sam was speaking like someone who'd just learned English. 

"Yes, Dean's room." 

Cas suppressed a smile that wanted to surface as his thoughts quickly flitted to Dean -- Dean curled boneless beneath a body-warmed blanket, his eyelashes fanned dark against the tops of his freckled cheeks -- and back again. He sat the glass in the sink and stepped toward Sam carefully.

"Uh huh. Okay." Sam took a step backwards. His line of sight popped back up to the light fixture. "Wearing. ...What it is you're wearing?

Cas glanced down past his bare chest to the flannel covering his legs. "Pajamas?"

Sam nodded a series of tight little nods, like an invisible puppeteer controlling him was getting restless. "Okay. Okay. And Dean is." He didn't trail off as much as seem to run out of ideas for the rest of the sentence.

"Asleep," Cas reminded him. 

Another Sam nod. "Right." 

"He tends to fall asleep for a while within thirty or so minutes after we--"

"Dude," Sam said. 

Understanding clicked into place. "Ah. I apologize, Sam," Cas said, with a small sinking sensation in his stomach. "I did assume Dean had told you." 

He was leaving out some words, and he didn't mean to play coy; it just seemed like perhaps Sam would prefer fewer details over more with regards to -- how to say diplomatically? -- recent developments.

"Dean tell me? Really?" Sam stared at him directly for the first time the whole encounter. His pupils were big black dots reminiscent of the ones he'd had when they were all cartoons for a while.

"No." Cas paused. "But I did think maybe you just knew." 

An honest confession, since Sam, a skilled hunter with decades of experience beneath his proverbial belt, was often quite good at discerning patterns beneath the surface of verbal communication. Cas had not always been as certain of his own feelings as he was in the present. Indeed, it had taken years for what he felt for Dean -- unfamiliar, prismatic impulses occasionally strong enough to almost bring Cas to his knees -- to coagulate into something fierce and unshakeable that could in part be described in words, much less translatable to more tangible actions. Just because Cas had been slow to realize the depths of his own emotions didn't mean Sam had been.

Except.

Sam's eyebrows jumped into his hairline like worms fleeing chicken beaks. 

"What," he choked out. "Why. No. How would I have known about--" He was flinging his hands around again. "--This?" The hands flew toward Cas like Sam was casting a spell at him. "You are like my brother."

"Um," Cas said.

"And Dean is my brother."

"Uh--"

"And I have literally heard him refer to you as our brother."

"Right.”

"Like, we're all brothers here." Sam gave a helpless chuff of laughter.

"Okay."

"So you understand," Sam continued, "why I might be concerned that my two brothers are apparently sleeping together." The volume of his voice went lower in direct counter to its pitch by the end of the sentence.

Cas chose not to comment on this, nor on the shadow that lurked in the doorway and then dissipated. He said instead, "I don't really sleep all that much, but I take your point."

Sam buried his face in the palms of his hands. 

"I'm." Cas swallowed. He stood a bit taller, the way a soldier might when either respectfully yielding to an enemy or accepting that opponent's surrender -- not that Sam was a villain here. "I'm sorry you found out this way, Sam."

"It's." Sam took a deep breath, then coughed once. "You don't have to apologize."

"Sam, could you... There is nothing on the ceiling that could be that interesting."

"You have nothing to be sorry about." Sam spoke like he meant it, or at least wanted to mean it.

Cas let out an inward sigh of relief. "All right."

"The stress," Sam said. "What we do. Monsters. Apocalypses, plural. It's-- I know it's a lot." Now he had slipped into hunter wrangler mode, all rallying the troops and leftover law school pragmatism. "And I can see how the two of you might, you know, need to blow off some steam. Sometimes."

"Sam--"

"Dean always does get a little antsy when he goes a while without." Sam shook his head like he'd realized this was absolutely not a topic he wanted to think about. "You know."

"Sam," Cas said sharply.

"I'll stop talking now."

"I'm in love with your brother, Sam." Those truest words were spoken so easily that once upon a time it might have bothered Cas; in the present, it assuredly did not. He let Sam gape for a moment and then softened the statement with, "It's not just a casual, friends with insurance sort of thing for me. For the record. If that helps."

Sam looked like the human equivalent of the little tri-colored beachball that would spin and spin onscreen when one of his computer tablets got overwhelmed. Finally, his eyes cleared. "All right." His mouth quirked. "The phrase is 'friends with benefits.'" 

Cas blinked. "Insurance is often a benefit extended to citizens in the United States, isn't it?"

"Less often than's helpful," Sam said.

Cas nodded. The two of them stood there by the sink, not really looking at each other. A thought came to Cas.

"I love you too--"

"Dude," Sam said.

Cas held up a hand. "--But I'm not in love with you." This distinction was one that had taken him a long time to understand; it seemed worth sharing.

The ceiling had recaptured Sam's fascination, but he was smiling when he said, "I know." He clapped Cas on the shoulder. "I love you too."

Cas returned the smile. "You, and Dean, and Jack -- you are all my family."

"Yeah." Sam ducked his head, as if pleased. "Yeah, I know."

Cas picked the glass of water up out of the sink. He raised it to Sam in a small toast. "Okay. I'm going to go back to Dean's room now."

"'Night, Cas."

Cas padded back down the hallway, opened Dean's squeaky door, and crept inside the room. The bedside lamp had been turned on. He watched the blanketed lump in the middle of the mattress for movement before asking quietly, "How much of that did you hear?"

"Most of it." Dean sat up and yawned. He scratched at the side of his head where his hair was sticking out. The blanket puddled below his pelvis. Cas glanced away like he hadn't personally and enthusiastically pressed those hipbones into the mattress less than an hour before.

When Cas walked around and put a knee on the bed, Dean said, "I also wanted water."

Cas bumped his arm with the glass. "This is for you."

"Oh," Dean said, taking it from him. "Thanks."

"Because I don't drink all that much water."

"Right."

"Because I don't sweat as much as you do."

"Hmm. You sweat some," Dean said, a hint of slyness in his tone. He leaned away to leave the water glass on the bedside table.

Cas sat on the edge of the mattress and let Dean scoot up to him. "Are you bragging about making me sweat?"

"Mmm," Dean said, splaying his hand over Cas's clavicle. 

"You should probably talk to Sam in the morning."

"This is the morning."

"Later, then."

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas's waist like he owned the span of it. "Yeah, that's not going to happen."

"Maybe you could just--

"Nooo." 

A sharpness tapped underneath Cas's ribcage, an angel blade's point pressed with deliberate aim. It took a minute before he could speak. He gathered his courage. "If you want to stop--"

"No." The word fell from Dean like Cas had knocked it out with his fist. His eyes were fever bright and anguished, and another, better ache flooded Cas's chest at the sight. "No."

"I am very much in love with you." Cas took a breath. "Sam's reaction, I know, wasn't entirely out of nowhere." 

Dean tipped his forehead to Cas's. "I don't think he was objecting so much as he was surprised--"

"I'm only saying, I have thought of you both as my brothers, at various times in the past." Cas studied, not for the first time, a collection of freckles on Dean's shoulder. "I still think of Sam as a brother, in a way. He may not be incorrect that the situation, as it has evolved, is something a bit… Atypical." He considered a further implication. "And each of us is one of Jack's dads."

Dean huffed, a bluff since his fingertips were memorizing Cas's vertebrae like he planned to sketch them later. "Well. We can't all be the goddamn Waltons, or whoever."

Cas agreed, "We definitely do not live on a farm." He let himself sway toward the ardent way Dean was looking at him. "It might be nice to live on a farm, with cows and ducks, maybe some sheep--"

"And I am very much in love with you too," Dean said softly. He pressed his lips to Cas's cheek.

"Yeah?" Cas's eyes felt hot.

"Yep."

Cas thought to say, "You know, Sam is exactly who you raised him to be: a good man."

At that, Dean squeezed his eyes shut. "New rule," he said hoarsely after several seconds. He wiped his eyes and shook his head. "We cannot talk about Sam, like. When we're not even dressed."

Cas stretched out his right leg and wiggled his foot. "I have on these pajamas pants. Can no-one else see them? They're covered in so many things."

This was an understatement. Technically, the pattern contained no less than the following items: rainbows, unicorns, blue whales, yellow stars, shield-wielding pugs, and anti-whale flags, whatever and why-ever those were. Put simply, the pajama pattern was like an indecipherable code of images that seemed to illustrate the illicit drug use of the manufacturer's designer.

With his finger, Dean traced the outline of one of the rainbows arced on Cas's knee. "Is it weird that rainbows remind me of you?"

Cas thumbed a spot on Dean's throat, his mouth going dry with the desire to taste the pulse fluttering there. "In my celestial wavelength form, I suppose I would be more closely related to a visually-deducible electromagnetic wave than I would be a pug riding a whale into glorious battle."

"These pajamas are a work of art," Dean contended, kissing Cas's temple. "Hmm."

"What?"

"I guess that story about God -- Chuck -- using a rainbow to seal a promise about never again destroying earth with a flood is just apocrypha, huh?"

Cas thought about it. "Yes. Unfortunately." He tried not to sigh. "Sometimes I have to remind myself Chuck created some beautiful wonders despite...being who he is."

"Yeah. Going out after a hard rain and seeing a rainbow's colors arching through the clouds -- still seems hopeful." Dean started pulling Cas down beside him on the mattress. "Maybe that's what reminds me of you."

Unable to speak, Cas tucked his face into Dean's throat. 

Dean's fingers were slipping beneath the waistband of the pajamas, ever so slowly. "Anyway, these are mine." Cas hummed an affirmative. "I would like them back," Dean said.

"Now?" Cas heard himself gasp.

Dean pressed him onto his back to nose his way down the line of Cas's breastbone, his warm breath teasing over cooled skin and coaxing out a shiver Cas felt splintering through his whole body. 

"I would settle for you just not having them on at the moment," Dean said, using both hands to reclaim his property, and before raising up to kiss anything Cas might have wanted to say in response entirely out of his mouth.

[tiny-smallest]

day one - pride

Rating: G Characters: Henry and Bendy Warnings: none Description: Henry reflects on the definition of labels and belonging in certain spaces.

Also on AO3!

---

WHO'S READY FOR THE INK DEMONTH 2021 I SURE ONCE AGAIN TOTALLY WAS YEP DEFINITELY NO LAST MINUTE ANYTHING HERE LET'S GO

Doing writing prompts again because this year has been A Lifetime and I just don't possess the ability to draw this time so let's go let's get stupid get weird enjoy the misadventures of a specific au of of Bendy and the Ink Machine where the toons are their own people in a world they still don't entirely understand and the people who love them who try to help them navigate it.

---

Henry was used to a surprising amount of things to interrupt his day first thing in the morning. Easily numbered in the hundreds. His children were toons; there was no end to the amount of crazy nonsense that they could get into when he was asleep, and that was disregarding the fact that Bendy usually slept until noon.

Sure, he was the Troublemaker In Chief. That did not mean the other two were paragons of holiness, no matter how much Alice tried glowing her halo at him while she and her brother gave him the saddest, biggest, shiniest puppy eyes. And that didn't even take into account how much trouble they could find, no mischief intended.

He'd seen smoldering breakfasts, pancakes on the ceiling, saran wrap around the kitchen archway, demonic rubber chicken noises from a saxophone that had a part replaced with the noisemaker from the novelty prank toy...

(He still didn't regret letting Boris chase Bendy for that one without intervening.)

With all that, being immediately accosted by three toons hanging off his legs the second he came down the stairs and all trying to talk to him at the same time did not magically get any easier to withstand.

"Whatever it is, it's a no until I get my coffee," he drawled as he attempted to walk with them hanging off him, the three of them dragged along with him. It was with quite some difficulty that he got to the kitchen counter.

"But Henry!" Bendy whined, "we only got a few hours to get ready if ya say yes! We need every second!"

"For what?" he yawned, pouring a cup from the machine.

"You don't know what day it is?" Alice was surprised enough to actually let go, and she dusted herself off like the lady she was before standing up.

Instantly something cold grabbed Henry's heart and squeezed. "Uh- no I...?"

Had he forgotten someone's birthday? No, it was summertime; Bendy was a winter 'birth' and Boris and Alice were spring and fall. An anniversary of some kind? Quick think what are you forgetting you useless-

"How!?" Bendy gaped at him from down below. "It's been all over the news fer weeks!"

Well okay now he was just thoroughly confused. "I um-"

"The parade, Henry!" Boris's tail was thumping gently against the floor; he was not trying one tiny ounce to hide his eagerness. "The parade that's today!"

"Parade-?" It took just one more nanosecond of thought before it clicked.

"Oh you mean the-!" And they wanted to go to it.

Well, he shouldn't be surprised. This would be the first parade they'd get to see, wouldn't it? And it was nice weather out. And it would be bursting with color, which the toons were darn near obsessed with.

He took a contemplative sip. They weren't human; god even knew if they had any sort of sexuality at all. Could they even feel that stuff? The urge to- do anything like that? Wouldn't that technically make them asexual? That was the word, right?

Well, human or not, that would solidly mean they belonged there. Queer was queer, regardless of species, right? Hell, even if they'd just started asking themselves those questions, or wanted to support the fans of theirs who fell under that giant umbrella, they were valid for being there.

"Sure, I can take you."

Both boys cheered, lifting their arms to do so and releasing his legs. He quickly took a step away from them, but their joy had them leaping to their feet anyway and he watched as they bounced around the kitchen, slowly draining his coffee and trying to curb his smile when he was actively drinking.

It was a hard task.

Their excited chatter melted pleasantly into the background as he took the time to drink and try to shake his brain awake the rest of the way awake like shaking out an old blanket to coax out the wrinkles. Their enthusiasm always made for the perfect background noise.

"What colors do you want?"

"I dunno! There's so many! I don' even know what label I fit in-"

"I saw you checkin' out that guy the other day don't think I didn't!" The wink and nudge from Bendy sent Boris blushing so hard the poor wolf's face turned nearly as black as his fur.

"I was hopin' you hadn't-"

They were all quick to consume breakfast, and Henry retreated upstairs after telling the toons to come get him when they wanted to leave.

He settled comfortably in the limitless, timeless space of art before reality came knocking with Bendy's distinctive tapping at the door, pulling Henry from the space inbetween something and nothing as he set his pen aside. "Come in, kiddo."

When Bendy stepped in with what was unmistakably a rainbow flag on his cheek and extra face paint he knew he was in for a time.

"Oh uh- what's that for-"

"For you!" Bendy said with a giant grin. "Who'd ya think?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah well- I uh-"

Bendy didn't slow down. "Anyway the others are about ready to go but they sent me up here to get your flag on while they finish up- now why they trusted me with the paint I got about as much an idea as you but hey I'm not gonna complain-"

"Aw that's- that's sweet kiddo but I sorta figured I'd just be-" How to say this. "Dropping you off...?"

Immediate confusion. "What? Why?"

"Uh well- I mean-" He fiddled with the pen- when had that ended up back in his hands? "You guys- you have a space there, you know? I'm not sure if I-"

There was now a puckered frown on the little devil's face. "Not sure if you what?"

"Well I mean- I don't exactly- belong, now do I?"

The frown multiplied its intensity by about five. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Aw jeez. He really did not want to discuss this with his kid, as much of an adult as Bendy was. For many reasons. "Uh well- you know-" He gestured, as if hoping that would somehow pluck the answer from the air and implant it in Bendy's brain without having to give voice to it, setting the pen down in the process so he’d stop playing with it. "I'm not exactly- I mean-"

"You like guys." Bendy's voice was so sure that Henry knew making any sort of denial was futile. And also kind of stupid. Why would he deny that to his own son? No of course he wouldn't.

"Well I mean- I married a woman, didn't I?" he finally blurted out.

Unimpressed blinking as he drew closer to stand beside the desk. "Yeah they got a word for that. Several actually. Most popular ones are bi and pan, so which colors is it gonna be?"

"No no I mean-" God he was probably blushing. His face definitely felt way too hot. "I uh- I mean I- I like guys, yes-" great brain thanks a ton totally needed that heart rate spiking why are you acting like that's scary this is our kid- "but I- I married a woman- I like women- more often?"

The blinking was now confused.

"Uh-" How to phrase this. "If- if we split it into a pie chart- it's probably like... thirty-seventy in favor of women?" He ran his fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck again. "I'm- not that I'm any great catch but like, if I was in any way qualified to be in the dating pool again, I'd be way more likely to end up with a lady."

The unimpressed look was back. "And?"

It was Henry's look to be surprised. "And- and that means that, you know- I'm not really-"

"You like guys."

"I- yeah?"

"And you're a guy."

"Kind of a given at this point."

"So you're a guy, and you like guys, and just also happen to like girls too. We got names for that." He gave Henry's shirt an appraising look. "Gotta say the bi colors would complement your clothes best. If you want pan colors I'm gonna have to ask you to change. As your official fashion consultant."

Henry snorted. "My what?"

"Listen Dad I love you but I ain't about to let you walk into that parade wearing like, a pineapple hawaiian shirt or nothin'."

Henry banged a fist lightly on the table and pointed at him. "Liar! You wore the exact same thing just the other day!"

"Yeah but that was to the beach, not a parade."

"Literally when have you ever cared about not being a fashion disaster."

"This time, when Alice'll actually kill me otherwise."

"... Okay you got me there."

Bendy grinned. "So, bi colors or pan colors! Or somethin' else? I think there's other ones too."

He opened his mouth, closed it again and then opened it. What the hell. "... Bi colors, I guess."

"Yesssssss I was hopin' you'd say that." He hopped over onto the table like he'd suddenly become a bunny.

"Oh you were, huh?"

"Listen, the pan folks got pretty colors, but I'm always a sucker for a sunset," he said as he pulled out the pallet he needed. Henry sighed and shook his head, the smile ruining his effort to look exasperated.

"Well. Sunset me then, I guess."

"You got it boss!" Bendy said in maybe the worst mafia minion accent known to mankind.

It was barely five minutes of Bendy painting lines carefully on his cheek before he whipped out a mirror.

"Tah-dah!"

Henry blinked at himself in the mirror. He tilted his head, something shifting inside his heart that he had no name for, no way to voice.

The once proud look on Bendy's face was swiftly dropping. "... I didn't mess it up, did I...?"

"No- no, no." Henry tilted his head. "I uh..."

Bendy's worried browlines screamed anxiety to him.

"... I guess I just look good in a sunset," he said quietly, seeing the little corner of his reflection's mouth turn up as if in some sort of hazy dream.

Better than I thought.

[impaladolan]

Capture - Grayson Dolan [2/-]

summary: after an unsuccessful attempt to escape, Y/N is in for more than she bargained..

warnings: lil bit of smut, swearing, and bdsm undertones

a/n: this is part TWO of this little series! check out part one before reading this!

