#though i doubt they have the same taste in literature

[stllmnstr]

sacred monsters: part four

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: academic rivals to lovers, vampire au, slow burn

part four word count: 15.8k

part four warnings: swearing, more blood and other vampire-y things, dark themes, descriptions of past abuse (non-explicit), even MORE tragic backstories, a little sexiness

soundtrack: still monster / moonstruck / lucifer - enhypen / everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears / immortal - marina / supermassive black hole - muse / saturn - sleeping at last / everybody’s watching me (uh oh) - the neighbourhood

note/disclaimer: EVERYONE DOUBTED ME. I DOUBTED MYSELF. BUT DESPITE IT ALLLLLLL HERE IS PART FOUR!!!!!!! Enjoy my friends, and then tell me about it! As always, happy reading ♡

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A literature student in your third year of university, you’ve been dreaming of having your writing published for as long as you can remember. With a perfect opportunity dangling at your fingertips, the only obstacle that stands in your way comes in the form of a ridiculously tall, stupidly handsome, and unfortunately, very talented writer by the name of Lee Heeseung. Unwilling to let your dream slip out of reach, you commit to being better than the aforementioned pain in your ass at absolutely everything.

But when a string of vampire attacks strikes close to your city for the first time in nearly two hundred years, publishing is suddenly the last thing on your mind. And, as you soon begin to discover, Heeseung may not quite be the person you thought he was.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

When you wake up, it’s with a pounding headache and a deep wave of something that almost tastes like regret. 

Through the jumble of your sleep-addled mind, it takes you a few moments to locate the source of that uneasy feeling. But as soon as you do, it washes over you in a sweeping tide of sensation. 

Images, sounds, tastes. Feelings. 

You’re lying in your bed. Alone. But your mind isn’t convinced of it. 

For long, heavy moments, if you screw your eyes shut tightly enough, you’re somewhere else entirely. 

Notches of your spine pressed against the expanse of a wall. Long fingers, ones  that don’t belong to you, toying with the hem of your shirt. Tracing the skin beneath your ribs. 

Sighs that you swallow. Lips pressed against your own. Teeth. 

Desperate, heady, sordid.

A brief stinging sensation. The faint, metallic taste of blood. 

The breathy pleas that follow. 

All at once, all over again, you’re lost in it. Drowning in it. Consumed by it. 

It’s a ghost of the real thing, a mere shadow in comparison. But you’re aching with it just the same. 

Through the muddle in your mind, you barely remember getting home. 

Footsteps and movement and other mundane details are lost to memories of a much headier nature. 

Lips against yours in the cover of darkness outside your apartment door. Fervent whispers of words that sound like “Bad idea” and “Not tonight.”

But still. He followed you in. Or at least you think he did. There’s far too much room for error in the recesses of your clouded memory.

It feels real, though. The recollection of gentle fingers in your hair. Soothing this time. With the intent to calm, subdue. Creating distance from desperation instead of adding to it. 

The slow press of lips that you wish you had more time to become familiar with. Against your temple this time, the bridge of your nose, the swell of your cheekbone. 

And a final, quiet command. 

“Sleep,” he’d insisted. 

And you hadn’t wanted to, not really. But no matter how many encounters you’ve had with immortality, you’re still woefully confined to the constraints of your humanity. And exhaustion still has clutches you can’t escape. 

Eyelids flickering, unconsciousness sang to you like a siren song until you were unable to resist its lull any longer. 

And there had been no promises between the two of you, but waking up alone was not what you expected. 

It’s undeniable though, even as you sit up, sheets tangling around your hips. You’re still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. They’re wrinkled – a result of fervent ministrations and a long night of sleep disturbed only by strikingly vivid dreams. 

But even though small remnants of his presence remain, your room is empty, save for you. 

Rolling your neck in a slow circle, you wince at the stiffness, the tinge of pain you feel as it crosses above your left shoulder. 

The rest of your body carries a similar heaviness. As you ease your way out of bed, your limbs feel tight, stiff, overworked. 

Still, you force your feet to carry you to the space outside your bedroom. If you’re honest, part of you is hoping that you’ll find him waiting for you there. But as your eyes trace over the expanse of your apartment, your stomach sinks with disappointment. 

Empty. Just like your bedroom. 

It’s not enough to make you panic. Not yet. There are a thousand possible explanations for his absence. Before you start to decide which one is most likely, a knock echoes against your front door. 

And it’s almost embarrassing, the speed at which you cross your living room. 

But you can’t swallow the immediate sense of relief you feel. Coupled with a sudden swoop that reaches all the way to the pit of your stomach. 

Because he’s here. He’s here and it’s real and the surge of butterflies is enough to have you forgetting any potential complications. 

You know he can hear your footsteps, can certainly tell that your heart has just begun to beat unnaturally fast, but you don’t care. Can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed. 

You wonder if he feels it too, this magnetic pull. It clutches at your heart with a soft touch and pulls at your mind like nostalgia. As if you’re a girl with a crush, writing the details of your affection in the secrecy of a diary and doodling hearts along the border. 

You pause, hand on the doorknob. With your other hand, you flatten the top of your hair, self-consciously tucking a strand behind your ear. 

It defies logic. After all, any remaining mussing is of his doing. But still, you can’t suppress the desire to have him see you at your best. 

After one last deep breath, you twist the knob. A smile is already tugging at your lips, widening along with the door. 

But when it opens fully, your lips fall flat. It’s not Heeseung that stands on the other side. 

From where he lingers in the doorframe, Jake scratches at the back of his neck rather awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. 

“Jake?” Disappointment colors your voice in obvious strokes. You might feel bad about it if you weren’t so confused. 

“Hey, ___,” he returns. His exhale almost sounds like an apology and it has your stomach swooping again. This time in trepidation. Anxiety. “Can I come in?”

“Is he okay?” It’s probably rude, the way you ignore his question entirely. But suddenly, it’s all you can think of. Why is Jake here? Avoiding your gaze and already sounding regretful. 

“Heeseung’s fine,” Jake assures. Your brow furrows. He’s fine, but he’s not here. You can’t decide if that inspires relief or something far more unpleasant. 

The silence extends for a moment. Jake doesn’t offer any additional explanation. Instead, he requests again, “I have something to ask you, but it would probably be better in private.”

“Right,” you nod, forcing the unease in your gut away. “Would you like to come in?”

Jake smiles, a tight thing, before stepping inside wordlessly. When you shut the door behind him, you keep your back turned for a moment. Inhaling deeply, you try to regain a bit of control over your mounting emotions before turning to face him. 

Jake has already made his way to your couch. Instantly, you're reminded of when another guest of yours did the same. It’s almost enough to send you spiraling again.

Jake, unaware of your inner thoughts, doesn’t let you linger in them for long. Instead he motions to the seat opposite of him. “Come sit.”

You frown, still fraught with nerves. Jake sounds far too serious for this conversation to be anything but unpleasant. Following his request, you slide down into the chair across from him. 

Once you’re seated, he doesn’t waste any time. “If you’re feeling up to it, I’ve got an errand for us today.”

Raising your brow, you wordlessly urge him to elaborate. 

Jake reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small, metal object. It takes a moment for you to recognize it, but once you do, your stomach only sinks further. 

It’s a key. The key. The same one you found last night. Along with someone whose absence is still very much unexplained. 

Jake looks at you, but your gaze is still trained on the object in his hand. “How do you feel about a return trip to New Haven?”

New Haven. You can hardly process his question, much less answer it. 

Because they were together. Heeseung gave the key to Jake. Intentionally passed it along to him. And despite all of the possible explanations, you can only fixate on one. 

He’s avoiding you.

You don't say anything, but Jake reads your expression all the same. Gently, he sets the key on the table between the two of you. Again, he sighs. It’s an apologetic sound, and you hate it.  

A beat passes. Two. He doesn’t beat around the bush. “Something happened between you two, didn’t it?”

You don’t answer. At least not with words. But the way your eyes widen is confirmation enough. 

“I—” You can’t decide if lying would serve you any good here. Ultimately, you decide to stick with the truth. You have too many unanswered questions to play any games. “How did you know?”

Jake smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “After five hundred years, you kind of just… know.” He pauses for a moment, weighing his words. And then he adds, “You don’t have to tell me, of course. But you can. If you want to.”

You can’t think of anything you’d rather do less. It’s illogical and frivolous and entirely human, but you’re embarrassed. The things that passed between the two of you hold weight in your mind. Significance. Importance. 

And now he’s deliberately avoiding you. You can’t help but feel slighted. Played. Used, even. Your voice is small when you ask, “Did he say anything?”

Jake shakes his head. “He’s been pretty silent. Even more so than usual.”

You don’t want to tell him. You don’t. But answers are still lingering far beyond your reach. Jake might not be privy to the details of your affection, but he does know Heeseung like the back of his hand. 

With a deep exhale, you push your pride to the side. 

“We…” you trail off, searching for the right words. Something that won’t feel too invasive, too intimate to share. “We had a… moment. And I thought— well,” you frown, suddenly unaware of your own expectations, “I guess I didn't know what I thought. But I didn’t expect him to avoid me.”

“Ah,” Jake enunciates carefully. “That would explain why he’s been so moody today.” He nods to himself, pausing briefly before adding, “It’s not because of you.”

You just give him a look, obviously disbelieving. 

“I mean, it’s not because of you specifically,” Jake clarifies. “It’s…  a bit difficult to explain. Heeseung is…” he trails off, searching for the right words. “guarded, as I’m sure you can tell. He’s quiet, reserved. He keeps a lot of himself locked up in his own head, and he ruminates on everything. Predicts a million terrible outcomes of every situation and fixates on them until he’s convinced himself that everything will end in flames.” 

“So a raging pessimist, essentially.”

“Maybe,” Jake pauses. “But I think that you have to consider his perspective, too. That’s the thing about immortality. It’s… lonely. Often unbearably so. We all deal with that in our own ways. Sunghoon and his bed are one extreme end of that. Heeseung’s the other.”

You frown. He’s skirting around the edges. Hinting at something without fully saying it and you’re tired of guessing. 

Jake sighs. “I won’t pretend to know everything that’s happened between you, but Heeseung’s not just acting irrationally.”

Your brow furrows. “What does that mean?”

“I…” This time it’s Jake that hesitates. A struggle plays out across his features, as if he can’t decide whether this story is one he should share. Finally, he exhales. “It’s not really my story to tell. But Jungwon had a similar situation, I guess you could say. We had only been changed for around twenty years when he met this girl. It was purely by chance. And it was completely innocent at first. She was an apprentice at the tailor shop in the town we were living in. A human one.”

Your stomach is sinking with every word. The story has barely begun, but you call tell from the tension in Jake’s expression that it doesn’t have a happy ending. 

“He never intended for anything to happen, but he met her once and then he kept going back. It wasn’t intentional, but things spiraled from there. Until he was in far too deep.”

Jake is sparing plenty of details, but even the vague picture he paints is enough to have the unpleasant feeling solidifying in your gut. 

“And there was nothing dramatic, really. No big fight or fall out.” Jake sighs. “But she got older. And he didn’t. For the time they had, they made each other happy. In a lot of ways, they were perfect for each other. Except for in the one way that mattered.”

His immortality. Her humanity. Jake doesn’t say it, but the truth is there all the same. 

“Their love fell apart in a quiet way. Slowly, steadily. Five years had passed, and Jungwon looked the same. She started getting suspicious. He was running out of excuses and had to cut contact just to keep us all safe.”

A part of your heart breaks for him, for the love that he lost, for the circumstances that were always going to dangle just outside of his reach. 

“He couldn’t help it, though. He kept tabs on her. And she did what every human does. She nursed her broken heart, and then she moved on. She fell in love and found a family. Including a daughter.

“But for Jungwon… It broke him. For almost two hundred years, he felt like a shell of himself. And we all watched it happen, but I think it hit Heeseung the hardest. Out of all of us, he was always the romantic, although you’d never guess that now.” 

Jake smiles wryly and the dread in your stomach hardens into a rock. 

“He might not have to hide what he is from you, but that will only buy you so much time.” Jake meets your eye, imploring you to understand. “No matter what happens between the two of you, you’ll always have something he doesn’t: the ability to move on. To forget. To find someone that fits into your life in all the right ways. He’ll never have that, no matter what he wants. No matter what he feels.”

Jake’s gaze settles on the side of your neck. The bite has already begun to fade, scar tissue covering what was once an angry red wound. 

“And he’s already led to you getting injured once. I can’t imagine the kind of guilt he’s probably feeling over that.”

You’re quick to protest. “But that wasn’t his fault—”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jake shakes his head. “That’s how he sees it.”

Lips tightening, you search for holes to poke in his logic. “Isn’t it better to take that risk? You can’t avoid a chance at happiness just because you’re worried it will lead to sorrow in the future.”

“That’s a nice perspective,” Jake agrees. “But it’s a human one. If you want to understand him, you have to consider what it’s like for him. His regrets and sorrows aren’t like yours. They don’t have an end date. They’ll live forever, just like him.”

“But so will the good memories—”

“No.” Jake shakes his head. “They won’t. Time will warp them, eat at them, until the good memories hurt just as bad as the awful ones. Maybe even worse.”

You flinch as if you’ve been scolded. Jake’s features soften. “I don’t expect you to understand. And I know he doesn’t either. He doesn’t expect your understanding or patience or forgiveness. He wouldn’t ask that of you, because he knows it’s not fair. Because he knows that it’s different for you.”

It’s selfless. It’s considerate.

You hate it regardless.  

Carefully, Jake adds a final suggestion, “For you and him, for the sake of your own peace, it might be best for you to do the same.”

His words settle heavily into the air. 

Do the same. It’s vague enough to be open to interpretation, but no matter how you warp it, there’s always one striking similarity. 

Jake is encouraging you to move on, to forget about last night and everything that led to it. To let memories fade and moments die before they can grow into anything stronger. 

And in the grand scheme of things, even in your limited mortal lifespan, it really hasn’t been that long. The first time you saw Heeseung was only a handful of months ago, and the taste of his name was bitter on your tongue for the majority of it. 

There have been so many versions of him. A rival classmate. A pesky annoyance. A savior. A guardian. A lover. 

A vampire. 

You don’t know him. Not really. You’ve seen parts of him, and the remaining pieces feel like something that would be all too easy to want. To love, even. 

And maybe Jake is right. He has the advantage of perspective. He’s seen history unfold and recognizes the patterns. He’s terrified that tragedy will repeat itself. 

But it doesn’t make it any easier – the thought of letting him go. 

Your feelings might be mortal. Your days may be limited, but that doesn’t make them any less significant. 

Amidst all the uncertainty, you know one thing for sure. It’s not a conversation with Jake that will give you any kind of closure, that will lead to any final decision. 

You need to talk to him. To Heeseung. Need to hear his thoughts and fears and desires in his own words. Need him to listen to yours. 

You’re not sure how to go about it. If he’s hellbent on avoiding you, there’s little you can do. 

But there must be something. Some way of getting to him. 

Before you have long to linger on it, another knock sounds against your door. It’s much sharper, more urgent than Jake’s was. 

Immediately, your eyes flicker to the vampire across from you, widening in surprise. 

Jake just sighs, shaking his head slightly. “I apologize in advance.”

Although slightly cryptic, it’s confirmation that whoever is on the other side poses no threat. Slowly, you stand, making your way back to your front door. 

Opening it, you find five overeager faces crowded in your doorframe. 

“Morning, ___,” Sunoo beams. “Hope you slept well.”

 “I don’t know,” Niki whispers, “Those look like some pretty serious dark circles.”

“Dude,” Sunghoon elbows him. “You can’t just say that.”

“Yeah,” Jay nods. “That’s super rude.” Turning to you, he gives you a wide smile. “You look great, ___. Not tired at all.”

In the center of them all, Jungwon just sighs. “Sorry to intrude like this.” Sheepishly, he rubs the back of his neck. “Is there any chance you could invite us in?”

Two minutes later, the sight that greets you would be enough to make you laugh out loud if the surrounding circumstances weren’t so dire. 

