#the most vivid of last nights was. well i dont remember what i was DOING i think i was getting ready to go somewhere ???

[mxdotpng]

okay smth must be wrong bc my dreams have been CRAZY lately

[todayispeia]

✩°｡‘ A POE CUP TO REMEMBER

xavier thorpe x fem!reader

words: 3k

genre: smut, slowburn romance (kinda), flirting, teasing, fingering

a/n: im not great at creating a fanfic, so expect grammatical errors and typo’s ahead !! i hope you enjoy this ♡

you were the new student at nevermore. you were assigned to be roommate with the girl named enid. she was practically a werefolf and a all-rounder gossip girl at the school. she tour you to the hallway where all the students gather there, there was a werewolves, sirens, and many more. “oh, and that girl bianca, he dated our tortured artist, xavier thorpe” she said, pointing the guy who was painting at the wall. he looked at you and not a minute he continues to focus at his drawing.

after the tour, you relaxed a while at your dorm. it was raining outside, “enid, i’m just gonna go downstairs, just catching some raindrops” you said. enid just nodded and continue to dance all by herself. while walking outside, you saw the statue falling above you, but someone pushes you away from it. causing yourself to be unconscious.

after the incident where the statue almost hit you on the head, luckily a student saved your life.

you wake up at the room, seeing a guy beside you, he was already standing, perhaps waiting for you to open your eyes. you immediately get up causing him to sit quickly. “nurse said you dont have a concussion, anyway, im glad you’re awake” he muttered. ”its because im not, and will never be. and the last thing i remember is i was walking alone 'til i saw a statue falling to me.” you said while looking at him. “and, how did you even get there that fast? i believe there was no one when i walked there, i was alone” you added, it was a mixture of confusion and embarrassment. he clicks his tongue before replying to your statement, “call it instinct” he said. “instinct, huh? well, dont expect me to gave you a gratitude or something. its quite unreal to myself giving someone like that” you said while fixing your posture to face him. “mm-hmm. you know, most people just say thank you” he said, looking at you. “i didn't even requested to be rescued that time” — “and you thought i should have just let that thing smash you to mush?” he replied. “i mean, i could have just save myself” you said while crossing your arms. “too much independent would cause you trouble” he scoffs, you couldn't help but to laugh at what he just said. “id rather have a lots of independent, if i will be honest.” you said, “i know you aren't asking my name, but, im xavier thorpe. you’re the new student here, right? the last time we met, i was about two feet shorter, and 40 pounds heavier” he said, “ah, yes. i do remember you, the guy who was painting earlier on the walls. im y/n ” you muttered. “y/n, sounds good” he said. “i believe i can go now, yes? well, see you around, xavier.” you said, getting up to exit the room. “yeah, see you too” he said looking at you.

a few werewolves were howling at the night. you and enid went to the window to check out. “if you really are a werewolf, why aren't you howling like them?” you asked, its quite different to encounter a werewolf not howling when its full moon. “i cant. my mom says some wolves are late bloomers, but i have been to the best lycanologist” she muttered, she only had a claw, which is awesome because of how she painted it with vivid colors. “i had to fly to milwaukee, would you believe it?” she said, toning disgusted at herself. “what happened next?” you asked, you were interested at it because of how different she was than other wolves here in nevermore. “i would be a lone wolf” she muttered, looking down. “thats quite sorrowful to know about you, what would happen if ever you didn’t wolf out yet?” you said, while you continue to asked her about her condition. “i uh... i’d be kicked out of my family pack with no prospect of finding a mate” she said, the tone was a bit aching to feel. its like a mixture of disappointed and rage of anger. “you’ll wolf out, someday. i can feel it” you said, cheering her up. “thanks, y/n. i do hope so”

the school announce that nevermore will be attending to a harvest festival this night. “hey, are you excited for this event?” enid asked, smiling at you. “yeah, well i guess. i’ll just play some games there basically” you said, smiling a little. “thats great, well, this event me and ajax will meet there too. im so excited!” she said. after arriving at the event, enid and you decided to split up there since she said she was gonna meet ajax, her crush basically. you walked around and play darts, it was a basic one, obviously. while playing, xavier went to you, “jeez, didnt know you get any better at this, i bet you can catch the big one toy here” he said already looking to you. “im good at any games, i have played this since i was seven” you muttered, the balloons went popping and popping 'til you win. “quite a good shot” he compliment, “why dont you go search for your hobbies rather than talking to me” you muttered, looking at him to see that he was smiling. “all right, well then, i’ll play these darts too” he said while keeping his smile there. he was quite great at shooting the darts in the balloon too, there was an emotion that pops up to you out of nowhere. it was a feeling that you had a long time ago, but you couldn't understand what that is, so you shrugged it away. “hey, is your mind full of thoughts?” xavier said, tapping your shoulders. you look at him with a wide eyes, you were spaced out because of the thoughts. you look at him holding a cute bear beside him, seem’s that he win the game too.

“everyone, the principal said we should go watch the fireworks!” a student shouted at the crowds. “we should get going now, y/n” xavier said, pulling you out of the crowds to watch the fireworks. you didn't respond but just nodded at him. the fireworks were amazing, different colors, both of you were smiling each other. “seems that you had a great smile hiding there” he said, smiling at you. you couldn't help but giggled at what he said. it feel like a spark was creating that day, you thought to yourself. “hey y/n? i have something to ask” he muttered, turning around to face you. “spit it out” you said, looking at him. “are you going to the poe cup competition?” he asked, smiling. it looks like he was expecting you to see there. “oh, well, i think i would join too. and i’ll go at enid’s team, if ever she would join too” you said.

and so, the poe cup competition begins. you saw enid and the other students designing the boat. it was black and the design was like a cat figure. you went to look it more closer, enid notice you and wave. “so, you’re going to the poe cup competition?” she asked, smiling as always. “yeah, and i decided that i wanted to be part of your team, if thats what it calls” you muttered. “great! because our team will be having a cute black cat outfit this upcoming event! im sure you’ll love it” she said. “hm, maybe i will. i would check it out if there’s a costume published now” you replied. while enid was helping the others with the boat, you walked away silently and moved somewhere. while looking at the areas, you saw xavier at the archery. he was quite bad at it. you moved closer to have conversations with him, even in a small amount of time. “bad shot, i think you need a mentor for that” you said, crossing your arms. he looked at you with disbelief, “didnt see you coming, are you interested in archery or you’re here to entertain me instead?” he said, smirking while he tried for the second time. “actually, i was just lurking around here, until i saw you” you replied. you started to pick up the bow and a arrow to tried it out. “have you ever tried to handle a bow and shoot an arrow?” he asked. “we’ll see what i can do” you said, you prepared your bow and arrow to shoot it in the red spot. the luck was on your side, the sharp of the arrow went thru to the red spot. while xavier, he was quite impressed at what you did. “impressive, i already think to your statement earlier that you should be my mentor instead” he said, smirking at you. “dont gave me that look, it’s intriguing” you said. “well, see you in the competition, i bet you’ll look nice” you said and swiftly walked away. “is that a flirt or a compliment?” he shoutedly asked to you.

it is now class time and you walked over to the following schedule. you saw bianca and the other sirens looking at you. “there’s an open spot next to me” xavier spoked, you walked beside him and sit. looks like he was sketching something, more like a spider. he moves his hand only to make the sketch of his to move in reality. you can say that it was quite impressive that a sketchy spider can be alive in just by his hands. “admit it, you’re a little impressed” he muttered, looking at you with a smile. “hate to admit that you’re right, i was impressed in that magical hands of yours” — “wanna know what this magical hands can do?” xavier said, you looked at him with a disgust, but your insides says otherwise.

it is now the competition for the poe cup, enid’s team was labeled as black cats, its quite attractive. “hey, y/n! your costume is at the tent! you can wear it now” she said, smiling at you. “oh, thats great news. i’ll go wear it now.” you muttered, the outfit was fitted, and the ears fitted well to you. “OMG, you look purr-fect!” enid said, she walked back to help the others with the whiskers. while xavier walked towards you, “didnt know you’ll look good in black, y/n” he said, looking up and down at you. “you look like a serial killer clown at that costume of yours, thats more than a word attractive to me” you replied, smirking at him. “i considered that as a flirt, i’ll get back that” he said while smiling, he went on to his team and sat on the boat. it was now all settled, everyone was on the boat now. while you were focusing, you notice xavier was looking at you, you went to look at him but he looked to another direction. “i want to wrlcome you all to the edgar allan poe cup!” — “this is one of nevermore’s proudest annual traditions, dating back 125 years. each team must row across to raven island, pull a flag from crackstone’s crypt, and hustle back without sinking or being sunk. first team to cross the finish line with their flag wins the cup and bragging rights for a year, as well ss some special privileges. ”

“let the poe cup begin!” a sound of shotgun bang to the air and all teams swiftly sweep in the lake. one of the teams were suddenly drag on the side of the lake, causing them to bump into the giant figure and sunk. you immediately figured out that someone was trying to ruin the teams, so you immediately made up a plan. you remembered before the competition that you requested enid to put some traps or any thing that can capture in the lake. and this was the great time, you click the button and immediately figured it out that there was a mermaid nearby your boat that was about to sabotage. luckily it was now wrapped by a fishnet and no longer can bother your team. as your boat hit the next task, “stay here and make sure the other teams can't sabotage our boat. im gonna get the flag and perhaps, distract some jokers” you said to enid, you quickly run to the woods to find the crackstone’s crypt, you saw xavier there so you quickly hide from a tree to sabotage him. when you saw xavier is now nearby to you, you rush to pull him somewhere. “hey! we still have a competition, what were you thinking?” he asked, you quickly covered his mouth as you both made your way to the crackstone’s crypt where your flag was. “shush your mouth or my mouth will do it for you” you said while you picked up your team’s flag. “as if your mouth can make me shut up, prove it then” he said pulling you closer to him, you were furious because of what he said, the tone was underestimating you. you pull him closer to gave him a peck of kiss, and run away from him. he was about to gave it all but all he gotten was frustration from you for teasing, as you now go back to your teams, xavier also came back as well. while your team is at the lake coming back for the finish line, the mermaid was back again at the lake, trying to destroy your team’s boat, but you didn’t want to disappoint your friend neither anyone. so, you decide to swim over down to pull the mermaid back on what he needs to be. you pull his tail down to the lake and luckily, he swim away. you went back to the boat because of the water suffocating your lungs. your team fastly sweep the lake back to the nevermore, you and the team also sabotage the bees boat to slow them down. luckily, your team won after the competition. a lots of students was shocked after the competition, because all they knew is that bianca, herself, will always win. not until you were now part of the nevermore.

not until xavier pulled you to his dorm. you knew you’re fucked up.

“oh, so you’re into teasing, isn’t? teasing me in the middle of competition, you planned this, didn’t you y/n?” he asked, he was now pinning you against the wall, letting out his anger and frustrations at you. “would you be done if i said yes? or what? you’re gonna do something to me, you little fratboy” you muttered, you moved away yet his hands grab you and push you to bed. “oh yeah? actually, i have something to confess before i start something fun” he said while looking up and down to you with a smirk. “spit it out xavier, i dont wanna wait” you stated, “you know, ever since the harvest festival, i already have feelings for you. and i cant get you off my mind, and in the meantime, i’ve always wanted to have intimate with you, hopelessly devoted to get you” he said, you were shocked after what he just said. you didn’t know what to feel, the heat was getting higher and higher, it was so intense. all this time trying to shrug your feelings towards him, he finally cleared it out. you couldn’t express it properly so you pulled him to a kiss, he kissed back to you that is no eager, so needy. it looks like he have been waiting patiently for this to happened. his tongue swiftly made his way to your mouth, causing you to moan in the kiss, his hands went thru your boobs to massage it softly, your back arch because of it. both of you cut the kiss to breath first. “your outfit looks good, but you’ll look good without them, love” he said, pulling off your costume. “i didnt know jokers were into rough sex, quite fascinating to discover” you muttered, taking off his hat and running your fingers to her hair. “oh dont worry, my magical hands can do so much in you, also my mouth. just watch” he muttered, after he successfully took off your costume, you also pulled his clothes off and throw it somewhere in the room.

“lay down” he demanded, you did what he told to avoid more argues. “well look at that, such a beautiful sight for my eyes. its more than what i sketch about this” he muttered, he leans closer to your core and gives it a lick. you muffled at his action, “dont f-fucking tease xavier, please” you begged, he looked at you with a smirk in his face. “that’s a revenge for making me hard on the competition, beg more, love, maybe i can give what we both needed” he suggested, rubbing circles in your pussy. “p-please, xavier... i-i didn’t really meant to tease you that time, i j-just really want to feel your lips. please, xavier” you explained, arching your back to give signals to him to continue. “i’ll believe for now” he said, as he positioned himself at your core to have a taste. he leans closer and licks it. you moaned his name causing him to continue to eat you out. he puts kisses and licks at your pussy, even biting it, causing you to moaned loudly and continuously arch your back several times. but xavier wasn’t satisfied with, he push a finger inside of you while he continues to eat you out. you pulled his hair while continuously moaning his name. “fuck, your mouth is really good, p-please continue, im close” you said while rolling your eyes because of the pleasure. xavier nodded and pushes one more finger inside you and started to push in and out with a more pace of speed. while his mouth is busy tasting you more and more. “a-ah! im coming!” you shouted, “come on me love” in the exact time he said that, you come in his mouth. he took off his fingers and licks it, tasting you. “you taste delicious than my daily meal” he muttered, leaning you for a kiss, the kiss was passionate. you kissed back and wrapped your arms around his neck. “i’ll help you clean up, and overall, what happened between us is amazing. and i want to ask you out for a date after?” he said, “of course, and, we’re gonna be lovers after all” you replied.

[butchkaramazov]

A Shade Darker Than Red: Chapter 8

Chapter 7

A week passed by. Paro was eerily quiet when she was with me, and I thought of what I had said that day. Had I really, truly ruined all my chances of saving even our friendship?

A million thoughts rushed through my head as I turned restlessly in bed, staring at the ceiling.

The ceiling of our bedroom was painted with blue fluorescent stickers shaped like stars. Papa had done that. I had asked Maa to take them off if they bothered her, but we never did.

Beside me, Maa tossed in her sleep. They say if you think of someone, they can’t fall asleep. Could she hear my thoughts?

I had nothing to distract myself with. No phone, no book—nothing. Just me, my thoughts and the stars on the ceiling.

A sudden, vivid memory flashed in my mind. We were six. A year had passed since my meeting with Paro. We were running around like hooligans in the park while our mothers talked about work, pados-wali aunties and whatnot. I still remember what Paro was wearing: a frilly, white frock with Minnie Mouse sewn onto its sleeves. The sky was red and so was our laughter, until Paro bent down and ripped a flower right off its stem. “For you,” she had said, clumsily tucking the flower behind my ear. When she touched my earlobe, the flower was white. When she let go, it was red.

Another memory. We were nine. She sat with me on the bed while I rambled on about my latest hyperfixation: dragons. She listened to every single detail I had mentioned and, by the end of the afternoon, showed me a drawing of a wyvern.

Twelve. I was reading The Priory of the Orange Tree, sitting on the windowsill. I took a sip from my milk tea, letting out a contented hum. I wasn’t on the windowsill anymore. I was Ead, pressing a kiss to Sabran’s brow. Sabran was someone who looked uncannily similar to Paro.

An annoying ding! from my phone forced me back to reality. I heard Maa’s grunts and snores: the coast was clear. 

I climbed off the bed, taking care not to put extra weight anywhere that would make the mattress creak. I walked towards the desk and picked up the phone.

WhatsApp: You have 3 messages.