Your senses slowly began to settle back into you, and you finally realized just what kind of mess you were in..

Right after his bold exit, your exhaustion caught up to you and your eyes became as heavy a dumbbells. But when you awoke for the second time that evening, the situation truly hit you right in the noggin.

You were in a foreign place, that you were incredibly scared to even attempt an escape out of. The foggy memory of the stunning man that had entered the room, was becoming a false reality. Had you dreamt of him? Was he just a twisted piece of your imagination?

Surely not.

It seemed so utterly real that the nameless man had to be an actual human. And even that thought scared the absolute shit out of you. If he were to barge right through the same door, you wouldn't know how to even address him, let alone look at him. So you stayed hidden beneath the large comforter, softly shaking with fear as your eyes began to water. You were starting to miss things you never thought you could miss. Like the pumpkin-apple candle that you'd light from time to time, or your piano you love to play, to wake you up in the mornings and settle you down in the evenings. Hell, you were even beginning to miss your refrigerator that held all your favorite foods and drinks, and your spacious bathroom that you regularly took a soaking bubble bath in.

Oh god, a bathroom. Just at the mere thought, your bladder revolted and signaled it's everlasting need to be freed. But you were too scared. Though, you couldn't last much longer without accidentally pissing yourself, but that'd just make this dreadful day even worse. So with your fears in mind and the shaking of your body reminding you, you pushed back the covers and lifted yourself from the cushiony mattress, your toes curling at the frigid touch of the marble floors. You oddly looked left and right, in search of what could possibly be a hidden camera or worse— a person, but came short with nothing of the sort. You began your tip-toeing steps towards an open door that unmistakably led to the sacred toilet you were literally yearning for, and ever so softly shut the door, for at least a little privacy. It was an expensive looking bathroom with even more expensive looking appliances.

But without further examining you rush to the porcelain bowl and pull down your undergarment, quickly seating yourself and letting all the filtered tension go. A relieved sigh escaped your lips, but your asscheeks sure did feel sore.

Maybe it wasn't a dream..

You let your thoughts roam as you emptied your bladder and tore a piece of toilet paper from its roll and wiped, finishing with the click of the flushing button and directing yourself towards the sink. The women in the mirror caught your eye, though she looked oddly untouched. You thought you'd at least have a bruise or two fluttered across your arms or your face, but it appeared as though you were as good as new and unbothered. Whoever had kidnapped you didn't fully intend harm, but rather some other premeditated plan that you weren't truly sure of.

Though you felt somewhat at ease, your frightened thoughts lingered and you washed your hands quickly and tip-toed back to your aclaimed warm bed that you slightly missed the absence of. You could've gone for round three of sleeping that day, but yet again, to your dismay, the familiar sound of a door opening and closing kept your eyes open, and an unfamiliar scent glided into your nostrils and made your stomach growl profusely.

"Hungry, darling?" The same voice from your dreams questioned the air around you and just as before, you couldn't refrain from laying your eyes on him. He was undoubtably real, except this time he was fully clothed in a tucked white dress shirt and pants, a belt tightly wrapped around his waist. He was even dreamier than before with his hair all done up and his fingers clad with shiny rings that hadn't caught your eyes before. You drew your attention away and slowly nodded, bringing the large blanket up to shield yourself from his eyes. He set the platter down on the nightstand with what looked to be a sweet smile and grabbed a little portable table to set just above your thighs. He neatly settled the prepared food onto it and seated himself at the end of the bed, motioning his hand for you to begin.

You were hesitant to eat anything he could've made at first, but you were more scared of him becoming mad, so you gladly picked up your spoon and began to chew on the nice noodle soup, it's brothy flavor feeling nice on your throat. You almost whimpered at the taste when you finished your very first bite, your eyelids shutting and your head titled back in sensation. "Good?" His deep, softened voice brought you back to reality and your head was nodding before you could detest anything of it. "For how mouthy you were this morning, you sure haven't said much at all." His words struck true as you thought back to the prior events, his seething words and your snooty comments that arises the anger in him.

"Well, I'm sorry to inform you, but you had caught me in a moment of weakness and I will forever regret it. I was taken against my own free will, without the ability to even fight for my freedom, and you think it's fair to treat me like a whore who "deserves to be punished" and was in quite a drowsy state of mind. You're a sick bastard whether you've been told that or not." You seemingly growled at him, but he didn't seem to be angered, let alone offended. With all the stillness and subtleness in the world, he answered;

"Yes, it may have been a moment of weakness, Ms.

Y/L/N, but when was the last time that that pretty pussy of yours was touched, hm? How long has it been since you've came by someone else's hand, or cock perhaps? Darling, I may be a stranger to you, but you're no stranger to me." And with that, he left you stunned (and regrettably horny), all alone in the same room you've been trapped in for who knows how long? Ugh, it was so angering the way he could flip what you say into something far from being similar to anything you were trying to argue.

But he was right..

Yes, it's been a rough couple years in the dating life for you. Though, it never had to do with "supply of men" because here and there, you'd get a little flustered by a handsome man wondering if you'd like to get coffee sometime. But you'd always sweetly decline and carry on with your day. You were a focused, driven person that had their mind set on nothing else but your arising business endeavors. You simply didn't want to begin a relationship because you weren't fully ready to give so much attention to one thing while you were too focused on another.

And being honest, men are very clingy. And mysterious..

His final little statement about "You're no stranger to me" really confused you. Had you met him before? Was he from your hometown? It was truly a mystery. Who's to say he wasn't some sort of stalker whose been following you for the past five years? But that sounds absurd. Why would such a handsome, dreamy, sexy— a'hem, man want to have anything to do with you? Whatever it is, you weren't exactly mad about it. Because just like earlier, when you were hazy and half asleep, you felt the same tingling and flutters right down to your core. He was so smooth with his words, it's hard not to fall to your knees and become his beckon call. Fuck, anytime you laid eyes on him, your body begins to writhe with shudders, creating that pooling sensation where your core throbbed the worst. A large part of you couldn’t wait to see him tomorrow, throw some sly comments at him or even try escaping, anything to catch his attention.

So before drifting asleep, your mind raced with loose plans and tactics for tomorrow, when you’d awake in the same room for presumably the third or fourth time.

-

Go time.

Initially, you had planned to sneak out only to anger him, but now that you were thinking about it, why not at least try to escape the clutches of the room and run away, hopefully home if you could.

You were missing it so much already, though you’ve only been gone for approximately thirty-two hours (maybe). But you were becoming bored with the view of absolutely nothing except gray walls and the one large painting on the wall. It looked like a countryside, a barn with a red roof-top and white siding while trees decorated the entire area around it. It was an odd picture to be put in this room, it didn’t really match the minimalist vibe the entire rest of the proximity put off. But anyway, it felt weird getting out of bed and twisting the handle on the door, and to your satisfaction, it opened with a faint click and you were finally able to be freed of this room.

The even more so frigid air smacked you straight between the eyes the moment you fully opened the door, it made your eyes water slightly. Taking the very first step out of the room, you notice that the walls in the long hallway are a powder color, which brought a weird grin to your face.

Those gray walls just weren’t doing the trick.

You slowly begin to tip-toe to the right of the entryway, looking in every direction possible. You didn’t really know if he lives alone or with others, but you were banking on the possibilities that there were others in the nice, freezing home.

Why the fuck does he keep it so cold?

You continued your slow, padding steps until you came across another door-less room; the kitchen. Thankfully there was no one in the huge kitchen, and your stomach jolted to the smell of just another soup, you just couldn’t recognize it. You almost scavengered for a spoon, but the faint sound of shallow footsteps corrupted your hearing and you b-lined straight to a cabinet, that happened to be a pantry once you were enclosed inside. Before entering, the pairs of footsteps let out a few hoarse chuckles and cackles, ultimately placing them as men. From what you could see in the tiny, barely visible crack, you could for sure make out who was standing directly left to the cabinet you were stuck in; the panty-dropping hottie from earlier.

You were just praying to God that he wouldn’t find you.

You took every breath as carefully and slowly as possible, not moving a muscle as the two men conversed, though it was muffled and incomprehensible. After what seemed like hours, you swore you heard a few goodbyes and a loud door shut. You wanted to sprint out of the damn tight-knit cabinet and run for your dear life, but you slowly opened the door and breathed in a large breath once you were finally free of your slight claustrophobic fears.

“Better run, sweetheart.” His deep, distasteful voice scared the wits out of you, which made your instincts ignite the moment he took a step closer to you. Before you knew it, your feet were pacing back and forth in long strides as your arms pumped up and down, though your blanked mind came to a loss on the directions out of the house.

This was it.

There was no way you’d make it out of here. He was obviously much faster and actually knew the layout of his own house, while you, on the other hand, had no damn clue where the front door is. So your heart sank deep in your chest when you felt his warm, muscular arms wrap around the entirety of your waist before you hand could even grasp an unknown handle that you were violently reaching for.

“Think you’re fucking smart, princess?” He whispers in your ear, carrying you away, presumably to your prior settings while you helplessly let him. You didn’t even thrash against him, or even attempt a kick to his groin.

You just.. let him.

“Fuckin’ lucky I don’t tie you up and spank your ass until it’s numb again.” He murmurs to himself, dropping you off on the same bed you’ve been sleeping and awakening in whilst he shuts and locks the door too. Just his little comment to himself made your mouth water and your pussy clench. It was hard enough being in such a close proximity with him.

Once testing the door to see if it was locked properly, he turned back to look at you with a cold, lustful stare that had you aching all over yet again. For someone that you don’t even know their formal name, you sure did have the ‘hots’ for him. In a flash, his shirt was off and his pants were unbuckled, the heat arising in your cheeks as he strode over to you in his nakedness. “Knees. Now.” He points to the floor below him, watching with demanding eyes. You, of course, reacted before thinking. You were on your knees in seconds and had your hands wrapped around his increasingly large girth. You really hadn’t looked at it before, you were honestly terrified to. But now that it was right in front of you and your fist was slowly pumping it, you craved it.

“Since you haven’t been very nice to Daddy, you’re gonna have to give him a little sweet treat..” He caressed the top of your head, looking down upon the sight of you stroking him made his cock jump slightly. With your own eyes in him, you ran your tongue along the protruding, red vein of his cock, suctioning off his tip like it was a straw. He threw his head back with a pleasured sigh as your warm and thick muscle made his erection grow. With a few internal encouragements in your head, you let your mouth intake more, slowly edging its way to his public bone. What you hardly couldn’t fit, you let your fingers glide over. His sharp intakes of breaths and groans had your own self a mess, and you almost wanted to creep your own two ‘flimsy’ fingers down there and relieve it.

You let your hands travel to his constricting balls, fondling them with the slightest of touches. He squinted his eyes and held himself back from coming right then, but it was too late. For his thick, hot ribbons of cum released all the way down your throat and to your chin.

He didn’t last long..

It unusually tasted sweet, compared to others who seemed to be sour and gummy. Though he was done and physically drained, you continued slow motions, only quickening them by the second. Overstimulating has and will always be one of your favorite kinks. To see someone shaking and aching from their own sensitivity made you all the more horny and sexually-frustrated. But the overstrung man put an end to the real quick, pulling you to your feet and shoving you back onto the cushiony bed where your comfy gown rose and his intense stare darkened.

“Don’t you make one fucking sound..”

(masterlist)

[the-crooked-empire]

Marking (Vampire AU/Smut)

Joey Drew x Henry Stein

For: @red001night

Author's note: This is my very first smut so please do not hate me becouse it's cringe. I hate it too, but this is my best for now ^^;

Also, @lost-in-the-stars-for-eternity and @loverofallarts12 you bois gave me the Vampire AU and smut idea, I'm sure this is not what you bois want but this is what you get lmao

The Story:

Henry was sitting on the Safe House's table, doodling as usual. He wasn't paying too much attetion to what he's doing too. He was just trying to pass time. This wasn't a habit from old times. When he was still young, he was paying enough and sometimes even too much attetion to his job. But when his job turned out as a dissapointment, it lost it's meaning for him. Now he wasn't even thinking about what he was drawing. The shapes and faces on the paper were nice looking, but they didn't had a meaning.

He quit thinking about stuff and looked around. Everything was calm since they saved Susie from getting killed by the İnk Demon. Then she started using her own name instead of 'Alice' and joined them in their way. She was doing fine with them. She was telling Henry what happend to the Studio in 30 years and how he was right about leaving.

"Sometimes...I wish I would've just left this place with Allison, Henry. Just like how you did.

She started looking at a wall. Thinking about how she will say this to him for a moment. Henry looked at her with a little confused face. Then she started looking at Henry again, gently holding his hands.

"Maybe....Maybe we can't save all of them, Henry. This place is like a void of insanity. We lost so many of our friends.

Just, knew this Henry; İf you can't save him, just let it go. He choose this path by himself..."

"He choose this path by himself..."

Henry softly mumbled and stand up. Allison and Susie were wandering around and Tom was trying to find out where's Wally for a while. He picked his axe and stepped outside of the Safe House.

"I can't just stay like this without doing anything."

He looked at his left and started walking throught the hallway. He walked in the halls for a while.

"Nothing new or interesting."

He moved to the doors, tried to open them again, but it didn't worked.

Then, he noticed a open door. He moved to the the door, and saw a table with a lot of papers on it. There was also a lot of ink on the ground with a very inky Bendy mask. He moved to the desk and picked one of the papers. Most of the papers were blank. Just some of them had some heart drawings and unreadable writings on them.

He looked at the paper closer, then he finally noticed it.

His own name was written on the paper with some hearts.

The handwriting was almost understandable on the top of the paper, then it was getting harder and harder to read.

He had a idea about who wrote them.

"It's him."

He screached around to see if he could find some more clues about what happened in the room and was that really him, but he couldn't find one.

He moved to the left side of the room. Started checking the writings on the wall, then the door suddenly closed with a loud noıse.

"W-Who's there?"

He looked at the door, trying to see the person who closed the door, but he couldn't.

He tried to walk closer to the door, but suddenly someone stopped him.

Two arms were hugging him from behind, not letting him leave. Henry tried to turn behind to see the person who was hugging him.

Instead of this, the stranger stopped hugging him and moved front of him.

"Joey?!"

It was him. But with a little differend appearance. He was wearing a long, black jacket, black pants and black glowes. He also had a white shirt and a black bowtie. His orange hair was now black and had the same shape with Bendy's head. He was keeping his head down, holding Henry's shoulders wuth a tight grip. He was slightly sobbing and trembling. Henry couldn't see his face.

The taller man hugged him and leaned his head to Henry's neck. Henry couldn't fight back. He didn't wanted to fight back too. Joey seemed pretty sick and tired. Of course, Joey was the man who trapped him inside this hell at first place. But he couldn't just walk away in this situtation.

He hugged the man back and started petting his hair. Moving his hand very gently and slow. Joey hugged the man tighter and dragged him to the floor. Henry softly growled, holding his head with his right hand. Joey also moved to the floor. He moved closer to Henry on his knees, leaned his head to his neck again. Henry tried to stand up, but Joey was a lot stronger then him. He looked at Joey, he wasn't trying to harm him or something like that. Henry started thinking he's overreachting. Joey was always like this anyways. He always liked physical contact.

But this time, it was a little differend. Joey seemed like he was half asleep. He was still shivering. Henry tried waking him up by calling his name for a few times, but it didn't worked.

"Joey? A-are you-"

He got cut off by Joey suddenly waking up. He tried to stand up, but he was too powerless.

"...Henry...."

He mumbled as he leaned to Henry's neck again. Henry seemed a little worried, but still not trying to run away.

He gently hold Henry's neck, trying to be slow to not scare him.

He suddenly bited Henry. Henry could feel his teeths, bleeding his neck and drinking his blood.

He suddenly started feeling sore. He was about to fall asleep. He tried staying awake, but Joey wasn't moving back. He was very thirsty after all. He just contioned sucking his blood.

"Blood?"

He was getting more awake with every single drop. He started feeling Henry's finally falling asleep.

"This is enough. Too much might harm him."

He started petting his head as he gently leaned back. He looked at Henry's neck, the place he bite had a inky, red pentagram on it.

He gently caressed Henry's cheek, then started carrying Henry bridal style. Kissing his forhead before leaving the room.

He didn't spend time with the halls, he just find a ink puddle and walked throught it.

•••

He stepped inside his office, gently placed Henry on his chair and sat on front of him. Waiting for him to wake up.

"The first time might be hard. He will get used to it eventually."

He started petting his hair again. The light Chestnut brown color of his hair...

It still didn't changed. Henry was always quite a charming type. His Golden brown eyes, pale skin, slim but somehow still strong body.

Joey find everything about him very charming.

He cut his thoughts when he noticed Henry, opening his eyes. He was still quite tired. He looked at the man with half opened eyes.

"Joey...?"

Joey smiled as Henry called his name. Henry slowly raised his hand and grabbed Joey's hand. Putting his hand on his cheek.

Joey's smile get even bigger. He touched the other man's bottom lip with his free hand.

Smut+Blood+Just don't read if you're f☆cking sensetive

Then he placed a kiss on his lips. Henry started feeling the gentle heat on his lips. He wasn't going too hard on him. Being very carefull with him, harming Henry was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. He slowly moved back and looked at the Chestnut haired man. His hair was slightly falling falling on his face. His golden eyes were shining. A Rose red blush was covering his cheeks.

"You know, you look so much better when I mark you up~."

Joey licked his lips and put his fingers in Henry's mouth.

Henry was shocked by the sudden move, but the he slowly started relaxing and stared licking his fingers.

Joey chukled and started unbuttoning Henry's shirt. Looking at Henry's face while unbuttoning it.

His blush was covering almost his whole face now. He was softly gagging.

He unbottoned the last button and gently hold Henry's neck. He looked at his soft, pale skin. The marks he left on his body 30 years ago. Most of them were still there.

Somehow marks Joey left on his body weren't fading away. They were getting worse. There was a wine red mark on his right shoulder. It was literally shining on his pale skin. He looked at the marks, then he decided to get back to his work. He started sucking and biting every unmarked spot he saw, petting Henry's hair while marking him.

Henry started moaning even louder as he felt Joey's tongue. The heat was rising even faster on his body. He started breathing rapidly.

Joey contioned sucking and biting. Leaving red marks and bruises on here and there. He finally moved back and looked at Henry's body. He smiled and walked back and opened one of his drawes. He picked a small, silver knife and moved back to Henry. He looked at Henry's face again. He was quite terrified as he saw the knife. He tried talking, pleasing to him for not doing this again. But he got silenced by Joey, putting his fingers in Henry's mouth again. Henry started gagging and moaning even louder. He was trying to break free, but he couldn't.

Joey started traveling the knife on Henry's chest. Watching the blood coming off slowly.