Your couch is far too small for the five vampires crowded onto it, elbows flying into ribs every time someone adjusts too far in one direction. Next to the chaos, Jungwon leans against the arm of the couch, eyes trained on you. 

His gaze feels assessing, almost. As if he’s trying to decipher the events of the previous day. Under his scrutiny, you do your best not to flush. 

From his seat at the far end on the couch, Jake’s lips pull into a flat line as another scooch sends him squished up even further against the armrest. “What are you all doing here?”

Jay smiles, nodding at you. “We came to check on our favorite human, of course.” 

“We heard you even snuck into your evil professor’s secret lair.” Sunghoon adds, nodding appreciatively. “Badass.”

“Plus we had to get out of the house.” Niki grimaces. “Heeseung is still in one of his moods.”

Despite yourself, you can’t quite help the expression that crosses your features as soon as his name is mentioned. 

As if that weren’t mortifying enough on its own, of course all six of them pick up on it. 

“Don’t worry about him,” Sunghoon waves his hand dismissively, entirely unaware of why you’re so affected by the sound of his name. “Being in a mood is just a regular Tuesday for Heeseung.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jay shudders, clutching at his neck. “When I mentioned that Jake was planning to go with ___ to New Haven so she could go back into the secret evil jail, I thought he was actually gonna throttle me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so–”

“Anyway,” Jungwon interjects. He might not have been privy to your conversation with Jake, but he is a bit better at picking up on the subtleties. “We did want to form a plan for your return to New Haven. I apologize for the sudden intrusion, but since you and Jake were already here, we thought this might be the best place for all of us to talk.”

Jungwon’s words barely register. He’s there. Heeseung is at their shared home. Of course he is. It makes sense. It’s the most likely place for him to be. 

But he’s there. They’ve all seen him. Talked to him. And now they’ve come here without him. 

“Right,” you nod, forcing a tight smile. “Well, we have the key from the professor’s university office now. And we don’t know for sure, but it just might open the chest I found last time at New Haven. As soon as we know that the professor is away from the building, I think we need to return and try to open it as soon as possible.” 

The thought of going back into that place fills you with a distinct sort of dread, but you need answers. You all do. 

Jungwon nods thoughtfully. “We can do that. We’ll get eyes on him first and establish a warning system for you and Jake.” Reaching into his back, he pulls out a pair of walkie talkies. “Heeseung also mentioned that there’s no cell service down there. The two of you can use these so that you’re not going in blind.”

Reaching forward, you take them from his outstretched hand. “These will be perfect,” you agree. 

“And ___,” Jungwon adds, suddenly serious. “Thank you. Truly. We know that none of this has been easy.” Five heads nod in near perfect unison. “But what you’re doing will save lives. There was another attack last night–”

“What?” You can’t mask your shock.

“A few miles outside of the city,” Jungwon confirms, lips pulled in a tight line. “In an area we hadn’t been patrolling. There were two victims.” Jungwon pauses, his words weighing heavy in the air. “High school students.” 

High school students. In recent weeks, death has become a familiar theme. But youth has it feeling brand new. You suddenly feel like crying. 

High school students. Kids. Children with their whole lives ahead of them. Dreams and plans and goals for the future. All lost in one tragic, horrific moment. 

Your heart hurts for their families, their classmates, their teachers. So many lives affected, changed, darkened. 

Teenagers whose worries should have extended only to homework and exams and finding a date for the prom. Not becoming headline news in an ongoing series of tragedies. 

Wait –

Headlines. News. 

Frantically, your eyes flick towards the clock on your counter. Last night really did do a number on you. You slept well past mid morning. If your clock is accurate, it’s dangerous close to one in the afternoon. Ignoring the fact that you can’t remember the last time you slept so late, you return to the more urgent matter at hand. 

Panicked, you turn to Jungwon. “We might have another problem. I’m supposed to have my first article for Professor Kim written in the next two hours. I don’t know if I–”

Jungwon shakes his head. “It’s already done.”

“What?” A confused frown pulls at your lips. “What do you mean? I haven’t written anything yet.”

Reaching for the bag he set down by his feet, Jungwon pulls out a small stack of papers. “He gave these to me this morning before we left,” he explains before handing them to you. 

Wordlessly, you reach out, accepting them. 

Fingers shaking slightly, your eyes trace the first handful of lines. 

It’s jarring – there’s no other way to describe it. 

You have no idea how he’s done it, but reading Heeseung’s writing feels a bit like looking into a mirror. It’s unsettling, just how easily he seems to be able to emulate you in his writing. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought you wrote this yourself. 

Everything is perfect, down to the last detail. Words you’ve been scolded by past professors for overusing are scattered throughout. Unique turns of phrases that are hallmarks of your style are intricately weaved between paragraphs.

And it only solidifies your determination.  

You have to see him. You have to.    

Writing has always felt like an extension of your soul, a physical manifestation of your very being. And anyone that can capture you this intimately, this intricately, is not someone you can just forget. 

Jungwon, unaware of your inner turmoil, must mistake your silence for scrutiny. “Is it okay?” He asks, an edge of concern in his voice. “We still have some time, so if there’s anything you need to change–” 

“No, it’s…” you trail off, unsure how to describe the writing in front of you. “It’s exactly what I would have written. 

“Oh,” Jungwon nods. “Okay. Well… Good, then. I have the digital copy too. I’ll send it to you and you can pass it along to the professor.”

You nod, a bit numbly, still shaken by what you’ve just read, still brimming with the urge to confront Heeseung about it.  

Logically, you know that your visit to New Haven can’t be delayed for something as selfish as this. People, lives, an entire city, are hinging on answers you might find hidden there, after all. But as soon as you’ve finished, you know what you’ll do next. 

You decide, in your living room, surrounded by a group of six immortal beings, that it doesn’t matter if Heeseung has senses and skills for evasion that far outmatch yours. You will find a way to see him, to talk to him. You have to. 

But then your gaze shifts, lands back on Jungwon. There’s a slight frown that pulls at his lips as he talks to the others, assigning patrol duties and discussing potential complications for your upcoming mission. 

The longer your gaze lingers, the more you see it. The unmistakable weariness. Telltale signs of exhaustion. Jungwon might have lost the physical need for sleep, but the exhaustion that clings to him comes from a different source. And it runs deep. 

All at once, you can’t help but wonder what Jungwon was like, all those centuries ago. Before he met her. The human girl Jake told you about less than an hour ago. You wonder if he still thinks of her now. You know he must. 

You wonder if it hurts just as bad, if the sting is just as sharp every time. And that sends your thoughts spinning to a different, far more dangerous place. 

In five hundred years, when the only memories of you that remain are left in these seven boys, you want them to remember you with fondness. The kind that aches with affection instead of regret. 

If Heeseung wants to prevent an inevitable heartbreak, then you suppose you can’t blame him for it. But to you, his avoidance is cowardice. Distance won’t undo what’s already passed between you. 

If he wants space, then so be it. You have a key in your hands and pressing matters to attend to. Heeseung will only stay hidden so long, and it’s best to do what you can in the meantime. 

You owe it to them, to him, to everyone whose lives have been touched by recent tragedies, to do everything in your power to change the trajectory of current events. 

So, with a new determination, you push Heeseung a little more firmly into the back corner of your mind, tucking all of the loose edges and pressing thoughts into a neat, tidy box to be revisited later. 

Pulling out your phone, you open the digital version of the article Heeseung has written under your name. You give it one more once over, and it’s just as uncannily you as before. 

Tucking away every feeling that inspires for later, you turn back to Jake.

“So,” you venture, eyeing him as he turns the key over between his fingers. “Are you ready to do this?”

…..

New Haven feels only slightly less ominous in full daylight. Although the remnants of winter still cling to the air like a bad omen you can’t quite shake, sunlight streams through the clouds with the steadiness of a sure thing. 

At your side, Jake appears equally uncertain. 

“Your professor has interesting taste.” It’s a joke, something meant to lighten the mood, but you hear the wariness all the same. 

“Wait until you see the inside.”

Jake picks the lock with nearly as much ease as Heeseung had the night prior, and then the two of you are inside. 

Despite his initial uncertainties, Jake handles the looming hallways and odd shadows of the publishing house rather well. Knowing that the other boys have eyes on your professor and are protecting you from afar helps to abate some of the anxiety, even if you still have to force away a handful of unpleasant memories that threaten to rise. 

When the two of you reach Professor Kim’s office, you don’t bother to hesitate. By now, you know what you’ll find on the other side of the door. 

Jake, however, does give a double take at the massive painting you and Heeseung put back into place just one short night ago. 

Gauging his reaction in your periphery, you decide to play dumb. 

“Is something wrong?”

Jake just takes another long look at the painting of the open field, filled with flowers. He tilts his head to the side, and for a moment, you think he rather resembles a curious puppy. 

“No.” Jake shakes his head. “Sorry, I just…” He takes one final look at the painting. “That painting just looked weirdly familiar for a minute.”

“Celedis, right?” You turn to face the vampire. “I thought the same thing, but Heeseung said it’s slightly different. Something about the flowers.”

At that, Jake doesn’t bother to mask his shock. “He told you about Celedis?”

“Showed me, actually. You know,” you reach your arm out towards him. “With the whole physical contact astral projection thing.”

You’re about to ask Jake to help you move the painting, but he’s still stuck in the details you’ve just revealed. 

Jaw nearly slack, he asks, “He showed you Celedis?”

“Yeah,” you frown. You didn’t realize this was new information. “I thought you knew. Back at your house, after I was attacked. He told me – er, showed me – about you guys.”

Remembering the water tower, you add, “And he’s used it, his ability, I mean, to show me other things about his past.” A memory surfaces, one of a young boy sneaking pastries from a medieval kitchen. Your heart gives a sudden lurch. “About Celedis.”

“Fuck, Heeseung.” Jake swears under his breath, but you hear it all the same. 

“Was he not supposed to?” Despite your current feelings of frustration towards Heeseung, your intentions aren’t to get him in trouble or create any sort of rift between him and the others. Suddenly, you’re scrambling to backtrack. “It was really only a couple of things to help me understand, I promise. He would never compromise your safety or–”

“It’s not that.” Jake shakes his head, interrupting. “Heeseung just… his ability isn’t one he uses often.”

At that, your brow furrows. That strikes you as odd. All things considered, it seems like a rather useful gift that should have found several practical applications over the past five hundred odd years. “Why not?” you ask. 

“It’s not…” Jake trails off, hesitating. Trying to decide how much he should share. “It’s not exactly something he takes pleasure in doing.”

Your brow creases further. That only leaves you with more questions than answers. You can’t remember him being particularly bothered either of the times he exercised his ability with you. “What do you mean?”

Again, Jake hesitates. His teeth worry at his bottom lip like that will prevent words from spilling out. “It’s not really my story to tell.”

“What story?” The corners of your lips pull downwards. “I don’t understand.”

For a moment, Jake just takes a long look at you. And then he sighs. “Heeseung explained Celedis to you?”

You nod.

“Including our origin story?” Jake pauses. “Our families?”

Again, you nod. “You were all nobles.”

Jake hums in agreement. “Yeah, we were. After peace was forged, the kingdom had to reorganize itself a bit. Our families were allies now, partners instead of enemies. Eventually, it was decided that each of our families would spearhead one sector of rulership, if you will.” Pausing for a moment, Jake gauges your reaction from his periphery. He asks, “Did he tell you about this?”

Deciding honesty will serve you best here, you shake your head. 

Much to your gratefulness, Jake just sighs again. “My family primarily dealt with the management of food resources. My father tracked annual crop production, rainfall, resources allocation, things like that.”

“Okay…” you nod, trailing off. The picture he paints is a logical one, but you don’t see a connection to Heeseung’s strange supernatural ability yet. 

Jake continues, “Heeseung’s father, on the other hand, always had a knack for strategy. It was decided that his family would be the de facto head of defense and protection of the kingdom. We were allies, but there was still worry that enemies from outside Celedis’ borders might arise. Although, his father’s methods were always a bit more… aggressive than you’d expect in peacetime.”

Frowning, it's hard to imagine. You suppose that hter may be sides to Heeseung you haven’t yet seen, but it’s difficult to think of him as anything but patient. Gentle. Hearing that his father was the complete opposite doesn’t sit well with you. Quietly, you wait for Jake to continue. 

“Even though we kept aging until we were twenty-one, our abilities manifested when we were just kids. And Heeseung, at ten years old, did what any child would do when he suddenly realized he could project his consciousness through touch.” Jake sighs again. “He told his mother.”

The memory comes rushing back unbidden. Heeseung isn’t here to project any visions, but all of a sudden, you feel like you’re back in that field anyway. Watching silently, helpless, as a tiny version of Heeseung accidentally makes his friend ill after his ability manifests for the first time. All over again, your heart hurts for him. Too small to understand what was happening, too frightened to do anything but seek consultation from his mother. 

“His father, of course,” Jake says, “eventually found out, too. And like any great strategist, he saw this newfound ability first and foremost as a tool. Heeseung wasn’t just a heir anymore. He was a weapon. And he was brought along to things no ten-year-old should have to see. War meetings, strategy sessions. Prisoner interrogations.” Jake’s eyes drop to the floor. “Torture, mutilation, executions. He was made to watch all of it.”

The small gasp you let out is involuntary. 

Jake’s eyes find you again. “And then, afterwards, he was forced to relive it, over and over and over. His hand on top of his father’s, so that the kingdom’s leader of defense could analyze every detail. Construct the perfect strategies, devise the best methods for extracting information, for making others bend to his iron will.”

Your stomach rolls with a fresh wave of nausea. 

Jake finishes with, “I’ve known Heeseung for five hundred years, and I can count on one hand the number of times he’s ever utilized his ability with me. Every single one of them has been out of sheer necessity.”

And explaining Celedis to you, sharing pieces of his long lost childhood, are decidedly not. The gravity of it all sinks in with full force, and you suddenly feel as if your knees might buckle under the weight of it all. 

You have to see him. You ache with it now, the overwhelming urge to just say fuck it and run until your feet have carried you all the way to their shared home. Until your fist connects with the outside of his bedroom door and the only barriers that exist between the two of you are easily breakable. 

But Jake has a key in his pocket, and you have the fate of a city resting in the liminal space between you. Selfish desires, no matter how strong, will have to wait. 

“I…” you hesitate for a moment, searching for the right words. “Thank you. For telling me, I mean. For trusting me.” 

Jake nods. “For what it’s worth, we all do. Trust you, that is. Even Jungwon, although he might never admit it out loud. It’s been a while since we’ve spent so much time around a human. They’re all really fond of you, you know.” Jake grins, something just a bit devious entering his eyes. “It drives Heeseung insane.”

“Well,” you return, “For what it’s worth, I’m quite fond of you all, too. Definitely my seven favorite vampires.”

“Aw,” Jake brings a hand to his heart. “You’re too kind. I’m honored, truly.”

Turning back towards the painting, it’s a sobering reminder of why you’re here, what you still need to do. Looking towards Jake at your side, you request, “Help me move this?”

Nodding, a refound sense of determination enters his gaze. “Let’s do it.” 

Painting aside and key in your hand, you find yourself once again face to face with the small opening that separates Professor Kim’s office from that horrifying dungeon of a room that sits just below it. 

Jake hands you a walkie talkie, and you eye it warily for a moment. “We’re sure these things work?’

“Positive,” Jake nods. “We tested them this morning. Oh, and I brought you this, too.” Reaching out, he hands you a headlamp. “He mentioned that it’s pretty dark down there.”

“Good thinking. Thank you.” Clipping the walkie talkie onto your belt loop, you take the light from Jake, securing the headband around your temple. Even though the gravity of the situation isn’t lost on you, you can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous. Giving your front pocket a final tap, you confirm that the key is tucked away safely. “Well,” you turn back to Jake, “see you on the other side.”

“Good luck,” he nods. “And if anything, and I do mean anything, feels off, use that to talk to me, okay?” He just his chin at the walkie talkie at your waist. 

“I will,” you promise. 

And then, with just one final glance over your shoulder, you’re suspended into darkness just as surely as the previous night. For a moment, you consider igniting your headlamp. But you decide against it rather quickly. It’s probably best that you don’t see just how far beneath you the ground is. 