It was Paro. I checked the time: 3:49 a.m. Paro was a morning person, what was she doing staying up all night?

Paro<3: hi renu are you awake? —00:27 do you wanna hang out on the roof like we used to?  —02:01 its ok if you dont wanna. go back to sleep you have a big day tmrw. actually, if ur awake rn i’ll kill you —03:48

Oh, Paro.

I glanced at Maa, slowly increasing the fan’s regulator. Please don’t wake up soon.

I walked out of the room and closed the door. Thank goodness I’d oiled its hinges last week. 

The main door was locked—opening it meant creating a ruckus. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath. No wait, actually not shit. This meant I’d have to take the old way around. Jeez, fourteen-year-old me was fun.

I opened the door to the balcony and hoisted myself up on its railing. It was an easy jump. I tumbled onto the grass, praying that a grasshopper wouldn’t find its new home in my ear. The grass was wet and the air smelled of petrichor. 

I stood up, smoothening my pyjamas. Staying out late at night was a risky thing, especially in our neighbourhood. Plenty of TicTac-shaped pills here and there, and men on the prowl. I didn’t give a damn. I was eighteen and probably feeling some feelings I wasn’t supposed to be feeling. (That’s a lot of ‘feeling’s, I know.) What could possibly hurt me?

A lot of things, I realised, as I walked up to Paro’s house. Like that mad dog Rathode had warned me about. The creepy guy who keeps children in his basement (just a speculation, but when Madhu speculated about something, it was most probably right). An overspeeding motorcycle that could crash into me any minute. My own mother, with her pots and pans, once she realised I was gone.

Oh well, the damage was done. I found myself opening the gate on instinct, as if I knew Paro’s house better than I did my own.

I stepped into their garden, careful not to trample on any beetles—and made my way to the window of the woman who lived below Paro’s flat. Madame Fosco, I called her, in everything but her looks.

The tin shade Madame Fosco had installed last year was probably on its deathbed by now. Rust had made its edges creaky, but Fosco was deaf, anyway. I grabbed onto it and hoisted myself up, finding myself staring right at Paro’s face, our faces a millimetre away from each other’s. She screamed.

I screamed.

My foot slipped and I fell off the tin shade, tumbling onto the grass once again. At this point, I would be surprised if a grasshopper hadn’t found its home in my ear.

“For Whitman’s sake, hush,” I hissed.

Paro peered out of the window, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed. 

I shook my head (in case a grasshopper had organised a nice family dinner in my hair) and climbed onto the tin shaft once again, pulling myself onto Paro’s windowsill.

“Come in,” she whispered, switching the lights on. 

I felt comfortable squatting on her windowsill like a failed Spiderman and grumbled as I walked into her bedroom.

Paro switched her phone’s torchlight off. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“What?” I stared at her retreating figure. “What did I do?”

“Why are you still awake?” she snapped. I followed her to the door.

“Why are you still awake and staring out of your window like Oscar fucking Wilde?” I snapped back. Paro flipped me off while trying her hardest to pull the gates across the door. Sweat shone on her forehead, her eyes illuminated in the moonlight.

“Hold on, let me help,” I offered, gently grabbing her wrist. Paro grumbled, stepping aside.

I pushed the gate back and pulled it in again, keeping the screw in with my thumb. It glided into the opening on the other side, miraculously not making a single noise. I turned towards Paro. She was staring at my arms.

“What?” I asked her, incredulously. One moment she said she wanted to kill me, and the next she looked at me like I was something she couldn’t quite wrap her head around.

“N-Nothing,” she muttered. My heart fluttered. Dammit, these butterflies in my stomach had turned into fucking bats at this point.

Paro walked up the stairs while I followed her footsteps in the dark. “Just like the old times, huh?” I heard her say.

I smiled weakly. “You make it sound like we're old.”

Paro opened the door to the roof, the tensed line in her jaw glinting in a sliver of moonlight. God, she was as beautiful as ever.

“Come in,” she said, her words echoing in the marble walls.

I followed her to the railings, leaning against the cool surface. A light breeze rippled through, making her hair fly for a brief second. Dear God, she was poetry herself.

“Where are Auntie and Uncle?” I asked, trying to break the silence.

A light breeze caressed my cheeks. “They won’t be back before tomorrow. Business trip,” Paro explained, edging closer to me.

“Oh.” I was suddenly aware of the pen still tucked behind my ear.

Silence.

“So we’re—we’re all alone, then?” I asked her, hoping she wouldn’t hear the slight quaver in my voice.

Paro nodded. “We are.” Silence, again.

She leaned against the railing. “You’re going away in three weeks.”

I nodded, not quite knowing what to say.

“I asked you a question.” Her voice was cold and harsh, harsher than I deserved. 

“That was a statement,” I snapped. “And don’t use your CEO voice with me.”

Paro frowned. “I’m not.”

“You are.” I glared at her. “And you know it.”

She stared at me, scrutinising my every feature. “I’m sorry,” she finally said, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s just been—you’ll be gone—and—”

“I know, it’s okay,” I heard myself murmur, edging closer towards her.

“I—I’ve got that Poe book with me,” she said. “Do you want it now or at the graduation party?”

“Now,” I said, without thinking. “The party will be too loud. And too crowded,” I added as an afterthought.

Paro bit her lip so hard I was scared it would bleed. “Alright,” she nodded. “I’ll get it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

I watched her retreat into the shadows, taking the white along with her. The night was a pool of blood, again.

I hummed. Did she know about the history of ‘OK’? Probably not. I’d tell her. Not knowing things I wouldn’t be able to tell her before we drifted apart wasn’t a good idea. At least she’d be able to tell her children that their Renu Auntie had told her about the history of ‘OK’. Maybe she’d sigh and think of me, again. Words were a certain but clumsy way into a person’s mind. 

Papa had told me that. Maybe that’s why I can’t stop thinking of him.

Did Paro know about Jinnah? That Netaji might’ve actually been alive? Did she know that birds came from lizard-hipped dinosaurs? There was so much I had to tell her before I vanished from her mind. It was pathetic. Scrambling onto every crumb of unrelated information I could find, just to hang onto her thoughts, stay on in her mind for a little while longer.

“I’m back,” Paro said, stepping into the moonlight.

She looked like Aphrodite, the goddess of love born from love itself, in all her glory—clutching a book of Edgar Allan Poe, the letters of which shone in the lamplight or moonlight, that I do not know.

“For you,” she said, handing me the book.

“It’s beautiful,” I gasped as I ran my fingers along the edge of its spine. It was a leatherbound book, The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe written in shiny gold lettering. I opened the first page. To Renu, it said. Keep me in your mind, always. From, Paro.

I chuckled, flipping through the pages. “Of course I’ll keep you in my mind, Paro,” I laughed. “What a silly thought!”

Paro looked at me, hope faintly glimmering in her eyes. “You will?” Her voice had softened down to a murmur.

I looked at her incredulously. “Well, duh, Paro, I can’t just forget my best friend of thirteen years now, can I?”

Paro’s lower lip trembled. “You promise?”

I smiled. “Always.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

A comfortable silence followed and as we looked at the stars, I knew we were both smiling.

@avani-amulya @manujanolavu @nirmohi-premika @lovesickpdf @arachneofthoughts @sonilaalbindi @desi-yearning @alhad-si-simran @thatpagalchokri @trashmeowcan @waitingforthesunrise @vellibandi @thesunandstarss @chanda-chamke-cham-cham @damnn-dorothea @the-unhinged-fanwinggg @watchingblsnowandforever @disproportionatelysculpting @bundle-of-glitter @bibliophile-dendrophile please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist <3

[whovianshifts]

shifting experience in a lucid dream!

(or at least i think that's what happened)

last night, i had the most insane shifting experience. i genuinely have no idea what is was - a lucid dream, maybe - but all i know is that i felt like i was right on the verge of shifting.

last night, as usual, i put on my gateway tapes - still on Focus 3 - and it was alright. i didn't really feel deep in the void or anything, and my mind wandered at times (which i think came down to the fact that i was almost putting it off a little). i usually put an alarm around 2-3 hours before i usually wake up as well so that i can attempt to shift in the mornings - mainly so that i can still practice it everyday but also to make sure that when im doing the tapes, i can purely focus on them and not worry about shifting.

so yesterday, i did the gateway tapes meditation pretty late (2-3am ish) and then put an alarm for 7am. the entire night from here got so crazy that i couldnt tell you a timeline but i am *pretty* sure that my near shifting experience happened after the alarm and between the hours of 730-930.

now, i woke up at 7am, stayed awake for like 2 minutes just shuffling around my room but my whole issue with this technique at the moment is that im sleeping wayy too late, so my shifting alarm is usually around the same time as sunrise, which is SUPER distracting as it just naturally makes me feel 10x more awake.

so basically, i got back into bed, put on some generic theta waves on spotify, attempted to shift for half an hour by going through some techniques from the gateway tapes and then just counted to 100 and repeated affirmations.

whilst im trying not to get overwhelmed by tiktok this time round in my journey, i saw this person saying that "your subconscious has no eyes," - something that genuinely cured my contempt of 'I am' affirmations. its kinda simple, your subconscious creates what it is being told, so i found it easier to accept the logic behind affirmations and the fact that it didnt just feel like a groundless practice allowed me to feel good about them for the first time in like 4 years (no exaggeration). i ended up having my usual mild symptoms of just purple/blue colours, white light seeping etc and then fell asleep, with the intention of shifting in my sleep repeating as i fell asleep.

as i mentioned, it was light outside, so i found it really difficult to sleep but, somehow, in the dredges of sleep that i did get, i kept jumping in and out of a string of *really* detailed and vivid dreams.

NOW THIS IS THE COOL PART (i logically cannot fathom how all this happened in 1-2 hours; the subconscious mind is insane)

in one of the dreams, i felt as though i was consciously awake. like i was in real life. i was lying on my bed in this dream, deciding to shift. i had a few short attempts but they werent 'working' so i told myself ill try one last time and 'it will work'. i was doing all the same things i do in real life, counting, affirming etc but this time, suddenly, i felt my body just ascending upwards and breaking through some kind of metaphysical boundary. i felt my surroundings change so fast, but it freaked me out so i snapped out of it so fast and i was back in bed again. i woke up, but somehow still in the dream, (though again, it felt so real) and then tried again but it didnt work. had i just pushed through that little bit, i just know i would've shifted and woken up somewhere else!! i wouldnt call this a lucid dream, as retrospectively, i didnt feel like i was fully in control, but it did feel like i was making decisions based on some sort of personal will.

the craziest thing was, i remember so vividly trying to fall asleep FOR AGES after my 7am alarm. again, with daylight already breaking through my blinds, i found getting back to bed SO difficult. i dont even remember falling asleep, let alone into such a deep sleep for all this to happen.

the only thing i remember is that i kept repeating 'i am in tigris snow's guest room, i am in tiggy's guest bedroom' (where i'm shifting to) over and over until i did go to sleep and just by doing that, i got so far!!

as someone who honestly doesnt like being out of control when shifting, ive always been an awake method girlie. i think this just comes with the fact that ive never fully trusted in the power of my subconscious and feel better doing it myself. but after this?? i hardly even used a method and i got so close to shifting and i still cant fathom what happened fully, just that it did and i was there.

overall, i rate this semi lucid experience a 1000/10 as it taught me the significance of so many basic shifting concepts i usually overlook, such as affirmations and 'sleep' methods, and just overall taught me to trust in my subconscious more.

so naturally, my future resolutions:

-trust in the power of affirmations

-try out more sleep methods

-learn more about lucid dreaming and whether what i experienced was one! if not, im sure im capable of getting into that state anyway so trying it out would be so cool too.

anyway, happy shifting friends

tish :)

[accordokite]

I had three dreams from last night that I remember. Wow.

All of them are below the cut, although I think only one of them is super significant in my shifting journey (the last one). One of them especially didn't really matter, but I want to describe it in as much detail as I can to build up my lucid dreaming skills.

1. Luxiem Dream

This one makes sense, because I stayed up until about 12:45 am watching Luxiem's new outfit reveals. I normally do not stay up this late, and it was completely unintended. In fact, I was originally going to shift to my Pokémon DR, and then by the end of this, I was too excited about the new outfits to visualize my Pokémon DR. I could only visualize my Nijisanji DR, and so I decided to try shifting there as I fell asleep instead.

That was when I had this dream. It was very vivid visually, but I barely remember any conversation. I could hear words, but it sounded like gibberish, with a few bits of actually words I remember peeking through my memory here and there. It probably will not make complete sense, since my Nijisanji DR is so... complicated? Different from how the company works in our reality? I dont know how to put it.

We were in my DR room, as I congratulated the boys on their new outfit reveals. It's important to note that Vox, Mysta, and Shu were still in their old outfits and such in real life where I was meeting them. Because of the sudden announcement, they only had the v-tuber models prepared.

In short, it was kind of just casual, excited conversation. Luca and Ike were in their new outfits in real life, as they were relatively easy to put on (and Ike wanted to at least compensate somewhat for the lack of layouts ready).

Other than that, I don't remember much about the conversation, only actions. The most significant ones are below.

Luca must have said something weird at one point, since we all laughed at him in like a friendly manner. His glasses also kept falling off of his forehead anytime he laughed too hard.

I remember Vox's smirk well, and Mysta yelling at him over something. Vox must have said something to make both himself smirk, and Mysta (somewhat playfully) mad.

Lastly, I remember Ike giving me a firm, strong hug by the end. It lasted a while, and this was right as Luxiem was saying their goodbyes and leaving my room to head to theirs. He said something softly into my ear, something along the lines of "I really missed you, you know?" or "I really care about you, you know?". I know the "you know?" was there, but my memories are a bit muddled, although I think the care about you one makes more sense. I had a response, but I don't remember what I said. We kind of just firmly hugged for a few more moments silently, before Vox said something and Ike blushed in probably embarrassment as he let me go. He kinda quickly spoke whatever words he said in nervousness, as he waved off and slammed the door behind him.

That slamming of the door was what woke me up, but I wonder if this dream is something I will more fully experience once I actually shift to my DR. More likely though, I think it was just a dream that resulted from watching the outfit reveal stream. I'm kind of torn on this one's importance.

2. Waterpark Dream

This one involved me and my parents and appearance from my current reality. We were just leaving our hotel, as we headed to a Waterpark in our bathingsuits. I don't remember the color of my swimsuit, but I know it was a one piece, and that my dad had orange trunks. My mom had a black one piece, and oddly enough, my sisters were not there. The swimsuits my parents wore were also scarily accurate to what they wear in our current reality.

To get to the park, we had to climb a bunch of white stairs outdoors, and when we finally reached the top, there was a big orange slide to slide down. For some reason, the three of us had to hold onto each other, and slide down together. I remember feeling water in my ear, almost like it was a physical feeling (it was very uncomfortable).

Once we actually reached the bottom, it was just a large, outdoor pool. I have been to several waterparks before, but this was not a waterpark. I kind of just played and frolicked with the pool toys from here on out, until a spider came out of the end of one of the pool noodles. It was mostly black, with yellow stripes, and I must have been so freaked out that I woke up.

This one definitely didn't really matter, and happened right before I reached the void state, and so I think it was just a result of my body starting to wake up.

3. Pokémon Dream

This last one is the most important to me. It was short, but I think I was actually getting close to shifting here. I began imagining a simple room, since I haven't really thought of my DR bedroom yet (I have thought of literally every other room in the house, except maybe the bathroom). However, what I did eventually decide was that I would have one of my Pokémon (Zullie, my Hisuian Zorua) sleeping on my chest, while another (Lunette, my Galarian Ponyta) slept in a pet-like bed on the floor by the foot of the bed.