Then, the knife buried in his skin. Blood was coming off even faster. He started breathing rapidly with the pain. He looked at Joey, he was just licking the blood peacefully. Henry tried getting off of the chair. But Joey suddenly stopped and looked back to his face. He started cutting Henry's cheek. A light blush covering his face. He was widely smiling.

He started looking directly in Henry's eyes.

Henry started feeling dizzy first, then a weird heat showed up and then he fell asleep.

[fic-for-fic-sake]

First Date?

A/N: Okay so I wrote this in March during the beginning part of quarantine so keep that in mind while you read. I hope you enjoy it and as always; likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

“Natasha you cannot be serious.” You deadpanned, making a face at her over facetime. 

“I am! I read it in a Buzzfeed article, tinder is letting you swipe all over the globe to find a quarantine buddy. It’s a thing.” She pouted from her end of the line, cutting up vegetables for her lunch. 

“I mean that’s ridiculous, are people really dating over facetime? Is this what the world has come to?” You asked, flopping down on your bed. 

“I mean, life goes on, even if you can’t go outside. Besides, I think it would be good for you, you’ve been in quarantine for more than a week now and you can’t keep facetiming me. Find yourself a new buddy, it could be fun.” She retorted, popping a piece of chopped zucchini into her mouth before throwing the rest in the pan on the stove.  

“What are you making anyway? It sounds loud.” You responded, ignoring her observation. 

“Stir fry, want some?” She teased, letting you see the pan with everything in it that made your mouth water. Red pepper and zucchini along with broccoli, chicken, and beautiful white rice. 

“I wish we were together so you could cook for me.” You moped, feeling your stomach growl with the thought of food. When was the last time you ate again? It was hard to keep track when you couldn’t leave your apartment. 

“It’s not my fault you moved to Spain.” 

“It’s only for a year! And how was I supposed to know this would happen!” You yelled at her through the phone, you doubted it had the same impact because you were staring at her kitchen ceiling as she tended to her lunch. 

“Just think about what I said, I gotta go! I’ll call you back later.” She said, as she blew you a kiss and then hung up, leaving you to look at your own tattered reflection in your black phone screen. 

You sighed as you padded to your kitchen in sweatpants to grab a pint of ice cream you had been working on. You popped a spoon in your mouth and scrolled through your phone, looking for the article Natasha was talking about. Sure enough after opening the Buzzfeed app, you saw that people were indeed doing first dates over facetime. It didn’t sound like a terrible idea, you only really had to look presentable from the waist up and you did kind of miss dressing in normal people clothes. 

Spooning ice cream into your mouth you redownloaded the tinder app and started swiping through. People from all over the globe popped up on your phone. New York, London, San Francisco, Berlin, Seoul, and New Delhi. You swiped for longer than anticipated and got a few matches but none of them really panned out until you found one profile in particular. 

Steve Rogers, an artist from Brooklyn who worked at a law firm, interesting combination. His very first picture drew you in, dark blond almost brunet locks swept to the side, a full beard, and a killer smile. Okay, you were interested. You scrolled through his pictures to find one of him in a suit, presumably at work, another of him in a cream colored cable knit sweater looking out into the middle distance, and the last one was him standing shirtless on a beach, hair slightly shaggier and coffee mug in hand. Holy shit. He was gorgeous. You swiped right and nearly dropped your phone out of shock when it said that it was a match. 

No way. No way would this literal Adonis of a human being swipe right on you, but who were you to argue with the tinder algorithm. You got up to put your ice cream back in the freezer when your phone made a pinging sound. A message from Mr. Handsome himself. 

Steve: Hey

You: Hi

Steve: Madrid huh? What time is it there? 

You: A little after 9pm

Steve: What are you up to? 

You: Oh you know, the usual, staring at a wall because I can’t leave the apartment

Steve: Wow, it’s like I’m there with you. 

You chucked at his dry humor. You and Steve talked for pretty much the rest of the night before you told him you were going to fall asleep on him if you stayed up any longer. Before he let you log out for the night, he asked you on a date, over facetime. You smiled so hard you swore you tore a muscle in your face. You accepted his proposal and agreed to facetime tomorrow evening for you and tomorrow afternoon for him, so you could cook together. 

The next day you were freaking out, deciding what to wear. What does one wear to a facetime first date? This was uncharted territory for all parties involved and the internet, where you would usually go for advice, was no help either. Natasha advised just wearing casual clothing, and she was right. You didn’t want to look formal just sitting around your apartment, that would be weird. You decided on a pair of light wash jeans and a baby pink sweatshirt hoodie from Calvin Klein. You kept your hair down, a simple style. You decided against makeup because after the call ended you were just going to take it off anyway. Perfect, you looked good and casual, not like you hadn’t left your house in four days. 

You made sure you had all the ingredients in front of you for a simple dijon sauce and chicken. You were debating whether or not you should wear an apron when your phone rang, it was Steve. You propped your phone up against the wall before you answered. 

“Hi!” You exclaimed, adjusting the phone before you stepped back into the frame. 

“Hey.” Steve’s voice rang out through your empty kitchen. You took a minute to admire what he was wearing. A plain gray long sleeve shirt hugged his arm muscles and black jeans were on his legs. His hair was swept to the side and his beard was neatly trimmed, truly the picture of perfection. 

“Are you ready to cook?” You questioned, pointing your wisk at the camera which garnered a chuckle from him. 

“What are you making?” He questioned, as he opened the door to his fridge and began to root around for ingredients, giving you a perfect view of his lower half. You tried not to stare at the image of his perfect ass on the frame, instead focusing on lighting the stove and beginning to chop up some garlic. 

“Chicken with a dijon sauce.” You replied, brows knitted in concentration. “What about you?” 

“Funny, I’m making chicken noodle soup.” He replied, laying out his celery on the cutting board and also beginning to chop. 

“God this is strange.” You commented as you turned on your stove and put some olive oil in the pan. 

“Strange good, or strange bad?” Steve implored, putting the chopped celery aside and now moving on to the carrots. 

“Yeah, I haven’t decided yet.” You chuckled a bit as you threw your chicken breasts into the pan. “How many times have you made chicken noodle soup?” You wondered. 

“I’ve been making it for years, it’s my mom’s recipe.” He explained, a smile on his face as the memory. “It’s kind of a comfort thing and these days I’ll take comfort wherever I can get it.” 

“You and me both Steve.” You replied automatically, flipping the chicken in the pan. He laughed and the two of you made polite conversation as you continued cooking your respective meals. 

“Okay, you ready to eat?” He asked, ladling his soup into a cream colored deep ceramic bowl. 

“My mouth is already watering.” You jested as you plated up your chicken and broccoli and drizzled a healthy amount of sauce over the top of everything. You both went to each of your fridges and grabbed the same bottle of chilled white wine. You had both decided on Verdejo white wine on your suggestion that it was amazing. He said he trusted your recommendation. 

You sat at your plain kitchen table in your small apartment, looking into the phone and seeing he lived in less humble dwellings. You could see a beautiful large window with what you assumed showed a spectacular view of the city. He poured his wine into an intricate stemmed glass while you poured yours into a glass cup. You laughed. 

“What is it?” He questioned, a small smile playing on his lips. Oh how that smile took your breath away. 

“I just think it’s funny that I have a washing machine in my kitchen, my walls are yellowing, and I’m drinking wine out of a cup.” You said, gesturing to your surroundings. “While you are living in a beautiful apartment and have the perfect drinking vessel for your wine.” 

“Yeah but you’re only in Spain for a year right? Work with whatcha got.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders, “I went to Romania with a friend of mine and we stayed in this little rundown shack with newspapers on the window and we didn’t have electricity.” 

“Wow Romania, what brought you there?” 

“I was commissioned to do a painting of the Romanian Athenaeum in Bucharest.” 

“Steve that’s amazing!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air, “you must be a really talented artist, why’d you switch jobs? 

“I didn’t so much as switch but take a backseat in art. I loved it but it didn’t pay the bills. When I first got to New York I was living on my friend Bucky’s couch, and months later he was kind enough to offer me a position at his law firm.” Steve explained, stopping intermittently to take spoonfuls of soup. 

“That’s incredible. I wish I could paint.” You added, putting a forkful of dijon chicken into your mouth. “But art was never my strong suit.” 

Before he could provide a response, he brought the wine glass up to his lips and your movements halted as he swallowed a few sips of wine. You wondered what he would think of your recommendation. After a beat he wore the biggest smile on his face. 

“Doll, this wine is amazing! How did you know about this?” He asked incredulously. 

You could feel yourself blush at the pet name but recovered quickly, “When I studied abroad in Barcelona I went to a few wine tastings and they always had Verdejo and it was always my favorite, hands down.” 

You and Steve seemed to have no problem coming up with things to talk about. Your dinner time had long since passed and now you were yawning every few sentences and you could feel your eyes drooping. 

“Looks like someone’s tired.” Steve teased, a soft smile playing on those petal pink lips of his. No matter how tired you were you could still feel the need to press your lips against his. After a few more yawns Steve insisted that you hang up and go to sleep which you did begrudgingly. Ten minutes later you sent him a picture of you in your pajamas and tucked under the covers of your small bed. To which he responded with a picture of his own, thumbs up and face beaming. 

You had to remind yourself to thank  Natasha for forcing you to do this tinder business in the first place.

[miraimisu]

Funny/random 6

—

Gladion doesn’t know what to expect when he gets an emergency call from Hau at 4 a.m. in the morning. He’d been barely awake when he picked up the phone, but he recalls the distinct buzz of chatter and laughter in the background of the call and what had sounded like Ilima cheering on to someone that, if Gladion is to trust his instinct and previous experiences, will surely be Moon.

When he reaches Melemele, still half asleep and wearing clothes that don’t match in colors, shirt wrongly put with the front on his back, he hears Hau laughing hysterically at a secluded point of the beach as Moon seemingly builds a cage made of bricks around Ilima’s barely conscious form. She’s about at shoulder’s height when Gladion gets to her.

“What–” Gladion sputters. Moon turns to him, innocent and unknowing. “What exactly are you doing?”

“I’m building a cage.”

“A cage?”

“A cage of bricks.”

“And cement,” points Hau out, earning a soft nod from Moon who, unfazed by Gladion’s presence, dabs a thick layer of cement on the brick and slaps it on top of another. “Ilima and Moon made a bet.”

The Champion (who would surely lose her job if Kukui caught her red-handed) shrugs nonchalantly. “Ilima was all like ‘I bet you can’t cage a Pokémon in’ and I told him that’s abusive, so we resorted to cage him instead. We had to drag him here ‘cause he passed out the second we sealed the deal.” Moon wags her eyebrows. “He’s not gonna see it coming.”

“He literally won’t see if you cage him in. You’re not even leaving a gap for him to see through, dude.” Hau shakes his head. “Building him a cage is fine, but he’s gotta breathe somehow.”

Gladion, trying to shake the spoors of sleep off his organism, frowns at the two. “How is that worrying you and not the fact that he won’t be able to leave?” Both Hau and Moon shrug, either ignorant or too drunk to care. “Where did you even get all this from?”

Moon finally stops building, brick on her hand dripping with wet cement. “Did you know the mall is rebuilding its entrance because of that bad storm last week?” Gladion shakes his head. “I didn’t either until… an hour ago. Maybe a little less.”

Gladion watches her build with uncanny calmness. Maybe he’s too tired to care, maybe it’s the way the moonlight shapes her or how the murmur of the waves washing at his feet tranquilizes him, but it’s hard for him to complain about something that, legally speaking, the victim can’t prove he saw. On the basis of law he’s innocent and Moon’s the criminal.

Which he means he should get her to drop all those tools that she somehow knows how to use.

“Moon,” he says her name calmly, coughing the raspiness of sleep away. She whips her head to him, eyes bright and at attention. “Drop the brick and walk away. Slowly. I’m scared you might trip in your state.”

“I’m fine. I’m not drunk.” The spite in her voice would be credible if it weren’t for the light daze glossing her eyes. “I’m a very professional Champion doing Alola a favor. This should count as community work.”

Gladion turns to Hau, as though he will convince her, but the young Kahuna shrugs and sighs. “Tried my best earlier. She’s not gonna let it go. That’s why I called you.” He gets on his feet. Moon pays no heed to his departure. “Maybe she’ll save the tourists from Ilima’s weird flirting. He says he does it unintentionally but I think something’s fishy there.”

“I fell for the charm when I began my Island Challenge,” both men turn to Moon, blinking in surprise. “I got some dignity. He deserves it for making me lose my cool. He’s got this sway of his words that could turn stones pink.”

Hau nods solemnly. Gladion stares at her like she just grew another head out of thin air, surprised. The other snickers, knowing that Moon won’t hear them, deeply focused on her task. 

Gladion narrows his eyes at him. “Don’t cry about it, my dude. She’s well over it.” Hau regards the scene one last time, wincing as Moon slaps a brick on so hard it nearly shatters. He turns to the President once more. “I thought I could take advantage of that thing you two got goin’ on–”

“We have nothing going on.”

“Sure, whatever you say. Anyway, I thought I could ask you to take her home since I honestly can’t. I’m so drunk I don’t know how I’m even awake, man.” He points at Moon with his thumb, grinning. “She’s a handful and I got work tomorrow. I’m passing her on to you. Don’t do anything funny to her.”

Gladion swings his eyes to her, watching her nonchalantly work on her little masterpiece, and then looks at Hau. “What do I get out of this?”

“Moon is really cute when she’s hammered.”

“She’s cute every day.” Gladion is so tired he might as well let that slip. It’s not like any of these idiots is gonna remember anyway.

“She’s also super honest and you might get you two’s feelings and all that stuff on the road.”

Gladion thinks this through for two exact seconds.

“Deal.”

Hau animatedly shakes his hand with Gladion’s, then stalks off along the beach. “Take care of her! Good luck, dude!”

Hau also falls face-first into the sand but Gladion doesn’t stay to pay attention to that, and instead walks towards Moon with all the time in the world, quietly watching her work.

“Are you aware this is a little bit illegal?”

“Under what law?”

“Under rationality’s law,” he mutters. That gets Moon to stop, as she calmly sets the brick on top, but it doesn’t stick to the wall. “Do you realize that when Kukui finds out about this, he will give you a colossal earful?”

Moon grins. It’s full of teeth and devoid of good intentions. “He doesn’t need to know. And even if he did, this is my very own masterpiece, I’ll have you know.” Moon pats the cage in what could be closest defined as kindness and fondness. “This is my mark. My heritage for the world to take. It’ll outlive all of us.”

“You’re a famous Pokémon trainer, a Champion, and yet you decide that this is your remarkable feat in history?”

The way she blinks at him leads him to believe she’s genuinely confused. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Let me phrase it another way,” Gladion clears his throat, choosing to entertain her for a little longer. “Do you realize that you won’t remember any of this tomorrow and that Kukui will realize this was yours and will force you to take it down brick by brick?”

“Why would he know?”

Gladion simply points to the bottom of the cage. “You wrote your name with a Sharpie.”

Moon huffs. “That could be somebody trying to incriminate me.”

“It’s your signature. You even drew a small Rowlet.” Gladion narrows his eyes at the scribbled owl. “It looks too horrible to be the work of anybody but you.” 

Moon rolls her eyes, yet stops her work to contemplate her options. “If Ilima wakes up and sees himself free and uncaged, he’ll think I’m a coward and that I didn’t stick to the bet.”

“Don’t you think it’d be much better if he thought you’re the rational Champion we all love and not insane when drunk?”

Her eyes widen and a lovely grin curls her lips, much more teasing and amazed than intoxicated. “Aw, you love me? Really?”

That seems to be doing the trick, and it’s not like she’s going to remember any of this tomorrow so he chooses to be truthful, nodding. “Yeah, I’ve loved you for years now. You’re just too dumb to see it.”

“Well, I can see it now!”

“You’ll forget about this tomorrow, Sherlock,” he mutters, very much disgraced that her delight by his declaration is but a side-effect of her intoxication. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.”

Sighing as she pouts, he brings an arm down to her waist and another under her legs, proceeding to carry her away. Moon instantly complains. “Hey! We were having a lovely conversation and I’m busy with my descendants’ heirloom!”

“You won’t remember any of this tomorrow and it’s not like you mean any of what you’re saying right now,” Gladion laments, walking across the beach, making a sharp turn to the right. “You can sleep if you want. We’ll be there in a bit.”

Much to his surprise, Moon has gone quiet. He refuses to look down lest he gets distracted by the image of something that would be romantic if it weren’t for how drunk she is. Gladion sometimes wishes Arceus wouldn’t bless him with moments like these where things are going great at the wrong time.

After a few minutes of silent walking, she presses her cheeks on his chest. “I’ll make an effort to remember this.”

“It’s mathematically impossible for someone as drunk as you to remember all that happened tonight.”

“I’ll beat the odds and make an effort. If I don’t remember, you can always tell me tomorrow,” her words are muddled at the end by the yawn she lets out, all before shifting in his arms. “Just… Just you wait, Gladion. I’ll get you to say that again, you hear me? That way I can tell you how I feel too.”

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to tell her again in the future. People say drunk people are honest. Maybe she’s being honest. She’s always honest, after all.

Gladion smirks to himself. “Sure. I’ll be waiting.”

“Good,” she yawns again. “That’s what I like to hear…”

And she falls asleep like that. Her breath evens out and she goes silent, making Gladion stop in his tracks to check if she’s actually asleep.

Under the opportune light of a lamppost and his shadow, she looks at ease and comfortable, peacefully asleep even if his arms are (or should be) anything but comfortable. Her lips are parted slightly and her brow is no longer tense in apprehension and false euphoria, but softened and calm.

Chuckling, he presses a kiss on her forehead and keeps on walking to her house, smiling all the while and silently wondering how Ilima will get out of the trap Moon had built around her.

But oh well, that’s not for him to worry about.

—

[Prompt list]

[katlyn1948]

Evading Capture: Chapter 3

Evading Capture

Katlyn1948

Chapter Management

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Chapter 3

: The Failed EscapeSummary:

Arya tries to escape, but something halts her plans.

Notes:

Ya'll are lucky! It usually takes me several weeks to update a WIP, but I'm in a good mood so....and I already have the whole story planned in my head, so alls I gotta do is write it! I am hoping it takes only 6 parts to finish, but it just depends on what my brain wants to add to the chapter as I am writing it. Little inside: I don't plan out my chapters like a normal person. I don't have an outline or anything like that. Nope...I act out all my chapters before I write them. So, let me explain. I literally have full blown conversations with myself as these characters using dialogue. It is how I "plan out" my stories. It sounds weird, I know, but hey it works. I also voice myself doing this and use that dialogue in my stories. Think of it like a script. I say what the character says and then I will also explain what is happening in the scene. Basically I am audiobook script! LOL. Anyway, call me crazy, but it works! So enjoy and as always, happy reading!