This time, thankfully, your decent feels much shorter. With some of the uncertainty stripped away, your feet are touching solid ground before you know it. 

Once you’re firmly planted, you reach for the light on your forehead. 

It ignites, shooting a strong beam of light straight out in front of you. 

Again, you fight the shiver that traces the length of your spine. It is quite cold down here, with a certain dampness that permeates into your bones, but that’s not why you shudder. 

WIth light revealing their secrets, the cells that line the passage are even more ominous. Dark, rusted iron lies in wait on either side of you. 

Handcuffs, chains, spare pieces of metal you’re sure you don’t want to know the purpose for, line your path as you force your feet forward. Even if you wanted to take a closer look, that’s not why you’re here today. Mission in mind, you continue down the long, dark path towards the opening where you know you’ll find the chest.  

Finally, after a few long minutes, you’re face-to-face with the locked chest again. The desk is still there, too, undisturbed. 

Taking a deep breath, you reach into your pocket, retrieving the key from Professor Kim’s university office. Forcing away any other lingering memories of the previous night that threaten to rise, you bring the key to the lock. 

Your hands are shaking. The cold, the fear, the anticipation. They all settle heavy in your bones and leave you with tremors you can’t quite stop. 

“C’mon,” you whisper out loud to the darkness, with no one but you and the faint sound of dripping water to hear. “Come on.”

Finally, the key aligns just right. 

Despite the tremble in your fingers, despite the improbability that this key even matches this lock, it slides in with ease. 

And when you turn it to the right, you hear a telltale click. 

In your shaking grip, the lock falls open. Sliding the key back into your pocket, you pull the lock out of the loop of the front of the chest. Setting it down at your feet, you take one deep inhale. 

And then, with hands that still tremble, you push the heavy lid of the chest open. 

You’re not sure what you expect. Something horrific, maybe. Some damning evidence of evildoing. Something soaked in blood, something so explicitly terrible that there’s no guesswork to be done. 

But the chest contains only two things. 

The first is a massive stash of what you assume must be distilled moonflower. Organized neatly into rows upon rows of tiny small vials that look terribly similar to the contraption he used to shoot you in the neck the first time you came to the publishing house.

This, in and of itself, feels like a revelation. According to Heeseung, moonflower is rare. And knowledge on proper distillation processes is even more obsolete. To have this much of it distilled and on hand… it must mean something. 

The chest is nearly overflowing with the small vials, save for a small space, just in the middle, where a book sits nestled amongst the moonflower. 

A book that looks nearly identical to one you’ve seen before. To one that still sits forgotten in the bottom drawer of the dresser next to your bed. 

Hands still unsteady, you reach for it. 

At first glance, it’s an exact copy of the strange book you found in the university library all those weeks ago. But as you lean closer, you notice one key difference. The title. 

The one you found tucked away on a library shelf was called Sacred Monsters: The Origins of Immortality. 

But it must be part of a set, an anthology of sorts. 

Because the book between your shaking fingers stares back at you with the title Sacred Monsters: Cures for the Affliction. 

Book in your hands, you realize you have a dilemma. The volume is far too thick to take pictures of every page, but removing it from the chest to bring with you feels risky. 

At least this time, you think as you reach for the walkie talkie at your waist, you don’t have to make all of your decisions alone. 

Pressing the button on the side, you speak into the receiver. “Hey Jake, you there?”

A handful of seconds pass before his response filters through. It’s crackly but perfectly audible. “I’m here. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “I found something. A book. It’s pretty hefty. I won’t be able to take pictures of all of the pages. Do you think I should bring it with me or just take a few photos and leave it here?”

“It was in the chest?” Jake asks.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I think it might be too risky to bring with me.”

“I agree,” Jake confirms. “Just take a few pictures, and then get out of there.”

“Will do,” you agree. “See you soon.” You secure the walkie talkie back on your belt loop. 

Setting the book down on the cold ground, you sink to your knees in front of it. Reaching for your phone, the first picture youtube is of the front cover.  

Deciding that they’ll want evidence of the moonflower as well, you reach up to angle your camera towards the open chest. 

And then you return to the book. Opening it to the first page, the similarities are uncanny to the one you found in the library before. The font, the slight discoloration, the ink smudges lost to time. It’s too overwhelming to just be a series of unlikely coincidences. It must be connected to the other Sacred Monsters. 

Taking quick photos as you flip through the pages, you force yourself not to linger, no matter how much curiosity eats away at you. You’ll have time to review the pages later, you tell yourself. Right now, the best course of action is to get in and out as quickly as you can. 

Still, a handful of phrases and words jump out at you as you photograph the pages. 

Moonflower distillation…

Degeneration…

Test subjects…

Nightshade…

And finally, just as you’re drawing to the end of the book, a phrase catches your eye. 

The Kingdom of Celedis. 

Your heart drops into your stomach, body going cold.

He knows. You’re not sure how much. You're not sure exactly what. You have no idea why. But your professor has a book locked away in a secret underground prison beneath his publishing house. A book that mentions a kingdom lost to time, forgotten by everyone, preserved only in the minds of seven immortal beings. 

Professor Kim knows. And somehow, that’s more terrifying than anything else contained in this dark, decrepit place. 

Taking a photo of the final page in the book, you let it fall shut once again. Placing it back in the chest just as meticulously as you found it, you close the lid again and slide the padlock through the hold. 

The key goes in just as easily this time, locks as easily as it opened. Despite the obvious age of everything else in this place, the lock has no signs of rust, no hint of disuse. 

It’s been opened regularly, you assume. And likely by your professor. 

As that realization begins to settle, the walkie talkie on your hip gives another disconcerting crackle. Immediately, your heart leaps into your throat, mind spinning with the worst possibilities. 

You’re at the very end of the passage. It will take you at least ten minutes to be back in the office and another three to be out of the publishing house. More than that if you account for the potential of your professor’s heightened senses. 

After a moment of extended silence, Jake’s voice filters through. 

“Everything still okay down there?”

Your mind swims with relief, but your pulse doesn’t slow. 

Bringing the device to your mouth, you press the button on the side. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just finished. I’ll be back up soon.”

Another beat of silence passes. And then, “Glad to hear it. I’ll be here.”

But you can’t help but confirm, “They still have eyes on Professor Kim?”

Jake answers quickly, “Yeah. Sunghoon and Niki have eyes on him. He hasn’t left his house.”

Tucking the key back into your pocket, you begin the journey back, your quick footsteps echoing against wet stone. “Good. See you soon.”

Down the narrow passageway, your phone feels leaden in your pocket, weighed down with evidence you’re not sure how to parse. You want to be out of here as quickly as you can, back in your apartment where you can compare the two books. Where you can show them to the others. 

Thankfully, again, the way out feels shorter. Despite the ache in your muscles as you pull your body up the ladder, time passes quickly as you ascend back to the publishing house. 

True to his word, Jake waits for you just outside of the narrow entrance. He reaches out a hand to help pull you back into the small room. 

Giving you a quick once over, he frowns. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.��

You practically have. Celedis. But this isn’t the place. 

You shake your head and tell him as much. “Not here.”

Despite the brevity of your words, Jake understands. Instead of pressing you further, he helps you slide the mural back into position, once again covering the opening to the room below. 

Giving the painting a final look, you’re sure of it now. It is Celedis. It has to be. Even if some of the details are slightly wrong. 

But your head is spinning and your thoughts are jumbled and you can’t be the only one with the weight of so many revelations weighing on your mind. 

As the two of you make your way back down the hallway towards the front door of New Haven, Jake tells you, “We’ll reconvene at our place. We can go over everything there.”

You shake your head. “Tell everyone to meet at my apartment instead.” 

“What?” A flicker of confusion creases his brow as his head tilts to the side. “Why?”

“It’ll make sense soon, I promise,” you tell him. “There’s something there I need to show you. All of you.”

Jake glances at you, but he doesn’t question you further. His earlier words echo in your mind. “For what it’s worth, we all do. Trust you, that is.”

At your side, he pulls out his phone as you pull the door to New Haven shut behind you. “Jungwon,” you hear him say. “Change of plans. We’ll meet at her apartment instead.” 

Again, the questions must be short lived, and Jake is ending the conversation just as quickly as it started. 

…..

When you arrive back at your apartment, Jungwon, Jay, Sunoo, and Niki are waiting for you in the parking lot. 

Stepping out of the driver’s seat, Jake nods at Jungwon. Then, after glancing around, he asks, “Where’s Sunghoon?”

“Keeping an eye on the professor,” Jungwon answers. “We thought it would be best to have at least one of us tailing him still.”

Jake nods. 

Jungwon turns to you. “I take it you found something. And there’s something here at your apartment you want us to see?”

You nod. “Yeah. A… well, a book. Two books, actually,” you amend. “Let’s go up,” you nod at the staircase, “and I can show you.”

Jungwon hesitates for a moment. A meaningful glance that you can’t quite decipher passes between the five of them. 

“Okay,” he finally acquiesces. “Lead the way.”

Phone heavy in your pocket, you climb the two flights of stairs with the five of them trailing behind you. The distance they put between you is slightly odd, but you don’t have much space left in your mind to think much of it. 

That is, until you reach your doorstep. And find it already occupied. 

“Heeseung,” you breathe. A force of habit more than anything. 

He’s already looking at you. Heard your conversation in the parking lot and your footsteps on the stairs and your heartbeat in your chest. He knew the exact moment you would round the corner and the number of breaths it would take you to reach him. 

His dark eyes reflect afternoon sunlight in a way that looks all too much like stars, and you have no idea what to do with any of it. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, as if his words are anything more than a bandaid on a bullet wound, as if the five boys behind you can’t hear the words that pass between you. 

And you’ve been stewing in it since this morning, thinking of all the ways you could beg him, plead with him, convince him to let whatever lies between the two of you to blossom, to grow wings. 

But now, with his eyes on you and the fate of a city in the pocket of your jeans, words fail you. 

Finally, your lips part. “I have something to show you.” And now you’re the one putting up walls, building barriers. For now, he’s not a boy that kissed you until your head was spinning and you couldn’t make right from left. He’s a vampire, and the two of you have a job to do. 

Your hurt, your desires, your wounded pride still sit heavy in your gut. 

But you owe it to him – this boy that was born a prince and sharpened into a weapon and cursed with a blessing he never asked for – to bring an end to this particular bout of suffering. 

To let the tragic kingdom of his youth rest once and for all, even if you have to reopen wounds in the process. 

Across from you, Heeseung only nods. 

Stepping to the side, he lets you be the one to open the door. He doesn’t need to linger outside; he’s already been invited in, more than once. But he does anyway. He waits for your words, for your approval, and then he follows you inside. Behind him, the other five exchange long, sideways glances. 

Just like this morning, the sight of the six of them crammed on your small couch is almost enough to inspire a smile. Under any other circumstances, you’d be laughing out loud. Now, however, you just give a long exhale. 

“They key worked,” you begin. “It opened the chest.”

Five hundred years, and they all have yet to perfect their patience. 

“And?” Jay is practically tripping over himself to get the question out. 

“It was full of distilled moonflower,” you tell them. Vials like the one the professor used to inject me in the neck. Hundreds of them.”

“What?” Sunoo gasps.

“How?” Niki frowns. 

“Moonflower is rare,” Jake shakes his head. “There’s no way he could have that much of it.”

“Well, he must know some secret place where it grows or something,” you suggest. “Because he does.”

“No,” Jungwon shakes his head. “You don’t understand. It’s not only a matter of knowing where it grows. Moonflower is a magical substance, and magic is finite. It simply doesn’t grow in abundance. In order for someone to have a stash that large…”

“He’s been collecting it,” Heeseung finishes. “For a long, long time.”

“He’s been a vampire for twenty years,” you remind them. “Maybe he’s been collecting it just as long.”

Again, Jungwon shakes his head. “Hundreds of vials isn’t something that can be achieved in twenty years. Hundreds of vials is hundreds of years.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense.” You frown, wheels in your brain beginning to spin. 

“There are two possibilities,” Jake says. “Either your professor is lying about how old he is…”

“Or he’s not the only one that’s been collecting and distilling moonflower,” Jay finishes. 

Sunoo shakes his head. “We haven’t seen any evidence of him working with others.”

“Either way,” Niki frowns, “Something's not quite right.”

“The moonflower.” Jungwon looks at you again. “Was it the only thing in the chest?”

You shake your head. “No. There was also a book.”

“Right.” Jake nods. “The one you took pictures of.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I left it in the chest, obviously, but I took photos of the pages. I didn’t have a chance to look too closely while I was there, but I think it talks about…” you trail off for a moment, eyes flickering to Heeseung, despite yourself. “I think it talks about Celedis.”

“Celedis?” Jake balks. 

“That’s impossible.” Jay shakes his head. 

But Jungwon just looks at you. “Earlier in the parking lot, you said you had two books to show us.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I do. I was in the university library a few weeks ago, and I found this book. It was about vampires, but it was… I don’t know. It was strange. It wasn’t vitriolic or propaganda. It was almost like a diary. The reason I wanted you all to come here is because I checked it out. I have it here, in my bedroom. But the weirdest part is the title.”

“The title?” Sunoo prompts. 

“It’s called Sacred Monsters: The Origins of Immortality. And the book I found in the chest today, it looked really similar. And it was called Sacred Monsters: Cures for the Affliction.”

A beat of silence passes. Another. 

“That,” Niki finally says, “Doesn’t feel like a coincidence.”

Standing, you nod. “I don’t think so either.” Walking to your bedroom, you open the bottom drawer of your dresser. With the events of the past weeks, part of you expects the book to have vanished mysteriously. To have been nothing but a figment of your overactive imagination. 

Despite your musings, Sacred Monsters: The Origins of Immortality lies undisturbed just as you left it. With careful hands, you pull it out of your dresser and bring it back to the living room, setting it on the coffee table in front of the boys. 

“This is the book from the library?” Jungwon asks. 

“Yeah,” you confirm. “And I don’t have a printer or anything, but I’ll send you the photos I took of the book from the chest today.”

Scrolling through the files you send him, Jungwon pauses on the cover, glancing between it and the book on the coffee table. “I see what you mean. These must be related.”

Reaching for the book, Jay flips open the front cover, frowning. “There’s no author or publication date.”

“I know,” you agree. “It’s all so odd. It wasn’t even in the library system,” you add, remembering that night at the library. “The librarian had to manually check it out to me.”

“Jesus,” Sunoo grimaces, glancing at some of the pages over Jay’s shoulder. “This is super depressing.”

“Yeah,” Jay nods. “I see what you mean. This is definitely about vampires, but it’s nothing like other human-written vampire literature. 

Next to them, Jungwon scrolls through the images you’ve sent him, enlarging photos to read pieces of text. With each and every passing image, his frown grows deeper and deeper. 

“We have a problem,” Jungwon finally says. Looking back at the photo, he amends, “Several, actually.” 

You assume he must have drawn the same conclusion as you. “He must know about Celedis, right? The professor, I mean.”

“Yes,” Jungwon confirms. “I’m sure he does.”

“But how?” Jay presses.

“I don’t know.” Jungwon’s mouth pulls into a grim line. “But that’s not all.”

“This page,” He holds up his phone. “It’s a guide. Explaining in excruciating detail how to harvest, store, and distill moonflower. It also discusses its side effects. On humans and vampires.”

Scrolling to the next photo, he adds, “It looks like they studied these side effects. Through experimentation. Most of these pages are entries. Data. Experiments.” Looking at all of you, he lets the weight of that sink in for a moment. “Whoever wrote this book tested moonflower and its effects. On humans and vampires.”

“What?” Jake frowns. “The professor tested moonflower on vampires?”

“Not the professor, necessarily,” Jungwon shakes his head. “But yes, whoever wrote this book must have.”

“The cells,” you breathe, a sickening realization beginning to build in the pit of your stomach. “The cells beneath New Haven. It wasn’t just a jail.”

“It was a lab,” Heeseung finishes, locking eyes with you. 

Jungwon holds up another photo. “I think you’re right. Look at this.” You all squint as he enlarges the photo. There’s a date at the top – September 13, 1942. And next to it, a number V029.