By this point, I was definitely in the void state, and had kind of just told myself "okay, I'm in my DR, Zullie is on my chest, and Lunette is sleeping in my room" and meditated.

And then I could hear soft snoring.

Not snoring like my DR Dad's, or someone else's from my current reality, but like horse snoring.

And it felt normal. I didn't feel "Oh my God, I'm actually shifting!!". I kinda just felt like I was supposed to be there. I kept pushing from here, and eventually felt Zullie's weight on my chest. I wanted to open my eyes, but I didn't want it to be too soon, so I waited a bit more.

However, I began smelling something from downstairs, and so that was when I rubbed my eyes to wake up. And I woke up in this current reality. It kind of felt like I was returning to myself after disassociating from my body... if you've ever disassociated before.

This was less so a dream, and more so a shifting attempt, but for a split second, I saw the ceiling of my DR room. I know I was there, even if it wasn't fully.

That's about it though, although probably nobody is reading this.

[steamyandspicy2]

1-75...can you do them all?

1: Kitchen Counter, Couch, or on top of the dryer?

Couch or kitchen counter

2: Your last sexual encounter: Good or Bad and why:

Good because it was fun and naughty but bad because it wasn't as satisfying. Couldn't really fuck and we were limited with time

3: A fictional person that you think would be good in bed:

Nathan Scott (One Tree Hill)

Shane McCutcheon (The L Word)

4: Something that never fails to make you horny:

"Good girl"

5: Where is one place you would never have sex:

Beach...the sand would kill me

6: Weirdest thing that ever made you horny:

Church/religious tropes

7: How are you after a really good f$%k?

Exhausted, sometimes sleepy if I'm completely spent but otherwise I bounce back kinda quick when I'm really horny for another round

8: Have you ever got so wet in the night that you wake up wanting some sexual activity?

Pretty often

9: Tell me your wettest dream?

Wettest dream? I remember having an extremely vivid dream about running into a friend at a bar and getting hot and heavy in the alleyway, grinding against eachother and feeling eachother up. It was very horny and edged me, I swear I was grinding against the bed in my sleep I was so needy and could imagine feeling his hard rock bulge against me.

10: Top or bottom?

I like to think I'm versatile but I'm more of a bottom

11: What body attracts you the most, men or women?

Women

12: Ever kissed someone of the same sex?

No

13: Home alone and you’re bored. What do you do?

Find something horny to watch and masturbate

14: Something that you have hidden in your room that you don’t want anyone to find:

I don't really have anything

15: Weirdest nickname a significant other has ever called you:

uhhh...schmuck

16: Are you a touchy feel person?

Yep

17: If you were/are a lesbian, would you go for the women/girls who act like men, or the ones who act like girls?

Uhm...like chapstick lesbian

18: Does a massage get you wet?

From the right person, sure

19: Is it ever okay to not use a condom:

If both parties consent

20: If there’s one place a girl/guy should touch you to make you instantly horny, where is that?

Spine and neck. They're xtremely sensitive spots

21: Has a guy/girl even touched you or discreetly groped you while clubbing or in a crowded place?

Yes

22: Ever left the house without wearing any underwear?

Yep

23: What do you wear when you go to bed?

Usually a big t-shirt and panties

24: Biggest turn on:

Uhh assertiveness?

25: Worst possible time to get horny:

At work when I can't do anything about it and can't focus

26: Do you like it when your sexual partner moans:

Ugh yes its so hot

27: Worst sexual idea you ever had:

Honestly don't know

28: How much fapping is too much fapping:

I dont know, when you injure yourself?

29: Best sexual complement you ever got:

Being the most fun/rough/adventurous sexual partner

30: What do you think you and/or the opposite sex looks the sexiest in?

I think I look sexiest in a summery dress with a decent amount of cleavage. Opposite sex looks sexiest in a well-fitted shirt with sleeves rolled up

31: Have you ever been called a tease?

Many times

32: Fill in the blanks: “If they ____________, we are ****in”

are geeky, brunette and sarcastic

33: What your favorite part of your body:

Boobs

34: Love (>,<, or =) Sex For those of us who don’t remember our math thats “greater than, less than, or equal to]

>

35: What do you wear to bed?

Already answered

36: When was the last time you masturbated:

Today

37: Do you have any nude/masturbating pictures/video of yourself?

Not saved but I have made nude/masturbating pics/videos before

38: Have/would you ever have sex outside?

Have tried

39: Have/would you ever masturbate at work?

Yes

40: Have/would you ever have sex on a plane?

I would

41: What is one song you’d like to have sex to?

No particular song but pop punk music gets me going haha or Arctic Monkeys AM album

42: Has anyone ever posted nude pictures of you online?

No

43: How do you feel about tattoos on someone you are interested in?

Depending on the tattoos, they're hot

44: Does size really matter to you?

Not really but it does matter a little

45: Is there anything you do on the internet that you would not like your significant other to see?

He knows about my Tumblr and my naughty posts but he doesn't want to see it so I wouldn't want him to see it either

46: Do you own any sex toys? (what is it? (how long have you had it?)

I only have vibrators. Have had them for a couple years probably

47: Would you give your significant other access to your internet history?

Sure

48: Would you be offended if your significant other suggested you get plastic surgery?

Probably

49: Would you rather be a pornstar or a prostitute?

Neither

50: Who gave you your last kiss? Did it mean anything?

My partner - it meant goodnight haha

51: Do you like to have phone sex?

Yes

52: Do you feel comfortable going “commando”?

I wouldn't say I'd feel comfortable haha

53: Would you have a problem with going down on someone if they hadn’t shaved their pubic hair?

No

54: Booty or Boobs?

Boobs

55: If you had a penis, what would you name it?

I... don't know

56: Have you ever been on an official date?

I've been on dates with my partner but never been asked out on or gone on a date officially

57: Have you ever cheated on someone? (Why?)

Yes. Because I really really wanted to fool around and fuck someone else. My sex drive is much higher than my partner's and wanted to explore my sexuality with someone with similar sex drives and kinks.

58: Have you had sex with someone of the same sex?

No

59: Have you had sex with more than one person simultaneously?

No

60: Have you ever been to a strip club?

No

61: Name one naughty act you have done in a public place?

Blowjob

62: Sex in the morning, afternoon or night?

All of the above. Haha but I don't know, morning? I always wake up horny

63: Shower or bath while having sex?

Shower

64: Do you want someone aggressive or passive in bed?

Aggressive

65: Love or Money?

Both but I guess love

66: Have you been caught having sex?

No

67: Does anyone have naughty pics of you?

Probably. I've sent naughty pics but don't know if anyone still has them

68: Do you like wild sex or romantic sex?

Both but wild

69: Do you consider hair pulling sexy?

Very

70: What should a guy first do when about to have sex with you?

Kiss me

71: Something that will never fail to get you horny?

Already answered

72: Favourite sexual things a guy/girl does to you thats not sex?

Kiss my neck, or hand on thigh

73: What do you wear to seduce the opposite sex?

Short skirt

74: Have you ever paid for sex?

No

75: Do you like kissing in public?

Don't like it nor do I dislike it

[revasserium]

i love your replies to the writer’s ask! about the compliment you gave yourself, yes. i do agree. i’m trying to recall which HQ fanfic of yours i first read. i’ve read so many of your works from that era. as i’m sieving through my memories, a few works of yours pop up like kageyama & the world responding?? daichi’s story with the prompt on goodbyes? adore the way you hook and drag. without looking at your masterlist, which story immediately comes to mind when you think of “time”?

about driving, since i’m still new i haven’t driven much. i’m very excited to cruise on the roads, but i’m also really bad at overtaking (i.e. i can overtake—or else how would i have passed my driving test—but i haven’t done it when cars are going fast & when it’s crowded… road conditions for my test were milder). it’s scary… SJDJSJDJSJ. i’ll hopefully be driving soon with my parent who can instruct me. i think for the time being, as i get used to the car, i have to focus, but i look forward to blasting music while driving 👍 — @anonymilk

also the poem you gave me was so great 🥹 thank you!! are there any poems from that author you like as well?? why do you like them specifically?? — @anonymilk also what happened the past 2 weeks r u alright :( — @anonymilk

combining ur asks! <3 hope u dont mind and sorry i take so long lol but answers in the cut!

uGH that reaper!kageyama x angel!reader fic is still one of my all time favs u__u im so happy you remember that one. sldkfjasd and the daichi story T^T -- i realized that pre-hiatus i was so so so kagehina biased with a hard sprinkling of suga but then post-hiatus i came back and suddenly i'm a daichi stan like is this..... IRL character dev bro. am i just into the Greenest of Green Flags now. not that i dont still adore kagehina bc i do. u__u they are my babies.

in terms of "time" -- i think the one that comes to mind most immediately is the hinata "length of daylight" fic i wrote! it remains one of my fav hinata fics i've written to date :D

for driving -- it def is something that needs lots of practice! but you'll get there!!! i'm excited for you!!!! and yeah to this day, i hate overtaking ppl but it's a necessary evil LOL

re: agha shahid ali YES oh my god okay. i love his stuff. i actually found him when i saw a poem of his on the new york subway lol im not even kidding. and it still remains one of my favorite poems of his to this day -- it's called Stationary, and it goes like this:

The moon did not become the sun. It just fell on the desert in great sheets, reams of silver handmade by you. The night is your cottage industry now, the day is your brisk emporium. The world is full of paper. Write to me.

i think the reason i fell so in love with it is because every single line is so vivid. not to say that most of his other poems aren't like this as well but like. idk something about this just spoke to me so much? i love love love metaphors about like irl things turning /into/ paper or ink or like... writing-related stuff. it's just such a beautiful image to me. also like there's a phrase in every line that strikes me "reams of silver", "brisk emporium" -- and something about the sentence "the world is full of paper" makes me like want to yell bc it's so??? GOOD??? bc yes!!! the world is full of paper!!!!!

and obviously, the ending just SMACKS you doesn't it? write to me. ugh. UGH. ugh its so good.

sometimes this poem still comes back to me in random moments and it makes me happy.

and now for some not so fun stuff. tw for like... ilness and death but yeah uh.

this entire summer has just been kind of ass tbh??? like. during the single month of july, we had 4 people in my family/friend circle pass away -- 2 grandparents, 1 uncle, 1 friend of a friend (who was literally only 24yrs old!!! bruh!!!! WTF!!!). we thought August was going to be chiller, but nope. last day of Aug, last thursday, my boss's wife passed away after battling with cancer for 2+ years.

it hit hard for our entire team at work bc like. she was younger than my mom. and my boss is such an industry veteran, and he and his wife have been married for 17 years, they have a 13yr old son like... it just sucked all around. we all went to the funeral this past wednesday. it was a beautiful service, but obviously really freaking sad. half our entire office was there, everyone was crying. i was crying like. it was a mess.

and then right after, i think my body had had ENOUGH of this nonsense, and i got a really bad fever literally ONE HOUR after i got home from the funeral. and i've been sick since then.

it's just been... unreasonably rough... i'm really hoping that this is the last big bad thing that's gonna happen for the rest of the year. like. im so exhausted -- pls @ the universe LOL. take it easy on us okay.

so yeah. i try to keep the heavy stuff off this blog bc it's supposed to be a place where i come to be happy and write things that make me happy so i haven't talked about this much but u__u since you asked, i didn't wanna just be like "oh yeah everything is fine" when it's not LOL

i do hope that the summer is treating you better though! <3

[gojology]

— Gojo and Nanami | Their Insecurities

pairing : insecure gojo x gender neutral reader, insecure nanami x gender neutral reader warnings : unedited, probably some misspellings, maybe some cursing, i probably dont make sense at all wordcount : 1703 a/n : this is so bad dear god please forgive me for deeming this as content

GOJO SATORU ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆ Gojo’s insecure about his lack of bodyhair. His lack of facial hair and arm hair worries him. Being babyfaced wasn’t something positive in his eyes- no, he wishes he was physically more masculine.

   Your eyes meet his, the sun rays bathing both of you in an orange filtered light. His mouth is slightly opened, skin flush to the touch. After a night of intimacy, your ready for another round, pushing your palm towards his forehead. “Good morning, Satoru.” you say, voice slightly wavering even in the most private presence, without the formalities and what not, he’s surprisingly normal, and it’s taken you a bit to adjust to that. He’s warm, but it’s the good kind of warm, and it shows on his silly, dopey smile.

    You guess it wasn’t the time for more sex, so you resist your urges, directing the energy to something else.

    Gradually, your palms find themselves on his cheeks, and you pinch them slightly, giving him a look you hope is loving- because you really do mean it. Your rest assured, as the curve to his swollen lips grew even wider. The sounds of bird chirped as your fingers danced across his jawline, finally at your final stop, his chin. 

    You tip his chin up, and sure enough, hickeys are adorning his neck. A feeling of joy and honor fills you for a brief second, you were the one that was allowed to see him vulnerable, given the pass into his locked up heart. He finally breaks the silence between the two of you, pushing away your slack hand delicately. 

    It’s peculiar, there’s a tremble to his lips, like he’s scared, or about to burst into a fit of tears. You think it should be the other way around, but here you were, arms held close to your chest, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, bated breath preventing you from questioning the sudden change in tone. 

    “Hey, um, Y/N, weird ass question, but, am I hairy? Like, wooly mammoth hairy?” 

    You can’t tell if it’s sarcasm or not.

    Trying not to make a face, you shrug your shoulders. “Well, I mean, not really. You’re actually pretty nonhairy, in terms of uh... The average-” you pause, realizing how drastically his face fell. “-But I do like non-hairy guys! Who would wanna date a wooly mammoth anyways? Hey, baby..” you coo, giving him a tiny peck on the cheek, fluttering your eyelashes.     “What’s this about? Hey, you know, you can just be straightforward with me, I don’t mind.” 

    He doesn’t take a moment of hesitation, exasperatedly blurting out, “Does my lack of.. Hair, bother you?” but it seems he regrets it, your cheeks puffing up, stifling a giggle. Yet, he maintains the bone-chilling eye contact, his eyes are as vivid as ever, so blue it looked like the entrance to heaven. Your immediately lulled, whatever he was going to say was definitely urgent.

    “W-What? Are you being serious?” covering your mouth, your voice is muffled, but his face looks absolutely terrified, and you relish in how funny he looked. It wasn’t everyday that he was genuinely frightened, well, maybe he didn’t show it often.    “Of course not! Why would I be even remotely worried about bodyhair when I have something way more eye-catching in front of me?”

    The shock turns into a sheepish smile, returning for a second time, your heart melting instantly. He takes a long, deep breath, exhaling the tension away, tugging at the covers to go over his chest. You hadn’t realized that he had stolen more than half of the blanket for himself, but you don’t make a fuss about it. 

    For all the weight he carried on his sagging shoulders, you’re sure the warmth is appreciated. 

NANAMI KENTO ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆ Nanami thinks he’s a boring person, through and through. Outside of work, he doesn’t see why anyone would want him. Some days, he wonders if he should pick up on Gojo’s personality, telling jokes and being sarcastic and what not.

   The fine, white porcelain Nanami had gifted you was beautiful, to say the least. Nanami frequently shone it until it glimmered in the light, wiping any smudge or speck of dirt that dared to get on his beloved tea set that he gifted to you a few months prior. Gold trim, alongside depictions of birds fluttering about, and your favorite flowers. It’s perfect for you, and that’s why he had gotten it. His eyes had instantly brightened, picturing your beaming face as you served the two of you some tea.

   But he wonders, would you be happier if he perhaps gifted you something more up to date in comparison to the porcelain? He had enough money to buy you the world, bags, jewelry, he’d often used to hear stories of his co-workers giving their wives expensive, well, anything, and they’d be over the moon. A sudden realization grew inside of him at the thought of this:    

   Was he too out-of-date?    