Chapter Text

The night was cold; more so than any other night that Arya had ever encountered in the Riverlands. It was a testament to what her family words were; Winter is Coming, and she was sure that it would grow colder as time progressed. This gave her an advantage to those that surrounded her. She had thick blood; that of a wolf and not even this lingering cold would hinder her get away.

She was right to assume that, as the evening drew on, the men around her would begin to divulge in their leather sacks filled with whatever alcohol they could get their hands on. Lem was the first to fall, slumped over a log as his mouth trailed drool down the side of his chin. Next was Anguy with his bow strapped securely to his chest. Hot Pie hardly drank and ounce and could chat the tongue off of anyone, so Arya was please when his eye lids began to droop with sleep. Thoros hummed as he lifted from in front of the fires, drifting towards his horse, and rolled out a dusty old blanket for him to lay his head upon. It took only a few short minutes for Arya to hear the soft snores escape the priest. Beric was the last to fall, trying his best to keep guard of the surroundings, but the lack of sleep and effects of drink finally caught up to the lord, causing him to drift his head back, mouth agape as he slept soundly.

Gendry stayed up, charged with watching the brush around them as well as keeping a studious eye on Arya. So long as he was awake, so would she. No sleep would come to her, so long as she knew on these men were awake.

“You look exhausted.” She observed as she watched Gendry’s head bob with slumber.

“Hmm, I am.” He confirmed.

Arya chuckled, “Then go to sleep. I’m sure Hot Pie could watch the camp. All he has to do is ring out, and you lot will be up within seconds.”

She could see Gendry contemplate the thought and was sure that he would agree to her dubious plan. She prayed to the whatever Gods would listen that he did, so when he reluctantly agreed she let a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“Aye, he can, but you must stay beside me.” He rubbed the back of his head with his hand, a slight blush creeping to his face as he did so. Arya’s smiled faltered and her heart suddenly began to race.

“I-I don’t think that’s necessary. I can stay up with Hot Pie, keep on the lookout.” She hastily said.

Gendry groaned as he lifted from his perch just beyond the fire, where the horses were being tied, “Sorry, milady, but no can do. If I sleep, you sleep. Can’t run the risk of you escaping.”

Arya watched as he strode her way, lifting her up from under her arms, until she was standing. He grabbed her upper left arm and guided her to the thick blankets that were laid out earlier in the evening, plopping her down with a thud. She huffed at his roughness and wiggled her hips to try to get the hard ground somewhat comfortable for her slumber. She leaned back, letting her back fall upon the hard ground, turning from where Gendry was walking to wake up Hot Pie.

She couldn’t see their interaction, but she could hear the soft whispers exchanged as Gendry asked Hot Pie to be a look out. His steps were unmistakable as she heard him make his way back to where she was laying. His presence was suddenly evading hers, and although he made sure to keep distance between him, she could feel his heat radiating, making her shift uncomfortably.

Arya couldn’t sleep, not only from her bound hands, but because of the anticipation of her eminent escape. Her mind was awake with ways for her sneak through the camp, all while trying not the wake the band of rebels. Scenario after scenario drifted through her head, each with subsequent consequences if caught. She was sure that her downfall would be the ropes that currently held her wrists in place. With such restrictions, she was sure to lose her balance and hurt some part of her body because she would not be able to break her fall. She tried on multiple occasions throughout the night, to wiggle her wrists free, but that only seemed to cause more harm than good. The action left her wrists raw and bloody, causing her wince in pain every time they chaffed against her skin.

The only other solution to her situation would be to steal the small dagger from Gendry’s side in order to cut herself free, but the action was risky. Arya had no inclination on how deep he slept, or if she would be able to reach the damned dagger in the first place. She knew it was placed on the right side of his hip, which he was currently laying on. She had hoped he would turn sometime in the middle of the night, but he didn’t and all she could do was bore holes into his head with her glaring eyes.

She huffed in frustration and turned so that her back was now facing him. She scanned the dark woods and noticed the slight glow of sunrise trying to break through the horizon. It was morning, and she had spent the better half of her night coming up with stupid plans that were sure to fail.

Watching the sky turn bright colors of yellows and purples, Arya gathered her courage. If she were to escape, she had to do while they were asleep; right before the sun had a full chance to awaken.

Pulling herself up with the sure will of her abdomen, she sat, observing her surroundings once more before jumping to her feet. She managed to keep her balance and even managed not to disturb the sleeping bull beside her. She scanned the forest edge, squinting her eyes to adjust to the low light the sky as emitting, and noticed Hot Pie drifting off to a sound sleep.

With this wonderful revelation, she took her chance.

She took a deep breath and kicked her feet from under herself, propelling them forward into a sprint. She had to be weary of the fallen trees that surrounded her, making sure she didn’t accidently trip over one of them. She darted passed the horses; only giving them a slight wind she brushed by. She was almost home free; away from the camp and away from The Brotherhood. All she had to do was clear the camp and hide herself in the densely wooded areas.

Her heart was pumping and the overwhelming feeling of excitement washed over her body like a blanket. She couldn’t believe that she was nearly there, the taste of freedom on her fingertips. Her footsteps seemed to float as if she was running on air. She made little to no sound, not even the deep breathes that were escaping her small body were enough to wake the sleeping giants. She could see, the line distinguishing the camp from the forest. Just a few more steps and she would be rid of them, but then her feet suddenly halted. Her head thinking about all she left behind.

She didn’t have much, maybe a few breeches and a jerkin. She had a water satchel and rucksack and a few oddities that she would be able to steal along the way. However, what she didn’t have were her reminders. She didn’t have the small piece of cloth ripped from Sansa’s dress. How she would cradle it at night and sniff the fine silk, for it still smelled of her sister. She didn’t have the piece of broken wood from her play sword that she used to train with Syrio, nor her Stark emblem clasp that held her thick cloak together from when she was in the north. She didn’t have Needle. The one thing that she had left of her favorite brother.

All of the small meniscal items were replaceable, but her sentiments were not.

It should feel stupid to her that simple little things left a huge impact of her life that she couldn’t leave them. They were costing her freedom, yet she had to go back. She would rather be a hostage than to even think about losing those close items. So, with a deep sigh, she turned on her heel and began to trudge her way back to the camp. She was no more than two steps in when she saw a large brooding body come barreling at her like a runaway horse.

His body collided with hers and they both went tumbling down to the ground, rolling a few good feet before halting. She struggled in his grasp, trying to wiggle her way free, but it seemed useless. He was bigger and stronger than she was and she would expel most of her energy if she tried to escape his unruly grasp.

“Will you let me go, you insufferable man!” She wailed.

“Stop trying to escape and maybe I will.” He huffed as he tried to still her thrashing body. His arms were square around her body and Arya could feel the tickle of his ragged breath on her ears. Taking the opportunity, she threw her head back, hearing the familiar crack as she did so. Gendry yelped in pain and released one of his arms from around her, giving Arya the room to escape his grasp. She turned in his arm and brought her knee to his groan, for good measure, causing him to yell in discomfort.

Rolling from him, she picked herself up and glanced down and the withering man. She couldn’t help but smirk at the way he had one hand clutching his nose and the other clutching his groan.

“Serves you right for tackling me like that!” She spat.

“What in the name of seven hells is going on here?” Beric inquired. Arya turned her head to notice the band of men making their way to where they were. She took several steps back from Gendry, allowing Anguy to grasp her upper arm so that she wouldn’t run off once more.

“Fuck! I think she broke my nose!” Gendry’s hand still covered his face, muffling his response.

“Good, I think you’ll look better with a crooked nose, anyway.” She grumbled.

Beric bent down to where Gendry was laying and swatted his hand away. He pinched the bridge of Gendry’s nose and bent it back into shape, not giving any warning to the young man as he did so.

“It’ll be fine.” He assured Gendry. Beric stood and turned his head towards Arya. “Now, please someone tell me what happened!”

She winced at the severity of his voice, and it reminded her of when her father used to reprimand her for doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing.

“I-I had to take a piss, so I decided to do it at the edge of the camp. I didn’t want you all to see me!” She lied smoothly. Sometimes it scared her at how easily she could do it.

“And what about him?” He motioned to where Gendry was sitting.

“I’m walking back to camp, when I see this bull of a man hurl my way! Next thing I know, I’m on the ground trying to get away.”

“I thought you were escaping!” He countered.

Arya shook her head, “And how do you supposed I do that? My hands are bound, idiot.”

Beric sighed, “Look, it was a misunderstanding. Let’s all just get back to camp so we can pack up and leave. Anguy, change her ties, their rubbing her raw and Gendry, try not to get your arse kicked by a girl next time.”

Arya watched as Beric walked back to camp. She was guided by Anguy and gave Gendry a smug smirk as she passed.

“You’ll pay for this.” He grumbled as he pointed to his nose.

Arya shrugged, “We’ll see.”

[bluerene]

sleepless nights & shiny lights [dickkory]

Blue’s Tumblr Valentines: bbrae, dickkory, ?, ? 

Part two in my tumblr valentines series goes to @nightglider124 - happy belated valentines day lovely! Thank you for your endless support + writing sweetness, your incredible fanfictions that never fail to make me grin like an idiot for 24+ hours, and your readiness to talk color-pop when it’s time for a new haul. You’re a wonderfully brilliant friend, and I’m so glad we had the chance to connect <3 You asked for this ages ago, and I’m sorry it took me so long to deliver but here it is: the sequel to seeing sights & pillow fights 

Note: tumblr mobile’s shittiness is exceptionally shitty at the moment and I have no idea what this story will look like if you read it there :/ sorry.

sleepless nights & shiny lights  

The nights felt longest when they were apart. Colder, lonelier, and more infinite than Dick had ever imagined they could be. He missed his wife and her sunny smile. He wanted to go home.  

For the first time in three weeks, she slept soundly, knowing that when morning came, her husband would be snuggled in bed beside her. He always sought her heat, winding his arms around her middle and nuzzling the space between her breasts with ardor. His fingers would be tangled in the golden ends of her hair, curled up at the small of her back. 

“I love you,” he’d whisper, dropping kisses that flared on her skin. She would stroke his hair gently and run her hands along his shoulders. Long, languid touches and the smell of his shampoo - her soft moans of appreciation would melt into quickened gasps as his movements became more precise. The best way to rise in the morning was with his mouth against her. 

She had missed him. She had missed him so terribly with her whole being, aching and miserable and physically drained without him beside her. She wondered why his absence had taken such a heavy toll on her these last few weeks. It had never been quite so unmanageable in the past. He had left a few days after her last heat cycle - perhaps she was having difficulty adjusting to his absence after nearly a week of constant contact. 

Tug. 

And then there was that. A strange pull from inside her chest, like her energy, the very essence of X’hal itself, was seeking him. 

Tug.

It seemed to happen whenever she yearned for him most. During their frequent facetime calls, when she crawled into bed or roused in the morning, and often when she moped on the couch, waiting for him to come home. 

Tug. 

It was an insistent, sharp little nudge. She had yet to understand why it was occurring or what it meant. She hoped Richard would help when he returned. 

Tug, tug. 

That one woke her up. 

Tug, tug, tug. 

She rubbed her eyes blearily and glanced at the clock on her nightstand. 2:36 AM blinked back at her. 

Tug, tug, tug, tug.

There were footsteps on the stairs. Had she missed the quiet thud of the boom-tube in their basement? Her senses were usually far more acute - why were they dulled now?

Tug, tug, tug, tug, tug, tug, tug.

Kory sat up and switched on the light, reaching for the t-shirt she had been snuggling. She drew it to her chest, just in case her home intruder wasn’t her husband. 

Tug, tug, tug, tug, tug, tug, tug, tug, tug -

The door flew open with a loud bang, revealing a tall man with dark circles under his eyes, and the biggest grin she had ever seen. Kory’s heart caught in her throat, her eyes growing wide with excitement.

“Richard,” she breathed, scrambling out of bed.

Her husband dropped his suitcase and opened his arms, catching her and immediately drawing her into a scorching kiss.

“I missed you, I missed you,” she chanted, tears pooling in her eyes when he pulled away. 

Dick squeezed her waist gently and pressed his lips to her forehead, “I missed you too, Kor. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

“You are forgiven,” she murmured, her fingers curling around the collar of his jacket, “once you remove this and come to sleep with me.”

He gave her a wicked grin and straightened his shoulders.

“You could remove it for me.”

Tug, tug, tug, tug, tug, tug, tug.

Kory blushed, smiling sweetly as she tore the jacket from his form. Dick yelped and looked at the tattered remains in dismay.

“Oops,” she giggled, floating out of his reach, “did I do that?”

He laughed - another sound she had sorely missed in his absence - and lunged, tackling her to the bed, his hand tickling her sides relentlessly while she thrashed between the sheets.

“Say you’re sorry, Kor.”

“I - will - not,” she replied defiantly, shrieking when his fingers danced along her ribcage.

Tug, tug, tug, tug, tug.

Dick stilled, ceasing his attack to study her curiously.

“Richard?”

He touched her cheek and sighed, pressing his forehead against hers. 

“It’s nothing, babe, I just...felt something strange. And being with you, it’s like it’s filling me, y’know? Like we’re connected.”

She gripped his shoulders and tilted her head upwards, rubbing their noses together. 

“I have been feeling it as well. Quite literally - it has been the strangest sensation as if something has been pulling me towards you.”

“Yeah?”

Kory nodded, a dreamy smile gracing her lips.

“I love you, Richard.”

“Love you too, beautiful.”

She watched him unbuckle his belt and fumble out of his jeans, stripping his t-shirt off and tossing it aside. Her eyelids felt heavy, as if they could give way to sleep any moment, and it was all because he was here. It wasn’t a dream. Richard was home. 

Kory waited for him to get under the covers, his body quick to tangle with hers beneath their soft duvet. She leaned over and switched off the lamp, running her fingers through his hair while she made herself comfortable.

“Goodnight, beloved,” she whispered, and her heart fluttered when his voice, for the first time in weeks, answered back.

Tug, tug, tug. 

Sleep came easily to Kory. It did not for Dick.

Tug, tug, tug, tug, tug, tug. 

Not for lack of trying of course. His wife was snuggly and warm and, usually, the perfect sleeping partner. But there was something flashing brightly behind his tightly shut eyes, and he couldn’t figure out what the hell it was.

“Kor.”

“Mmmph.”

“‘ou using your phone right now?”

“Noooo.”

Tug.

“Turn off the light.”

“I did, Richard.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Mmmph.”

“Babe, I’m serious,” he said, blinking one eye open, “we’re both too tired for anyth - what the fuck.”

He shot up, tearing the covers away from her body.

“Kory, wake up.”

“Richard, I have not slept at all in three weeks, can this not wait for one night?”

“No, it can’t,” he said desperately, “this is too weird.” 

She opened her eyes and sat up, shooting her husband a dirty look before following his line of sight to her stomach. 

Which was, indeed, glowing. A lot. Bright, electric green waves of energy came off of her skin, sizzling in the air.

She gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth.

“Oh...oh, oh, oh, oh, Richard, we, I, it is - “ Kory waved her hands excitedly, unable to find the words.

Dick stared at her in confusion.

“Words, Kory, words.”

“Baby!” She burst, throwing herself on top of her husband, “I am pregnant, we are having a baby, Richard!”

“Holy shit,” Dick blurted out, a bright grin breaking across his tired face, “Oh my God, are you serious?”

“Like I have never been before,” she mumbled tearfully, burying her face in his chest, “my energy has not been calling to yours, our child has been calling for you. Tamaranean fetuses require a steady supply of energy from both the mother and the father, I cannot believe I did not see it sooner.”

“So that’s it then, right? We’re having a baby? I’m gonna be a dad?” 

Kory giggled at the wonderstruck look on her husband’s face. 

“We are having a baby, beloved,” she said happily, leaning up to kiss his jaw. 

He folded her up into his embrace, his hand never leaving her glowing belly (which they had decided would be the first issue to discuss in the morning, provided they were actually able to fall asleep), stroking her skin until he had memorized the feel of her all over again. She laced their fingers together, heart so full she wondered if it could possibly burst. 

Tug.

Their little family was growing. It was all she had ever asked for. 

The nights were never long enough when they were together. Dick swears he could lie with her forever, just the two of them, touching and tasting and laughing until the rest of the world disappeared. He loves her, so much that he used to wonder if he would ever be able to love someone as much as he adored his wife. 

He wonders no more. 

[jaemtens]

Rescue (Chapter 1)

seventeen | junhao | side meanie / vernkwan | chapter 1 of 10 | 3.6k

tumblr links: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 ao3 links: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

written with @bulletproof-bad-wolf | updates every saturday morning

summary:  When Soonyoung finally "agrees" to let Junhui get a dog for their apartment, he realizes that he needed something a little bit more than a puppy. Enter Minghao, the bona fide Bad Boy™ with tattoos and piercings. Oh, and he doodles puppies and kittens in their Probability and Confirmation class.

chapter 1: junhui

Inside a classroom, time always seemed to be a myth. If you wanted it to go faster, it went slower. If you wanted it to move like molasses (and honestly, why would anyone ever want that during a class, especially one as tedious as Probability and Confirmation?), it sped by. Junhui could never decide which he’d prefer, these days. Not since Xu Minghao started sitting next to him at the back of the room.

Minghao was new this semester. Junhui knew that. It was one of the few pieces of knowledge he’d gleaned in the months since they’d “met.” Junhui had been putting met in quotations, because he hadn’t actually had the nerve to say much to Minghao, so far. Their daily interactions generally consisted of a “hey” or “what’s up” when either of them walked in and saw the other. Sometimes, just a short, silent nod sufficed. It wasn’t because Junhui was afraid of Minghao, or anything. That would be ridiculous. There wasn’t anything scary about him, really, not his array of tattoos or the piercings dotting his ears, with one in his eyebrow. Certainly not the beat-up leather jacket he wore every day, along with the nearly permanent scowl. It only seemed to leave his face every now and then, when he would fall asleep on his desk.

Junhui wasn’t scared, okay? Minghao just...made him feel extra dorky.

He knew he was a dork, pre-Minghao. Junhui never skipped class, even the ones he hated (like Probability and Confirmation, for example). He turned in every assignment on time, studied an appropriate number of days in advance for all his exams. He got decent grades in return.

He enjoyed things like video games, and comic books. Maybe even the occasional, casual game of Dungeons and Dragons.

Truly, he was a massive nerd, and Minghao was just...massively hot. They didn’t match. Their leagues were nowhere near each other’s. It was fine. Junhui wasn’t bothered at all, actually, because college was for studying, not dating. He’d made a promise to himself when he got here: he would definitely, in no way, no way at all, let any cute boy get in the way of his goals. The only problem with that, was that he still sort of needed to figure out what those goals even were.