Beneath it are a series of notes too small to make out from where you sit. Jungwon reads them, “Dosage: 8 milliliters. Injection site: Lower throat, right side. Time of effect: 2 minutes, 19 seconds. 

“V029 continues to exhibit strange behaviors under the influence of Moonflower. Although dosages have varied, the results remain consistent. Today, she spoke again about “Celedis.” When prompted with the addition of pain, she requested drawing paper. Upon refusal, she would not speak. A second dosage was administered (6ml) and further infliction of pain was utilized. V029 did not respond audibly to any given prompt or stimuli.”

“Celedis,” Jake echoes. “One of his… test subjects,” he spits with vitriol, “was the one to mention Celedis.”

“That still doesn’t make sense,” Jay points out. “It doesn’t matter if his test subjects were vampires. We’re the only ones that know about Celedis. Every other vampire in existence is a descendant of the eighth son. None of them should have any idea that Celedis ever existed.” 

“And we don’t know that these were the Professor’s test subjects,” Niki points out, echoing Jungwon’s earlier words. The page is dated for 1942. If he is telling the truth about when he was turned, he wasn’t even alive yet.”

“There must be some way to corroborate that,” you frown. “He said that he was turned the same night his entire family was massacred. Obviously, it wouldn’t have been reported as a vampire attack, but there should be something about it. Some kind of public record of their deaths, at least.”

Heeseung nods, pulling out his phone. “I’ll see if I can find anything.”

“Um,” Sunoo interjects, holding up the original Sacred Monsters book, the one you brought home from the library. “We might have another problem.”

Six pairs of eyes turn to look at him. 

“Most of these entries just seem like personal writing, like you said,” Sunoo nods at you. “But this section towards the end, here…” He trails off for a moment. “It’s called Blood Moon Ritual.”

“What?” Six voices echo in unison. 

“ There’s only one entry,” Sunoo continues, frowning. “And it doesn't really make sense. It’s a poem, like the others,” Sunoo explains. “Here, I’ll read it.

“The Origins of Immortality

That which was lost can be gained. 

The requirements are the same. 

That which was gained can be lost.

The sacrifice goes unchanged. 

Every life can end.

Every life can endure.

Fate is always determined

By what the wish is for.”

For a moment, your living room is silent. 

Jay breaks it by asking, “What the fresh hell does that mean?”

“Literature majors,” Niki glances between you and Heeseung. “Either of you want to pipe in on this one?”

“I mean,” you start, “without context, it kind of just sounds like a bunch of nonsense.” 

Before you can turn the words around in your mind again, Heeseung speaks up from where he sits. “I think I found something,” he says, holding up his phone. 

“Really?” You ask, just at the same time as Jay presses, “What?”

“There is a record from,” he double checks the date, “almost exactly twenty years ago. It’s anonymous, but it gives ages. A nine-year-old child and her forty-three year-old mother. The official cause of death is listed as an animal mauling.”

“That matches, then. That’s exactly what the professor told me.”

“There’s more, though,” Heeseung frowns. 

“More?” Your brow creases. 

“Another death.” Heeseung matches your gaze. “The child’s great grandfather, age ninety-one. And the location of death… Didn’t Professor Kim tell you that he was visiting family outside of the city?”

You nod. “He said it happened in a remote cabin. A group of nomadic vampires attacked them there.” 

Heeseung shakes his head. “The location listed here is the city. This city.”

Your frown deepens. Heeseung sticks the final nail in the coffin. “Their bodies were discovered near a row of abandoned buildings where there have been past instances of mountain lion activity. It’s on the far side of the city. Just a few blocks away from New Haven.”

You echo his words. “His family died near New Haven?” It’s odd, the way the truth seems to mingle with lies. The way your professor seems to have chosen strange pieces of the story to be dishonest about. “Why would he tell the truth about his family dying from a vampire attack twenty years ago but lie about where it happened? And not mention a grandfather?”

“I don’t know,” Heeseung says. The reality of just how much you have yet to uncover begins to settle uncomfortably in the air. Every discovery seems like it only leads to ten more mysteries to solve, another dozen dead ends. 

“I’m still stuck on Celedis,” Jay says. “We need some way to figure out who this person was and how they knew Celedis. We need–”

“We need the whole book,” you finish. 

It’s not a question or a matter of opinion. It’s the obvious conclusion to be drawn. 

Jungwon nods. “Sunghoon should still have eyes on the Professor. I’ll confirm that he’s still home, and then we can–”

“Are you insane?” Heeseung isn’t looking at his phone anymore. His search for more information on the tragic deaths of Professor Kim’s family are forgotten for the moment. “She was just there twice, and you want her to go back again? Now?”

“Heeseung…” Jake warns, taking care to guard his tone. 

“I know it’s not ideal,” Jungwon tries to placate him, “But that book has answers that we need. Right now, all we can do is speculate. If your professor has a massive stash of distilled moonflower and knows about Celedis, who knows what else he might have access to? What else he might know? People are still dying, and he’s connected to it all somehow. I’m sure of it.”

“I know that,” Heeseung bites, visibly frustrated. “But why does she have to be the one to–”

“And how exactly are you planning to get one of us down there?” Jungwon sighs, running an open palm over his features. “I don’t want to argue with you, but unless you have a plan for getting Professor Kim to invite you into his secret vampire torture chamber, ___ is the only one of us that can get this book.”

“It’s okay,” you finally interject. Something about the two of them arguing over your fate while you sit and watch doesn’t quite sit right with you. More than that, something about him always speaking over you, acting as if it’s all in your best interest, while also not bothering to give you the time of day, is all too reminiscent of the other decisions he’s made on his own. 

Still, you choose to be gentle. “I debated with Jake, actually, about whether I should bring the whole book or not. We thought this would be safer for now, but I knew it was a possibility that I would have to go back for it. I was prepared for this.”

Heeseung looks like he wants to say more, like he wants to argue, but something in your expression has his words dying on his lips. 

“I’ll get ready,” you nod. Retreating to your bedroom, you add, “Just give me a minute to grab my jacket.”

In all honesty, your jacket is the least of your concerns. Because despite your resolve, despite the will that you’ve forced yourself to steel, Heeseung is right. 

Even at a distance, he can still read you like the back of his hand. Like an open book with nothing but pages for him to peruse at his pleasure. 

The thought of going back to New Haven, of going back into that cold, dark, empty expanse of horror sends your mind spiraling. Walking into the bathroom adjoined to your bedroom, you place both hands on the counter on opposite sides of the sink. It’s an attempt, a feeble one, maybe, at grounding yourself. 

Forcing your gaze upwards, you match your own eye in the mirror. A million emotions are reflected back at you. Determination, weariness, resolve, fear. 

You’re scared. No matter what you tell them, no matter what you tell yourself, you feel it. Swimming in your mind, nestling in your bones. A terror rooted so deep you’re not sure you’ll ever get it out. 

You don’t want to go to New Haven. You don’t want to descend down that ladder. You don’t want to risk your life or your comfort or your sanity. You don’t want to have feelings for an immortal being that needs blood to survive. 

But reality doesn’t bend to the whims of frightened girls, and ignoring the things that scare you won’t make them go away. 

Bravery, you think, as you watch your reflection in the mirror. It’s not just reserved for moments that feel grand in scale. It’s also here, in places like this. Where there’s nothing but you, your reflection, and all of the things you wish you could avoid waiting for you just outside the door. 

So with a final inhale, you force your features into something neutral, something that at least five of the boys waiting for you outside will believe. And then you walk back to your bedroom, making sure to pull your jacket over your shoulders before stepping back out into the living room. 

Jake stands from his seat on the couch when you enter the room again. Heeseung avoids your gaze. 

“You ready?” Jake asks. 

“As I’ll ever be,” you nod, forcing a false sense of cavalier lightness into your tone. 

“Good thing I left the headlamp in the car,” Jake jokes, pulling on his shoes. 

“And the walkie talkies,” you agree. 

Despite yourself, you can’t quite stop your eyes from wandering back towards your living room one last time. 

Jungwon is dictating new assignments while the others listen attentively. Well, three of them anyway. 

Heeseung just sits there, his eyes still trained on the ground. 

You’re sure he can feel it, the way your gaze settles on the side of his face, traces his profile and then does it again. But no matter how long your gaze lingers, he won’t return it. 

And maybe this is it, you think. Maybe you’ll just have to make peace with the fact that all you’ll ever get from him are closed doors and avoided eye contact. 

He’s had his teeth in your neck and your blood on his lips, and despite it all, the only thing he has for you now is a cold shoulder disguised as concern. 

And if this self flagellation is some kind of atonement, an apology for a crime he’s convinced himself he’s committed, then that, you think, is where his true selfishness lies. 

He can call it altruism and immortal wisdom all he wants. But caring for you from a distance will never be something you thank him for. 

It’s not a declaration you can make in front of an audience, so with a final sigh, you turn towards your front door and follow Jake’s retreating figure from it. 

As it so happens, you can be selfish too. You pretend you don’t feel Heeseung’s eyes on your back the entire way out. 

However, you must not be as good at disguising your fear as you thought, because Jake is nothing but apologies while the two of you walk side by side down the stairs. 

“I really am sorry,” he breathes into frigid air. The warmth of his breath creates a visible cloud. “I shouldn’t have told you to just leave the book there, but I was worried–”

“It’s not your fault.” You shake your head. “I thought it would be best to leave the book, too. And it’s okay, really. I’ll be just fine.”

“Still,” he reiterates. “I’m sorry that it has to be you. It can’t be fun going down there all alone. And especially since we know what it was used for now…”

Your lips flatten. “Are you trying to make me feel better or worse?”

“Sorry,” He laughs, apologizing again. “You’re right. No more gloomy talk. We’ll just get you in and out as fast as we can, and we can worry about the rest of it later.” 

“Works for me.” You force a tight smile, reaching for the car door. If it’s any consolation, you’re glad that it’s Jake you’re with. His presence is steady, carries a certain kind of lightness that helps to chase away some of the lingering storm clouds, even if just for a moment. 

But just as you move to slide into the passenger seat, you hear the telltale sound of footsteps on pavement over your shoulder. They’re rapid, loud. Whoever it is, they’re running. 

Turning over your shoulder, your brow creases in confusion when your eyes land on Heeseung. Again, it’s not you he’s looking at. 

Heesung is talking to Jake when he says, “Change of plans. Jungwon wants you down by the river.”

“What?” Jake frowns. “But what about–”

“I’ve got her.” Heeseung’s words cut through the air like an arrow, pierce through your uncertainties like a knife. 

“I…” Jake trails off. He’s looking at you, not Heeseung when he asks, “You sure?”

“Go,” you nod. “I’m sure Jungwon has his reasons.” It’s flimsy reasoning, and between the three of you, no one is convinced that Jungwon is responsible for this change. 

But they’re switching places all the same. Jake gives you one final glance over his shoulder, and you swear you see him shake his head before he heads back up the stairs to where the other boys still sit in your apartment.

And Heeseung still won’t look at you, even as he walks around to the other side of the car and slides into it, sitting only a handful of inches away from you. 

It’s a reflection of this morning, an echo of earlier as the car turns out of your apartment parking lot and sets course for New Haven. Only this time, it’s Heeseung in the driver’s seat, not Jake. 

The silence between the two of you extends for long minutes, nothing but the gentle hum of the car heater to fill the empty air. 

Finally, with nothing but road ahead of you, Heeseung exhales a long sigh. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You say the word, and I’ll turn this car around. We can go back to your apartment or to my place or somewhere else entirely. I’ll get you on a plane out of the country, if that’s what you want.”

You raise a brow. His meager attempts at kindness have started to lose their shine. “And the book?”

Heeseung shakes his head. “Fuck that stupid book.” 

Easy to say, maybe. But both of you know it’s not true. Besides, “I don’t want to leave the country.”

“Really?” You can’t tell if he’s serious when he adds, “I hear that Costa Rica is lovely this time of year.”

“I’m sure it is,” you concede. If he wants to skirt around admissions, you’ll run headfirst into them. “But I’d be worried about you.”

Heeseung only sighs. “I can take care of myself.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You’re sure he knows it, but being difficult on purpose isn’t new to either of you. “And we’ve had this argument before. My mind hasn’t changed, and clearly yours hasn’t either. If you get to decide how to live your life without any input from me, then I expect the same courtesy from you.”

“It’s different,” he insists. Now, at least, he’s talking. Even if it’s only to beg for a bit of your understanding. “I’ve already lived a life. Too many lives. Five hundred years worth of life with no sign of any end coming soon.”

You have to disagree. “Have you, though? You know, when people talk about having lived a life, they’re not just talking about years. They’re talking about family, friendships, community. Achievements, accomplishments.” The last word dangles from your lips. Oh, fuck it. “Love.”

Next to you, Heeseung is silent. You press on, “I understand that you’ve made up your mind. That with all your five hundred years of immortal wisdom, you’ve decided you get to make decisions for the both of us. But you know what else is a normal part of life? Kissing someone and regretting it. You can just avoid me at parties, you know. You don’t have to threaten to send me to Costa Rica.”

“It wasn’t a threat–”

But you’re not done. “I liked it, by the way. In case you were wondering. I don’t care if you regret it.” Your pride feels like something forgotten, discarded long ago. Maybe it’s a facade or false bravado, but you find it easy to bare your secrets here in the passenger seat. “I liked it when you kissed me. I liked the way it felt when you put your hands on me. I liked the way you lost control with my blood in your mouth. I went home and I laid in bed and I thought about it. All alone in my bedroom, with my hands on my skin everywhere you touched me while I pretended like it was you. I dreamed about you. I woke up thinking about you.”

Heeseung whispers your name. A warning, a plea. He might as well be shouting in your ear. 

“You can avoid eye contact and pretend it never happened all that you want. I’m not going to. In fact, I’m probably going to think about it again tonight. Do what you want. I’m not going to pretend that I don’t have feelings for you, and I’m not going to avoid New Haven,” Your chest is heaving now. Between words, it’s easy to forget that you need to breathe, too. “And I’m not running away to fucking Costa Rica.”

“You think I enjoy this?” Heeseung’s knuckles are white against the steering wheel. “You think I like having this… this war in my brain? This constant struggle? You think I’m playing with you? Toying with your feelings because I can’t make up my mind?” He shakes his head and sends your thoughts scattering. “I’m not. You used to glare at me across the lecture hall, and it would be the highlight of my day. I looked forward to every assignment Professor Kim gave us, because it meant I’d have another chance to read something you’d written. I’ve been alive for five hundred years, and I don’t think I’ve ever found anything that makes me feel the way your words do. For the first time in my life, I felt like someone else could take what I was feeling and put it into words.”

That gives you pause. He… thought about you? Even then? He read your writing?

“And it didn’t stop there. I used to go home from class imagining, praying that I could be like every other person in that stupid class. That I could be just another kid in my twenties worried about disappointing their parents and picking the wrong major. That I could waste my afternoons staring at the pretty girl in my literature course that couldn’t be bothered to give me the time of day. Fantasizing about asking her to study with me at a coffee shop or share a workroom in the library.”

Your eyes are wide now, and they’re trained directly on him. Heeseung is still looking out at the road in front. 

“You think I don’t think about you too? That I want to pretend none of it ever happened? You’re wrong. All I do is think about you, and all I do is want. But they’re things I can’t have, things I can’t be. I wish I could fall asleep dreaming about you. I wish I could wake up with you on my mind and know that I only have so many days to do something about it.”

He shakes his head, as if that will clear the errant thoughts that have clearly begun to consume him.

“But I can’t. I can’t sleep. I can’t shut off my brain, even for a second. All I do is think. All I do is remember. You think I didn't like it? You think I didn’t go home with the feeling of your skin on my hands and the taste of your blood in my mouth? You think I don’t spend every waking hour with the sound of you whimpering burned into my mind? I’ve wanted things before, but never like this. I made peace with myself a long time ago. I know what I am and I understand that ultimately, my existence is a burden to this world. I’ve learned to stop wishing for impossible things. But every time I look at you, I just… I just want.”

Your voice is small. You don’t know how to respond to any of it. “It’s okay to want things.”