   The thought went rampant in his usually collected mind, twisting and turning at night, only the sound of you, deep in sleep, could calm the troubled man down. As a consequence to his overthinking, he got little to no rest, and if he got little to no rest, his eyebags would turn their ugly, sneering faces in his direction.

     And so, as he’s baking tea cakes to go along with the afternoon tea the two of you would routinely drink, he’s going deep into depth of himself. He’s a good worker, good at...

     What was he good at? Aside from work, he can’t see why he’d be of use. Nanami acknowledges he’s stoic, which may be good in some cases, but often, everyone runs away from him because he appears as scary with those cold, calculating eyes. As opposed to Gojo, everyone enjoyed how lenient of a teacher he was. Well, Nanami isn’t sure on that, maybe aside from Megumi, Nobara, and Yuuji, everyone hated that. Regardless, him and Gojo don’t share something in common.

     Gojo has humor, and he doesn’t. 

     So why did you like him? 

     Nanami’s subconsciously drumming his long, bony fingers against the counter, eyes studying the ceiling like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Steadily, an acrid smell completely overwhelmed your senses- now, you’re hacking into your arm, and finally, Nanami comes back to Earth. 

     He blinks a few times, like he’s drinking in his surroundings, before he realizes the tea cakes are completely burning into a crisp.

Now, he’s on heightened alert, yanking open the handle to the oven and fanning out the flames with a random oven mitt he had hastily grabbed for. Beads of sweat are developing on his skin, before finally, you rush in, still hacking up a storm with a large pot of freezing water in your shaking hands.

     Nanami curses himself for ever appearing as informal, but then he remembers he’s infront of his significant other, he didn’t have to put on an act. His face relaxes, and he opens his mouth to speak, to apologize, but he’s paused- by you. You raise your palm up at him, the other hand opening up a window looking over the garden.

      “Nana.” he freezes completely, the affectionate nickname was specially reserved for confrontations like this. You spoke softly, which, for some reason, was significantly worse than you screaming into his ear. Your eyes follow suit, staring at his collar, loosening his tie. He winces, but Nanami’s not sure why he does. You had touched him millions of times, so why was it now that he didn’t accept it?

     “Yes, my love?” he finally breathes out, wrapping a strong, gentle arm around your waist just loosely. You place your thumb just below his lower lip, your index finger rubbing his plush lips all at the same time. The exchange is purely affectionate, yet, he’s still tense. 

    “What has gotten into you?” you murmur. 

    “I- Nothing, darling, I’ll bake another-” 

    “No.” is all you say before you grab him by the chin, unwavering. Usually, those piercing eyes of his are emotionless, something shocking. The eyes are the gateway to the soul, so why is it that it’s blocked off? But you guess it wasn’t the case here, he stared back with the same level of intensity, fear and peculiarity. You stay in that position for a little, savoring just how much you must mean to him, it wasn’t everyday he was vulnerable and let you inside.      Your breathing is heavy, eyelids heavy as well due to his routinely ruckus every night, but you’re determined to erase any trace there was left of that.       You kiss him. It’s sloppy, yet chaste. A fight for dominance usually occurs between the two of you, and almost routinely, Nanami wins, but this time, he lets you do the work. 

   Your lips never once trail away from his own. Heavy breathing through nostrils, hands roaming where it shouldn’t at such an early time, but who gave a fuck about the rules? It wasn’t a workplace, and you’d never let it be one. He clings onto your figure, you savor his muscular physique. Not once do his hands not roam, your flesh was his, and his was yours. 

    Finally, you pull away, heat rising to your cheeks, tears are beginning to dawn on your glassy eyes. “I’ve listened to you roll around in bed every night, mumbling shit about how you don’t see why I’d want you. You better donate your eyes and brain to charity right now.” 

   This wasn’t the reaction, or beatdown he was expecting. He flinches at the vivid image he got of you gouging out his eyeballs. “...Why must I do that? 

   “Because, you don’t use them, obviously. If you took a fucking second of your life to look deeper into your personality below the surface level, you’d see how fucking amazing you are and I love you for that.” 

   Shaking your head furiously, you shush him up yet again when he finally decides to speak up, tears are beginning to spill down your cheeks. “Shut up, Nana. Shut. Up.” pulling him in for another kiss, your hands grabbing at his shoulder like he was going to let go. 

   But he never did. 

[boognish-worshipper]

Remember the Rain

praying this is the final part of “Sunrise, Sunset” by the time i’m done omg ,, lamar finally talks it out with frank. i was tryna keep the titles consistent with a sky theme? wasn’t sure what to name this one at first, but i settled on naming it after a i song that i felt was sorta fitting lol ,, also lamar’s dramatic when drunk, that’s jus how it’s gonna be

oh and i included one last convo w/ that psychic lady bc each character got three opportunities to speak to her lol

//

The night Franklin and him fought was the third night in a row Lamar couldn’t sleep right. Then it became four. Then five. Six. He had hoped after the first couple days of Franklin being mad, that it’d all blow over and things would go back to normal. That he wouldn’t ever have to say anything about what he felt deep down. Even though he told himself he had to, he wouldn’t. He waited it out, and still hoped it would all just fucking blow over. That wasn’t what happened of course.

An overcast sky was spread over LS, light rain tapping against Lamar’s window. As cheesy as it was, it reflected how he felt. Another day had passed. Franklin wasn’t picking up, not even reading his texts, nothing. He called a couple times at first when the fourth day of the silent treatment occurred, then tried a few more times to contact him in the following days. It had grown into a long and sad string of texts.

franklin.

dog

plz

pick up

answer me

plz?

c’mon frank i told you i have nothin goin on with yo auntie

i wanna talk things out with you.

u ain’t let me finish explaining

text me when u read this. plz bro

He sighed. This was hopeless. He set his phone aside, still laying awake. A buzz came right after. Fucking finally, something.

fuck you

we got nothin to discuss

He didn’t know how to feel. This was fucking him up and he couldn’t think straight. He tried calling him once more, the ringing as he waited for a pick up mocking him. Voicemail yet again. How many messages had he tried leaving at this point?

for fucks sake frank pick up

u ain’t doin this to me rn

jus let me explain myself

He stared at the ceiling yet again, like it would have all the answers sprawled out for him. As he did, he focused on how the rain had picked up, coming down harder. Then he felt his phone buzz.

no

now stop blowing my phone up

i’m tryna sleep

Lamar was never one to be sensitive, but he felt so crushed right now that all he could do was cry silently to himself. He didn’t even have Chop around anymore to comfort him like he normally would whenever Lamar was going through something. Would he even see him again? He lived over at Frank’s now. Fuck. Did this mean they’d have to share custody now? If he wasn’t so upset, he most likely would’ve laughed at the idea of it. He was letting bad thoughts consume him, turning to a last minute resort of drinking to try stopping it. This kind of thing rarely happened to him, these kind of feelings weren’t common. He knew no other method of trying to stuff bad feelings down, working through a 6 pack of beer on his own, followed by a bottle of some type of random liquor. Anything to stifle the pain in his chest, although it didn’t accomplish much other than making him feel even more queasy. He left one last voicemail, choking back a sob. Or what he had thought would be the last one. He lost count.

“Franklin. Please jus’ talk to me already man. You- you believin’ what you wanna believe right now, you ain’t even givin’ me a chance. You my best fuckin’ friend, don’t that mean shit to you anymore? We.. homies n shit.” He sniffled, cringing to himself when he said the words “best friend”. Franklin was so much more than that to him.

“Ion… Ion think I can live without you in my life. You can’t hate me man that shit.. that’s fucked. This is fucked. I’m fucked.”

A strong feeling of humiliation hung around him for many reasons, one being that he was fully crying now, over the phone. He couldn’t get any lower.

“You jus’ mad right now. But you.. you won’t be, eventually. Right? Please get back to me soon. Please. I’d rather fuckin’.. die or sum’ than have you hatin’ me n shit. At this point I might as well.”

After hanging up, he decided to visit that site one last time. His tears blurred his vision, making it harder to type. The shit in his system didn’t help either.

lady

i fuckef up

thsi is yo faukt

What now? Why are you back?

frankljn hates me

He does? That’s not right.

damn straighy it fuckign isnt

No, I mean that’s not correct.

There’s no way that he could, even if it seems like it right now.

jus fuckin tell me whst to do

That’s out of my hands.

is not u fuckin wirch

*withc

*witch

Look, I really don’t know how else to help you. I don’t have any other visions to offer. You’re on your own.

They do say though, that dreams are visions themselves.

dont fukcin speak in riddles rn

Precognition, Lamar. Just have faith

prewhatnow

n yeah. faith. bc that helps so fuckn much

All I can say to you is good luck - it’s all coming together. Just wait.

th fuck does that mean?

It means that you’re stressing too much - you better sleep it off. Farewell Lamar. You’re gonna have a killer hangover you know…

SERVICE UNAVAILABLE. PLEASE TRY AGAIN LATER.

The notification did nothing but make him more upset. He calmed down eventually, the crying and alcohol tiring him out. He blacked out soon after, not remembering when he fell asleep.

For the first time in a while, he dreamt about the two of them. The start of the dream showed a radiant sight before them, the sky lit up in a million shades. Chop was laying beside Franklin, head on his thigh. All three of them sat on a grassy knoll, a soft breeze blowing through each blade. Franklin turned, Lamar not taking his eyes off him since the dream started. He only noticed the sky’s wide color palette because the intensity struck Franklin’s face just right. He looked right into Lamar’s eyes, speaking softly.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“What?”

“You had so many opportunities. So many times, I thought that you would. I got my hopes up, you know. I waited. When Tanisha left.. I only had you.”

“Tanisha..”

“I still love her. I.. I think apart of me always will, but I love you just the same. Even if you drive me up a Goddamn wall sometimes. You both mean the world to me.”

Franklin looked back at the view ahead. A heavenly indigo replaced the vivid hues from before.

“But she’s gone now. Shit ain’t the same. All I know is you stayed when she didn’t. Even when she got pulled outta the hood and made some kinda new life for herself, you never left my side. Never changed yo loyalties.”

He turned back to face Lamar again. His eyes were glassy, the glow of the midnight sky reflecting in them.

“So why didn’t you say somethin’ sooner?”

“Franklin.. I ain’t deduce that shit ‘til now.“

“You really didn’t know?”

Even in the dream he could feel that previous frustration occur in his mind. Was he hiding in a glass closet or something? He could only let out a wry laugh.

“Yeah man. I was a fuckin’ fool, jus’ like you always said.”

“Damn straight.” He chuckled, and Lamar came to the conclusion that he could listen to that laugh forever. Franklin’s face then fell solemn.

“Y’know I really thought that.. I really thought that you jus’ got with someone else. Not even jus’ my Aunt. I saw how you wanted to get away from me, and I thought…” He stopped himself, petting Chop’s head.

“I.. wanted to be happy if you was, but the thought of that at all bothered me.”

“Why?”

“Cuz you were all I had, dog. Mike n Trevor, they have their own lives, their own history n shit. I can’t always rely on them. Denise don’t give a fuck what happen to me. You my lifeline dog, I’ve known you for years. I didn’t want you to forget me over a chick or sum’. That day you acted all different n shit, it worried me.”

“Hey man, y’know I ain’t ever gon pull that shit on you. I’m with you for life.”

“Then don’t pull other kinda stupid shit on me.”

“Whatchu mean?”

“You can’t ever die on me bro. That ain’t how this shit works.”

“Ay man, I don’t plan on dying jus’ yet. Not unless yo ass by my side. Not ‘til I tell you I…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

Franklin got closer to his face, cupping his cheek. His eyes shone as the stars around them fell from the sky, akin to raindrops, hitting them. Everything about him was flooding Lamar’s senses, and it felt surreal, between his aroma and all the other things he loved about Franklin. Golden flecks covered them both, and the stars continued to crash down. The sky was growing darker than before.

“Just say the words Lamar. Say them and this shit’ll be over.”

“How?”

“Well first you need to wake yo ass up.”

“Huh?”

“I said wake up, fool!”

Lamar’s blissful dream had been interrupted by an unknown figure shaking him, literal raindrops hitting his face. He was still bleary eyed, only seeing a vague silhouette in front of him. A wet slap to the face rattled his brain around, the hangover settling in. Shit, was he still drunk? What time was it?

“Lamar! Get up!”

“Oh.. Th’fuck? Who- who that is?” He grunted out.

“It’s me you fuckin’ clown!”

“Frank?”

“Who the fuck else?”

“Why are you-”

He was abruptly yanked out of bed, thudding to the floor with a small “oof”.

“Get up you punk bitch!”

“Franklin what the fuck-”

He was grabbed again, tossed back onto his bed. Franklin straddled him, shaking Lamar by the collar.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He said, Lamar getting another slap to the face.

“What in the fresh fuck is you talkin’-” Another slap.

“15 fuckin’ missed phone calls! 15! Are you fuckin’ nuts?!”

Lamar’s eyes practically popped out of his head. 15? What the fuck did he say to him?

“I did what-”

Franklin shook him even harder by his shirt, stretching the material out. He was straining his voice now.

“You had me worried like fuckin’ crazy! I thought you was in some sorta fuckin’ trouble again! You blew my phone up when I told yo ass not to, and then didn’t fuckin’ pick up after I heard the first couple special messages you left me!”

Oh God. This was it. He told Franklin everything, didn’t he? The color drained from his face.

“Oh fuck me..” He mumbled, putting a hand over his eyes.

“What?!” Franklin yelled, shaking him again. Lamar’s head was pounding.

“Franklin.. what.. what I say on there? I barely remember a thing, let alone callin’ yo ass.”

“You seriously don’t fuckin’ remember?!”

“Yeah. Seriously, man.”

Franklin slid off of him, putting a palm to his face. He breathed through his nose hard, trying to calm down. Lamar realized he was drenched from the small downpour outside. Pellets of rain thumped against the window as a reminder that the storm never went away.

“You.. fuck, man. You started sayin’ all this shit about how bad a fuckin’ friend you was. That you, you was hidin’ all this shit and couldn’t live another day without tellin’ me.”

Okay. Good. He didn’t tell him the truth.

“You told me you wanted to die dog. Didn’t realize yo dumbass was safe n sound asleep in yo fuckin’ bed.”

“Oh.”

“…’Oh’? Is that really all you have to say?!”

“F, I was jus’ drunk. It was dumb of me, I know, but I.. It’s nothing, okay?”

“Don’t do this shit to me man! I’ve already dealt with enough of yo fuckin’ schemes n shit-”

“Frank.”

“It’s 3 am! You had Chop barkin’ his Goddamn head off the whole night!”

“Franklin.”

“Then I race my ass over here to find yo drunkass self passed out in bed-”

“Franklin.”

“What! What?! You finally gonna put yo two cents in for once?”

“Stop yelling. My head hurts like a bitch right now.”

“Good! I’m fuckin’ glad because I know mine does as well you fuckin’ asshole!”

Lamar looked pathetically up at him. This was getting out of hand. He let it go on for too long.

“Why did you come here then?” He croaked.

“Because you were fuckin’ sobbin’ into the phone! All I heard was you cryin’ like mad fuckin’ crazy and it scared me. You don’t ever do that shit, not even when you fucked up.”

“How much I say?”

“I got the first message pretty fuckin’ clear, the rest was jus’ incoherent bullshit. I barely got through the second one before speedin’ on over. You sounded hurt n shit, I thought something happened. I thought you was a goner.”

“No weird shit though right? I ain’t say nothin’ bad?”

“What? Lamar, what the fuck are you on about? I just told you what yo ass cried out to me! I couldn’t even understand any of the other messages!”