Philosophy classes were all well and good, when Junhui thought he wanted to become a lawyer, or maybe a professor. Both of those thoughts faded quickly when classes actually began. Now, he was four months into his sophomore year, still floundering and taking whatever classes piqued his interest (and kept his parents off his back, or at least moderately silent and not threatening to “pop up” for a visit every weekend or three), and the minute Minghao walked into Probability and Confirmation, Junhui stopped giving any sorts of damns about what the professor was saying, and instead, he became incredibly concerned with trying to figure out what the tattoo he could see peeking out of one sleeve on Minghao’s leather jacket sometimes was, when he raised his hands above his head. Not to ask questions in class, but to yawn impressively.

Besides scowling and sleeping, the only other thing Junhui had seen Minghao do during philosophy lectures was draw.

He didn’t notice it at first, because Minghao liked to draw with one arm curled around whatever paper he’d dug up to doodle on, as if he was trying to keep a secret, keep it just for himself. But one day, on his way out of class, Minghao got up from his desk so abruptly that one of his little slips of paper floated to the ground while Junhui watched. He watched it until it settled near the toe of his worn Chucks, until he was a hundred percent positive that Minghao had left the room. Then, Junhui leaned over and picked it up. He was already the last student sitting in the classroom. Everyone else had rushed out the door at the first opportunity the professor gave them. He figured he had a few minutes to sit and peruse whatever Minghao had drawn.

Junhui laid the piece of paper face down on the desk in front of him, eyeing it carefully. Suddenly, he felt nosy. Like he was invading Minghao’s privacy, even though it was just a picture and even though Minghao wasn’t even there to see him do it, and would never know. It was just...it felt almost intimate, in an innocent way.

It felt like Junhui was really, really over analyzing things.

Sighing, he flipped over the paper, annoyed at himself and his brain. When he glanced down and saw what was on it, he was torn between wanting to laugh out loud, and a healthy dose of what the fuck.

Apparently, Xu Minghao, local unfriendly bad boy, spent his time in Probability and Confirmation doodling puppies and kittens.

While Junhui was still trying to decide whether or not he should indulge his intense need to chortle, he examined the drawings closer. They weren’t simple line drawings, ones that anyone could pull off with enough concentration. They weren’t photorealistic, either. They had a certain style. Junhui thought about all the art he liked, all the cartoons and comics and anime he enjoyed. He’d spent enough time absorbing all of that art that he knew, without a doubt, that he could pick out the artist’s particular choices anytime he was presented with them: a pen flair there, a splash of color here. He felt like he could probably do that with anything Minghao drew from that point on, and he’d only looked at two puppies playing with a ball together, and a kitten, tangled up in a ball of yarn.

Junhui wondered if this was one of those moments, those important Life Moments where you knew you were being utterly, absolutely ridiculous, and subsequently had to make a decision on whether or not to continue down the path of dumbassery.

He’d gathered his things finally, slipping Minghao’s drawing into the side pocket of his messenger bag, and Junhui pondered his conundrum all the way down the steps of the lecture hall and out the door, into the nearly empty corridor of this building. Junhui had just about decided to swerve out of Loser Lane and coast down..some other...road...that winners used (he was still thinking about puppies and kittens and honestly, he wasn’t really in his right mind, okay? That was the only explanation for all the strange analogies he was coming up with), when suddenly, he bumped straight into the object of his internal confusion.

Minghao was stronger than he looked. Junhui decided that almost immediately. Running into him, literally running into his person with Junhui’s own person, wasn’t unlike how he thought running into a brick wall must feel. Fleetingly, Junhui’s mind wandered to how many more tattoos he would be able to see if he could also see all of Minghao’s many muscles, the ones he now knew beyond a shadow of a doubt definitely existed under all that old leather he wore.

“Uh,” Junhui blurted eloquently, averting his eyes to the ground, where they belonged. They definitely didn’t belong all over Minghao, which was where he currently wanted to put them. Along with his hands.

ANYway.

“Um,” Minghao started at the same time, their words bumping into each other just like their bodies had a few seconds before. Neither of them followed with anything else for a moment, and then finally Junhui came up with something.

“Hi. Um. You’re still here. Wow, that’s so weird, because...because everyone else is like, gone...and…like...you’re definitely not...so…”

Look, he never claimed that what he was going to say would make any sense whatsoever, all right?

Minghao was just watching him melt down, watching quietly and calmly, with only a hint of amusement in his eyes, and Junhui really sort of appreciated that. Minghao didn’t say anything at all until Junhui finally got his mouth to stop moving, twenty or so stumbling words later. He waited a beat, until he was sure Junhui was done with...whatever he was doing, and then Minghao licked his lips and smiled a little.

“Yeah, I’m still here. I have an appointment with the...with the office in like, ten minutes, so I figured there wasn’t any point in burning off too fast,” Minghao said. Junhui was far too out of his mind to notice the awkward, suspicious pauses in Minghao’s words.

“Oh. Well. Sorry I was...in your way,” Junhui tried next, even though it wasn’t much better than any of the nonsense he’d babbled before.

Minghao chuckled. “You weren’t.”

Junhui swallowed thickly. “Oh.”

It was going stunningly well, honestly.

Minghao shifted from foot to foot, hiking his backpack up his shoulder a little. “All right, well. See you Wednesday, Jun.”

Junhui had no idea how or why Minghao knew his name. He only knew that the way Minghao said it made it sound different than anyone else ever had. It sounded better.

Junhui really needed to get more sleep, he decided. It was starting to affect his daily life.

He nodded, and then Minghao nodded, and then they both started to walk in exactly the same direction.

Minghao stopped first, looking pleasantly irritated. Junhui slowed to a halt too. They looked at each other for a second, the silence between them just short of uncomfortable. Minghao shook his head in what might have been disbelief, actual annoyance, or confusion, and started off again, and Junhui had no choice but to follow, because Minghao was walking in the direction of both the administrative offices and the parking lot, where Junhui’s car was. The blessed vehicle that would take him off campus and away from this parade of humiliation he was currently riding the lead float in.

First he walked a few steps behind Minghao, then Junhui sped up for no reason and jogged in front of him for a bit while they crossed the courtyard. When he got tired of doing that, Junhui paused again and waited until Minghao caught up with him, and they walked the rest of the way side by side. Totally normal. Nothing to see here, folks. Certainly not Wen Junhui making a complete ass of himself in front of a Hot Bad Boy Type.

They walked without saying anything, until the quiet got too loud for Junhui, and he said the only thing he could think of, while he was trying to concentrate on walking without tripping and behaving like a cool guy, instead of a giant freaking nerd. “You’re really good at drawing.”

Immediately, Junhui cringed. Internally. He hoped to hell it was remaining internal. It was basically the last thing he should have said, ever, because now he really was invading Minghao’s privacy, and Minghao was going to hate him forever, obviously, and they would never get to know each other and become friends and then become best friends, Kwon Soonyoung be damned, and after best friends came boyfriends, and he would finally, finally get to put his hands all over the 24-pack Minghao was probably hiding under his t-shirt.

Minghao stopped walking again. “You’ve seen my drawings?” He didn’t sound mad. He didn’t sound happy, either. He sounded...carefully careful. Cautious. Whatever.

Junhui scrambled for the right words. Ones that wouldn’t implicate him in any sort of illicit fuckery, preferably. “Um. Well. You see. I...I, uh--”

“You must have pretty good eyes, to see all the way from your desk over my arm,” Minghao mused. “I mean, I don’t do it on purpose, really. Putting my arm in the way of anyone seeing my paper. It’s just...a habit,” he finished, biting his lip. Junhui wondered if Minghao would ever get a lip ring. He had the mouth for it.

“I mean,” Junhui started, his mind still working overtime on a plausible cover story, “I guess I’ve seen maybe...one or two...pictures? Drawings? Like, just by chance, really, passing by or whatever. It’s not like...I haven’t like, been looking on purpose.”

That part was true, at least.

Minghao shrugged. “S’fine. I don’t care.” He didn’t say thank you. He was probably too busy thinking about how Junhui was a total weirdo. He wouldn’t be wrong.

Suddenly, Junhui realized that right then might be his only chance to talk to Minghao like this, one on one, with no one else around. Right then might have been the only time he could say any number of things he’d wanted to, for a long time.

Junhui finished sorting out the most embarrassing ideas, and stashed them in the side of his brain that was probably dead from too much school and too much Minghao exposure. In the end, he went with: “You know, if you ever wanted to like, study or draw or do...whatever, you could come to my apartment, there’s plenty of room there and I have my own room, and--”

Minghao’s expression turned dark before Junhui could register it was happening. He didn’t know what he’d said to cause it, to cause everything to flip so quickly. He just knew that Minghao was frowning now, looking anywhere except at Junhui as he bit some words out. “See you around, Junhui.” With that, Minghao stalked past Junhui and made a sharp right, and Junhui wanted to call out to him, to tell him that he wasn’t going in the direction of the offices anymore, he was going to the parking lot, but he figured Minghao was probably aware of that. It seemed pretty intentional.

He wondered what he’d said to set Minghao off. He wondered it all the way to the parking lot, walking much slower than Minghao had stomped away. Junhui glanced around when he got to his car. No Minghao. He sighed, unlocking the door and flopping down into the passenger seat, and absolutely did not spend the entire ten minute drive to his apartment picking apart every millisecond of the end of his conversation with Minghao, trying to understand what he’d done and how he could undo it.

In the end, Junhui decided (i.e., forced himself upon penalty of...whatever he could come up with, later, when it mattered) that he wasn’t going to let it get to him. He was an adult, sort of, with adult problems. Ones that didn’t include whatever multiple personalities Xu Minghao had at his disposal.

Junhui was fine. The events of that afternoon totally weren’t consuming him and threatening to swallow his thoughts whole.

He was fine.

“Hey, do you know Xu Minghao?” Junhui asked Soonyoung very casually over bowls of noodles at their kitchen table later that night, after he’d spent about four hours living his best, productive life, not obsessing over the Minghao Situation whatsoever, at all.

Soonyoung slurped a noodle between his pursed lips, chewing it as he answered. “Yeah. Why?”

Junhui didn't know why he was surprised. It wasn’t like he was the only person allowed to know Minghao. Even an antisocial Bad Boy™ like Minghao probably had to have at least a couple of friends.

Junhui frowned a little. “From where?”

Soonyoung shrugged. “I dunno. Around? I think I met him like, once, when he stopped by dance team practice. I guess he was thinking about joining, but never did.”

Junhui tried to imagine Minghao on Soonyoung’s dance team, doing all the intricate hip-hop moves and overtly sexual hip thrusts Soonyoung favored. He couldn’t do it. Maybe it was that he didn't want to do it, especially when he considered that last part. Shaking his head to clear that thought out, Junhui went on. “Oh,” he said, picking at his food again like nothing had happened.

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow at him. “‘Oh’? That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

Junhui pressed his lips together and hoped he wasn’t blushing. “Yes.”

Soonyoung dropped a few noodles back into his bowl. Junhui decided not to mention that the action made ramen broth splash all over the table.

Wiping his mouth with his napkin, Soonyoung stared at Junhui suspiciously. “Why, do you know him?”

Junhui shrugged. “Kind of, I guess. He’s in my Prob and Conf lecture.”

Soonyoung rolled his eyes. “Whatever that means.” He took another bite. “And?”

Junhui groaned. “And nothing, you mouth-breather. And I just wondered if he had any friends, or whatever. I guess.” He didn't really know why he was adding “I guess” to the end of all these thoughts, suddenly. Maybe Junhui felt like it would acquit him of some of the responsibility, make it okay that he had somehow ruined things with Minghao before they even started, and it would become totally reasonable that he had no idea why.

Soonyoung was smirking, now. “Wen Junhui, you have a crush.”

Junhui’s jaw dropped. “I do not!”

Nodding, Soonyoung started to look more and more victorious. Junhui wasn’t sure what he was claiming victory over, but he probably didn't want to find out, either. “Fuck yeah, you do, dude. It’s cool! You can crush on whoever you want!” he decided, as if Junhui needed his best friend’s permission to do so. Y’know. If he had a crush in the first place. Which he didn’t.

“Thank you,” Junhui muttered, dropping his head into his hands. He used the time to himself to think of how to steer this conversation in another direction, preferably one exactly opposite of where it was currently heading. It had already gone too far for his liking. Luckily, it only took a few moments for him to pinpoint a topic that would have Soonyoung running for the metaphorical hills, or at least his bedroom, leaving Junhui alone with his innumerable thoughts. “So, about the dog I’m definitely adopting soon…”

Soonyoung got up from the table immediately, snatching Junhui’s bowl from in front of him before he’d even finished his ramen. Junhui tried to protest. It didn’t really work, because Soonyoung was always one conversational step ahead of him, even when he was trying to change the subject himself.

“No, Jun. We are not getting a dog. They are horrible creatures who drool everywhere and tear up the furniture, and--”

“--not unlike you,” Junhui interjected, pleased at his own wit. He anticipated the smack on the head with a dish towel Soonyoung attempted to aim at him a half second before it happened, ducking his head as the towel whooshed above him. Soonyoung made sort of a hrmph sound, but he didn’t try for another slap.

“Jun. I don’t want a dog,” Soonyoung said, yelling to be heard over the rushing water at the sink. “I’m not a dog person. I’m not even a pet person!” he exclaimed.

Junhui rolled his eyes. “Well, I am, and I want a dog. It won’t be your dog, dude. You won’t even have to do anything! I’ll feed it and walk it and clean up after it.”

Soonyoung turned off the water, snorting. “Yeah, for about a month, until you lose interest and find some other thing to get into. Y’know, kinda like how you’ve been doing with these rando classes you keep signing up for, with no major in sight, for two years.”

Junhui wanted to argue with that, he really did. But Soonyoung was unequivocally right about the classes, even if Junhui hated to admit it.

He was still wrong about the dog, though.

“That’s not gonna happen, I swear,” Junhui promised. “I’ve wanted a dog since I was a kid, but my parents would never let me get one. Now I’ve got my own apartment--”

“--that you don’t have to pay for, because I pay for it out of my trust fund,” Soonyoung reminded him.

“I pay for groceries!” Junhui protested. “And, I bought that lamp right there,” he said, pointing a finger into the living room at the atrocious, cheap lighting fixture he’d brought home from the local flea market one Sunday afternoon.

Soonyoung plopped down into his chair across from Junhui again. “Congratulations, you own a lamp,” he said dryly.

Junhui ignored that jab, still thinking. Trying to find a way to get what he wanted. “I’ll do the dishes for a month,” he said finally. Soonyoung hated dishes. Junhui used that fact as a bargaining chip more frequently than he liked to admit.

Soonyoung rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Three months, and I’ll think about it.”

Junhui sat forward, his elbows on the table. “Two months, and I’m definitely getting a dog.”

“Two and a half, and you can have a gerbil,” Soonyoung countered.

“Two and three quarters, plus laundry, plus I’ll talk to that mean little midget T.A. you have a giant heart boner for on your behalf,” Junhui proposed, and when Soonyoung started to blush beet red, he knew he’d won.

He didn’t answer for a long while. They stared each other down at the table, neither of them wanting to break eye contact first. After a while, Junhui started to wonder if Soonyoung had fallen asleep with his eyes open. He wouldn’t put it past him. They’d known each other for ten years, and he’d seen it happen before.

“Two and three quarters, plus laundry, plus you’ll talk to Jihoon using only an approved list of comments and facts which I make for you and you do not go off book, got it, and I’ll continue to think about it,” Soonyoung decided.

“Go with me to the shelter this weekend, and you’ve got yourself a deal. The minute you lay eyes on those sweet little puppies, you’ll change your mind,” Junhui said confidently.

Soonyoung groaned. “I hate my life.”

Junhui grinned, fists in the air victoriously. “We’re getting a dog!”

[im-basically-logan]

Happy Density Day!

haha get it cuz the formula for density looks like a heart. I still dont know how to title things. Analogical V-Day fic anybody? (quick note- sorry if the pacing is sorta weird??? idk how story writing works. personally my favorite part is the last few paragraphs lmao)

Summary: Logan wants to give Virgil a poem for Valentine’s Day, but wants to make it as perfect as possible. Either way, Virgil loves it. Words: 2,796 Ship: Analogical, Royality (tho, it’s only briefly mentioned and analogical is the focus) TW: Kissing, sleeping at bad hours, uh... Patton tackles Roman playfully at one point Please send me an ask/message if I need to add a trigger. Genre: Fluff!!

@riverbendover @nokatai-realm @crowsketches @living-on-the-virge

It was about 3 days before Valentine’s Day and as much as Logan would usually show nonchalance or distaste towards the holiday, he’s been Virgil’s boyfriend for 8 months now. He wasn’t going to brush off their first Valentine’s Day. He was going to make the perfect card for his Virgil even if it meant he didn’t get any sleep that week. Well, that was an exaggeration and Virgil would probably ask as to why Logan’s sleep schedule had suddenly done a 180. But nonetheless, Logan was going to make a nice little card.

Logan started out with printer paper as a planning stage, wondering what to actually put in the card. He went through scribbled out drawings, minimalistic pictures, telling Virgil how beautiful he was, and finally settled on writing a poem. He was good at those. Usually.

His trash can in his room began filling with balled up clumps of paper which were drafts that he deemed not good enough.

“Clothes are dark as space,  but eyes as bright as the stars. I hope-- No.” Logan mumbled the poem out loud to himself, then crumpled up the paper, threw it to the side, and started anew. The side of his hand was turning gray from being left-handed and the graphite of the pencil he was using. “I cannot describe to you how much I love you. It was a revelation when I had discovered my feelings for you. Like when Newton discovered gravity. It was fundamental to understanding life as you are fundamental to me understanding emotions…” He tapped the pencil against his head quickly, trying to think. It sounded… Like something. It wasn’t too bad, but he decided to trash and rewrite it again. It was probably just fine, but Logan was a perfectionist.

He began writing a bit more before deciding to create the decorations on the light purple construction paper he found for the actual card. He had the equation 128√e980 written along over the spine while the card was flattened. The equation was supposed to be read while the card was closed and turned a certain way, and it would read “I love you” from being folded in half. He found the little trick while looking up ways to say I love you to a partner. In pen he neatly wrote inside the cover of the card the beginning to his poem to Virgil. The beginning was the only thing he was happy with at the moment, but he would add more later. He checked his watch and read 11:30 pm. He sighed, put his materials away and went to bed. Although made sure to put the card neatly into the drawer of his desk. It was only 2 days before Valentine’s Day and he barely had anything! He wanted to keep working on it, but also sleeping was important and he and the others were working on getting a full night’s rest. Besides, Virgil would badger him in the morning about it and he couldn’t have his boyfriend find his surprise.