“It’s not.” Heeseung shakes his head. “Not when they’re impossible. Not when it will only bring pain to the people I care about. I don’t want to be someone you avoid at a party. I don’t want to watch you move on with your life when this inevitably ends. But all of those things you talked about earlier, all of those parts that make up a life – friendship, family, community. I can’t give you any of that.”

It’s hard to hear. It hurts to see how visibly upset he is about all of it. 

“It doesn’t matter if I live for another five hundred years or a thousand years or until the end of time itself. I already know I’ll spend all of it thinking about you.  I’ve made peace with it before, and I’ll learn to do it again, but I can’t take your life from you. And even if I wanted to, I can’t watch you grow to resent me for it.”

In front of you, the road appears endless. With sunlight reflecting in the rearview mirror, the day is dying, and your hopes are going with it. 

“When I tell you that I’ll send you to Costa Rica if that’s what you want, it’s not because I’m trying to get rid of you. It’s because I want you to make the choices that are best for you. Not for me, not for the boys, not even for this city. I don’t expect you to take me up on it. Your moral compass will be the death of me, I’m sure. But the offer will always be there.”

Your emotions feel frivolous. Your desires feel petulant. Still, you can’t help but counter, “And what if I resent you now? For not even giving this a chance?”

Heeseung smiles, a wry thing that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Then I’ll take comfort in knowing you have a whole life ahead of you to get over it.”

It’s a stalemate that has the car stumbling back into silence, even as your head spins. He noticed you, he thought about you, long before you ever thought you were even a blip on his radar. 

He read your words and connected to them. As a writer, it feels as if he’s admitted to seeing your soul and finding it beautiful. As a human, it makes you want to fall in love, despite all of the ways he’s thoroughly and entirely erased that possibility. 

You’re not sure how long you sit in the quiet, mind reeling. It can’t be more than a handful of minutes, though, before the scenery around you begins to take a familiar shape. You’re close. 

Early evening has just begun to close in. Around you, shadows are growing longer, street lights flickering on as the last rays of sunlight fade from the day. 

Still a few blocks away, Heeseung pulls into an empty parking lot. 

You frown. “Surely we can get a little closer than this?” It’s seamless, how well the two of you slip into your roles. You have a job to do. In the face of that reality, it’s as if the past twenty minutes don’t exist at all. The only evidence is the lingering tension that simmers in the air. 

“It’s not that.” Heeseung pulls his phone out, frowning at the screen. “Sunghoon’s not responding.”

“What?” Your eyes widen. “Do you think he’s okay?”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Heeseung assures you. “He was responding to Jungwon just fifteen minutes ago. But that means we haven’t heard from anyone with eyes on the professor since then.” Weighing his options mentally, Heeseung finally suggests, “Why don’t we drive by New Haven first? We can make sure everything looks okay. If Sunghoon still hasn’t responded by then, we can make a decision.” 

“Okay,” you nod. 

Back on the road, it takes you less than five minutes to reach the publishing house. Immediately, you can tell that something is wrong. 

“There’s a car,” you whisper, even though you’re still inside the safety of the car, still driving down the road. “There’s a car parked out front.” 

“I see it.” Heeseung’s lips pull into a tight line. 

“I think it’s his car.” Your eyes widen. “The professor’s.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung confirms. “I think so too.”

“Why is he here now?” You wonder. “Didn’t you say Sunghoon had eyes on him at his house just fifteen minutes ago?”

“Something’s not right,” Heeseung agrees. “I’m going to turn around. We’ll head to the house and figure things out there.” He maintains an even tone, but you can sense the hint of panic in his voice, the slight tremble as he turns the car around and starts to head in the opposite direction. 

“Sunghoon…” You trail off. 

“Try calling him.” Heeseung passes you his phone, jaw tight. 

Taking Heeseung’s phone from his outstretched hand, you press the call button. The phone rings. In the quiet, each shrill ring sounds like thunder, burns like terror. 

“He’s not answering.” Your voice is quiet as you state the obvious. The call drops from lack of response. 

“Fuck,” Heeseung swears beneath his breath. But then he reasons, “I’m sure it’s fine. He’s probably just occupied at the moment or–”

The sound of a ringtone suddenly fills the car. 

“Is that him?” A wave of relief washes over his features. But it’s premature. 

“No,” you shake your head, frowning at the dark expanse of Heeseung’s screen. “It’s my phone. Hold on.” Digging it out of your pocket, the caller ID only makes the dread in the pit of your stomach intensify further. 

Again, your phone rings, the sound cutting through the car like a knife. 

“Who is it?” Heeseung asks. “Your heart just jumped like crazy.”

“It’s Professor Kim.” Your words are barely a whisper. 

“What?” Despite the task at hand, Heeseung takes his eyes off of the road and turns to you. 

“I should answer it, right?” You frown, fingers trembling. “He’s probably just following up on the draft I submitted earlier.” You’re not sure who you’re trying to convince – Heeseung or yourself. 

“Fuck,” Heeseung repeats. “I… yeah, you should answer.”

“Okay, just,” you sit up a little straighter, as if your professor can somehow see you. “Just don’t make any sounds.”

Sliding your thumb across your screen, you accept the call. 

“Hello? Professor Kim?”

“Hello,” he greets from the other end. Oily slick as always, but there’s something ragged in his voice, too. As if he’s recently exerted himself. At the very least, he doesn’t leave you wondering for long. “I had a chance to review your article.”

“Oh,” you reply, some of the tension easing from your shoulders. “What did you think?”

“Outstanding work,” he praises. “Truly. You are one of the most gifted students I’ve ever come across.”

Under any other circumstances, you’d beam with the praise. Now, your anxiety only heightens. Twists knots in the pit of your stomach. “I… I appreciate that, professor. It means a lot coming from you.”

“I’d like to discuss my suggestions for edits, of course.”

“Right,” you nod. “Could I call you back? I don’t have my computer at the moment, and–”

“I’d like to discuss with you in person, actually.”

“Oh,” you force neutrality into your voice, even as your heart gives a sudden lurch. “Okay. I’m available tomorrow, if there’s a time–”

Again, he interrupts you. “I would like to speak with you tonight. And I have something to show you. It’s quite urgent, I’m afraid.”

“Tonight?” You echo. And ‘something to show you’? At your side, Heeseung stiffens. “It’s a bit late. I’m not sure…”

“With the recent deaths in mind, I’m sure you understand that time is of the essence. The sooner we can publish your work, the sooner the victims can be avenged.”

You turn to Heeseung, a question in your eyes. Matching his gaze, you see the way his head begins to shake. His silent disapproval of the idea. But then he stops, sighs. 

In the driver’s seat, next to you, Heeseung silently mouths three words. 

It’s your choice. 

It almost makes you want to cry. His small adjustment. His trust in your ability to choose for yourself. 

Into the receiver, you ask, “Where should I meet you?”

“The publishing office,” your professor responds, approval in his voice. “How soon can you be here?”

Mentally constructing an alibi, you settle with, “I’m not too far away, actually. Probably twenty minutes. Maybe a little longer.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you shortly.”

The line clicks dead. 

“I don’t like this,” Heeseung’s voice is dripping in unease. 

Yours is no better. “I don’t either, but it’s all part of earning his trust, right?”

“He said he had something to show you. I don’t like all of the possibilities that could entail.”

“I’m sure it’s just something to do with the article,” you try to reason. “He’s probably prepared it as a mock publication or something and thinks I’ll be thrilled to see my writing in an official format.”

Under any other circumstances, you would be.

On the topic of your article, you’re reminded that the words in question aren’t actually yours at all. If this car is a place for revelations, you decide to add one more to the list. 

“How did you do it, by the way?” Your gaze traces Heeseung’s side profile where he looks out at the road ahead. “How did you write that article just like I would have?”

Heeseung just sighs. “I told you,” his voice is low, quiet, “your writing means a lot to me. I’ve spent a lot of time with it. I suppose that made it easy to emulate.”

“Well, thank you.”

“For stalking your writing?” Heeseung teases. 

“For reading it,” you correct. “For taking the time to understand it.” To understand me. 

“You act like it was torture for me.”

“Well, I do remember you calling one of my pieces ‘nauseatingly vitriolic.’” It feels like a lifetime ago, that evening in the writing workshop. 

“That was one piece,” Heeseung defends. “And it wasn’t really you.”

“No,” you agree, “it wasn’t.”

Heeseung glances at you, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine it too. A world where he’s just Heeseung and you’re just you. 

Two humans that met by chance, worried about disappointing their parents and picking the wrong major. Arguing over semantics and vying for attention from their professor. Stealing glances across the lecture hall that start to linger just a little too long. Meeting outside of class and pretending it’s nothing more than a terrible coincidence every time, even if you never fail to slide down into the seat next to his. 

Stealing kisses outside of your professor’s office. Sharing a cup of warm tea at a sporting event both of you are only pretending to understand. Falling in love. 

Simple moments. Quiet moments. Human moments. 

Heeseung reminds you just how far away that version of reality is when he asks, “Should I turn around, then? It’s already been five minutes.” His voice is quiet, like there’s a fantasy he doesn’t want to disturb, too. 

You shake your head. “Take a right at the next light, and drop me off at the bus stop. There’s a group of cafes a couple stops down that are popular with students. If he asks, I’ll say I was at one of them when he called.”

Heeseung doesn’t bother to protest. He follows your directions until the two of you are parked on the curb of the bus stop. Bidding him goodbye, you step out from the passenger seat. “I’ll meet you back here,” you tell him. “I’ll take the bus this far, just to be safe.”

“Okay,” he agrees, “but message me before that. As soon as you can.”

“I will,” you promise. The moment lingers for seconds longer, a million words and promises and declarations dying on both of your lips. You sever them all with the shutting of the car door. 

Heeseung doesn’t drive away, not until the bus arrives. And even then, you swear it’s his car you get fleeting glimpses of in the rearview mirror. 

But a handful of minutes later, Heeseung and his car are nowhere to be seen as you exit at the stop closest to New Haven. With the absence of the sun, there’s a biting chill in the air. Grateful for your jacket, you pull it a bit tighter around your body, suppressing a shudder. 

Glancing down at your phone, you send one final message before taking your last few steps towards the publishing house. 

Going in now. 

Heeseung responds in milliseconds. 

Be safe. 

Raising a fist, it feels a bit odd to knock on the same door you’ve broken into twice in the past twenty-four hours. The irony doesn’t have long to linger. Professor Kim is quick to answer the door and even quicker to usher you inside. 

Tonight, he looks every bit the well-kept professor you grew used to in your classes. With a creaseless button down tucked into dress pants, he might as well be back at the front of the lecture hall.

“Thank you,” he reiterates as he leads you down the hallway. “I appreciate you coming on such short notice.” 

“Of course,” you nod, trying to look as enthusiastic as he wants you to be. “The gravity of the situation is not lost on me. I’m excited to review your edits and get my article published as soon as possible.” 

“Right,” he nods, a bit apologetically. “You’ll have to forgive me, then, but I have something rather important to show you first.”

That makes your brow crease in confusion. Is what he’s showing you not related to your writing?

“What is it?”

Your professor just shakes his head. “I’m afraid words won’t do this justice. Follow me.” 

Beckoning you forward, he leads you to the same room you were poisoned in the first time you visited New Haven. Suppressing a shudder at the memory, you force your footsteps forward, even as your senses start to scream at you in protest. 

Pausing at the door, he turns over his shoulder to look at you. “You’ll be pleased to know that I believe I may have been wrong about Lee Heeseung.”

That sends ice spinning through your veins. You don’t like the sound of Heeseung’s name in his mouth, hate the idea that he’s been so fixated on him. “What do you mean? Wrong in what way?”

“See for yourself,” your professor grins. And then, he opens the door. 

The room is as dim as it was the last time you were here, but this time, your professor is quick to turn on the overhead light. 

But the absence of darkness only reveals a horror much worse than anything you imagined the darkness concealing.  

Because on the opposite side of the room, hunched in the corner, there is a figure illuminated under the harsh fluorescent overhead lighting. 

His system is infused with so much moonflower essence that he can hardly do so much as lift his head. But when he finally finds the strength to do so, you make direct eye contact with Park Sunghoon.  

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: Hello my loves! I am so happy to finally be able to share this with you all. I know I mentioned before that part of the reason it took so long was because of some recent changes in my life outside of tumblr, but if I'm honest, part of it too was that I was just having a really hard time continuing this story in a way that felt like it did justice to the first three parts.

There are so many moving pieces and things going on, and I really want to make this story come to life in the best way possible. Thank you for being patient with me while I agonized over that internally lol. I hope that this part was worth the wait. Love u all ♡♡♡

[violestars]

𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙄 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙢

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: Sunday x male reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: childhood friends to best friends to nothing au, where rejecting your confession is worth more than the pain of infecting your perfect image with his sinful existence.

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: not proof read, !!only male readers!!

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: yandere-ish?,maybe ooc, mention of religion, implied homophobia, angst no comfort, just depressing.

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: part 1, part 2

Your childhood friend is a rather confusing fellow, to the point where one would think his significant other, if he ever has one, is the type to do riddles for fun. You also love riddles but moreover, you love him. Can anyone blame you? You were consumed by these feelings in your undeveloped mind. Seven was the age you fell for Sunday, for the charming boy that is your childhood friend. Maybe it was just some puppy love between two foolish kids but no one can explain the bubbling excitement in your stomach whenever a barely visible pout was drawn on his face, whenever he uses sugar coated words to kindly ask others to leave you two alone or how his clinginess to you was shown so slyly. You were an equal to Sunday and it has left a sweet taste on your tongue till this day.

As you grow older, your mind started to question this fondness for him. You were taught love doesn't need any explanation but you aren't dumb, there are always reasons behind everything. Even the unknown comfort, warmness one could find in another is also a reason. You knew that because you have experienced it with Sunday but that wasn't your concern, for now at least. Deep down you knew this love for the other male wasn't merely a mystery, your relationship did not belong in those cheap romcoms you two would binge on a sunday night. Was it more evident on the day you went crying to him about your religious mother? Was it because of the warm hands that traced your cheeks, causing you to lean into such softness as he teased you with a coo? How you wished he could repeat his supposedly sin against his perfectionist family's belief was the attraction to the same gender, how the boyish smirk once he admitted how good rebellion feels.

School isn't your strongest suit and you beat yourself up for that, it also didn't help knowing your insecurity enabled the hatred from others. From family to friends, even strangers, their greatest gift to you was just pitiful stares. Sunday was different though, the soft smile that never fails to comfort you, the warm embrace of the only friend you can lean on, he was truly a breath of fresh air throughout suffocating days of school. The only subject you were good at is literature but the skills you've gained failed to form a clear answer to why your best friend has never doubted you. Asking him yourself only made the progress more complicated for both your mind and heart, as he flicked your head and told you about how much he worried more about your efforts than some silly printed texts.

“Your mind is built from poetry, not numbers, my little train-wreck.” You remembered his soothing voice right beside your ear, ignoring his ways with words and how it shaded your tear-stained canvas a light red, you let out a weak chuckle to lighten the mood.

“And yours is built of riddles. I'm not stable enough to solve one right now, Sun.” Your lighthearted response only brought him to laughter, a smile now placed onto your face as you silently hoped he would drop whatever sentimental words he just thought of since it was already as awkward as it could be. Who in their right mind would ask their best friend to climb through the bedroom window just because regrets were hitting too hard at 3 am? The guy has a controlling family for god's sake.

“You let people treat you so poorly just because of a subject, or it is everything about you throws them off. Why, though? You might think you're weird but I feel like you're just performing. A spectacular show that doesn't meet its audience, so desperately wants to be heard.”

As you thought you couldn’t drown yourself in thoughts of him further, this only deepened it. How you wondered if he actually has a third eye, silently guilding your thoughts to their respective docks. In your mind, he is the epitome of elegance, sometimes you wonder if the word is made specifically for him. Sunday is just perfect, while in one way he was expected to be due to being the adopted son of such a high status family, you felt like he doesn't even have to try. He handled stressful situations with ease, he joked it's you who taught him so with your antics. You two are the polar opposite, yet it felt like two puzzle pieces finding each other, different notes that falls in tune. You wondered how he tolerated everything throughout the years, not that you were complaining, it was just your anxiety often questions the authenticity of this friendship but as his hand cradled your face, the usual smile reserved for only you entered the view, you knew the dreams about him were real because Sunday adores you.