“Okay, okay. That’s.. good I guess.”

“That’s good? Fuckin’ hell, why did I come here? You- ugh!”

“Franklin. Can you jus’ sit down before you pop a fuckin’ blood vessel? You stressin’ for nothin’.”

If anything, Lamar should be the one stressing right now. He had been so close to confessing without knowing. Franklin sat next to him, arms crossed.

“Franklin.”

“What.”

“I’m sorry that I scared you. I didn’t mean to.”

“Well good fuckin’ job, you accomplished that real well didn’t you.” He said, sarcastically applauding him.

“I thought you were cutting me off for good homie. You think I was gon’ let that happen?”

“Lamar, that still ain’t a good reason to freak me out like that in the middle of the night.”

“It’s only cuz you hadn’t been listenin’ to me bro. I’ve been wanting to tell you somethin’ so badly lately and I never.. got the chance.”

“Then do pray fuckin’ tell LD, what the fuck is so important that you had to do this shit to me at 3 AM!”

“Franklin man, c’mon-”

“No! Don’t start!”

Franklin stood, heading for the door as he spoke. He stopped in the threshold.

“Tell me what the fuck is goin’ on with you, or I’m leavin’ yo sad ass here to wallow. I mean it L.”

“Don’t be like that. Please man. I want to, but I-”

“Jus’ fuckin’ tell me! Why won’t you tell me?!”

“Frank-”

“I dragged my ass all the way over here for nothin’ didn’t I? You ain’t dead, you ain’t sayin’ shit, you jus’ bein’ so- ugh! Fuck!” He threw his hands up, exiting Lamar’s bedroom.

“I’m done man, fuck this.”

“Franklin wait- don’t go-” He pleaded.

Franklin did nothing but leave him stranded again, thunder rolling far in the distance. Lamar ran after him as he walked out the door, hearing the rain heavily hit the pavement. His mind was racing far ahead of him. Franklin was leaving, he was leaving for good, and he couldn’t. He can’t. That’s not how it’s supposed to work. Franklin can’t do that, he can’t-

His mind had gone so far away, that he didn’t even realize that he had tackled Franklin to the ground. The two of them fell to the ground with a loud splat, followed by sounds of pain.

“Lamar what the fuck?!”

“Don’t go! Fuckin’ hell, I gotta chase yo ass and for what?!”

“Get off me dog!”

“No!” Franklin was pinned beneath him. The raindrops that rolled off of Lamar hit him in the face.

It reminded Lamar of when they were younger, playing football or whatever sport they could outside even as the deluge soaked them both to the bone. The roles had been reversed, with Franklin constantly knocking him down onto the grassy sludge. They got quite an earful from Lamar’s mom as they tracked mud in the house upon returning. It was a memory amongst many that stuck with him like glue. Those memories couldn’t go away. Franklin couldn’t go away.

Tears mixed in with the rain as he yelled out to him.

“You fuckin’ idiot! Why you makin’ this shit so hard for me?! You keep leavin’ before I can even finish!”

Franklin struggled to break free from Lamar’s grip on his wrists, huffing as he looked away.

“Look at me!” Lamar shouted, grabbing his face with a free hand.

“I didn’t wanna fuckin’ tell you like this, but Jesus Christ! For fucks sake you stubborn asshole-”

He was doing it. He bit the fucking bullet.

“You know how we got into that fuckin’ argument last week? When I told you that I was dealin’ with that whole love thing, I wasn’t talkin’ about yo Aunt, a hoe, nobody else! I was talkin’ about you!”

Lamar threw himself off of him, stumbling backwards. Franklin propped himself onto his elbows. He finally said it. He said it, and he was far from finished.

“But you didn’t wanna fuckin’ listen! And now I’ve fucked our friendship over for a second time! All because of you! This whole thing has been drivin’ me fuckin’ insane lately, and I couldn’t do shit about it! I tried so, so hard to avoid this, but nothin’ ever goes my way, huh?! Every time I think a plan of mine’ll work, it doesn’t! You know why?!”

Opening his arms wide, he spoke loud and clear, finishing his rant.

“Lemme remind you: I’m Lamar fuckin’ Davis! The biggest fuckin’ fool, fuckin’ clown, fuckin’ whatever you wanna call me! Lamar Davis, the most naïve bitch on the planet! Fuck me for thinking that this would ever go well!”

Now it was his turn to leave. But he didn’t go back into his house. His legs moved for him, walking in no particular direction. He just needed to get away from Franklin, not caring about how damp his clothes were now. He was shaking, and he didn’t know if it was from the rain or the range of emotions he was flying through.

He could hear a pair of sneakers squishing behind him. Franklin was running, and he was catching up fast.

“Ay Lamar! Get back here!”

Oh fuck. He was chasing after him now. That’s not good. Lamar started running himself, not caring about possibly slipping and falling on his ass. Only a few hours ago, he had told himself he couldn’t be without Franklin. Now all he wanted to do was run away.

“Lamar!”

Fuck fuck fuck.

He wasn’t fast enough. The second time they hit the ground, Lamar had the wind knocked right out of him, the duo splashing right into a puddle. Hands gripped his shoulders, flipping him around.

“Lamar!”

There were only a few instances in his life where Lamar felt small. He’d always been big in character, big in height, and according to him, big in other ways. But this was one of those moments where he couldn’t help but flinch, wanting to collapse in on himself. He was so tired.

“If you gon’ beat my ass or somethin’ jus’ get it over with.” He sighed, shutting his eyes tight.

When he felt nothing but raindrops touch his face, he opened his eyes slowly. His heart sank when he did. Franklin was visibly upset, guilt in his eyes.

“Lamar. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

A wave of déjà vu washed over him. Oh. So that’s what precognition meant. Motherfucking psychic lady.

“You should’ve jus’ told me man.”

“I tried dog. You wouldn’t hear me out.”

“Cuz I.. I thought you got with someone. I didn’t wanna hear it straight from yo mouth if you was.”

He shifted up, Frank sitting in his lap.

“Y’know I always thought that.. Part of me jus’ kinda thought that it’d always be the two of us. I’m never gonna get Tanisha back.. but you..”

Franklin looked away.

“You a crazy ass loyal motherfucker man. You stuck by my side no matter what, and some dumbass part of me was convinced that you… I mean fuck, so many times I thought you would jus’ flat out say something. Somethin’ so I could stop waiting for the one other person I had known forever to just say that they fuckin’ loved me like that.”

Lamar blinked, rainwater getting into his eyes. It wasn’t quite as serene as his dream had been, nor was it verbatim, but Lamar didn’t care. There was something about the way the water droplets sat along Franklin’s face, highlighted by a streetlight behind him that made him look angelic.

“When you started actin’ all weird it jus’.. made me so fuckin’ mad man. I thought you was gon’ pick someone else over me. Jus’ like Tanisha did.”

“Franklin..”

“So why didn’t you jus’ say somethin’ sooner? I waited. Hell, I don’t even know why I did at first.”

“Franklin.”

“But now I’m realizin’ you must not have even noticed yoself what you was feelin’, when I fuckin’ did. I noticed and you didn’t and-”

Lamar grabbed him by the face, grip surprisingly strong after being in the rain.

“How many times do I gotta say yo name for you to hear me?”

The rain kept falling, never slowing for either one of them. Yet, it felt like time stopped. Lamar chuckled lightly.

“Franklin Clinton and Lamar Davis. Two of the dumbest motherfuckers in LS. Homies for life.”

“Yeah. Homies for life.”

His hands never left Franklin’s face. He pressed their foreheads together, lowering his voice.

“I love you, bum ass bitch.”

“Yeah yeah. I love you too.”

He kissed the top of his head, moving his hands down to embrace him in a tight hug. When was the last time they did this? As he thought it over, he could hear Franklin’s voice muffled against his chest.

“Don’t scare me like that again. Next time save us both the trouble n jus’ spill yo heart out. Dramatic motherfucker.”

The words had no malice in them, Lamar feeling him smile as he said it. He kissed him once more, and they just sat in the rain, feeling it bathe them in fond memories.

//plz listen to remember the rain by 21st century it’s so good 💔😭 anyway ya i decided to end it on a sorta happy note !!!!! franklin is a stubborn guy smh,, sorry for any typos lol also i rlly had no idea where i wanted to go with this so sorry if it’s weird or whatever

[wickedpact]

Idea for a JoexNicky fic!! (anon here)- piggybacking off the other anon's nicky's mom idea, what if for an anniversary present, Joe sketches a portrait of Nicky's mother? (obviously she'd look like a beautiful warm goddess of kindness) Like maybe he has a dream of one of Nicky's most vivid memories ;-; I would literally die

so uh. this bloomed wildly out of my control

this ficlet is 5k words long so dont open that read more unless youre willing to commit to it

warnings: brief discussions of violence, extremely brief mention of sex, me not knowing how the FUCK one becomes a priest in Ye Olde 1000′s, and probably a criminal lack of historical accuracy as well as a criminal lack of the accented o in ‘nicolo’

yeehaw.

  It starts with one of Andromache’s sparring sessions, and of course by ‘sparring’ session Nicolo means a session in which Andromache was in a piss poor mood for no obvious reason, and decided to take it out on the rest of them.

 These sessions tend to start with Andromache coming hurtling into their camp with a dark expression on her face, and end with Yusuf and Nicolo sprawled on the ground, bruised and exhausted, while Andromache and Quynh beat the ever-loving hell out of each other nearby. (Yusuf has been convinced for a long time that it's some sort of mating ritual; Nicolo... doubts it.)

This time around, they are at some point after Nicolo has given up, and some point before Yusuf has joined him; Nicolo lies on the sand, starfished, while Quynh and Yusuf attempt to tag team Andromache with an abundance of vigor and middling results. Nicolo cranes his neck to watch the spectacle, catching a glimpse of Andromache flipping Quynh straight over her shoulder before twisting around and kicking Yusuf dangerously close to the groin. Yusuf stumbles, and Andromache grabs him by the shoulder, shoving his considerable weight off of his feet and towards Nicolo’s resting spot.

Yusuf, stumbling, manages to not trip over Nicolo by inches, and falls face-first onto the ground beside him with a groan. Meanwhile, Quynh has recovered and charges at Andy again, beginning their age-old dance yet again.

Yusuf grumbles at Nicolo’s side and peels himself off the ground, leveraging onto a knee. Nicolo drops his head back down to look at him, smiling when he swipes a hand across his beard to dislodge the sand accumulating there. Having been roasting under the midday sun and the excursion of the fight for hours now, Yusuf is layered in sweat and breathing heavily but evenly, chest and shoulders heaving slowly with each breath. Nicolo’s mouth goes crooked watching him.

“She doesn’t attack still targets,” he advises, amused, lying still atop the sand.

“Like a lioness!” Yusuf agrees with a zest Nicolo lost about thirteen minutes ago. He pulls himself onto both knees and balances on them, wavering in a way that makes Nicolo want to give him a steadying hand. “Hm.” Yusuf braces a hand on his thigh, face scrunching up in consideration. “No. I don’t think so.”

And then he plops, face first, back to the sand. Nicolo gives him an encouraging pat on the back with his knuckles.

“Are you two giving up?” Andromache calls over. Nicolo cranes his head up again to see that Quynh is on the ground yet again, slowly stumbling to her feet, and Andromache stands with her back to her, facing them. Her hands are on her hips.

“Yes. Thank you for checking in!” Nicolo confirms, lifting a hand to give her a thumbs up. Andromache responds to the sass with a raised eyebrow before whirling around and punching Quynh in the stomach before the younger immortal could sneak up on her.

Quynh goes down for the-- who knows how many times now, and Nicolo drops his head. He squints up at the wavering blue lines of the sky until Andromache’s white robes cross his vision, casting a shadow over his and Yusuf’s resting forms.

“Get up,” Andromache insists, nudging Nicolo with her boot. “I’m not done with you two yet.”

“You can’t make us,” Yusuf grumbles into the sand.

“You bet I can’t?” Andromache threatens, more a tease than a promise. When neither of them reply, she rolls her eyes and says, with a less than gentle kick to Yusuf’s side, “You babies are so soft.”

Yusuf hisses, rolling away from Andromache’s boot, into Nicolo’s side. “Son of a whore, Andromache, knock it off,” he grouches, dropping his shoulder atop Nicolo’s. Nicolo grunts with the weight of it. “Or daughter of a whore, that is,” he corrects himself, then adds thoughtfully, “No offense to your mother, if she were a woman of the night. What did your mother do, Andromache?”

Andromache laughs at Yusuf’s meandering insult-- a posturing bluster of a laugh that makes Nicolo blink, wondering if Yusuf’s actually offended her somehow. If so this would be the first time; Nicolo has always known Andromache to be thicker skinned than a mule.

But then she says, “I don’t remember my mother. Who knows,” and turns and heads back over to Quynh, who’s only just recovered from before. They resume sparring, Nicolo watching them with mild confusion.

Nicolo turns to look at Yusuf, wondering if he’d caught onto Andromache’s discomfort, but when Nicolo catches his eye, he just shrugs his shoulder against the sand and says, “Well, that’s a line that’ll end an argument every time, eh?”

~

Later on, Nicolo is still considering it, sprawled in front of the fire --that Quynh had constructed a couple hours prior-- with Yusuf, Nicolo slouched against his chest and bracketed by his bent knees. Andromache and Quynh are arguing over the linen tent a little ways off, and Nicolo watches Andromache carefully, the lines on her face and the muscles in her arms, the working parts of her that have existed on this earth for thousands of years. The things her hands have done; the things her eyes have seen.

The things her heart has forgotten.

“You are thinking very loudly over there,” Yusuf says from somewhere over Nicolo’s head. Nicolo shifts his eyes from Andromache and Qyunh, to the fire, to his and Yusuf’s legs stretched out before it. He tilts his head back, the top of his head against Yusuf’s sternum, but all he can see from that angle is Yusuf’s beard, so he drops his head back down with a little amused huff.

“Andromache is very old,” Nicolo says slowly.

“Ah, yes,” Yusuf agrees, amiable. “Also: water is very wet, and the desert is very hot.”

“S’cold at night,” Nicolo grumbles, just to be contrary, and is rewarded by Yusuf slipping his arms under Nicolo’s, bundling him closer to his chest and notching his chin over his head.

“What’s wrong, Nico?”

Nicolo requires no further prompting, not from Yusuf at least. The words come tumbling out of his mouth, one at a time. “She doesn’t remember her mother.”

There’s little more that needs to be said there. The immortal life is one that comes with many downsides, and the nature of it is that sometimes one discovers these downsides centuries later than expected. This isn’t the first time an unexpected side-effect of their unending lives has been thrust upon him and Yusuf, and likely won’t be the last.

Nicolo had never really thought he might one day forget his mother.

 Yusuf hums thoughtfully in response, a non-answer that does little to soothe Nicolo. “That she doesn’t,” he adds after a moment. “What was your mother like?”

“I don’t--” Nicolo starts, and then, with an odd curiosity, realizes he’s having difficulty continuing. “I... didn’t know her very long. I was given to the church… very young. I don’t remember much of what she was like, other than that she was my mother.”

“Do you remember what she looked like?”

“Well…” 

Nicolo remembers little of his life before the clergy. Two brothers. A sister. His father’s stern brow, and the calluses on his mother’s hand as she took his little fingers in hers, leading him down the dirt paths back in Genova. Her smile, silhouetted by the heady red glow of the afternoon sun. 

“Brown hair,” Nicolo eventually answers. “Dark eyebrows. High cheekbones, too, and… and kind eyes.”

“What I’m hearing is you took after her very strongly.”

Nicolo smiles. “I do remember being told something of the sort before.”