Logan went through the next day rather smoothly: Nice comebacks to Roman, reminding Thomas of important events, and of course a few nice kisses with Virgil in the middle of it all. Patton always grinned if he caught them and Roman always teased them until Logan mentioned it was almost Valentine’s Day.

“We are allowed to have physical affection, especially around this time of year, correct?” Logan asked Roman, raising a brow with a pouting expression.

“Well I suppose so, but… You two are such nerds!” Roman responded weakly, unable to come up with a witty reply. Patton butted in, putting his arm around Roman’s shoulders.

“Now, don’t be mean, Roman. It’s your time of the year, isn’t it? Valentine’s Day! A day of Roman-ce.” Patton laughed and Virgil, who was leaning slightly against Logan, snickered. Logan sighed with a very small hint of a smile while Roman rolled his eyes with a laugh. He exited with Patton, most likely about to go on an adventure or brainstorm. Logan, although, had a pit in his stomach as he was constantly reminded Valentine’s Day was just around the corner.

Such terrible planning on my end… He thought, biting the inside of his mouth before kissing Virgil on the head as they went to do their own separate things for now. He sank out and went to his room, relieved to find it just as it was when he left it. He hadn’t taken out his trash yet, but he assumed Virgil wouldn’t go digging through it at least and see the drafts. Checking his watch, which read 8:30 pm, Logan pulled out the drawer and took out the card. He drew a little density equation on the back, coloring in the little heart that the symbols for mass over volume created. He then opened the card back up, rereading the beginning of the poem he kept from a draft.

“I don’t believe I’ll be able to explain my love towards you. Like how it is a mystery as to the true way the universe was created despite the many theories. How the chances of us existing together may have been smaller than a quark, But we managed to exist and come together.” Logan sat down at his desk and began writing a bit more, once again mumbling the words to himself as he wrote. “Your mind can be as far away as a galaxy,

but I’d travel the light years.

You’re a fundamental element in my life, Like gravity to planets and stars.” He bit the bottom of his lip, unable to think of anything else to add. “I can’t even write a simple poem…” He murmured to himself, dropping his pencil. He kept his head up with his left hand, trying to think. There wasn’t any specific pattern or rhyme to the poem. It was purely just him rambling about how great Virgil is in metaphors about space and science. Would Virgil even enjoy that? He created a small, curvy border with a blue pen on the inside of the card, but cringed as he looked back to the unfinished poem. Then he put another line. “I am and always will be unable to express how much I care for you.” It was true, but the poem felt too short and he barely had an idea on how to end it. He wrote on the other half of the inside of the card “Happy Valentine’s Day, Virgil. Love, Logan”, drew a simplistic galaxy on the front, and went back to his previous position of laying his head atop his hand. Instead of coming up with any ideas, Logan somehow fell asleep on his hand. He took his nap for about 4 hours, waking up at the superb hour of around 1 am and his head ended up on the desk with his hand still upright. Great. Only 1 day until Valentine’s Day and he was barely done with his card. He dug his hands into his hair in frustration. It should have been easy to write a poem. But no it was going to be difficult and now he was tired as hell. He decided to create the blue borders on the outside of the card while waiting for the others to get up. After finishing the border, which did look rather nice, he put it back in the desk drawer and went to sleep in his bed this time. Although he didn’t fall asleep immediately. Of course not. He was thinking about what Virgil would think if he barely had anything to give. The poem was pretty choppy… he should rewrite it again. What if Virgil didn’t even want a card? Would chocolates have been better?

Luckily, Logan didn’t stay up late enough to question anymore as he crashed into sleep while thinking about Virgil. Said side must have felt Logan still being awake because he made his way into Logan’s room having woke up early himself. It was dark so he couldn’t see the trash can of the Valentine’s drafts but he could feel his way over to Logan’s bed and curled into his chest almost like a human-sized cat. Before going back to sleep, he kissed Logan’s cheek and put his head half on some pillow and half on the mattress with his head lying against the top of Logan’s chest. He didn’t mind sleeping like this, in fact if he was resting next to Logan on just a mattress he’d be content like that as well.

In the morning, the actual morning of about 7:45 am, Logan found a Virgil sleeping next to him. He sighed dreamily, then remembered that he still hadn’t thrown out his god damn drafts yet. Logan tried to move as subtly and quietly as possible to not wake Virgil. He eventually got out of  bed and moved the plastic bin under his desk quickly as he heard Virgil shuffling on the bed. Then he went back over his bed, kissing Virgil’s forehead.

“Virge? C’mon, it’s almost 8 o’ clock,” Logan said, looking at his watch. Virgil was awake, but he kept his eyes closed as he replied,”I don’t wanna.”

“Patton’s making french toast.” “5 more minutes.”

“We both know that means 5 more hours, metaphorically and even literally at times.”

“Shush, nerd.” Virgil eventually opened his eyes and got up, his hair messy and partially standing. Logan smirked at the other’s appearance, holding out his hand for Virgil to take. So Virgil takes it gladly and they move on with the rest of their day.

Logan had barely any opportunities to work on his card but while there was a short lull he managed to write a few more lines. “You’re nothing short of breath taking. A star should be named after you. No, a galaxy.”

He stopped as he felt a presence in his room. It was Patton. Oh thank god. They both headed off to the commons to discuss with the other two about the big day tomorrow.

“What are you two doing?” Roman asked Virgil and Logan. They both shrugged, but Logan of course, had a small gift to finish.

“Why are you asking?” Virgil replied. “What are you doing, Princey?” Roman was about to respond when he was suddenly tackled by Patton on the couch, letting out a boisterous laugh.

“Well of course, romantic things! Anyways, I thought you’d both at least say something like spending time with each other.” He continued as Patton got off and sat next to him, a wide grin on his face.

“Well that’s a given, isn’t it?” That was Logan, who quirked a brow.

Virgil shrugged. “Sure. We can just chill out here since Romano and Patton are probably going to the fantasy realm or whatever.”

Logan nodded as Roman scoffed at the seemingly mundane idea. He said it was such a boring thing to do on Valentine’s Day, but Virgil didn’t mind.

They all went off to do their jobs and then night time came around again.

Logan was rushing through his notes after playing a game of 52 pickup with his slang vocab cards which he foolishly dropped while hurrying back to his room. He closed his binder with satisfaction after looking at the schedule, putting it away in a separate drawer from the card, which he took back out of its hiding place. He was clueless as to what to add. It had barely any stanzas. Logan tapped his pencil against the table, making a fast paced clicking noise.

“Ughhh!” The logical facet sighed, his mind totally blank. “I should have gotten more hours of sleep.” He looked at his watch: 10:40 pm. He could still finish it by tomorrow. Logan, although, was holding his head up with his forearms, consciousness blinking on and off. He decided, if anything, to add just one more line he could think of. Everything else was decorated and he could finish it after taking a quick nap. He wrote it down slowly due to fatigue, but still tried his best to make it look neat.

“I love--”

Then somehow passed out while writing with a pen. Though, Thomas used to do that at times so was it really that surprising? He was out cold for a while and even slept past 8 am.

“Logan?” Virgil called, noticing Logan’s absence in the morning from the commons. Then Virgil finally found his boyfriend’s head resting on his desk with a nicely decorated card next to his right arm. He noticed the still full trash can of paper and then picked up the card. He didn’t read the inside yet, wanting to see the other things first. He noticed the equation “I love you” message first and chuckled at such a nerdy detail. Then he found the density formula on the back and smirked. How had he been so blessed as to have had such a caring nerd in his life?

Virgil finally opened the card to see the partially unfinished poem on the left flap and a nicely written closing on the right. He saw his name, so this must’ve been for him.

“I guess he didn’t finish…” Virgil concluded out loud to himself, but he really wanted to read the poem. Logan had written him previous poems and he absolutely loved them. So he read it aloud, mumbling the words under his breath.

“I don’t believe I’ll be able to explain my love towards you. Like how it is a mystery as to the true way the universe was created despite the many theories. How the chances of us existing together may have been smaller than a quark, But we managed to exist and come together. Your mind can be as far away as a galaxy,

but I’d travel the light years. You’re a fundamental element in my life, Like gravity to planets and stars. I am and always will be unable to express how much I care for you. You’re nothing short of breathtaking. A star should be named after you. No a nebula. I love…”

Logan had woken up as Virgil was reading the second to last stanza, although wasn’t completely aware of his surroundings yet.

“Morning, dear,” Logan greeted with a yawn, adjusting his glasses and hair as much as he could. He was calm and tired until he saw what Virgil had in his hand and then he was fully awake in an instant.

“I… did you read that?” Virgil nodded slowly, hoping the logical facet wasn’t upset. They sat in silence for a few moments before Virgil, surprisingly, broke the silence.

“Um… I really liked it, actually. Really.” He gave a genuine smile, moving to plant a kiss on Logan’s messy hair.

“Really?” “Yes, I did.” “It’s not even finished or--” Logan almost tripped over his own feet trying to sit up from the chair. It was way too early for this. (It was almost 1 pm).

Virgil laughed as Logan struggled to stand up and move, eventually falling onto his bed face first before slowly turning himself around and sitting up. Virgil made his way over to the bed too with much less stumbling, sitting down next to Logan.

“I assume this-” Virgil pointed at the word “love” at the end of the poem. “-is supposed to say ‘I love you’, right?”

Logan looked at Virgil deliriously for a few seconds before practically diving forward and kissing him. Virgil almost let go of the card, but held on and melted into the kiss, smiling as he did so. Then they both fell backwards onto the bed in suppressed giggles.

“I’ve never seen you this giddy,” Virgil commented teasingly.

Logan pointed an index finger straight up as in an objection. “In my defense, I’m very tired.” They both broke into laughter again. After a few minutes of Logan waking up, he had Virgil give him the card to finish writing out “you” and then gave it back.

“I love it, Logan.” He looked at the now fully visible trash can of drafts. “Man… I wish I made something.”

“It’s okay Virgil, you yourself are enough,” Logan replied, pecking Virgil on the forehead who look assured enough for now.

They eventually made their way downstairs, Virgil still latching onto the card, and had their first Valentine’s Day. It consisted of Virgil constantly complimenting Logan’s card and poem, making him blush, and Logan constantly saying how amazing Virgil is, making him blush as well. They cuddled on the couch and watched a few documentaries about space and other oddities.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, dear.” Logan presses a kiss to Virgil’s lips for the millionth time today.

Virgil smiles into it and responds,”Happy Valentine’s Day, nerd.”

[dark-canary]

My Day 3/17/2018

I'm having a day. A day that started at like, three in the morning, as I was trying to get a few hours of sleep in. So, I've decided to just share what it's been like so far in one long post, instead of several smaller sporadic posts. So first I was trying to fall asleep. I could feel myself hoovering just at the edge of it and there were a lot of sounds happening in the house. I have cats, so that's not really unusual. But these were weird even for them. However, I let it go. I had enough things to worry about, like whether or not I was still going to be sick in the morning or if this swollen lymph node under my arm is actually cancer. Needless to say I had a lot on my mind. I'm sure lots of people wonder things like that when something like this happens or they find a lump, but I may lean a bit more towards the hypochondriac side of the scale. Although this isn't just some crazy thing or me overreacting. I mean it is but I have a good reason to be afraid of every lump and bump I get that doesn't go away immediately after having a 14lb tumor removed from me when I was 18. Literally almost died because I just figured I was gaining more weight and the rest of my family thought I was faking being sick and throwing up all the time for attention. Go figure. (It was benign though so that was good.) So anyway, I was trying to calm down and ended up creating a soothing little mantra or blessing. “The smoke that I breathe in will lift my spirits high, cure my body's ailments, and open my third eye.” A few hours later I woke up and decided to get out of bed instead of going back to sleep. I had some weird dreams but oddly enough I didn't remember then when I woke up, which is really unusual for me. I can almost always recall my dreams at least for a little while after I wake, that's how I'm able to write down the really significant ones. But that wasn't in the cards for today. So I didn't have a dream to write down, nothing I could remember at least, I got up, performed my new little blessing, and got ready for the day. I was feeling unusually aware of my surroundings and the emotions running through me as well as sights, sounds, smells. Everything felt heightened when I woke up. I got out of bed, had some coffee, ate a little bit of Challah bread. It was delicious. Breakfast Hack: Challah bread with a little bit of nutella and some sweet iced coffee or frap. You're welcome. (Recommended for special occasions because calories.) I was sitting there, eating my breakfast when a crow started circling overhead my home and cawing. Pretty positive it was only one crow. Didn't think much of it other than, huh that's weird. And only weird because crows and ravens are a method of communication I use with my gods. They are also a symbol for secret knowledge, keepers of knowledge and or wisdom, second sight or psychic abilities (which I've been trying to increase lately), death or change omens, and as a pattern of the last year and a half usually only land and/or caw in that manner when I need to receive a message or something is going to happen. But me feeling the strange sort of way I've been feeling today decided it was nothing. Now, let me be clear. I'm a strong believer that not everything is a magical omen or a sign. Some things are just things. I don't believe in coincidences but I do believe that not everything we experience is supernatural. Except for ravens and crows which I never, ever ignore because I use them for a specific purpose and have only come around it seems when I need a sign, something is going to happen, or a communication from a higher spirit. But no, I ignored that, because I thought today was just normal. Just a, let's burn some incense, maybe talk to my tarot deck, play a game and listen to music, watch Shane videos, kinda day. So the crow thing happens. And I'm like, huh that's weird but whatever. I read a little bit, burn some incense, watch some Shane Dawson. And then I see that one of my favorite youtube artists, DrawingWiffWaffles, has released her video for this week. So I go to watch it. She's doing a marker review, cool. So I'm watching, having a good time. She's reviewing the markers. (I'm going to link the video below). They're pretty good markers it looks like. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8NPhp2RF9o She's doing a final colored piece with them at the end of the video. I'm watching, not like super intent but very chill. She gets to the end of the video, the drawing is finished. She's flipping the page to show us the drawing. And as she does I notice something. There, in the drawing, something I would have never normally noticed. There in the corner. What is that? It's a face. No not the face of the character she drew. A different face. A face that does not belong right? (Pictures. All art is credited to Drawingwiffwaffles)

I think, wow that's really weird. I wonder if anyone else saw the face. For some reason my mind is like, “hey you know how waffles has been having some health troubles and life troubles lately.” (She spoke about it in a video a few weeks ago). And I'm like, yeah I remember that. My brain is like, “Maybe she's being haunted.” And I just stopped for a minute, and thought about it, and thought about how crazy I am literally thinking something so ridiculous about the troubles a person I very much respect is having lately. So I start to feel bad. Because that's kinda twisted. I mean you wouldn't go up to someone you respected and admired and be like “hey I'm sorry to hear about all your health troubles. Do you think you might be cursed or haunted?” That's so rude. And it is absolutely not my intent to like belittle what she's going through. Not at all. But it's weird to me because I'm very, very cautious about the whole spirits thing. Do I believe in them? Absolutely. Have I interacted with them before? Definitely. Did I not just have a very unusual dream about seeing spirits? I did. But do I think they are behind every flickering light bulb or blow curtain? Definitely not. But is it super weird that I suddenly saw the face of a woman who looks very, very detailed (or at least she did to me) in a drawing done by a person who is going through some stuff? Yes. So while I'd never jump to that conclusion, I did make a note of it in my head. I even took some screenshots as you can see above. Like come on, look at the way those dark and light strokes align just right. It's weird! So there I was, contemplating the unnerving existence of a mind that could conjure up such twisted thoughts – my mind – and out of nowhere I start hearing these thumps and voices outside, like it seems like it's coming from my yard. Which of course freaked me out because I have a sever anxiety disorder and I do not like surprises and I was not expecting anyone. So I go to the window and look out and there, in my neighbor's yard about twenty to thirty feet away from my window, is an entire Baptist youth group. They came in a white van with blue letters. And they were picking up sticks and things in the neighbor's yard (she's an elderly woman, very nice, who recently lost her husband and dog. Like in the last few months). Real like, good samaritan shit. Like right on, guys, I know she could use the help. Good on you. But like, not gonna lie, it still freaked me out a bit. I don't have the best track record for getting on well with religious people or organizations. I mean, I'm courteous and polite and all that, and I've actually studied quite a few of the more Christian religions when I was first trying to decide what sort of path to take. But they gave off a vibe. Like. Trouble. Which is weird because they were there doing a good deed but some of those kids just screamed I might vandalize your home. Now, I did not interact with them, I didn't have to. And as I said I have anxiety so I have real trouble knowing when to trust my intuition and when to tell it to shushush. Of course my intuition and psychic abilities work fabulously as long as I'm not trying to see into my own future or look at my own problems. But that's something for another day. So that has been my day so far. I was reminded by the witches in my discord group that not only is Jupiter in retrograde but also tonight is the New Moon and the moon always got me fucked up. But I can't help shake this strange feeling. I don't know. So that’s been my day so far. What about you guys? Have any weird or interesting encounters today? Hallowed Hunting friends and fellow witches, Ydra

[callsignbaphomet]

For J/A - 1, 4, 6, 14, 17 For you - 24, 27, 30, 31

Oops, I hit save as draft last night.1. What drew your character to their LI and vice versa?For Angelus it was the fact that Jelani was the first friendly face he saw in a long time. After he physically recovered Jelani was still there keeping an eye on him and encouraging him and as time went on and Angelus got to know him better he came to love how confident and strong he is and how sweet and positive he is as a person. He just completely fell in love with him.For Jelani it was weird at first. He'd first met Angelus when he was 15 years old so he never thought of Angelus that way for very obvious reasons. Despite them having kissed well after Angelus was 25 and several other "close moments" Jelani still didn't feel that strongly about him. It wasn't until Angelus confessed to him, practically 2 centuries later, that he was in love with him that Jelani started to see him a little different. There was already something there but I think you could say it was closer to lust than love. He always liked how he was as a person, he found his stubbornness and drive appealing since he's that way himself. He liked that he could always count on him for anything and always showed up when he needed something. He liked how nice he is to everyone. It just doubled after Angelus confessed but it was the way Angelus confessed that really got to Jelani and it stuck with him to the point where he reevaluated exactly how he felt about him.4. Their favorite physical feature on each other?Angelus: his eyes. Not because of the color. Ironically he thinks blue eyes are really mundane. It's something else. He looks at his eyes and it's the safest and warmest he feels.Jelani: he thinks he has an adorable face and when he smiles and laughs it just lights up and it gets better.6. Who is the big spoon?It's definitely Angelus. He loves to cuddle to fall asleep so he ends up being the big spoon.14. Is there anything they associate with each other?Pencils and sketchbooks for Angelus. Music and animals for Jelani.17. Their ways of expressing their love.Lots of ways. Even in the field when telling each other that they love each other or something as simple as holding hands isn't the place for it it's understood how they always keep an eye on each other to make sure they're okay. Not in the field it goes a little more than just saying I love you, Jelani isn't the type to say it a lot but he does love him and shows it by making sure Angelus is okay, eating, taking his medication, when he isn't feeling right he's right there with him and helps him however he can, he's always on him making sure he doesn't need anything and while it might not be the most "romantic" way to show he loves him it goes a long way than just little words.Angelus on the other hand constantly tells Jelani that he loves him but he's also right there when Jelani needs anything, being second in command is far more demanding and very draining and Jelani can easily go months without a day off so he makes sure he gets enough sleep, is well rested when he's home and he literally pampers him. He's very supportive as well, I know I say that Jelani is very sure of himself but a lot of times he fakes it to get through it but it helps knowing that his husband is always there to back him up.24. Is their any moment that happens between them that you know happens and just makes you melt? I mention it all the time but I can't help but just melt and die when Jelani spent over a month trying to propose and couldn't go through with it because he was too nervous. The fun part is that he is NOT shy and every time he sets out to do something he's mostly confident and sure of himself but he was just a wreck. In the end he managed to do it obviously. I don't know, it was just so cute to write that.27. What makes you excited about their relationship?Honestly, it's fun as hell writing them when they're out in the field where there is danger everywhere and both are in their A game but the most I look forward to is when I get to write them in a domestic sort of way. After the danger has passed and they made it home safe, took care of each other's injuries and are just sitting down in the living and looking at the bruises and stitches, laughing and recalling the events.30. How does their love change as they get older?I think it just gets more and more comfortable as they get older. That's the only word that comes to mind when it comes to both of them.31. Share anything you would like about the couple!When it comes to video games which they indulge hours on if they get the chance to they sort of have this rivalry going just for fun. They always pick opposing factions/groups, always pick each other's counters in fighting games, always hunt each other down in FPS games if they somehow end up on opposing teams and try to beat each other's scores and then boast about it but secretly they're happy for the other.