Unfortunately, your dreams crashed. You mentally cursed him for ruining everything, but it was not his fault he couldn't reciprocate those feelings, it was not his fault he is destined for greatness and you are the loser that existed. You knew you were being petty but it hurt how everything turned out to be a cacophony in disguise, how you two favored the full moon that night like the way you favored each other. Well, the way you favored him. Sunday wouldn't know all these shameful thoughts, you only nodded at his kind refusal with choked breaths after all. His frown only deepened once he noticed how tears sharp as the finest blade threatened to fall from your eyes and slice through his heart, but he didn't say anything. It hurts that your feelings were treated like a slipped word, a dumb accident, by both you and mostly him.

He knew you're worried, he was trained to be attentive to every change to his surroundings yet here he was, hands in a tight grip like how his thoughts were tied together in a messy knot. Sunday has been avoiding you, not right after the night of your confession though, he wasn't that cruel but he was evil enough to do it after reassuring you, hoping you would not throw away such unshakable friendship. Reason was, Sunday didn't know why he couldn't accept your love, he should have trust in every card he played, that was what they taught him.

It just tasted bitter. He isn't a saint, he hoped you also knew that, his mouth is filled with lies and his existence needs to be soaked in soap. In other words, Sunday is a freak of nature. Him and his sister were adopted to a rich family after the passing of their parents. Sadly enough, he still felt like nobody's son, his every step reminds him of walking on fragile ice under the threatening gaze of his so-called guardians but he still walks anyways. His sister, Robin, has her own dreams to fulfill and no one will dared to rewritte her role into another plaything for the Gods. That's why Sunday will carry all the burdens, the responsibility that will never be put onto Robin's freely spread wings and he works hard to keep it that way.

Sunday lived in this facade that is made of others' desires, he was a trapped bird that pretends to be an eagle, he felt like the strongest piece but never the mastermind. Unlike him, his darling was the salvation humanity carved for all their miserable life, you were the living proof that the lord heard his songs. You slowly metamorphosed into his only God though, Sunday believed his schemes were always concealed because he worshiped you. Sunday believed you didn't exist because he was only worthy of your afterimage. You were and are his 'father', his entire universe. He shamefully found himself praying to your name against the family's knowledge, images of your beauty embroidered in his mind rather than any flight of fancy.

But how Sunday loathed himself, how pitiful is he if everyone were starting to lead their own life yet he was still following a script, how unfortunate is he if the boy of his dreams felt like the vast sky from his cage. Why does one feel deep disgust within but still mindlessly follows the same path? He wanted to fly upward, to feel your touch but the sky is unreachable and so is you. Sunday knows his love for you like the back of his hand, it's more than the platonic feeling towards his sister and the ambition towards a perfect future, it's the only thing the family didn't plant into his mind at such a young age. His love for you felt like the only thing he could freely express.

You knew he wished to live in a dreamscape, where he would generate happiness for the unfortunates but you don't know this dreamland of his sprouted from the purest of love for you. Those troublesome worries won't reach you there, he swore upon his life that he would shield you away from this brutal world in your new home. You only laughed at his silly delusion though, you never wanted to live in a lie and he knew that clearly. Sunday envied that part of you, he detested how strong you are despite all attempts to drag you down but maybe that's what confirmed his feelings towards you.

You were able to confuse Sunday in the best way possible. You could sob about how ugly you are, complain about your failure of a life and hatred for reality but in the end, you didn't mean it. You wanted to live for the imperfect tomorrow, you wanted to erode a stone that is your destiny with him, with Sunday. Yes, that's what you are. So imperfectly beautiful as he's perfectly fake. That's why he would push you away, as unreasonable as his actions were, he will not taint your future and dirty your determination, this kaleidoscoping pain shall never reach your ears. Sunday doesn't want anyone to find out you're his weakness, he doesn't want to acknowledge you're the sweet reality to his pained dream. He was happily in your shadow even if he could catch a glimpse of your performance.

Sunday loves you so he will let you go.

© art by @/Ceoretkr on twt

[gurugirl]

Okay here's my idea that involves abortion

I have always thought that when a relationship ends badly it's easier to get over than the ones that end clean. Like if your partner did something horrible that led you to break up with them, like cheating or abuse or something like that, you'd be hurt at first then you'll understand that it's for the better and there's no reason to look back. But if your partner just fell out of love or you both just wanted different things then it's much harder to get over that person and the what-ifs after the break up. What if we compromised, what if somethings happened differently. You still have love for each other and even though you have broken up you still have hope that maybe we'll figure something out. So there's this uncertainty that doesn't let you move on. This story is kind of based on this uncertainty.

YN is a happy bubbly girl who's in a perfect relationship with the perfect person. They're together since first year of college. He's very loving and caring. They fit together perfectly. They have the same taste in almost everything and the ones they differ they adjust. They are big on their love for literature, like he recites poems to her and all that shit. She has friends but he her best friend and she's most comfortable with him. Her sense of humor is different than her but he adores that and he adores how awkward she can get around people sometimes. She can say whatever is in her mind without thinking who they're with. She's just overall a sunshine of a person. And he's very much in love with her. And he's genuinely a good guy and he's extremely handsome too. They're very secure in their relationship, never doubted each other's love, they fight like every other couple but they make up soon enough. They both see a future together and she dreams about having a family with him.

Now they're out of college and she's kind of working as an intern or just a low paying job in some company for now but she's constantly sending out resume so that she can get a better job based on her qualification. She has to get a job so she can afford paying rent for her shared apartment now that she's out of her dorm. Her boyfriend though, doesn't want to get a smaller job. He knows he deserves better and he has worked hard for his degree and he won't settle for anything less. He had his shared apartment with his best friend all through college and they're still living together. He didn't work part time jobs, he only focused on his studies and his other hobbies (literature and art and stuff) and he was living off of the pocket money his father gave him each month which was more than enough. His family is kind of wealthy. Like they have their own business and he got his business degree so he can join his family business later but he first wants to get the experience of working for others on his own. His brother is already working with his father and both his dad and brother doesn't agree with his decision to not join their business immediately. But he has his own values and he thinks he has to prove himself, that he can do good on his own with his hard work.

YN is sharing an apartment with an employee in her office, who is in a higher position than her. This girl is slightly older and very put together, always hot and sexy, totally opposite of YN because she's very careless about how she dresses and looks but she has this clumsy messy cute enchanting vibe going on for her so she gets along with people really well. Though this girl is not like her closest friend they're good friends and appreciate each other and spend time together when they're not going out on their own and sometimes they go out with their friends from office.

Everything is nice and fine. Then one day this girl meets Harry in a club when she was out with her friends. She brings Harry home but YN is spending the night with her boyfriend in his apartment (his best friend is also good friends with YN so the three of them spend time together often). So Harry and this girl starts sleeping together but whenever they do YN is always out because her roommate doesn't want to make it awkward for her but she has told YN about Harry. So about one month of them sleeping together and talking to each other they decide they want to date each other. Because this girl is attractive and hot and all things that Harry is interested in and Harry is obviously attractive and has a good job and he's a bit younger than the girl too. But Harry doesn't quite believe in love and marriage and forever and all that. Like "how can you spend all your life with one person, that's just prison, you get bored but don't say anything because you don't wanna hurt the other person so you end up being secretly miserable the rest of your life". He dates people, cares about them, he's a good boyfriend but has commitment issues (i haven't thought much about his background tbh). But then he meets YN and everything changes.

This is the background. But I imagined the story starting from when Harry and the roommate are already officially dating for about two weeks and they come to the apartment when YN is there cooking. Because her boyfriend had to go somewhere urgently so she came back home. So she's cooking and signing in the kitchen and Harry and her roommate stumbles into the apartment with their tongues down their throats and they don't notice her and she lets them continue for a few seconds then starts laughing which is probably rude but she's kinda oblivious like that sometimes. And then she says sorry and says "it's nice to finally meet you Harry". And well Harry's head is spinning from the embarrassment and the rush and seeing this adorable girl wearing a cute apron with a messy bun and a teasing smile. Something happens to him but he doesn't understand. Her roommate says sorry too, and introduces them properly. One more thing about her roommate is she is not very talkative, only talks when necessary, fun but in a classy way, like she's always looking perfect no misplaced hair kinda girl, not mean but very stiff (idk if I'm making sense). Like the sexy and mysterious kind which is probably why Harry is attracted to her. But she's very nice with YN and cares about her as much she can. So anyway, YN tells why she came back and the three of them end up hanging out and eating the food she was making and Harry goes back home (no sex for him that night sorry Harry). Harry liked talking to YN and spending time with her so he wants to do that more. Sometimes he would suggest they go on double dates and they come to the apartment and spend the night with their respective partners and then have breakfast in the morning and all four would go their on way. Harry becomes somewhat friends with her boyfriend in the process. But he really became close with YN and he really like spending time with her so now he finds excuse to spend time with her alone in their apartment. It became so much that he felt like he's dating her roommate just so he can hang out with YN. Soon enough Harry realizes that his feelings for YN is deeper than he thought and now he's questioning his beliefs about love and stuff. He has gotten himself in a weird situation and he can't do anything about it because YN and her boyfriend love each other very much and she genuinely doesn't think of him as more than a friend. And he feels jealous of her boyfriend that he gets to have all her affection. So he settles with the very little alone time he sometimes gets and the shared time when they're all hanging out together and he fantasizes about her then feels guilty for thinking of her like that. He starts to make himself busy so that he has less time to be with his girlfriend so that he doesn't end up imagining YN when he's sleeping with her. He has no other way, if he breaks up with her then she probably won't want YN to hang out with Harry.

But everything comes to a stop when one day he comes to see his girlfriend (really he came to see YN) and notices that YN looks sad and when he goes inside he sees that her boyfriend is their and he looks sad too. YN tells him to wait in his girlfriend's room and that they'll be in her room. Then Harry hears hushed shouting from her room and then when he hears the front door open and close he goes to the living room and sees that YN is sitting on the couch cover her face and her boyfriend has left. Harry sits beside her and she just hugs him and cries and he comforts her. She then tells him that her boyfriend got the perfect job in newyork which is the other side of the country and he's taking the job and moving to new york because this is the perfect opportunity for him and he won't settle for less here. But he also doesn't want to leave her here so he asked her to come with him but she doesn't want to leave her family and friends here, yes he's right that she can get a job there but she doesn't want to move to the other side of the country and leave her life behind. They had a huge argument and they didn't reach any conclusion. No one is ready to compromise and it feels like both of them are right and both of them are wrong at the same time. It's all very overwhelming for them so they decided to sleep on it then discuss after few days because they have to make a decision because he has to go there in two weeks. Harry listens to everything she says but he doesn't know what to say, he doesn't like seeing her sad ge has never seen her like that and it's breaking his heart. Then his girlfriend comes home and sees that Harry is caressing her hair and she's sleeping with her head in Harry's lap. She fell asleep from all the crying. Her roommate is not bothered seeing them like that but she immediately knows something is wrong with her and Harry tells her as much.

Then when she finally talks to her boyfriend after few days they reluctantly decide that they're gonna take a break and see how things will go if they can survive without each other and when he comes back for Christmas (which is months and months away) they'll figure out if they can do this or they should just break up. But this break feels like break up and they both know it. They decide they're gonna talk through texts and calls as much as they can. But they both know that they have to put distance between them because they can't string them along because they know they're not gonna change their mind. They know each other too well. But still they're gonna pretend that this is just a break a breather to figure things out and they'll look forward to Christmas and hopefully they'll figure it out. They love each other too much to lose all hope.

He goes to new york, they try talking as much as they can but they're also trying to stay away as much as they can. One month in Harry breaks up with his girlfriend and it's amicable because they lost the spark (they didn't even last 5 months really and 3 of them Harry has been crushing on YN heavily). Two months in the conversation between YN and her boyfriend becomes almost non existent. She's trying to move on but then she can't find it in herself to not look forward to Christmas because she's still in love with him. She's hanging out with Harry a lot in his apartment (which her roommate strangely never got to visit because Harry doesn't like having people over). So they become more close, closest friend, best friend and she starts to notice Harry, like really notice him. So that creates some confusion in her head. But she knows that it's happening because she's in this weird situation with her boyfriend and she's lonely. She knows she's attracted to Harry a bit but she still loves her boyfriend and she still has hope for them, so she doesn't dwell in the idea of Harry and she also knows Harry doesn't believe in love. She doesn't know that she has changed Harry's views on love. Then they get drunk at Harry's apartment one night and sleep together. She gets pregnant. Which she finds out pretty early on somehow. But before she finds out she's pregnant she and her boyfriend kind of just start talking regularly which she initiated because she cried her heart out because of guilt of having slept with someone else when she's obviously very much hung up on him (not that she regretted sleeping with Harry nor did she mention what she did with Harry to him) and all the overwhelming feelings, so she texted him saying she misses him and he admits that he tried to not text her in an attempt to get over her but it's not really working. Then she finds out she's knocked up and she loses her mind. Guilt, fear, uncertainty, the hope she had of reuniting with her boyfriend that's dying, the fact that she's doesn't want to have a baby this young, she's not ready at all and she doesn't want to bring a baby into this world who wasn't made out of love and she always saw her boyfriend as the father of her kids. She's overwhelmed. She wouldn't say it's a mistake but it's not what she wants and she doesn't know what Harry would think about this situation, if he wants to have kids at all because he doesn't seem like the type of person who'd want a family of his own. She goes to talk to Harry and he tells her "it's your body your choice". He would have liked to have a kid with her, he would have liked to have her as his girlfriend but he understands they're both young and they are not together and she's still hopeful about Christmas. So they decided to abort. And Harry is there to support her and take care of her. But with just one month till Christmas and her boyfriend's return and spending all her free time with Harry in his house and getting closer and closer to him while still having a semi regular text conversation with her boyfriend that's become more and more distant, she realizes that she's falling for Harry. And she thinks it's for better because she her boyfriend has lost the attachment significantly and she hasn't changed her mind about moving with him and she knows he's not gonna move back here soon. So she thinks it's better if they let go of each other. She decides that she's gonna tell him that when they meet during Christmas. But she doesn't know how Harry actually feels about her. He's very caring and gentle with her, very loving friend and they spend all their time together but does he feel something romantic for her or does he see her just as best friend. She is doubtful but she's gonna tell Harry how she feels after she talks with her boyfriend.

When her boyfriend comes back and they meet at his family home on Christmas eve, they give each other Christmas presents and she spends some time with his family and then they talk it out. They both agree that they have to let each other go. He tells her that he met someone a few weeks ago and he can see himself dating her but he wanted to talk YN first. She tells him about how she's spending time with Harry and might be falling in love with him and leaves all the other details out of it (no one needs to know about the baby and other stuff, she feels guilty and terrible that she's not being honest with him but she doesn't want to hurt him anymore). He tells her that he's happy if she finds happiness with Harry. They tell each other that they'll always have love for each other and always will be special and they'd still be friends.

Then she goes to Harry's place and tells him everything. They confess and well it's a verry happy Christmas for them

I hope tumblr doesn't swallow it this time

- 🦥

WOOWOWOW! This is like the whole story basically babe! I have almost no work to do here lol!

I really like this idea! It feels like a lovely little slow burny thing and eventual discovery of feelings and moving on in life (like how it is in reality - we grow out of some people and into others). This is such a good idea! And I think as far as the abortion topic goes it's a very minor part of the story in general.

Thank you for this!

xoxo

[captainderyn]

[Fictober24] Day 6: "I'm not giving up."

Prompt: 6. "I'm not giving up."

Fandom: LOTRO

Pairings: Wulfwryn/Raenor (implied)

Warnings: None

SPOILERS FOR: The 'Reasonable Request' quest and the Noriel and Wynmar quests in general.

Summary: Raenor debates with Noriel about loving a human in an attempt to get her to open up to what she truly wishes for. Noriel pushes Raenor, as so many have before, oh whether his choice to love Wulfwryn is a reckless pursuit of heartbreak.