“Her eyes?” Joe rests one of his palms flat against Nicolo’s stomach.

“Green, I’m pretty sure.”

“So you took after her very strongly, then,” Joe concludes.

Nicolo looks down, fiddling with the fingers of Joe’s free hand. “She used to take me to the shore. We’d gather seashells together.”

That he remembers well, plucking seashells and bits of coral out from dried seafoam after the tide had gone out near the end of the day, one arm bundling conch and clam shells against his chest, the other prying washed-up shells from the still wet sand. The sun would be low, but not low enough that they would feel the need to rush, and it would cast their shadows in long, blue lines across the beach. Time was an endless thing there, where the sun glowed red and bright, and there was always another conch shell wedged in the damp earth to dig up.

“She sounds lovely,” Yusuf hums. Nicolo pauses, tracing Yusuf’s index finger with his own. Yusuf almost never talks about his family. They have known each other for nearly three hundred years now, and yet Nicolo could store all the things he knows of Yusuf's family in a basket. Over the years he’s been able to piece together that both of Yusuf’s parents were dead before the Crusades began. And that they both died when Yusuf was fairly young. Beyond that… he knows little.

“Yusuf…” Nicolo starts, uncertain and fidgeting. “What about your mother?”

“My mother?” Yusuf repeats, as if Nicolo has somehow strung together two incomprehensible words. 

“Yes.” When a pause stretches between them, Nicolo sighs and laces his fingers between Yusuf’s. “You don’t need to tell me.”

“No, no,” Yusuf insists before Nicolo can change the topic. He returns Nicolo’s grip on his hands, smoothing his thumb over the knuckle of Nicolo’s pointer finger. “I want to. My mother…” He sighs. “She was very anxious. Always fretting. She was a weaver; she liked making rugs.”

Yusuf’s thumb stills over Nicolo’s knuckle. Nicolo tilts his head. “Your prayer mat. Did she--?

“Yeah, she made it.” Yusuf pauses again. “Weaving calmed her down when she was nervous. My father and I, we would travel often-- business, you know. Trade deals and things. Mother always worried when we were gone.”

They both pause when Quynh yells something particularly loud at Andromache, breaking the moment for a split second. Andromache hollers something back, and the two women break out into abrupt laughter.

“Are you worried you’ll forget her?” Nicolo asks when they've settled again. “Your mother?”

“No,” Yusuf replies, though he trails off halfway through the word. “In part, I suppose… but there are many things I’d like to forget, I think.”

Nicolo peels himself out of Yusuf’s arms in response to that, twisting around to look at his companion. Yusuf’s brows are pressed together, the tilt of his mouth sad. Nicolo places a hand to his chest, fingers against Yusuf’s collar. “Yusuf?”

Yusuf sucks the inside of his cheek, looking far away before directing a sad smile at Nicolo. “She came with us, once. On a trip. Of course the one time Father allowed her to come was the time that it went wrong.” At Nicolo’s questioning look, Yusuf elaborates, “Bandits.”

“Yusuf...”

“I hadn’t really known how to fight, then, so it didn’t… really matter, either way-- but I got knocked out in the fight, and by the time I woke up again, it was all over.” With a slow breath, Yusuf looks down at their interwoven fingers. “I would like to forget some things. Not her, but…” 

It takes Yusuf a long moment to continue. He looks up, towards the stars, lips pursed with thought, before eventually ducking his head again. Nicolo waits quietly.

“It is hard to remember them,” Yusuf says eventually, to their hands, “without remembering them in death. I had to bury them both.”

With a soft noise, Nicolo reaches forward and pulls Yusuf into a hug, arms wrapping about his shoulders; Yusuf responds in chorus and reaches for Nicolo back, his embrace tight enough to grind bone.

Nicolo rubs a hand up and down Yusuf’s back, his face tucked into Nicolo’s shoulder. Perturbed, Nicolo can’t imagine it- the comforting memory of his own mother, crossed and tainted by violence so cruelly. To lose her was enough. To lose the comfort of remembering her as well would be harrowing.

Yusuf pulls away first after some time, eyes red but dry, mouth turned down. Nicolo reaches up and thumbs at the crease between his brows, which quirks Yusuf’s lips ever so slightly.

“How old were you?” Nicolo asks.

Yusuf reaches up and takes Nicolo’s hand from his face, wrapping his fingers around his. “Twenty one.”

“A child.”

“Hardly, Nico,” Yusuf snorts softly. Nicolo disagrees, but he’s not going to start an argument over it. Not now.

With a sigh, Yusuf leans back against the rock formation behind them, wrapping an arm around Nicolo and tugging him sideways against his chest. Nicolo rests his head against Yusuf's shoulder.

“It’s not that I wish to forget her. Or my father. But I… would rather fondly remember the idea of them, the fragments, then remember them perfectly in death. That might make me selfish.”

“It does not,” Nicolo replies sternly. “It makes perfect sense to feel that way, Yusuf.” And then, “I’m sorry.” Yusuf only hums in response. It is, admittedly, a frail sentiment, so Nicolo adds, “I love you. In case you’ve forgotten.”

This earns him a huff against the top of his head. “I love you too,” Yusuf responds, and they fall into an easy silence.

After a few minutes, and with a great sigh, Yusuf tilts his head so that his cheek presses against Nicolo’s hair. “Nicolo…” he mumbles, hesitant, “I don’t mean to ruin the moment, but... I think we’re sleeping under the stars tonight.”

Nicolo lifts his head and twists around to find the half-assembled and frankly pathetic looking tent swaying off in the distance alone, with both Andromache and Quynh nowhere in sight.

“The consolidated wisdom of millenia,” Nicolo grumbles, dropping his head back against Yusuf. “And they still can’t assemble a tent.”

Yusuf laughs; Nicolo is by far more warmed by that than any comfort the damned tent could have offered.

~

Quynh has the little joke of hers whenever they go drinking. She’ll tell Yusuf, giggling into her tankard, “I miss when you didn’t drink!”

This is a joke because Yusuf gave up his abstinence of alcohol only a few months after he and Nicolo had met Quynh and Andromache, nearly two hundred years ago now, and when he’d announced his decision to do so to the two warrior women, they’d both admitted they didn’t even realize that he didn’t drink in the first place. 

Nearly two hundred years later, Quynh continues to make this joke. Nicolo has yet to find it funny, but Yusuf laughs every time.

“It’s our anniversary, Quynh, you must be nice to us!” Yusuf insists in response to said joke. He is, as Andromache might say, drunk off his ass, swaying happily in his seat at the musty bar they’ve settled in for the night to celebrate. Despite how loudly he’s speaking, Nicolo can barely hear him over the clatter and bustle and chatter of the other, varyingly drunk, patrons at the bar.

“Three hundred years is nothing, Yusuf. You’re still babies,” Andromache replies, equally smashed yet bearing it more stoically, pitched against Quynh’s shoulder. One of her hands is still curled loosely around her tankard, unwilling to give it up just yet, probably.

Nicolo leans back against his rickety chair. “Do you two remember when you only knew each other for three hundred years?”

In response to this, Andromache pulls back from Quynh’s shoulder, propping herself up on the edge of a table with her free hand. She tilts her head, staring silently at Quynh with a quirked mouth, and Quynh stares back, eyebrows raised high. Nicolo’s gaze flicks between the two warrior women, eyeing them both, studying the emotion in their eyes and their mouths and their brows. 

For nearly an entire minute they say nothing. They have no need to. The charged gaze between them could write entire epics; legions of words pass between them and neither woman even opens her mouth.

Nicolo finds himself slightly jealous. He wonders if he and Yusuf will ever hit a point such as this, where they could communicate without words, know each other so well that even a twitch of the brow or a press of lips could mean so much-- that words become irrelevant. Become small and useless compared to the years of their bond.

“It was a time,” Quynh answers at last, smiling a far away smile.

“That’s different,” Yusuf interrupts, slurring slightly and grinning widely. “because, this isn’t about how long you two have known each other, but how long I’ve known Nicolo,” here, he gestures broadly at Nicolo, sitting at his side, “and when you two will have known Nicolo for three hundred years, and-- and want to celebrate, I will not laugh at your paltry few years spent with him, in comparison to my many centuries! And you may-- may thank me for my generosity and kindness-- then.”

Quynh snorts. “That was very poetic of you, Yusuf.”

“Thank you.” Yusuf places a calloused hand atop Nicolo’s head. “I love him very much,” he states, very sincerely, if a little slurred.

Andromache, as always, seems to feel a compulsion to try and ruin the moment. Their Andromache, old and wise as she is, is a great many things: an elegant warrior, a stern protector, and a graceful leader-- however, a kind drunk she is not.  “You know, you’ll get tired of each other eventually,” she points out, gesturing between the two of them. Yusuf rolls his eyes, his hand slipping from Nicolo’s head. “Quynh and I usually separate every couple hundred years for a time. It’s normal.”

“Bah,” Yusuf grumbles. “Andromache, you do not have a romantic bone in your body.”

“I do!” Andromache insists. Quynh sends her a sharp look that she doesn’t see because she’s too busy waving her hand widely. “I have been with, and wooed, and have been wooed by-- by more men and women than you’ve ever even set eyes on.”

Yusuf copies Andromache’s grand gesture, cheery and mocking. “That, what you’ve just described, is the opposite of romance, boss.”

“Whatever,” Andromache concedes with middling grace. “I’m happy for you two, either way.”

“Thank you,” Nicolo says, so that Yusuf won't say anything else. “Another round?”

~

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Yusuf says to Nicolo an hour or so later, as Nicolo is trying to haul the damned drunk up the stairs without sending them both sprawling down to their temporary deaths.

Funnily enough, around the time Yusuf began drinking, Nicolo stopped-- not out of any particular thoughts on alcohol itself, but because someone had to remain sober in order to drag Yusuf’s drunken ass back to their room at the end of the night, and the responsibility fell to Nicolo for all of the obvious reasons, and also because he was happy to do it.

“Who?” Nicolo asks, steadying a hand on Yusuf’s shoulder when he sways at the top dangerously.

“Andromache,” Yusuf replies. Nicolo’s not sure what exactly Yusuf thinks she was wrong about-- they’d discussed many topics at the bar downstairs-- but he might succeed in having this conversation more so if Andromache and Quynh weren’t standing no less than five feet away, hovering just inside their room’s open door down the hall, stripping down to their tunics and trousers.

Probably standing by in case Nicolo and Yusuf took an unfortunate tumble down the stairs. Nicolo is warmed by their concern, but Yusuf is too busy being drunkenly confused by Andromache’s presence after she calls over an “about what?” to think of such things.

“Where did you come from?” Yusuf asks Andromache, only going half willingly when Nicolo rolls his eyes and drags him down the hall.

“Thank you, good night,” Nicolo tells the two women as they pass their door and head down the hall to theirs, floorboards creaking under their boots.

“Have a nice anniversary, infants!” Andromach calls after they manage to stumble to their door, sticking her head out of theirs.

Nicolo fiddles with the key the barkeep gave him, trying desperately to ignore Yusuf when he yells back, “Us infants will try not to fuck so loud you can hear it all the way down there!” probably scarring some of the tenants.

“I bet you can’t!” Andromache responds, gleeful, and ducks back inside to slam the door shut.

“Is that a fucking challenge?” Yusuf asks the empty hallway, going easily when Nicolo drags him inside.

It’s a humble room, but the presence of four walls and a floor makes it good enough for Nicolo, and the bed is only an added bonus. He leaves Yusuf to his own devices as he lights the lantern set in the corner, double checking that their bags --that they’d tossed in the room earlier-- haven’t been stolen. He nudges the bags with a toe as he unlatches his longsword from his belt, propping the sheath up carefully by the little table with the lantern.

Yusuf is being oddly quiet; Nicolo turns to find the love of his life lying starfished on the little bed, peering up at the wood ceiling as if the secrets of the universe are engraved on it.

“I am so tired, Nicolo,” Yusuf mumbles, mournful. “Why did you make me go up all those stairs?”

“I am infamously known to be cruel and unfair,” Nicolo replies dryly, crossing over and sitting next to Yusuf. He unbuckles the straps around Yusuf’s shoulders that keep his scimitar attached to his back while Yusuf lies still. When the task is done, he looks up to find Yusuf staring at him, brows drawn together. “Lean up,” Nicolo orders softly, and Yusuf complies without complaint, shifting his shoulders off the bed just enough that Nicolo can pull his sheath off.

He stands to go retrieve his own sword, so that both can be placed at their bedside, within reach, shucking off his boots as he goes.

“Can you grab my bag for me?” Yusuf asks from the bed while Nicolo is doing so, so Nicolo does, balancing the two sheathed swords under one arm and holding Yusuf’s rucksack in the other.

He drops the bag at Yusuf's side and sits beside it, setting both swords at his feet, on the left side of the bed. Usually Yusuf’s scimitar goes on the other side, but Nicolo does not trust him with access to a sharp object in this state.

Yusuf sits up to shuffle through his bag. “I got you something,” he tells Nicolo when he straightens. Nicolo frowns at him.

“You got me something?” he repeats. 

“Yeah.” Yusuf pulls out his sketchbook, though he doesn't grab his bag of charcoals.

But I didn’t get you anything, is something Nicolo almost wants to say, but honestly, three hundred years into a relationship, you stop keeping track of how many gifts have been exchanged and when. Especially when their finances are so intertwined. Nicolo and Yusuf simply buy each other things whenever the urge arises, and they’re both such men that these gifts are usually just practical items: new boots, a thicker cloak, and so on.

But now Yusuf passes Nicolo his sketchbook, turning back to the bag to buckle it closed again.

“A sketchbook,” Nicolo muses with a smile, rubbing a thumb over the bound leather cover. “You shouldn't have.”

“Oh, stop,” Yusuf grumbles, snatching the book back once his bag is closed. He shoves it off the bed with a mildly worrying clank and sits in its vacated spot, next to Nicolo. “Your jokes will make you look a fool when you are crying tears of gratitude on me.” 

Nicolo smiles. Yusuf’s thigh, pressed against Nicolo’s, is warm, and his shoulder knocks against Nicolo’s with such familiarity Nicolo wonders if he could identify Yusuf from that alone; without sight, without hearing. He thinks he could, given the opportunity.

Yusuf flips through his sketchbook quickly, scanning past images of landscapes and crowded marketplaces and Nicolo’s own smiling face until he stops at a certain page, angling the book away so that Nicolo cannot see. He peers sideways at him, suspicious or maybe anticipatory.

“Do you expect me to start the tears of gratitude now, or…?” Nicolo asks, grinning at Yusuf’s unamused stare before Yusuf shoves the book into Nicolo’s open hands.

Nicolo doesn’t understand what he’s looking at, at first. Not that he doesn’t recognize the image; he does, he just doesn’t... understand.

“How…?” Nicolo asks, trailing off in wonder. He lifts a hand to touch the image, then snatches his hand away, afraid he’ll smear it.

It’s his mother.

He doesn’t understand how Yusuf could do this; drawing his mother is one thing, but the accuracy of the drawing to Nicolo’s memory is astounding. The line of her cheekbones and the crinkles of her crows feet, the shape of her eyes set by happiness. The drift of hair over her shoulder is a little longer than his mother had it, and a little straighter, but other than that it is an almost perfect recreation. Down to the curl of her mouth, the small flash of teeth. Nicolo can practically hear her in the image, her eyebrows raised and surprised joy flashing in her eyes, as she says, “That’s a big one, Nicolo, good job!”

“How did you do this?” Nicolo asks, voice small.

“Do you remember when you told me what she looked like?” Yusuf asks. “When we were talking about Andromache’s mother?”