[ghostsnbees]

HELLO here’s the short story I worked on for a couple of hours for a school contest,,,,,,,,,,,,,, its called “And Time Stopped When I Saw You”

tw for hints of self-harm (though theres nothing explicit and it just seems like thats whats being implied) and bleeding ;;

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Another minute passes by.

Tick. Tock. Tick. To-

“Okay, fine, you win.”

I pressed the ball-point pen a bit too hard, leaving a visible red mark on my forearm. The badly scribbled sentence on my arm was barely legible- nobody I knew understood it. Except for one particular person.

All of a sudden, as if like magic- blue ink strokes were swirling on my arm. If it really was “magic”, it didn’t feel that way anymore. This was normal for me. This was normal for us. The once unrecognisable strokes became clearer and clearer, until it formed..

“☺”

“..Rude.”

The culprit of the blue and neatly drawn smiley face was Karamveer- or K for short. He was to me what most would call… a soulmate, perhaps. We were bound together by fate or whatever- and though most people had what we called “The Red String of Fate”, or the “Grayscale view” that connected two soulmates, K and I were tied differently. Different in a way that whenever he drew on himself, the marks would appear on me, too, and vice versa. We used this to communicate with one another- because for some odd reason, he doesn’t want to tell me where he is, or if there’s any other way i could communicate with him. So we were stuck like this- drawing dumb marks on our limbs in a somewhat desperate attempt to talk with one another.

“See? Even you admit it. I’m just that irresistible.”

“Yuck, shut up.”

“;))”

I let out a small chuckle. This boy is gonna kill me someday— if he hasn’t already.

“wait brb gonna do smth. don't die while I'm gone lol”

My eyes blink over towards the clock rested beside my bed— it was 2am. I had school.

“on the subject of death, i’ll be signing off for tonight. its like. 2am here. Night K.”

I wince at how hard I pressed on my forearm again, and at how bad my handwriting was. I hope he could still understand.

“Gnight Ani <3”

I feel something flutter in my chest seeing the little heart scribbled beside the stupid little nickname he gave me. After staring at the blue symbol on my arm for what felt like a while, I brush the feeling off and head to bed.

—

“Animosah Agbon?”

My eyes tear open upon hearing my name. I was dozing off in class again.

“What’s the answer for number 11?”

I blink at the chalkboard and reposition my big reading glasses. “Uhhhhh….” The whole class is staring at me, a few of my classmates snickering and talking between themselves. I frown.

“Sixteen…four… no, in the equation 2y+16=6y-4, y is equal to 5.”

My classmates whoop and cheer while my teacher subtly smiles to herself. I slink back into my chair shyly and take my favorite retractable black pen out of my pencil case, rolling up my long sleeve to see if he’s written anything.

“please save me. i don’t like it in school anymore.”

Not a few seconds later, a reply is scribbled on my palm. “Ohhh, i hear ya. The only thing that kept me sane was the actually decent food they had there. Other than that, school is quite literally a juvenile prison.”

“,,,,why are you talking in past tense????”

“its for me to know and for you to find out :))”

“I hate you”

“ I love you too <3”

I try and hold back a small smile, but it peeps out anyway. I look around to see if anyone else has noticed. They’re all pre-occupied with something- Alvis with her string of fate, Callum asking his friend Xavier what color the chalk on the board was, Elenoir re-checking the ink of his token pen. Before I can fully fall asleep, the school bell chimes and everyone is rushing to their next class.

—

I plop onto my bed and read the conversations we shared throughout the day. He kept me awake through the majority of my subjects but stopped replying by the time I was writing on my ankles. I wasn’t sure what his timezone was, but I do admit- it would look pretty weird if he was scribbling with a colored gel-pen on his leg in public. Not even in public- just in general.

“I dont know if your still awake but good night”

“**you’re”

I groan and scrawl a small ‘e’ beside the misspelled word.

“goodnig”

The next few letters don’t come, and the text smudges itself. I subconsciously frown. What was he doing? I feel my stomach turn in knots in worry and I choke on my spit. Head screaming for relief, I shut my eyes tight and force my probably malfunctioning body to fall asleep.

—

When I open my eyes the next morning, the sun’s rays immediately burn and blur my sight, causing me to roll out of bed with a unceremonious thump! After lying on the floor for what seemed like 5 minutes, I check my arm to see if K wrote anything new.

..Nothing.

Before panic settles in, I lift the hem of my pajamas to check if the ones he wrote on my right leg were still there.

..All of his marks were gone.

Perhaps he just took a bath?

That’s.. impossible. He never washes the ink thoroughly enough for it to disappear.

..Is he okay?

“Are you okay?”

—

5 hours later and he still hasn’t replied.

At this point I’m awkwardly sprawled on my bed, occasionally lifting my arm to see if he’s said anything.

Where did he go?

—

2 weeks and still nothing.

I’ve been doing worse in school. My parents are getting uneasy, my teachers are concerned.

I wish I could talk to him again.

—

One month.

One month and my limbs are clean, aside from the numerous writings I’ve left asking where he was.

I haven’t slept well since the day he stopped replying. Am I too clingy? Am I too concerned? Should I stop trying?

..Maybe I am. Maybe I should. But no, I won’t.

I guess I just.. really, really miss him.

—

“Class dismissed!”

I stand up quickly and fumble for my bag and everyone rushes out of the room.

“..Animosah, can you stay for a bit?”

I grimace at my teacher, and she responds by softening her worried smile. I approach her slowly without maintaining eye contact with her.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I really don’t want to.”

She must’ve noticed me rubbing my forearm because her face grows with concern.

“Animosah, what’s on your arm..?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Animosah. Show me.”

“Ma’am, please-“

“Ani.”

I almost gag at the nickname she called me.

Hesitantly, I shakily roll up my sleeve and lift up my right arm. It was nearly fully covered with ink marks- desperate pleas begging to know where my soulmate was. Tears start to roll down my cheeks as I quickly withdraw my arm and bend over to stifle my cries. My teacher quickly leaps to her feet and kneels to reach my eye level. She cups my face in her hands and pulls me into a hug.

“..Everything will be alright soon, dear. He will come back to you soon. I promise.”

And I hoped she was right.

—

My eyes feel a little dry after crying.

The town was a bustling, lively place of no sleep. The people there were a smiling and happy bunch- nearly everyone knew each other, and nearly everyone was friends. Though the townspeople greeted me with countless ‘good morning!’s and ‘hello!’s, I wasn't in the mood to even wave back. I felt like a sulking rat in a sea of adorable rabbits.

I hated it.

The roads were already familiar to me, so I walk in an almost rhythmic pattern to try to lighten my mood. Street Maya, Street Kassel, Street Avida, Street Ramas, Street Ettiel, Street Maya, Street Kassel, Str-

Wait.

I glance at the street sign. I’m at Street Avida.

..What.

Suddenly the air feels tight in my throat. I gasp ang gag, silently crying for air. I’m kneeling on the sidewalk when I see someone walking towards me. HELP! HELP! I try to scream, but I just cough harder.

The person walks past me without any sign of acknowledgement.

No, wait-!

In an instant, I’m dragged by the collar into an alleyway I didn’t even notice was there. When I’m pushed against the wall, I feel the air get knocked out of my lungs and I’m left hacking and coughing on the floor. The stranger who dragged me looms over me in a somewhat curious manner, examining my features slowly. They brush the hair off my face and I get a clear look at them- Their face is shrouded by a black hood, but with what little light peaking through they appeared to be young. The hood extended into a cloak reaching until their feet. The only eye-catching thing about them was a carefully-crafted pocket watch dangling off their hand.

“Who.. Who are you?”

“That’s not important, dear.”

Their voice rung in my head like an alarm clock- except it was less annoying. They spoke in an echo-y mixture of voices- my mom’s, my dad’s, my teachers’, my friends’, and so many other people. It felt calming in so many ways, but it also raised a dozen more questions.

“What’s important to you is what I have to offer.”

“What? Offer? I’m really sorry but I’m not interested in another car de-“

Even if I couldn’t see their face, I could tell they were glaring.

“Sorry.”

“It’s quite alright, love.” They look at my arm. “..You miss your soulmate, yes?”

I painfully look away and nod lightly.

“I see. I was like you once. I had a left wing of white feathers and my soulmate had the right of black. We flew together in the skies, hands intertwined. One day, however, he stopped wanting to fly with me. He never told me why, but all answers came to me once all my feathers fell out. I suppose we both flew too close to the sun.”

I gulp and mouth a subtle “I’m sorry”.

“..I’m sorry too, dear. I’m afraid I might've gone on a little tangent there. See, that might’ve happened to me, but that doesn’t have to happen to you, too.”

I look up at them. “What do you mean?”

“Fate has given you a chance, sunshine. As a sorceress of time, they’ve instructed me to give you a choice.”

“Time will stop in this world and shall only go on for you both. You have all the time in the world to look for him. And when you two meet eyes, the cycle of the earth shall continue. But you must hurry. Best of luck to you, love.”

“Hurry? Why? Is something wrong?”

..They’re gone.

—

When I wake up the next morning, everything is in black and white.

I check my alarm clock and it’s frozen at 6:12 am.

..That wasn’t a dream?

..That was real. Which means-

I jump out of bed, throw on a long sleeve blouse and pants and bolt towards the door. I almost trip on the stairs and when I fling the front door open, I tumble on a package that nearly sends me flying. I regain my composure and open the package. In it was a necklace with a red gem etched with mysterious writings and a note. The note said:

“This necklace will be able to transport you to whichever place you wish to be and light up whenever he may be near. Just say the word and you shall be there. Good luck, my dear. May the stars be forever in your favor. -SHUVHISKRGH”

I didn’t feel like decoding their name anymore. All I knew was one thing- I had to look for him.

I bring the necklace to my lips and whisper..

“Bring me… Bring me to my heart.”

The gem glows, and the mysterious writings ring in my ears in a unknown language. I shut my eyes tight as I’m enveloped by the red light and..

I fall to the ground and I groan.

I quickly get up and stumble a bit. Where was I? I was somewhere unfamiliar and new, that was for sure. I shuffle on tiled grounds. The place was filled with people that didn’t look all that friendly. The buildings surrounding me stood proud and tall like skyscrapers- and it was driving me crazy. I try to remain calm and examine my surroundings.

The necklace I held tight in my hand glowed faintly.

He’s here.

I dash from street to street, checking if the necklace would glow any brighter. And when it was as bright as a fire in my hand, I look up and see a figure looking down from a window.

The shadow places its hand on the glass, and glances at me. Suddenly my chest feels like its being tugged towards it, causing me to stumble. I hit the ground and before I can get up, something taps my shoulder

“Are you alright, miss?”

“Yes, I-“

..Wait, what?

The stranger has his arm stretched out, so I take it and heave myself up.

“..Thank you, sir.” I say as the man begins to walk away.

Time’s moving. That means-

I shoot my head up and see the figure by the window. It looked clearer now- it appeared to be a young boy my age in a hospital gown. He writes something on his left arm, lifts his right, smiles, and I realize who he was.

I run towards the building as quick as I can. My chest is pounding and I’m running out of breath but I don’t care. Before I reach the entrance, pain shoots up my left arm and I fall over. Blood was seeping through my sleeve and I cry out for help. With the little strength still left in my body, I roll up the cloth and see something etched into my inner forearm in very familiar neat cursive writing. When the realisation hits me, I start to cry even harder.

“i love you.”

..Always and forever.

[writingmaniacnerdart]

Resurrected Repartee: A Hallowed Shapes AU Chapter 16 - May I?

These are alternative scenes and/or snippets of a developing relationship between my OC and Loki from my original fiction, Hallowed Shapes, for any shippers out there.

Terra Barloc is a member of Damage Control, an organization that cleans up super messes, and frankly, all of them are kind of tired of cliches and super bulls***t. She has abilities to see "life energy" as she calls it, and through lies and facades. That means shape-shifting and tricking her can be well, tricky. Plus, she's addicted to caffeine, painkillers don't have much of an affect on her, and she can't get drunk.

What happens the first time when she meets Loki, Prince of Asgard? Well, he was invading Earth and...She tackled him, insulted him, and uh, it's best just to read. Let's just say these two have issues, massive issues.

So getting them into a romance, is going to be a bit of an adventure.

They stood in a small field, surrounded by flowers and plants with scents sweet yet soft enough that weren't overpowering. Terra had looked slightly afraid at first, tentative as she touched one of the primroses, and he cradled it before placing one that had fallen into her hair, using his magic to heal it. Her hand caught his as he did so, and she bit her lip. Slowly then, she drew his hand to her hip, and the other tentatively to her shoulder.

Both of their cheeks flushed as they continued where they left off on the ship, dancing slowly, though this time, to music only they could hear.

There you stand, opened heart, opened doors

Loki truly had only been planning on showing her the gardens to take her mind off of things, so when their dance ended, he was pleasantly surprised when she asked, “Loki...May I kiss you?”

Full of life with a world that's wanting more

Looking at her in astonishment, and then adoration, he nodded, tilting her chin, “Yes.”

But I can see when the lights start to fade

Cupping her cheek, he leaned downward, but made sure she was the one that chose to meet him as well.

The day is done and your smile has gone away

Their breaths mingled as there was a pause on both sides, waiting, anticipating and giving a chance to let either one back out. As their lips met, he wanted to drown in her scent, tasting her for the first time. He didn’t care that she was slightly chapped or if there was dust intermingling with her fruity and baked scents. He just wanted her.

Let me raise you up, let me be your love

Slowly, one hand went to her waist as the other intermingled in her hair that was dark as the night-sky above them. Tentatively, she licked his bottom lip and he gasped, pleased  and carefully returning the motion, making her shiver as her hands clenched in his shirt.

May I hold you as you fall to sleep?

He removed his hand from her waist and slowly guided one of her hands to his head, to his hair, murmuring, “Please.”

When the world is closing in and you can't breathe here

Her eyes opened, widening and unsure for a moment before feeling, grasping and interweaving in the softness there. There was an almost childish joy there as she experimented, touching his hair with her fingertips before softly feeling through his locks and kissing him again.

May I love you, may I be your shield

Oh gods, her eyes were the color of the darkest meads from Asgard, and they were still shining, burning in the starlight as they lit up in the night.

When no one can be found, may I lay you down?

They both burst out giggling and fell back into the flowers, him under her as he shielded her from hitting the ground. With her lying on top of him, he looked up at her, flushed and happy, and somehow, miraculously, even though he had the deepest urge to kiss her, lust was furthest on the edges on his mind.  Their lips met once more and she laid by his side, nuzzling into him.

All I want is to keep you safe from the cold

Their hands together, he felt so much younger than he had in eons. And yet, with her other hand over his chest, and his hand over hers, he felt so much older.  Yet, his age didn’t matter in either case because there was an overwhelming sense of peace he couldn’t get enough of. Taking it, he kissed the inside of her palm, causing her to inhale.

To give you all that your heart needs the most

She was hesitant, but asked, “We uh, back on the ship before all of this-”

Let me raise you up

He stroked her cheek, “I meant what happened back then, and I mean what’s happening now...Terra, I also meant what I said when you were trying to come back. I, I would like to court you.”

Let me be your love

Her blush was adorable, “I, I don’t have much experience...As in I’ve literally been on one date in my entire life before.”

May I hold you as you fall to sleep?

“Were they kind at the very least?”

She smiled, “Yes, it just didn’t work out, and we kind of knew that from the start. It was more for fun in any case. Nothing too serious, and more of a playdate really. I just, wanted to go on a date with someone I felt wasn’t going to try anything at the time.”

When the world is closing in

Loki smirked a little, “ ‘Try anything’?”

Terra grimaced and he realized he made a mistake. “Um, you don’t know how dangerous dating can be for women on Earth, do you? Loki, there have literally been women killed for refusing dates or even meeting in public places with those they thought they could trust. And far more, even after death or right before who were assaulted. For a lot of us, it’s truly terrifying. And for me...I, well, I didn’t want to walk myself back into a bad memory I guess.”

By Hela. “It’s that awful?”

And you can't breathe here

His intended was sincere. “I mean it. Damage Control is sometimes called in to clean up the aftermath. It’s...Not easy.”

May I love you?

He sat up so that he met her eyes and took both her hands, “Terra, I swear to you that regardless of what happens in the future I will never intend to harm you nor any woman in that manner. I-”

May I be your shield?

She was smiling, pressing her forehead to his with watery eyes, as she giggled softly, “Loki, I can tell that even without my ‘vision’ as it were...You aren’t exactly a good guy, but you are a decent man. And for that, I’m grateful.”

When no one can be found, may I lay you down?

Loki sighed in relief, making sure she was alright with it before holding her close. She kissed his forehead, and he still uttered the vow to her, causing her to tremble against him. For a while, they merely held each other, reveling in each other’s touches in the flowers and the starlight, once in a while basking in innocent kisses. Her heartbeat calmed him the most.