---

The affection of elves was difficult to obtain and even more fiercely guarded. Elves had a centuries, if not longer, lifespan to mull over love and tended towards holding onto that love until the end. As such, elves often waited years to finally decide who that One would be and were cautious to what many mortals would call the point of folly. 

Raenor, supposed, he had been the same. For several centuries he’d devoted himself to his studies under the tutelage of Talagan in Edhelion and thought of little else but his literature, music, and the history around him. Then for longer, darker years, he’d wandered Rivendell like nothing more than a wraith of who he’d once been as he’d grieved and questioned his place in this world. 

“You threw all of it away for a human woman.” Noriel scoffed as he drew to a close his own story that she’d asked him to tell. She looked over at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. “You’re throwing centuries of love and steadfast company away for what…fourty years? That is a mere blink in our eyes.” 

Raenor hummed in discontent, leaning his forearms against the stone wall before them. Across the pavilion, Wulfwryn and the Rohirrim Wynmar gathered their weapons to head into the wilds of the Great River. No doubt to have a conversation as necessary and unpleasant as the one he had walked into presently. 

He grew weary of the interrogation he faced each and every time one of his kindred saw the woman he chose to walk beside. The indignation that he would be so reckless, the declaration that he was making a horrendous mistake that he would regret for the rest of his years. 

“You looked stricken when I said that no elf of this age would love a mortal, for their lives are fleeting as a breath.” Noriel continued. “So in some part of you, you must recognize that you are damning yourself to grief untold.” 

Raenor steeled himself with a breath, schooling his face into an impassive expression as he turned his gaze away from the retreating forms of Wulfwryn and Wynmar. 

“You and many others think that I acted foolishly and without thought, implying that the feelings we find ourselves with are cold and calculated measures taken.” he said, words clipped. “Yet I would rather savor a taste of the best years than deny myself the chance at all.” 

Noriel’s expression screwed up as though she tasted something sour. “I just simply cannot see how it would be worth it!” she said. “The thought of the inevitable…nay, I cannot bear it.” 

Nor could Raenor, some days, when his own mind betrayed him and ruminated on exactly what it would feel like to have Wulfwryn ripped away from him. Yet, he’d had many others torn from him who were meant to be eternal. The years they were granted were not a guarantee. Talagan had lived many years before Raenor and was meant to live many more alongside him, yet the Dourhands had squandered that. 

“True, those days will be dark. But I am not giving up on the affection I feel nor the partnership I’ve built just because I fear for the future.” Raenor softened his voice as it had sharpened into daggers. “Mellon Nin, I believe perhaps the grand ideal you use to deny yourself what you want is just a masquerade for fear.” 

Noriel looked down, running her fingers along the grooved lines of the stone. 

“How will you bear it?” she asked softly. “When it happens?” 

He did not have an answer for that and he pondered in his silence for long moments. “I do not know, truly.” he said. “I suppose the same way I bore the grief of Edhelion. With the aid of those around me to lessen the pain.” 

Time may have passed in swathes of grays and blurs and he may have wandered aimlessly and without passion for living during much of that time, but he had come out on the other side of it. Wulfwryn herself had helped guide him, though she hadn’t known it at the time, from the last clutches of his grief. Just as he had, unknowingly, pulled Wulfwryn from her own sorrow. 

Raenor and Noriel stood there together in contemplation, in the quiet stillness that could fall between two elves when there was no sense of urgency, until Noriel took a long, ragged breath as if struck. 

Something had come over her, as her voice shook when she asked; “Is it worth it? To love like that?” 

There was no hesitation in Raenor’s voice when he answered near immediately: “I would do it a thousand times over, just to experience life alongside her again and again.”

[thevoicefrompromise]

So we know of your pankratii pursuits, but what about others?

...apart from your bondsman

Instruments, specific authors and their works...?

Instrumentally I have a soft spot for the cello, something has always called me to it though I do know how to play the piano possibly well enough by the standards of my parents. In my own listening I will admit to enjoying less... Contemporary tastes here in the Baronies and go along with some dubstep, breakcore, among other loud violent music that tends to be spoken of when it comes to Kavaliers. Though the usual classics of composers tickles my ear just the same.

Dance tends to go hand in hand with my music taste with my the utmost favorite being aerial silk dancing. Something so freeing being suspended in the air at the whims of silks, your own talents, and gravity.

Theater is a true love of mine.... I have a guilty conscience admitting I do not enjoy the play "A final Strike upon Dawn" a shame I know such a ravingly loved play but it simply is not to my tastes. Typically in theater I enjoy productions done by the smaller independent troupes, something new catches my eye more than another one of the classics.

I could go on and on about literature and the visual arts but I doubt that would interest you. I would begin to ramble and that is far from fit for polite company.

Photography, singing, sculpture work and charcoal drawing are a few more of the arts I partake in often but... Simply put there is a reason my first mech when it was sold, the profits funded a new school for the arts here on San Simeon.

The arts are my life at it's heart. There is nothing greater than seeing the creativity of those in this world expressed and preserved.

Thank you for asking me of this... I enjoyed myself.

/Suzerain Arvantiel Sarthis of The House of Promise\

[hopes-peak-postal-company]

Hey Mod Akane! I hope you're doing well :) I was hoping to get a romantic matchup for Doki Doki Literature Club, My Hero Academia, and One Punch Man please!

Name: Zachary

Likes/Hobbies: Writing, Reading, Cooking, Learning Obscure Facts, Conspiracies, Meteorology, Astronomy, 80s music (though I like most music), Going on Walks (especially while listening to music), Lasagna (seriously I'm like Garfield when it comes to lasagna), doing a little trolling, being the best person I can be for my loved ones, and being with loved ones for that matter, though I do enjoy a decent amount of alone time.

Dislikes: Being a burden, seafood, fake people, being looked down upon

Personality: I'm a pansexual INFP with he/him pronouns! I'm very eccentric to say the least, I like to go on the road less traveled on and try new things. A walking disaster but I wouldn't have it any other way! I try to be nonconfrontational and work things out, but I won't be a pushover. I enjoy my alone time, but also enjoy being with my loved ones. I like to find a good balance. I try my best to become better every day. I'm not perfect in any sense and do fall into depressive episodes, but I try my best to be at least decent. I'm not the best at communicating, but once I find someone I can trust I open up easily!

Physical traits: Skinny, tall, white with a light tan, with shoulder length dirty blonde hair parted in the middle, green eyes. I usually like to wear a cool jacket or overshirt depending on the season.

Also I didn't know where to put it but I figured it might be important to add I'm the oldest of 9 kids, with 5 sisters and 3 brothers. I don't know if it will be relevant but :p

I hope your happy with who I matched you up with.

Your Doki Doki Literature Club Matchup Is….

SAYORI:

* The literature club often gets annoyed when the two of you are late too a meeting because you both decided to go on a spontaneous trip to a new store that just opened up

* The two of you make a habit of trying out a new activity every Saturday

* Sayori will often run up to you excited to share with you something new she found on the internet that the two of you can do together

* Sometimes you both will even invite the rest of the club to come along with you guys

* Everyone calls the both of you the eccentric couple due to you both having similar personalities, but people find how the two of you can keep up with each others energy endearing though

* Whenever you want to have some alone time Sayori respects it, but make sure you reassure her it’s not because of her, since sometimes she starts to doubt herself in secret

* Likes that your not a push over because sometimes she doesn’t put her opinion across and she’s glad she’s got you there to be the assertive one in the situation

*Since you both don’t like confrontation, but your more willing to put someone in their place than she is

* The two of you can relate to each other, since you both fall into depressive episodes and it’s reassuring that you both can lean on and understand each other

* You both comfort the other when one of you falls into a depressive episode, since you both understand the signs one of you is going through one without either of you being verbal about that fact

* Even though Sayori shares a lot of things some of the more darker aspects of her life she keeps quiet about, so just like you it takes her time to open up about them, but once you open up to her it encourages Sayori to do the same to you

* She loves tasting anything you cook, especially if it is something sweet

* Will be over the moon if you make her lunch for school

* Anything you write she will read even if it takes her a while to get through it

* She will even take some book recommendations from you, but probably gets bored with reading it and ends up watching the movie at least that’s something

* Happily listens to all the obscure facts you know and happily goes around telling everyone

* “Hey, look what Zachary taught me!”

* Being the oldest one of your siblings comes in handy when dealing with Sayori since she can at times act childish, so it is very helpful to know how to deal with that

* Would love it if you let her wear one of your cool jackets or over-shirts, but won’t ask directly for it and instead opts to tugging on the sleeve of the one your wearing and compliments it hoping you get the hint

* Tries to learn to make lasagna for you, but ends up burning it maybe you can give her some cooking lessons

* She likes to play a few jokes on people herself, so she would happily help you do some trolling, but her laughter does often give it away

* Admires how you always try to be an amazing person and that’s one of the reasons on why she fell for you

* Will accompany you on your walks and if you play some music she starts twirling around with one of your earbuds in her ear making the wire tangle with the other one in your ear

* The two of you spend dates coming up with new conspiracies, especially ones you think could be taking place at school

* Doesn’t really understand meteorology and astrology, but she happily listens to you rant about it even if she does ask some dumb questions she is interested none the less

* But don’t go on about them for too long because she might accidentally end up falling asleep

* Overall, Sayori and you are a really good couple and you both are really lucky to have each other.

Your My Hero Academia Matchup Is….

MOMO YAOYOROZU:

* Your spontaneous trips help Momo loosen up a little because usually she likes to stick to what she knows and not try anything new, but once you drag her with you on a few she starts to enjoy them

* She would never join you on them during school time though because she doesn’t want to be late, but if she fails to convince you not to go on them she will write down any notes to give to you if you miss them from being late

* She likes that your on the more the eccentric side because she herself is quite shy and she needs a bit of chaos in her life to bring her out of her shell

* Momo respects when you want some alone time and asks if you want her to stay with you and if you say no she will make you some tea and then leave you alone for the rest of the day

* Sometimes she thinks it’s her fault when she’s going through an insecurity episode herself, so during that time you should spend it with her and just remind her that she’s fine you just like to be alone sometimes

* She will be happy you took the time to reassure her even if she knew that she was just self doubting

* Momo isn’t that big on confrontation either and often tries to play peace maker when people have an argument

* She appreciates when you come to her defence though, since if someone snaps at her she usually becomes at a loss for words when people turn on her like that

* When you fall into depressive episodes Momo doesn’t know what to do, so decides to read up on it thoroughly, so she can better help you

* If you really want her to give you space though she will respect that, but she will check up on you every once in a while to make sure your doing okay

* Is overjoyed when you finally trust her enough to tell her private things and swears to keep them to herself and she makes good on that by never uttering what you told her to anyone else

* She returns the favour and shares things private about herself to you as well

* Will taste test anything you make and makes tea to go with whatever meal you have prepared

* Momo can’t really cook that well, due to usually having her personal chefs do it for her, but she is happy to aid you with the basic tasks of cooking and gathering the ingredients part. Will be very appreciative if you take the time to teach her how to cook yourself

* Will read anything you write and due to her being top in her class she gently points out any grammar mistakes you may have made to better improve your writing

* She can’t give any help on the story telling part though since she is not the most creative person when it comes to that part

* Will listen to all of your obscure facts and recites some she has learnt herself from reading information books and lends some to you in case you want to learn even more obscure facts to tell people

* Likes to hear stories about what your siblings have done now, since she is an only child, so doesn’t know what it is like to have a big family

* Will buy you new cool jackets and over shirts to wear as presents she buys you branded ones as well

* She also gets one of her family chefs to teach her how to make Lasagna to surprise you with it and if it doesn’t turn out quite right she gets the chef to make you some, so she can give it to you

* Isn’t much of a jokester herself, so this is one thing your going to have to teach her and soon she will be making loads of jokes in no time, even if most of them don’t land very well

* Loves going on walks with you it helps calm her down and she does give your music a listen too, since she wants to know more about you maybe you both can swap playlists sometime

* Doesn’t really believe in most conspiracy theories, but will happily listen to one’s you come up with or have researched about, maybe you both can have a debate on why it’s real or not

* Knows a lot about meteorology and astrology from reading them in books, so you can both have conversations about the subjects during one of your dates

* Her knowledge probably won’t be as broad as yours though because that’s not the only thing she researched about and put all of her attention on to

* Overall, Momo is a great girlfriend and the two of you make a good couple even if you both have a few differences you both get along very well with each other.

Your One Punch Man Match Up Is….

Genos:

* Always accompanies you on any walks you want to go on because he enjoys them and also wants to make sure your safe

*Because what if you stumble across a monster when going along some unexplored path

* He does like your eccentric personality it’s what makes you unique from everyone else and is something he admires you for

* He can also handle it very well, since most of the people he hangs around are quite eccentric themselves even if they don’t mean to be

* When you want some alone time it is hard for Genos to understand at first, since he thinks there are ways he can help

* But after Saitama explains it to him and he does some analysis himself he gives you your alone time

* When you want to hang out with him again though he’s right outside waiting with a meal ready for you to eat

* Genos is not a massive fan of confrontation, but he will not hesitate to do it when someone has done something wrong or has done something to wrong you

* Even if he isn’t very good at coming up with insults he will still reprimand them as much as he can

* If you ever defend him against someone he very much appreciates it

* Though he does say to let him handle it next time because he doesn’t want anyone doing something to you in anger from your words to them

* When you fall into depressive episodes Genos is unsure how to handle them he becomes overly caring just wanting to make you feel better

* He reads tonnes of books and does loads of research just to figure out the best way to handle it

* He will give you space though once you finally tell him to

* Does get worried though, so Saitama ends up having to reassure him, much to his dismay, that you will be okay during this time

* Swears on Saitama’s life that he will never repeat your secrets to anyone, even if he can sometimes be a bit of a blabber mouth, but he will tread with extra caution to keep your secrets to himself and safe from prying people

* He is quite happy when you finally trust him though

* Even though he is not required to eat if it is something you have made he will gladly try it and give you his opinion on it

* Sometimes he over exaggerates his compliments on the food, since he loves you and wants to make you feel proud of what you have made

* Genos is also not too bad at cooking himself and he will help you in the kitchen to the best of his ability

* One time though he accidentally released to much fire from his hand resulting in the both of you having to evacuate the kitchen

* Saitama still ate the burnt food that was still in the oven after the fire was put out though

* Genos is happy to read any story that you have written and feels honoured when you allow him too

* He does try to give you more ideas on what to write, but most of his ideas aren’t very good

* Genos will listen intently and write down all the obscure facts you tell him

* He even does a data analysis to find some more obscure facts that you might not know, so he can tell you them

* Will help you to look after any of your siblings if you ask him to, hopefully he will get along with all of them

* Any money he gets from being a hero he tries to save it aside, so he can buy you some cool jackets or over shirts as a gift, since you deserve to be treated by him

* Will teach himself how to make lasagna and after many failed attempts he can finally present you with his creation

* Hopefully you will like it

* Doesn’t really understand jokes that much, but will still laugh anyway

* Please laugh at his jokes even if they are unfunny he is trying his best to make you laugh

* He did a whole survey to find out what the perfect joke consists of

* His joke turned out far from perfect though

* Will accompany you on walks to make sure you are safe and because he enjoys spending that time with you

* He will listen to your music and he actually enjoyed it, he doesn’t really listen to much music, but maybe he should start. Hopefully you can recommend him more songs to listen to

* Genos kind of believes in most conspiracy theories if their is evidence that it could exist

* So any conspiracy theories you come up with he is definitely believing because your his lover and he doesn’t doubt you

* Will find out more about astrology and meteorology just for you and does loads of data analysis on them

* Hoping to impress you with his knowledge and to benefit yours about these topics you love to discuss as well

* He loves it when you talk about them to him as well and will always write detailed notes on what you tell him, like your teaching a class of only one student

* Overall, Genos is an amazing boyfriend to have and he appreciates everything about you and will do everything he can to understand your interests and desires even if they are a bit confusing for him to understand straight away on his own.