“Yes, I remember,” Nicolo replies, frustrated. “I told you she had brown hair and green eyes. Yusuf, how did you--” He peels his eyes off of the drawing that sends him straight to his childhood. “You even got her smile right.”

Yusuf presses his lips together in a fond little smirk. “I will tell you, but you must agree not to share my secret.”

“Yusuf.”

Yusuf scoots that much closer, tucking a hand under Nicolo’s jaw, thumb smoothing over his cheek. “I know how she smiles because I know how you smile. Because she’s your mother. And she lives in you, even if she’s been dead three hundred years. Even if you forget her to some small degree, she will stay with you. Here--” Yusuf touches the corner of Nicolo’s mouth. “And here--” His pointer swipes over Nicolo’s cheekbone. “And here.” He presses a thumb under Nicolo’s eye, and it comes away wet. He makes a small noise. “I was kidding about the tears of gratitude, Nico.”

The sketchbook almost falls off of Nicolo’s thighs in his urgency to pull Yusuf into a hug.

Yusuf returns the embrace with a huffing little laugh, arms wrapping around Nicolo’s waist and hauling him in close, the sketchbook folding closed between the press of their bodies, the beat of their hearts against each other.

“Thank you, Yusuf,” Nicolo murmurs into the crook of Yusuf’s neck, endlessly sincere. His fingers hook into Yusuf’s tunic, over his back, already pulled tight by the muscles there.

“Happy anniversary,” Yusuf responds cheerily. “To three hundred years, eh?”

“And three hundred more,” Nicolo reminds him.

“Fuck, Nicolo.” Yusuf leans back, hands lingering at his waist. He catches Nicolo’s eyes, his brows pulled together. “To three thousand more; Andromache doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Nicolo frowns, recalling Yusuf saying something of the sort in the hall. “What did she say?”

“What did she say?” Yusuf repeats thoughtfully. “I don’t remember-- some nonsense about us getting tired of each other.”

“Oh.” Nicolo does remember that. “I don’t think she meant it like that, Yusuf. And after all, she is rather the authority on how the relationships of immortals work.”

“The authority!” Yusuf repeats, mocking. “When Andromache kills a man with her bare hands and comes out the other side of the experience loving him, I will give her credence to the idea that she’s an authority over our relationship.”

“I didn’t say she was an authority over us. Just that she may understand better.”

“What, do you think she’s right?” Yusuf’s brow furrows, voice lowering. “That we shall grow tired of each other?”

“No,” Nicolo immediately insists, his desire to assure Yusuf strong and instinctual. He lets his hand slide to his shoulder, gripping there. “At least,” he admits on second thought, “I’ve never once felt anything to give me the impression that I will. But it may happen, Yusuf.”

To be completely honest, Nicolo can’t imagine such a thing. He’s woken up every morning for the past three hundred years of his life at Yusuf’s side, and he can’t even begin to understand what kind of drastic shift in his heart would inspire him to grow tired or restless of doing so. Of Yusuf’s hands, of his voice, of his glittering eyes and his loud, joyful laugh-- and the way he furrows his brow when he’s thoughtful, like he’s doing at Nicolo right now.

“Because Andromache says so? I think not,” Yusuf argues. “Andromache is wise, but she’s known us barely more than a hundred years. Her experience does not allow her to see to your heart, or to mine. I will love you forever, Nicolo.”

“Forever is a long time, Yusuf,” Nicolo responds, smiling.

“Well, I will,” Yusuf insists. “When we are twice as old as Andromache is today, and the memories of our childhoods, and our warring, and even our three hundred year anniversary will be nothing but dust, I will remember loving you with certainty-- and that will be because I’ll have done it every day of my life.”

Yusuf shrugs and presses closer, bowing his forehead to Nicolo’s. “And if we forget every bad time and every good time with it,” he murmurs, looking down, “I will not care; it will all wash away in the sands of time eventually, but I have no intent to be separated from you. I won't let memory or time or violence take you from me. I don’t care what Andromache says. The only thing that will end us is your word, Nicolo.”

Amused, Nicolo lets out a throaty little huh. “You will be waiting a long time for that, Yusuf. Maybe even forever.”

Yusuf grins at that, eyes flicking up, and Nicolo has that split second thought he always has --you’re hiding dimples under all that beard-- before Yusuf tilts his head up and kisses him, leaning forward with all the drunken weight of his body.

Nicolo catches Yusuf’s jaw in his hand, shoulders bunching up as he shifts so that Yusuf doesn't topple them both; tilts his head and grips Yusuf’s shoulder and kisses him back.

It is not, admittedly, their best kiss. But Nicolo’s found over the years that a kiss with Yusuf is a kiss with Yusuf, which is to say no matter how much their teeth clack or their mouths miss their mark, it is still Yusuf, so none of them are actually bad.

And Nicolo is distracted. Yusuf is one to spew pretty words whenever the mood takes him, but his aptitude for the spoken word even in the worst --or most drunken-- of times always catches Nicolo off guard; even three hundred years into their relationship.

Every day of my life, Yusuf had said, and Nicolo finds himself giddy and weightless at the idea. Every day of our lives, Nicolo thinks to himself, unable to fight off a smile as Yusuf pulls him in closer, a hand at his neck. Every day.

~

It is a fair while later --after Nicolo has pried Yusuf’s boots off, after the lantern light was blown out, and after they are both under the admittedly threadbare blanket-- that Nicolo lies propped up on his elbows on his side of the bed, admiring the drawing of his mother by moonlight. Yusuf lies on his back beside Nicolo, either asleep or drifting, arm thrown over his eyes and mouth pulled into a frown.

“Are you going to sleep tonight?” Yusuf asks groggily after some time, revealing himself to be awake. “Or must I compete with my own drawing for your attention?”

“You made a mistake giving me this,” Nicolo replies, closing the sketchbook and leaning over to set it carefully on the floor. “I will do nothing but admire it for eternity.”

With a huff, he settles under the blanket, facing Yusuf, crossing his arms to his chest. Yusuf responds with only a smile, and after the silence stretches for a moment, Nicolo adds, “I wish I could give you such peace in regards to your own mother.”

Yusuf drops the arm from his face, squinting sideways at Nicolo. “Pfft. You have already brought me more peace than any other living being on this earth. Give making me the happiest man alive a rest for a few minutes, Nicolo; you’ll give yourself a complex.” He rolls onto his side. “But also roll over. What are you doing lying all the way over there, anyways?”

“Giving myself a complex, apparently,” Nicolo grumbles, doing as he’s told and shuffling onto his side. Yusuf throws an arm over him from behind, snuggling forward and pulling Nicolo back in unison until they are pressed against each other, shoulders to thighs. 

“I am being truthful,” Yusuf murmurs after a moment, low and intimate and close, tired words slurring into each other. He yawns before butting his forehead gently against the back of Nicolo’s neck. “My mother-- I have many good memories of her, and some bad. I would like to forget some and cherish others, but in the end I will likely lose all or most of ‘em, as Andromache has. That’s just the truth of it all.” He yawns again, shifting his grip on Nicolo. “I could draw her if I wish, but I don’t know if even a thousand drawings will ease her memory. And losing memories is a simple trade-off of the life we live, even if we didn’t choose it. I may not keep my memories, but as long as I can keep you, I am at peace with it all.”

Nicolo considers that, tucking his own hands into his sides. As much as their immortality was not a choice-- it was nothing either Nicolo or Yusuf asked for or even really wanted, three hundred years ago, but it was gifted to them anyway. They didn’t ask for each other either, and yet Yusuf was given to Nicolo and vice versa in the same breath that their immortality was thrust upon them.

But of course, unlike the immortality, and unlike all the other positives and negative consequences that came with it, they did choose each other. They chose to put down their weapons. They chose to stay at each other’s side. They’ve chosen that every single day of the last three hundred years. Hopefully they will do so for the next three hundred -- thousand-- years.

He will lose his memories eventually, one day, one way or another. It is like Yusuf said: it is a simple trade-off of the life they live. 

But if it had been a choice-- well. Even the innocent comfort of his mother’s memory, of those late afternoons picking seashells-- those memories are not nothing to him, but if it ever came between keeping them and keeping Yusuf… the choice is obvious.

But there is no choice. The memories will fade one day whether he wants them to or not, whether Yusuf draws a thousand portraits of his mother or not.

Yusuf will not fade. Yusuf will be here. Yusuf has been here, for three hundred years.

Every day of our lives, Nicolo thinks, and smiles.

“You know,” he says quietly into the dark room. “You are a very wise man, Yusuf.”

“Don’t tell Quynh and Andromache,” Yusuf mumbles into Nicolo’s nape. “It will ruin my image.”

Nicolo snorts, smiles, and, eventually, falls asleep in Yusuf’s arms.

[inyoursheets]

2, 34, 51 and 58 for the ask game! 💘

hi!!

2: Who did you last say “I love you” to?

my best friend! we facetimed last night

34: Who/what was your last dream about?

ohh i dont remember... ive been having some vivid dreams lately but rn i cant really remember any. wait! i typed something in my phone, hold on

oh my god this is wild. as per my notes:

there was a flood in part of the house that sort of got drained and i was practicing using my sister's coffee machine while grey's anatomy's april kepner yelled at me. but also i was at a publishing company, my mom was there, some woman wanted to shake my hand but i just waved at her bc covid-19, then i was in a swimming pool where me and some people -- im pretty sure mark sloan was there and one of my friends from college -- hummed the song fresh pair of eyes

this was all in one night! and ive had like a week of dreams like these!

51: Favourite food?

ohh im not sure... but it probably involves cheese?

58: Favourite weather?

hmm im quite difficult when it comes to weather bc i dont like heat and i dont like cold and im easily too hot/cold so there's maybe like three days a year where im like: yes, this is comfortable. something in between? i like not having to wear a jacket but i dont do well with heat. im that one person that doesnt enjoy sunny days the way most other people around me seem to

thank you!! questions!?

[joontier]

Patawad, paalam. | drabble

translation: forgive me, goodbye. 

pairings: jungkook x reader

rating: NC-17

genre: romance, angst | warnings: wholesomeness basically (one-liner implied smut),,,,,, until you get to the last line gklasjdfa bUT DONT SKIP 

word count: 1.3k

g/n: AHHHHH! my first release for The Paraluman Project!! might as well rename this angsty august (can i get an amen @mintseesaw​ this was meant to be posted in a few hours bUT IM IMPATIENT LIKE THAT kdsjfasfasf) anywho,, ‘Patawad, paalam’  is meant to be a prologue and an epilogue at the same time and if you guys want to have a lidol backstory well lmk okiiii,,,, yall know im ready to spoil my darlings EEEEP feedback is always appreciated!! ILY YALL

navi. | m.list

Today’s the big day. 

The church had been decorated just like the way you’ve always pictured it to be - your idea of the perfect wedding finally a reality. Just as what had been planned years ago by both of you, you have decided on celebrating this once-in-a-lifetime event in your chapel - the very place where you two first met. 

Four-feet tall pedestals crowned with bouquets of white hydrangeas stand tall and proud along the length of the aisle, while the sunlight passing through the stations of the cross depictions on the stained glass provided an extra burst of color on the snowy flowers. 

Jungkook has never been good with crowds, especially not when the audience included their relatives and some of their closest family friends. Yeonwoo, Jungkook’s best friend of many years, takes notice of the man’s palpable uneasiness, and approaches the nervous man. “You’ll do just fine, Kook. I believe in you.” After a pat on the back, Jungkook smiles at his best friend, grateful for the much-needed reinforcement. 

There’s a quiet chatter amongst the guests, remaining seated on the wooden pews as they wait for the processional. The benches have been newly varnished just for the occasion. While a number of the invited guests speak to each other to pass the time, the rest take photos of the immaculate venue as they praise the decorations. Perhaps he could mention your unparalleled efforts in his speech later at the reception. 

Pride swells in Jungkook’s chest as he remembers how much time and effort you had spent perfecting each detail of the church’s decorations, investing at least three whole days of planning for the interior alone. 

Jungkook stands by the altar patiently, big brown eyes scanning the crowd and silently thanking each one of them for having allocated a day from their busy lives just to witness one of the most important days of his life. The man continues to struggle with the event’s actuality, his stubborn nerves gnawing at him deliriously. In fact, he doesn’t think he’d been able to cope with reality for the past few days. 

He recalls having dreamt about you last night, unable to sleep a wink after seeing a vivid image of you in a white dress during his slumber. The restless man takes a stroll in the seminary’s garden in the hopes that the tranquility afforded by the grounds will bring him enough peace and quiet to lull him back to sleep. 

As he entered a secluded area only a few people knew of (you included), he found you on the swing, swaying yourself gently on the seat. He wanted to go back to his room, under the quite ridiculous belief that it was bad luck to see the bride just before the wedding ceremony. He watches you for a while, hiding behind a moss-covered wall. As he studies your features, he senses you’re just as restless as he was and shortly after, he finds himself walking towards you, unproven hearsay the last thing on his mind. You converse for a good two hours until you deemed it time to go back to your rooms and get some sleep. You both had a long day ahead of you and rest was important. With a final hug, you part ways once more. 

The musical ensemble brings Jungkook out of his reverie, the sudden sound of the violin playing making him jerk slightly in surprise. The soloist starts strumming the strings of her guitar to a familiar tune, giving the song more depth and emotion with the melodic sound resonating throughout the chapel. The crowd’s chatter immediately falls to a hush, the audience faces the entrance to watch the highly-anticipated processional. 

Wise men say, only fools rush in 

But I can’t help, falling in love with you

Your niece enters first, passionately throwing white petals from a large disproportionate wooden basket. Her tiny feet carry her throughout the length of the aisle, sending a half-toothless smile left and right. 

Her older brother trails after her a couple of meters away, his usually unruly hair now handsomely tamed with gel for this special occasion. The audience coos at the siblings, finding the duo most endearing. There’s muted laughter amongst the crowd as his small hands tremble, the ring pillow shaking lightly in his grasp. As they reach the altar, your brother, the best man, gives the siblings a high five before guiding them back to their pews. 

Like a river flows, slowly to the sea, 

Darling, so it goes, 

Some things are meant to be

The bridesmaids file in with bright smiles from the side, each carrying a mellow arrangement of baby breaths and lavenders. Your closest cousin, Cassie, who you chose to be the maid of honor has flown all the way from Canada just to witness your wedding. She walks the carpeted aisle slowly, dabbing at her cheeks with the back of her hand as she clutches onto a bouquet with the other. 

Next in line are Jungkook’s parents, who are both holding on to each other for support. When Jungkook’s and his mother’s eyes meet for the first time today, unspoken words are shared between the mother and son, small smiles gracing their lips in acknowledgement. Your parents follow after them with your father’s cheeks already red and wet with tears. 

As the entire entourage get to their seats at the front, the music stops. All bodies turn to face the entrance. The majestic wooden doors finally open with an audible creek, and the whole chapel falls quiet. 

Take my hand, 

Take my whole life too, 

For I can’t help falling in love with you

Jungkook’s eyes, previously scanning the crowd, finally fixate on you. God, you were so beautiful. He reprimands himself for using the Lord’s name in vain, but at the same time, there was no one else to speak to, or thank but the Lord Himself: for his life, for his family, for this day, and most especially, for you. 

You looked magnificent. Regal, even. 

He wasn’t familiar with how dresses were described in detail, all he knows is that the exact moment he saw you today, time just froze, as if the whole world paused in its entirety. You were the girl in his dreams. You were the girl of his dreams. 

A tiara adorned with crystals and pearls rests prettily on your head, the crown anchoring a sheer, long lace veil that flowed beautifully along the length of your gown at the back. The bodice of your dress accentuated your curves wonderfully and the endless number of baroque patterns sewn onto the fabric of your dress added up to the silhouette your wedding gown graciously gave you. 