All that's made me is all worth trading just to have one moment with you

As it neared dawn, Terra fell asleep in his arms, snuggling against him.

So I will let go with all that I know, knowing that you're here with me

He pressed his lips against her forehead once more, and carried her back to the ship, trying to keep her both warm in his cape and keep them unseen as he placed her onto her bed.

For your love is changing me…

As he did so, Ballinger entered the  room, the latter silently walking to the bed and tucking her in.

May I hold you as you fall to sleep when the world is closing in and you can't breathe...

It was odd that he cast no judgement in his eyes, instead allowing Loki to lay beside his daughter, and whispering a wish for them to both rest well.

May I love you, may I be your shield?

Grateful, he held her tight, lowering his Asgardian form as he closed his eyes, falling asleep to her heartbeat’s lullaby.

When no one can be found may I lay you down?

This is NOT a canon scene from my fanfiction, but if it was, it would likely take place in Hallowed Shapes: Thursday, somewhere in Chapter 24: Infinite Power.

The song is Trading Yesterday's May I?

Never wrote kissing before and was unsure if this was qualified or not as "graphic material" or not due to the details involved.

Honestly though, I'll never, ever write anything more than this in terms of kissing or beyond (seriously sticking to first base for anything and everything) and this was weird for me. I gave it a shot, and I'm not sure I liked it that much. Oh well.

But finally kissed in this universe, followed by a several. Happy? Smoochy smoochy? I have no bloody clue what I'm doing. I hope I did okay.

PS  One of my Beta Readers really liked the idea of shipping Loki with my OC even though they’re not canon in my fanfiction, Hallowed Shapes.We’re friends and while I didn’t get it at first, I’m not against anyone shipping said character with other fictional characters as long as everything’s consensual and/or healthy relationship-wise. Heck, I’m a little supportive because Loki’s literally gender-fluid and both characters are LGBT (neither are straight) even if I don’t directly ship them.So, that being said, I originally wrote these alternative scenes of my story for their birthday.

[tinymixtapes]

Feature: Red Bull Music Academy Festival New York 2017

Red Bull Music Academy returned to New York this year for yet another well-curated series of performances, lectures, club nights, and workshops. As is tradition now, TMT sent a few writers to cover some of these events, which included a hip-hop piano bar show, Brazilian bass music, a showcase for one of our favorite labels, an interdisciplinary performance piece/meditation, and a couple lectures from two vital artists of our time. --- Solange: An Ode To Photo: Krisanne Johnson / Red Bull Content Pool After the late performance of An Ode To had ended, Solange Knowles took some time to speak to the audience about the piece she had just performed for us, her development as a musician, and the space she had just occupied for her work. Referring to the Guggenheim Museum’s atrium, the Frank Lloyd Wright-designed “temple” that has been home to countless exhibitions and performances of significance, Solange spoke of wanting to “immerse my work in the daylight,” of “having a show where I can see the faces” of the people there to see her. This quality of light was one of the most striking things about Ode: the combination of bright sun from the building’s skylight (both of the show’s performances were scheduled in the afternoon) and flat, even museum lighting gave the work a context that immediately made it something different than just “Solange playing in a museum.” And it was true, you could see everyone’s face in the small crowd that was brought in, dress code and all (those in the audience who did not heed Knowles’s request to dress in all white were few, and easily spottable). This, and the fact that much of those in attendance were seated on the ground just feet away from the band, gave the event an incredible sense of intimacy; in staging and tone, An Ode To felt almost private, a personal work by a young artist both in development and at the top of her game, wildly talented and still growing. This piece was a substantial step in that growth: billed in the program as “an interdisciplinary performance piece and meditation,” Solange took elements from A Seat At The Table and rebuilt them, framing them in new ways — often stripping the arrangements down to their absolute minimum, at others exploding them with a new, startling sense of size. The core band was skeletal, augmented by two backup singers and a recurring cast of dancers and horn players — and though the music was the center of the performance, Solange seemed just as committed to exploring the work physically, leading her ensemble in precise, often beautiful choreography (done in cooperation with dance coordinator Eloise Deluca) and expressive a capella breaks that were, more than just a compliment to the songwriting, as much a piece of the work as her music. Photo: Stacy Kranitz / Red Bull Content Pool At times it felt like Solange was ripping open her album and re-examining it on a microscopic level, and the evening’s trajectory from its hauntingly minimal opening numbers to the explosion of feeling in her dual performances of “Don’t Touch My Hair” and “FUBU” (through which Solange walked through the crowd to sing directly to those gathered, causing at least one man she approached during the show I attended to have a complete ‘Oh my fucking god solange is standing right next to me’ meltdown — one of the few instances where the close-quarters of the room served to amplify the singer’s goddess status) felt like an investigation of what exactly the limits of this music were. Embracing the atrium as a necessary component of the performance — having her players descend down the ramp to the performance area, hiding her horn section under its walls, or more concretely using the chamber’s space to amplify the echo of basslines, solitary snare hits, or the complex three-part vocal breaks, almost dub-like in their hugeness — Solange built something site-specific and yet with resonances beyond this set of concerts. This, and Solange’s ability to fill the historically white space — figuratively and literally — of the Guggenheim with persons of colors (whether her entirely black and brown band or the vast majority of those in attendance) resonated as both an assertion of Solange’s power, and the ability for change within music to ripple out as broader, Earthly changes, and in some way an echo of the work’s broader exploration of expression voiced against its opposite. –Dylan Pasture --- Sacred Bones 10 Year Anniversary Photo: Colin Kerrigan / Red Bull Content Pool Sometimes I want to be devastated. The morning of the Sacred Bones 10 Year Anniversary showcase, I drew the ten of swords. How fitting. One for each year. The ten of swords is about hitting rock bottom and falling apart. Mine depicts a bull stabbed in the head. One sword even pierces the eyes. Usually I read this card as a warning. Get outside your mind before it eats you alive. I know I should have at least tried to be more vigilant. Instead, I turned to my friend and said that it felt perfect for Sacred Bones. What I mean is, I entered Greenpoint Terminal Warehouse thinking about collision. A giant moon hung from the rafters. I became aware of the space as malleable and tried not to understand. I wanted to feel it. Emotionally and viscerally. How else can I describe the experience other than to call it spiritual? Perhaps it has to do with juxtaposition. Like being ripped in half while watching Uniform and again while watching Marissa Nadler. Both strangely meditative. Uniform wrought havoc in the form of relentless noise. Like a vicious cycle indicative of how frustrating and limiting it can feel to live inside a body as the entire world burns. How everything seems impossible, at least everything but clawing up the walls and screaming into a void. Nadler described that void. Glimpsed it and shed light upon the center when she sang, “I can’t go back, I don’t wanna go back, to that house or that life again.” I felt my heart break like a window thrown open in the middle of a storm. Like I was listening alone in my bedroom. Photo: Krisanne Johnson / Red Bull Content Pool I want music to fuck me up and scrape me out and leave me wondering where to go. This is why I love Sacred Bones. Watching The Men play with all of their original members, I thought about how it felt to discover Sacred Bones when I was on the radio in college. I had just begun listening to more dissonant and intense music, and pretty much anything released on Sacred Bones would freak me out. And I loved it. I still love it. Jenny Hval wore black velvet with a hood. She wore a black wig. She said we would all become family through blood ties. She moved through fog. She received a haircut while singing. She snaked her arms around her collaborators. The line between song and manifesto disappeared, which left me considering the body and the idea of ceremony. Magic as political. I had been inhabited and transformed. Part of me was somewhere else. Blanck Mass made the ritual of noise and light so huge that it was like the whole space had been swallowed. Zola Jesus ended the show with kinetics. I mean, pop so shattered and frenzied I felt hypnotized. Oscillating between the cathedral and the rave. Between gothic and cosmic. It was an ideal culmination of the energy swirling all night inside Greenpoint Terminal Warehouse. Like a vibration powered by obsession with darkness and weirdness. I felt a shift inside my body upon leaving. Simply existing was totally different. –Caroline Rayner --- Piano Nights: Gucci Mane and Zaytoven Photo: Krisanne Johnson / Red Bull Content Pool It’s a cliché meme for someone to say “I am the American Dream,” and in an era with such little room for systemic romanticization, such a proclamation is also politically problematic at best. Nevertheless, Gucci Mane is the American Dream. If you’re like me, or any of the numerous other hip-hop devotees who’ve eventually come around to Guwop, the first time you heard him, you couldn’t understand a word he was saying. “Mumble-rap,” as it’s now called today, may be stylistic affectation for some, but there was no such phrase back when Gucci started doing it; probably because not since Rakim had a rapper put so many words together so poetically while sounding so close to falling asleep. In some parallel world, an alternate version of myself would never dare to use Rakim and Gucci’s names in the same sentence, but here we are. Rap is “mumble-rap,” the phrase itself is an anachronism functioning primarily as an age identifier of the writer who writes it, and this 31-year-old writer has watched Gucci Mane perform some of his most popular songs in a swank cocktail bar on the Lower East Side, accompanied by his producer Zaytoven on live piano. Photo: Carys Huws / Red Bull Content Pool Forget arrest records, jail bids, shootings, rap beefs, Twitter meltdowns, Harmony Korine courtings — forget all that, because it’s not what I’m referring to when I say Gucci Mane is the American Dream. I’m not talking about the American Dream of the bootlegger turned politician or the drug dealer turned real estate mogul. I’m not talking about the American Dream of Fitzgerald’s Gatsby or DiCaprio’s. I am talking about the American Dream of American music. Arguably our greatest cultural achievements, jazz, blues, rock, and hip-hop music were all originally perceived as amusical by the critical powers that be and eventually recognized as expressions of “higher art,” whatever that may be. I’m not trying to absolve myself here. When I first heard Gucci Mane, I might not have gone so far as to say it wasn’t hip-hop, but I definitely didn’t hear what others heard, simply because I had never heard anyone rap like that before. I literally didn’t understand what he was saying. I can only speak for myself , but I’ve personally witnessed yesterday’s proto-“mumble-rap” become today’s instantly sold-out black-tie affair of the millennium — dress code for the event called for attendees to wear their “finest formal wear” — and as far as I’m concerned that’s the American Dream. –Samuel Diamond --- A Conversation with Alvin Lucier Photo: Krisanne Johnson / Red Bull Content Pool Perhaps the best story told at Alvin Lucier’s intimate gathering in the basement of Red Bull Arts was his response to the question of what, if any, recent versions of his legendary work “I Am Sitting In A Room” have been most meaningful to him. As Lucier described it, after a concert performance of the piece at MIT, a 10-year-old boy came up to the man and declared: “That’s cool!” The boy then later went home and recorded his own version of the work on his laptop and emailed it to the legendary composer. This, Lucier said, was a version he liked a lot. Watching Lucier speak, it seems much of what gives life to his work — even at its most conceptually adventurous — is this very down-to-Earthness, an embrace of the everyday, the generosity of spirit and lack of pretense that allows the experiments of a child to stand alongside that of a “legitimate” performance venue. Elsewhere, Lucier explained that he wrote his own text for Sitting in lieu of adapting a poem because he didn’t want to use anything “high falutin’.” Though possessed with perhaps one of the most refined imaginations in experimental composition, he insisted that he was uninterested in “theory.” In Lucier’s words: “My decisions are real.” Through a life-spanning conversation moderated by Red Bull’s Todd L. Burns, Lucier returned to this theme in many forms. When discussing his coursework as a Professor (preserved, in some form, in his text Music 109) he spoke of trying to “demystify” music for his students, of telling them he was not interested in their opinions, but in their “perceptions.” And as he dove into his own use of perception in his work — whether in using the echolocation of bats as a reference for his use of delay, or how his refracted Beatles arrangement “Nothing Is Real” was meant to capture the sense of remembering “where you were when you heard a song for the first time” — one had the feeling of an artist trying to demystify the senses for himself, grounding the mysterious in something sturdy and real. Evocatively describing how those bats use sound to travel in the dark, Lucier slipped us a kind of statement of purpose: “You can’t cheat if you’re trying to survive.” Threaded through these discussions of technique were lovely anecdotes of the artist’s large and impressive circle of acquaintances, dishing on everyone from John Ashbery and Nam June Paik to Morton Feldman and, of course, John Cage, who was revealed to have apparently inspired (and/or peer-pressured) the first performance of Lucier’s brain-wave piece “Music For Solo Performer” into existence. Though anecdotally anchoring himself among many of the greats of 20th century art, Lucier left the intimate group gathered to listen to him on an appropriately humble, un-elevated note. When asked by an audience member if music had a “spiritual meaning” for him, he answered, simply: “No.” –Dylan Pasture --- Fluxo: Funk Proibidão Photo: Krisanne Johnson / Red Bull Content Pool This year’s Red Bull Music Academy takeover of NYC began with the announcement that MC Bin Laden, the headliner for the inaugural evening’s Brazilian bass event, would not be able to perform for reasons out of his and the festival organizers’ control. I found out from a friend that this meant he’d been denied entry at the US border, presumably an exercise of ideological power by immigration officials. RBMA itself embodies corporate accumulation of cultural capital, a late phenomenon toward which discerning ravers maintain a healthy ambivalence, suspended between cynicism and the notion that maybe, particularly if the artists can gain control of it, this type of power could be better than the kind that preceded it. The announcement, emailed via the ticketing agent the day of the event, brought a latent global power strata to the fore that framed the event: the admittedly neoliberal post-nation-state RMBA agenda versus the utterances of the deep-state monolith, which you only find out about through texts from a friend who knows a friend of someone who was at the border. And so RBMA NYC 2017 began. Even with MC Bin Laden not present, though, the Fluxo event was stacked with a formidable range of Brazilian bass DJs and emcees, strung together under the banner of maximalist sonic valence with NYC party mainstays Venus X and Asmara, Detroit ghetto house forbearer DJ Assault and the indefinable entity that is Chicago’s Sicko Mobb, who themselves are Red Bull-sponsored artists. Photo: Krisanne Johnson / Red Bull Content Pool After being encouraged by the coterie of Red Bull chaperones near to the door to enjoy my evening, I entered the venue to find Sicko Mobb bobbing and jack-balling amidst one another on stage, Ceno wearing a bright red T-shirt with “BALMAIN POWER” printed in shiny bold Impact font across the front. My friend and I quickly situated ourselves behind a car whose interior was rigged with overzealous strobe lights, one of several props situated throughout the venue that upon reviewing the event literature I realized was intended to be a simulation of “the neon-lit car stereos lining the local block parties [in the favelas of Brazil] known as fluxos.” Despite being obfuscated by a thick wall of smoke-and-strobe that would give Dean Blunt a run for his money, Lil Trav and Ceno breezed through a seemingly arbitrary selection of their metallic, sweet-sad bop songs, still a sound without any real parallels in hip-hop: “Own Lane” and “Go Plug” from the Super Saiyan Vol. 2 mixtape, throwbacks like “Fiesta,” “Hoes Be Goin’,” and “Round and Round.” In lieu of a DJ, an associate played tracks from an iPhone, and following in the tradition of cutting songs short he simply stopped the playback at random points, the music giving way to the sound of smoke and low chatter in the absence of DJ wheel-up sounds. DJ Assault took the stage shortly thereafter, living up to his name by starting the set out at a casual 145 bpm and playing “Let Me Bang” almost immediately after getting on stage. The venue was only beginning to fill as he warmed up the crowd, plunging headfirst into the obscene territory of booty music blended together with cumbia and proibidão. Obscenity and disorientation seemed to be forming as obvious mantras seeded by the party organizers as I went into the port-a-potty nested inside the warehouse and found it was resonating on beat with the bass, which only served to highlight that there was no respite from the building disorientation of the space. Venus X and Asmara played the mid-event set, rolling out a hip-hop-heavy set that felt somewhat obligatory to the context of the party, and MC Carol did not take the stage until very late, at which point the crowd was not well-positioned to entertain a set of emceeing. We left and hung out in the park, and talked about the slightly off feeling we were left with, and wondered if it was the party or us who was off. –Nick Henderson --- A Conversation with Werner Herzog On Music and Film Photo: Stacy Kranitz / Red Bull Content Pool [This lecture review is to be read in the voice of preeminent German filmmaker Werner Herzog: I do not care if this offends him or you; it is critical.] I was not sure if I would be able to make it to the lecture on time. As it was being held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, in one of the many areas of Manhattan with notoriously limited street parking, I elected to take the Long Island Rail Road, which picked me up directly behind my day job in Garden City. Inevitably late, the train did not leave me enough time to reach the venue via public transportation, and because this would have required that I transfer between multiple subways and a bus, I instead hailed a taxi in front of Penn Station. I knew this meant I would have to pay more, as these cabs are permitted by the City to charge extra for the premium pickup location, but I did not care. I had somewhere I needed to be and no way to get there sooner. Looking at my phone during the 50-block cab ride, I learned President Trump had fired FBI Director James Comey. Also, the publicist facilitating Tiny Mix Tapes’ coverage notified me that the doors were closing. I was dismayed but not altogether discouraged. When I arrived at the event, a discussion with Werner Herzog on music and film, the gentleman admitting ticketholders and press-listees told me the lecture had only started about five minutes ago. My name being confirmed, I proceeded up the museum steps to a dark auditorium where I was ushered to an empty seat not far from my point of entry. I saw erected on the stage a faux living room similar to Zach Galifianakis’s Between Two Ferns set, but more fully furnished, with couches and a film-projector screen hung above and behind them. At stage right, shrouded in cinematic shadow, stood a tall man looking up at the screen. When the film clip ended, the lights came on revealing him to be Herzog. He seated himself on the couch at center stage and spoke with a nebbish film-critic-type about music in films, his and others. He indicated he chooses the music for his films almost exclusively by feeling. He cited Fred Astaire’s dance routines as a prime example of the marriage of music and cinema, though in far less romantic terms. He reminisced about teasing Popol Vuh founder Florian Fricke during a friendly soccer match over his interest in New Age thinking and going home badly bruised for it. He said he hadn’t heard the phrase “krautrock” until just a few days earlier. In the Q&A portion of the event, he found occasion to reassert his argument that Elon Musk is acting foolishly in his pursuit of Martian colonization, that humanity would be better served conserving and protecting its home on Earth. He admitted that though there is no purposeful allusion to so-called spirituality in his films, some of his early religious teachings most likely had a lasting effect on his viewpoint and that he always strives to evoke a sense of poetry with his filmmaking to “elevate” the thinking of his viewers. On my way out, a Red Bull employee offered me a drink from a tray holding multiple colored cans. I took one at random; “Acai Berry”-something, she called it. “Save it for the morning,” she said. Thanking her, I cracked it open and exited to the cultured darkness of New York City’s Upper East Side. –Samuel Diamond http://j.mp/2qxIPYU