Jungkook’s mind betrays him for a moment - the vivid memory of the single intimate moment you two shared - an experience of a lifetime that had been etched onto the back of his head for the rest of eternity. 

Jungkook subconsciously tugs at his sleeves, racking his brain for something to stop his trembling hands but achieves nothing. His palms are likewise getting clammy, only adding to the poor man’s nervousness. When he meets his mother’s eyes one more time and she sees the emotion swirling in his son’s eyes, she lets out a choked sob, resting her head against her husband’s shoulders as he places a consoling hand on her back for support.  Jungkook diverts his eyes before his own tears threaten to fall. 

As you finally reach the altar with your own hands trembling like a falling leaf in autumn, Jungkook gives you a small smile, one you reciprocate with a warmer one. Tears start to well in his eyes. Jungkook closes his eyes for a moment, gathering his courage as he takes a deep breath. With renewed hope, he takes in his surroundings and sets another smile on his face, this time more genuine than the last. He spreads his arms and speaks - 

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of God, to witness the joining of my very own brother, Junghyun and _________ in the holy covenant of marriage…” 

© hhyungz 2020. All rights reserved.

[theggning]

First Line Meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag some of your favourite authors!

Thanks @mayihavethisdanse ! I definitely have more than 20 stories but some of them are from the... let’s call them the shame days. So I won’t be getting into those. Instead I’ll do some first lines from chapters. 

Fallout 4

Stories From the Front (Piper and Danse go on a mission and a ship happens on accident. Danse/Piper) 

The sun rose on another beautiful Commonwealth morning. Birds chirped serenely in the trees outside. A gentle breeze carried fresh air through the open shack window, rustling her hair and chilling her skin.

Piper opened her eyes, and instantly regretted it.

Souls That Cry For Water (Preston and Minuteman!Danse talk feelings. Gen)

“Good morning, Commonwealth. Well I- it’s actually night but when I say morning, I mean… technically it’s 2 AM, so that’s-- morning, since it’s after midnight…

“Anyway. Anyway. I know I usually have the-- have the recordings automated overnight, but I was lying there in bed, thinking about… Well, I started thinking about a scenario...”

All Along The Watchtower (Nick and Danse team up to solve a mystery and a friendship happens on accident. Gen, background Danse/Sole) 

1.  The sky rumbled, green flashes in the distance foretelling the radstorm a few seconds before the click-click-clicking in his chest. His internal Geiger counter hummed to life as the first heavy drops spattered against his fedora.

2. It wasn’t like Nick expected traveling with the least easygoing man in the Commonwealth to be a picnic, but he realized his crucial mistake about two hours in: he’d forgotten to bring a radio. 

5. Claustrophobia was one of the most oddly common reasons that people washed out of the Brotherhood of Steel.

10. Machines do not remember. But he does. 

 11. It had been an eventful 24 hours, to say the least. Much of it still felt surreal, like he had never quite woken up from dreaming. But if this was a dream, it was the best Danse had ever had.

Slightly Crusty Older Stuff: 

Soul Calibur

(YES REALLY OKAY)

Ache (SC4, Maxi realizing the gravity of having an evil sword shard shoved into him. Light one-sided Maxi/Kilik) 

It was disturbing, discovering patches that covered up things you didn’t even realize were missing. 

Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective

Try, Try Again (Yomiel discovers his immortality via extremely dark dry comedy. Gen, TW: suicide, supernaturally unsuccessful suicide attempts)

He'd lost track of the time as he knelt there on the floor beside the sofa. It could have been minutes, hours, or even days. Her hand had long since gone cold in his, and he could feel her body getting stiff in his arms.

Ace Attorney

The Last Drop   (Diego wakes up from his coma and begins his angsty evolution into Godot. Background Diego/Mia.) 

Perhaps it all would never have happened if Julian Dorn, in Room 302 of the Caduceus Trauma Center Neurology Ward, had not complained of a stomachache.

The Best Part of Waking Up  (A kinkmeme fill, Adrian Andrews runs into Godot and they go out for friendly coffee and a chat. Gen.) 

The courthouse was such a divisive place to her now. On one hand, it represented the lowest, darkest time of Adrian’s life. Sitting in that defendant’s seat while the world came crashing down around her… it was like a waking nightmare and she still got chills when she remembered it.

Red Eye (Another kinkmeme fill, Godot visits the prison and kicks the living shit out of Redd White.) 

“Mr. White?”

Redd could barely hear the warden’s voice over the roaring in his head—the ringing in his ears and what he swore was the sound of his pulse throbbing through bruises and heavily bleeding gashes in his formerly perfectimous face.

EVEN OLDER, EVEN CRUSTIER, but included for AO3 completion.............

Kingdom Hearts

Those Lacking Spines  (Xaldin, Vexen, and Lexaeus save the world and endure terrible fanfic tropes in an extremely goofy parody written circa 2006. Gen. EXTREMELY OLD.) 

1.  There was nothing to do in The World That Never Was.

6.  Somewhere across the universe, very far away from where the G.S. Existentialist drifted lazily through space, somewhere all the way past chapter nine, there was a shadowy figure perched at the loft window on the very top floor of a tall, dark skyscraper.

9.  When we last left our heroes at the suspenseful, cliffhanger ending to chapter eight, they had just been swept over by an evil wave of darkness that would, according to the laws of the world, sweep over them and transform their every happy, angry, annoyed or ambivalent feeling into Evangelion ™ Brand 100% Pure Angst, No Artificial Colors.

12.  There is really no comfortable way for the author to relay the climactic events of the previous chapter to you before she embarks on this, the penultimate episode of the epic quest of Xaldin, Vexen and Lexaeus and their battles against all that is confusing and mentally-scarring.

13.  As Xaldin lay there, immobile and stunned on the cold floor of who even knew where, shards of glass sticking painfully out of various parts of his backside, he tried to remind himself that days like this had to happen every so often to keep you humble.

----------------------------------------

THOUGHTS: 

I do love to open on a joke.

Vivid, easily identifiable character dialogue (like Travis in STCFW) is also a good start.

Never underestimate the power of just doing a moody description of the weather. 

Otherwise, it seems like I tend to start with a plainly stated idea and then explain it somewhat before connecting it back to the characters’ present situation. 

I can’t pick a favorite really... they are all my flawed children. 

Tagging anyone who’d like to participate. <3 

oh god please dont judge my crusty old stuff PLEASE PLEASE PLS

[marshmallowprotection]

So, little spoon saeran... we keep talking about him having nightmares, but what about MC? Im going to talk about this using my own experience though

I mightve mentioned it when it happened, but not too long ago, like just a few weeks i believe, I had a nightmare. I don't normally get nightmares; sometimes i'll get what i simply call a weird dream, which may spook me a little, but its never actually scary when i look back on it, and i can calm down rather quickly. I dream almost every night, dont remember most of them, but they're usually good or just meh. However, once in a while, I'll have a legit nightmare. I still remember the last one, too, which happened months ago. Its not scary anymore, and it was more of a disgust combined with fear because of the contents, but it got to me for... about a week. In fact, i can also remember one in particular from... almost 7 or 8 years ago. I lost all my pets in that dream, and had to literally get up and check to make sure they were all still around and alive, even tho i knew i was back in reality.

This most recent one started off as a (rather lengthy) good dream, mightve even starred some of the mysme characters in the first half, and took a very sharp turn to a nightmare, and then I immediately woke up. Ive read in stories and seen in movies and whatnot, characters gasping for breath after a nightmare, but this was the first time i actually properly experienced it. I was terrified. I think it was that sound. That damned sound your phone makes whenever you get a flash flood warning or amber alert. Its so unsettling. And the promise of death, in my dream, that was the message accompanying that sound, and the fact that the people in my dream actually had faces-- normally, when i look back on a dream, if i can recall what a character in it looked like, usually they dont match the character my brain labelled them as, mostly hair-wise, and they dont have a face. But this time, it was all the more vivid, because everyone had faces -- the right faces, the correct appearance.

It was so bad i had to go into my mom's room, because company tends to calm me down. But it wasn't enough. I had to sleep in her room; I was so shaken. The next two days: paranoid. Im not that conspiracy theorist "the government is out to get us" type person, but i was straight up paranoid. And then a few more days passed, i was rewatching my favourite youtuber, he was playing a SirenHead game as one of the 3 free random games, and i had to fast forward through that game after a few minutes because that sound

I had no intentions of writing that much context holy cow, sorry ^^"

What I meant to cover, was the fact that I needed that human touch, and so i just kinda half-held my mom's shoulder when laying next to her cos lets be honest even then i didnt want to admit i needed more. But with Saeran, where I'm already at that point of not feeling awkward about being so close (i mean, we're frickin spooning, its kinda a given lmao), I'd probably hold him a lot tighter -- like a lot. Because i tend to grip harder than i mean to, just in general, but especially in moments like that. Just straightup clinging to him, pressing myself as close as possible, face buried between his shoulder blades... clutching and releasing and clutching again the front of his shirt or sweater or whatever he wears to bed, trying desperately anything to alleviate the deep fear...

I'm the opposite of him, it seems. He needs space, while i need to feel as small and confined as possible, and i need the presence of another, and when it gets as bad as i have described, i need the physical reassurance of their presence, as well as that warmth and comfort, holding another being...

Hhhholy moly this is getting long. I'll stop now. I think i had a question regarding this, but I have no idea anymore lol.

[417]

You’re soft-starved and that’s okay. It’s okay to want the comfort of another person but it comes down to knowing when it’s okay to ask for it and when it’s okay to say that you need a certain kind of closeness. You can’t just assume that everyone needs hugs but some people may need hands or just the company of another person. It comes down to you and what you’re going through at the moment as well as your comfort zone. 

With Saeran, if it’s GE Saeran, anyway, yes, he wants to be able to be close to you. He wants that. He just needs you to ask for it and he needs to have the time to prepare for that mentally before it happens. It’s a small thing but it’s all you need to do to ensure that he knows he has your trust. He would do the same thing with you. It’s just up to how okay you feel! 

Consent. Communication! 

[laudanine]

Journal Prompt #3 Reflect on your sleep. Do you sleep well? What do you dream about?

I fall asleep and stay asleep so damn easy, like the dead, which is the upside of my waking up tired regardless of quantity of sleep. I kind of assumed my trouble waking up was laziness for years, but eventually I realized that it and my ability to sleep for 12 hours straight might have to do with, like, there just not being enough sleep in the universe for me.

(It's not apnea, thank you for the thought)

It's something I want to work on, getting more sleep and more restful sleep, so I dont have to fight to get out of bed in the morning.

Dreaming, though, I am good at: I dream very happily and well. I used to get night terrors as a kid, so I'm told. I don't remember them. They weren't nightmares, to be clear, I didn't have a bad dream. It's just that I would wake the house up by screaming. And then would be confused about why someone rushed in to check on me, because as far as I knew I was out cold having dreamless or peaceful sleep.

When I do have unpleasant dreams, it takes a lot for a nightmare to "get" to me. I'm good with gross shit, and being murdered, and sad things. Any vivid dream is a good dream in my opinion, even if I'm falling off an overpass to be hit by a semi (that one actually come with non-pain physical sensations, which is weird, and is recurring!) I'm not a big fan of the "abject grief" dreams where a loved one dies, but those are rare. I dream every night, though, and most of the time remember them pretty well, which I like (I cannot imagine not dreaming nightly).

I've had a lot of recurring dreams my whole life, but not the EXACT same dream. They're very much episodic, either like I'm being dropped back into a scene exactly where I left off, or like I'm getting a do-over of the last dream with knowledge of the last dream. It's made dreaming feel a lot like a puzzle to me: why do I have the same dreams over and over unless there's something I was supposed to get "right" or figure out?

For a long time I worked on lucid dreaming, but I kinda let that go when I decided I don't believe we 100% control our dreams 100% of the time. People kept telling me "learn to lucid dream, then you can change the dream and do anything!" And that's nice. But sometimes you can tell a dream has something to SAY to you, and I feel like there's a risk of just running roughshod over the dream's intent if you decide to just say "rewrite all this I want to fly." So I'm working on becoming aware in my dreams, but not changing anything, just getting better at listening and remembering.

As for tags! Thanks to @progenyofpenitence for pinging me, and I'd love to hear from @ineedmoredragons @subtlecuddle and @lapislantern

[mejomonster]

yesterday i went through chapter 1 and half of chapter 2 of  寒舍 by 夏灬安兰 and it is so beyond my reading level... this author is really like. succinct while still being descriptive, so they use a lot of words that are like ‘street block’ ‘stool’ and ‘temporary part time job’ silk types and clothing types and specific colors, and yeah these words aren’t obscure per say so its good to learn them. but at the same time these things could be said with a little more words or simplicity which is what im more used to lol (how i tend to write, how the last webnovel i read big chunks of is written, heck even dmbj in chapter 1 is pretty straightforward except for luoyang shovel)

but yeah. not much context to rely on, i need to lookup the words if i want enough details to follow the plot. (priest novels are like a middle ground here - key plot info is usually brought up near dialogue or noun heavy parts, so skimming the description hurts u a bit but you can get by). although... its possible i could be capable of skimming this fic. i just dont want to because i’m loving every detail so far. 

probably most notable stumbling block is just that the author does well written long winding sentences, a bit like how i do in english, and it requires me to keep track of all the information longer to make sure i followed it right.

anyway this story is so good and vivid. Wu Xie is staying in a small town, in a lodge that used to be a youth hostel but has been converted to a rent by the day place, he shows up broke. Menyouping is there, he tries to talk to him. Also Wu Xie has this internal narration of like ‘he usually photographs beautiful scenes, but seeing this man they don’t even compare’ and then goes on for a couple paragraphs about Xiaoge being attractive, but also very cold-indifferent and not being sure how to handle it. Then awkwardly trying to touch Menyouping’s shoulder to stop him to ask for a room. The interactions between them feel spot on in character. And very funny and heartfelt and intimidating all at once.

 Wu Xie ends up getting a key from him, but can’t pay him for at least 3 days so far. Xiaoge still ‘looks young but acts indifferent and old’ so since this is supernatural au i’m going to predict xiaoge’s some kind of supernatural entity. Wu Xie still has not seen a real owner of this house - so he’s functionally crashing with xiaoge for free. And Wu Xie’s a photographer in this - giving him good plot reasons to take in the scenery and beauty and observe people. And on day 3 he sees a strange woman. Xiaoge actually speaks to him that night, asking where he’s been - almost as if concerned - although Wu Xie thinks getting home late just ‘bothered’ xiaoge regarding running the rentals. Then when he goes to sleep, unknowing to him but wind blows through his window and from a distance that woman in the blood red dress, her head hunched, is watching.

i am so invested in this horror setup. it is so well suited to the horror supernatural mysteries its building into, it is so well depicted so far. This author could change the names and publish this, it feels so good to read. it is NOT the same writing style as priest at all - but the atmosphere set up, and the way the writer already has me invested, definitely resonate the same kind of way. 

this story is like 100 chapters and im both super excited its a full story size that i can sink into this for a while. and also horrified, because the 1st chapter took me Longer than a priest novel chapter to read through. first chapter took maybe an hour... i know the last burst took 40 minutes but it was half of chapter 1 and half of chapter 2. usually a chapter takes me 8-20 minutes depending on how much vocabulary i don’t know and how willing i am to just ‘guess’ and move on. i do think... there’s enough words popping up repeatedly that i am learning some new words... i really should just focus on more hanzi study though... new words are brutally hard for me to remember if the hanzi are new, but if they’re familiar i only need to see the word a couple times to remember it...