[leftoveraddiction]

my thoughts

My parents never graduated high school. Sure, they got their GED, but that’s not really the same. Since I was a little girl, I was determined to be what my parents weren’t. Maybe a little bit out of spite, but mostly out of wanting to do better for myself, and to set myself to have a better and more comfortable life than my parents had and gave me growing up. So, I decided to work as hard as I possibly could. I discovered that I had a love for public speaking, despite being diagnosed with an anxiety disorder, so I joined my school’s Speech and Debate team. I discovered that I not only had a love for public speaking, that I was so incredibly passionate about it, and as a bonus, really good at it (I went to state for my Extemporaneous Event). I also realized that I needed to have good grades. This was a struggle, as I am not as good at public speaking as I am at math. It’s a good thing I don’t want to be a STEM teacher. I did it, though, and it taught me that I need to really, really work for what I want. I don’t want to end up like my parents. We struggled so much, and I can’t call myself successful if I just end up as another version of my parents. I have to be myself. Some might say this is an odd motivator, but it is one that has never failed me. However, I did obtain one thing that my parents undoubtedly passed on to me. Genetic mental illness is, without a doubt, a large obstacle. My determination is not fallible, so I went and got help and am trying as hard as possible to be truly, and completely, myself.

While going through grade school, I’ve obviously encountered many different types of teachers. Good ones, not-so good ones, and most importantly, inspiring ones. The idea that inspiration can only come from positive experiences and examples is untrue, at least in my opinion. In the fifth grade, I had an English teacher who very obviously did not enjoy her job, and funnily enough, children. She was harsh, and unforgiving, and quite frankly, had a horrible taste in classic literature and Disney movies (Moana is not the best Disney movie. Not even close). Anyway, her apathy and lackadaisical attitude towards her profession inspired me to basically not be her. In a more classically inspiring light, in my Freshman year, I met the one teacher who really made me want to go into teaching, and he was my Speech and Debate teacher/coach, Mx. Xxxxx To be honest, he’s… unconventional. Most other students my age call him odd, but I think he’s probably the least off-putting person I’ve ever met, and I think that is the bare minimum in a teacher. The most important thing, however, is how incredibly passionate he is about not only his profession, but about English as a whole. I witnessed that firsthand, and it gave me the idea to become a teacher myself. Even if I fail horribly at teaching English to people, I want to at least connect with them in a way that at least half-matches the way Mx. Xxxxx has been able to impact me and my life. If I’m able to do that, I will deem myself successful.

While my teachers have been a large part of my life and influenced my career choice, my biggest role model is my uncle Z. Z, by most standards, is not successful. He got discharged from the military before even going into active combat, he hasn’t had a real job since, he’s terribly messy and addicted to cigarettes, caffeine, and gaming, and he’s sorta brash and a bit mean. However, Z is unapologetic about everything. I hope everyone in their lives meets a person as unabashedly themselves as Z is. Despite his flaws, Z is so smart. Freakishly. He introduced me to a world of philosophy, and more importantly, taught me that being myself and following my passions is more sacred than anything else. He has made such a deep and meaningful impact on my life that I will never forget, for as long as I live. I am eternally grateful to him.

[booksandwords]

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Seth Grahame-Smith and Jane Austen

Read time: 3 Days Rating: 4/5 Stars

The Quote: It is a truth universally acknowledged that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains. Never was this truth more plain than during the recent attack at Netherfield Park, in which a household of eighteen was slaughtered and consumed by a horde of the living dead. — Elizabeth Bennet (these are the first lines obvs)

I wanted to read this after reading The Last Chance Library in which it plays a role in protagonist Jane and Alan's relationship. To start with I want to add some disclaimers, three things that my impact my reading and review of Pride & Prejudice & Zombies. I have read Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice but not for about 15 years. Joe Wright's Pride & Prejudice is one of my favourite go-to zone out films. Before reading this I'd never seen Burr Steers's Pride & Prejudice & Zombies. Before starting the review proper I want to add something from the afterword by Dr Allen Grove

"For some fans of Jane Austen, the mere existence of Pride & Prejudice & Zombies is a travesty. Why would anyone add gratuitous scenes of violence, carnage, and cannibalism to one of the greatest novels of Western civilization? Somewhere in the nave of Winchester Cathedral, we imagine that Austen's corpse, though presumably dead, must be rolling. Or perhaps not. It's hard to speculate what Austen might think of Pride & Prejudice & Zombies because zombies themselves didn't become popular in literature until the twentieth century. Even Victor Frankenstein' monster, a proto-zombie with no taste for brains, didn't make his appearance until the year after Austen's death in 1817."

For some reason, this feels important to me. Zombies aren't necessarily beyond Austen's thinking but zombies, as we know them, are after her time.

Elizabeth Bennet ends up feeling a little bit like an author avatar, I'm not sure entirely why. She is one of the best of her kind, especially among women, her fighting style matches Jane Austen's Elizabeth so very well. I think combining being her father's favourite, kickass fighting, her whole attitude and the respect she receives in her skill just feels like something Austen would want to be in escapism. But as Grove said so much of this was before her time. That said Mr Darcy just feels the same. He's a competent and deadly fighter, protective of those closest to him. But still not great with the communication or general people skills, as is only right. On the other characters, Jane is brilliantly competent. Just the idea of the five sisters having a specific move they have to clear a room was a great choice to me. Her fighting skill gives her and Bingley's relationship a whole other dimension. She has something over him, he has money, she can defend them if need be. There is an interesting take on Lydia. I like her ending. Wickam gets the ending that suits his character. Without going into spoilers Kitty and Mary have lovely endings. Kitty shows her growth, Mary gets to come out of her shell and her behaviour becomes that of Hearfortshire's last protector. Charlotte and Mr. Collins, well that whole story just feels like it goes so much darker than the original.

Some dot points...

"I have great pleasure in thinking you will be so happily settled. I have not a doubt of your doing very well together. Your tempers are by no means unlike. You are each of you so complying, that nothing will ever be resolved on; so easy, that every servant will cheat you; and so generous, that you will always exceed your income." (Mr. Bennet) — I'm so happy one of my favourite lines in literature remains untouched. I adore this line so much.

"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It was too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun." (Mr. Darcy) — How do I always forget that is fandom favourite line is Pride & Prejudice?

"What a power it was! But how to wield it? Of all the weapons she had commanded, Elizabeth knew the least of love; and of all the weapons in the world, love was the most dangerous."(Elizabeth Bennet) — This is just a stunning a truthful quote. I'm unsure if it's Austen or Grahame-Smith but I really appreciate it so it needs to be here

The edition I'm reading has illustrations by Roberto Parada. These illustrations are wonderful. They add something to the book. They are period-appropriate almost plate style. The choices of scenes to illustrate was good. Some are key, some just illustrate well.

There are ingenious adaptations to architecture, internal design and landscaping. Especially Pemberly, it is absolutely stunning. Mirroring the Kyoto architecture and internals that Darcy loves so much. Even Longhorn has its own well-used dojo for the Bennet girls. Rosings Park is interesting in its own right but I will avoid the spoilers.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh is possibly one of the best characters in the way she is altered. She is somehow made even more unlikeable. She is made even more ruthless.

The first question someone may have coming into this is... how? Quite simply nearly all the traditional female occupations (the pianoforte, sewing) are replaced by the deadly arts (staged fights, crafting or sharpening weapons). When the ladies go walking there is always the chance of walking into zombies, though they are less common in winter when the ground freezes. It really is just Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice with Zombies added. I do mean added. They influence peoples daily lives therefore the motives for their pivotal actions and key events in the novel. This lore is integrated near seamlessly.

I like the way this all comes together. There are so many lovely passages blending Austen's original text and Grahame-Smith's additions. Some are fun, some not so much. For example, Darcy's reason for separating Bingly and Jane was one I should have seen coming but didn't. (It's another great choice). Changes like this create an entirely different feeling novel. It really is well worth a read, even if you have already seen Burr Steers's film.

After the day after finishing this, I did watch the film. It is a decent film. It is worth noting that it is only "based on" this book. Whereas this has lore woven throughout, the film feels more like a standard zombie au. Kinda like credit was given to Seth Grahame-Smith because it was a lawsuit waiting to happen otherwise. Both have their pros and cons. Overall Burr Steers's film is definitely more palatable to modern audiences, while Grahame-Smith's book holds truer to Austen's ideals. That said there is a brilliant line in the film that totally empowers Elizabeth "It gave me hope." "For what?" "That your feelings towards me may have changed? However one word from you now will silence me on the subject forever. You are the love of my life Elizabeth Bennet. So I ask you now...half in anguish...half in hope... Will you do me the great, great honor, of taking me for your husband?" What I really appreciate is the last line your husband not my wife. He's not claiming her.

[nomdepen]

"Its nice to have found another soul in London that enjoys literature as well. Readers seem to be a dying breed nowadays." Pen knew of a few people that shared the same passion for reading that she did, but most of them were not people she considered close. At least, not anymore. Eloise, the one with whom she had been the closest with, hadn't so much as glanced her way. Maybe it was foolish to think a friendship could blossom on the sole pretext of enjoying books, but it didn't feel too farfetched for Pen.

"Your observations continue to be correct." She admits with a teasing smile. "I thought about feigning an illness, but I didn't want to risk having a physician called upon. I figured hiding in the shadows for a few hours would be less painful than a doctor's visit."

In reality, Pen knew Portia wouldn't have put up too much of a fight if she'd begged to stay home. But it would've been the third ball she'd skipped in as many months and she didn't want scandal to break loose--especially from the mouths of anyone other than Whistledown. Tonight, specifically, she had debated asking her mother to stay home. She'd woken with a weight on her chest that she hadn't managed to shake by the time lunch rolled around. The gloom didn't allow for much excitement to build about attending another ball, though she tried her best. A night in with a bath and a book sounded much more appealing than squeezing into her stays and standing idle for hours.

"Indeed, a panther." She confirms with a mischievous nod. Pen wondered how long she could go on with the rouse, making him believe a live tiger had been let loose on the ton, but he seemed too nice to string along for too long. "Though, I'm pretty sure it had been taxidermized long before it reached the soiree. The pedestal on which it stood was the true culprit. Or so I've heard."

Something about gossiping with a stranger felt nice. Her shoulders didn't sage quite as much and her chest felt lighter while she rambled on. For a moment, she didn't worry about being seen or how she might be perceived. As she spoke, it merely felt like the simple act of sharing secrets with a friend. A friend whose name she did not know and whose reason for being at the ball wasn't exactly clear, but a friend nonetheless.

Prince? His words catch her by surprise and it takes a moment for her to process his words. Was he the Prince that everyone had been chattering on about? The very one that had come to London to supposedly find a bride? The cogs in Pen's mind began to turn again slowly and she averts her gaze.

After Prince Friedrich's appearance in her debut season, Pen had expected this prince to be lackluster at best. Not ugly. No, Friedrich had been rather handsome himself, but Pen had always preferred dark hair and light eyes. Blonde hair and hazel eyes suited a man like the Queen's nephew, but it hadn't necessarily suited her personal tastes.

This prince, however, (if he truly was the Prince everyone seemed hung up on) seemed to defy all the images she'd conjured in her mind. He wasn't rigid and arrogant, nor cocksure and snobbish. If anything, he seemed sweet and charming. Boyish, in a way. Nothing like royalty ought to be in her mind. But the last thing she wanted was for him to think she was like everyone else. In truth, she didn't care where he sat in the heirarchy. All that mattered what that he was kind and had similar interests. So, in an attempt to not seem caught up on his supposed title, Pen opens her mouth, determined to add even a mere stammer to the conversation.

"I... Oh, um, sure. I mean, yes. I wouldn't mind another glass. It's just... Well..." Her eyes flick over to the refreshments table, where a small gaggle of young debutantes seemed to linger around the drink bowl. They were no doubt sharing whatever morsels of gossip they'd collected from the party so far and, if she hadn't been preoccupied, she might've wandered over herself to piece up some crumbs. However, if Pen made him go fetch her another lemonade, she might not see him ever again. He could very well be torn apart in the thrall of women, a fate far worse than that of the panther.

"It's up to you, I suppose. I'm sure I'll survive without another glass." With her chin, she gestures to the group of ladies, oblivious to Penelope's cautionary glances. "But I can't promise the same for you, should you venture into the wilderness unarmed. You might wish the panther was in attendance, if you get too close to them."

"i do," his head giving a little nod of confirmation in response to the question, "having the ability to read words on a page and be transported to another time or place or world entirely— i don't understand why more people don't enjoy it, frankly." eric simply could not fathom why the act of reading was so often the victim of ridicule. how anyone could see a book and scoff at its existence. books had always offered him so much; comfort and escape as well as endless entertainment. they were never too busy or unavailable to him.

"i take it your attendance was also compulsory." he remarks sensing a new sort of reluctance to be there. of course, no explanation was owed to him, it was just nice to imagine he wasn't the only one here against his will. 

his mother insisting it would be a wonderful opportunity for him to meet some lovely young ladies. another unwanted and not so subtle push towards finding the right girl, settling down, and giving up on his dreams of seeing everything the world had to offer. 

"oh, i assure you i was speaking of the people," he lets out a chuckle but then eyes widen as what she said truly registers with him, "did you say a panther?" one look around the room they currently occupied could speak to just how grandiose these festivities could be, but a live panther was beyond anything imaginable. and possibly attest to just how desperate the organizer had been for acclaim and admiration. the notice of the queen highly sought after, for reasons he could not quite understand. 

"that sounds much more terrifying than the ravenous mamas i was warned might swarm if word got out that i was a prince." his voice hushed, punctuated by another chuckle, albeit slightly more nervous, and his eyes scan the room imaging the chaos of a wild animal interrupting the mingling, music, and dance. "i do find it interesting that even the panther would rather be anywhere else." a sentiment he could empathize with. 

her response to his awkward, ill-thought out question elicits a genuine laugh from him. it helps ease the embarrassment from even asking. "at least that aspect of the evening isn't a disappointment." his gaze flitting momentarily to the empty glass. "would you like me to get you another glass?" 

[huntingingoodwill]

accessory to matrimony - part iv

part i, ii, iii

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a/n: thank u sm for the support for this it blows my mind how nice you've all been about it ily :) sorry i took so long on this one i was just working on my other fics for a little! (check em out wink wonk) idw to make this note too long but i have to mention this will probably be the last chapter at least for a little while. this fic was initially supposed to go to a darker place but now i'm not sure if you'd all want that lmao? i just need some time to think about how to continue, or if i should continue. i'd love to hear your thoughts and the askbox is wide open and gaping like a wound! ew. but send asks. i hope you guys like this one a little fluffy a little cheesy a little lovey dovey yeah? please consider interacting if you liked it and tysm for reading ily!!!

Like all rooms in Arrow House, the dining room was cavernous, and you could hear the echo of your fork clinking against your plate as you knocked your food around, watching a sprout roll off the edge toward the empty chair across you. Alone at dinner, again.

It had been two weeks since you moved in. Your chests of belongings were fully unpacked after Tommy had gotten a couple of unfortunate Peaky boys to lug them up to your shared bedroom. You had become comfortable living with each other.

You kept yourself busy, rifling through the books in his library (you soon realised Tommy wasn’t illiterate, but he did have miserably poor taste in literature) and writing to Eddie, not only to keep in touch, but also helping to operate the family business from your new home.

You and Tommy had grown closer, slowly, living together. Like on your wedding night, you slept in the same bed, and you had gotten used to the comforting weight of his arm around your waist, the warmth of his chest under your hand, his heart beating beneath your palm.

You liked living with him, looking forward to the conversations you had. Every small smile he gave you made your stomach flip. But though you were gradually getting to know each other, there was no doubt he was distant. He often came home late, and a bit ruffled up, or kept himself huddled behind his desk, staring at his papers so long you were sure anyone else’s brain would’ve started leaking out of their ears. You wondered how he was fuelled to work so much. Maybe if you opened him up you’d find a little man shovelling coal into a steam engine inside his stomach. Because he certainly wasn’t getting that energy from a regular diet.

He joined you at meals sporadically, mostly to smoke and pick at his food as he looked at you. His presence was a concession, one that you enjoyed, but you did wish he’d actually feed himself.

Your appetite had dwindled a reasonable amount, too, hunger replaced by a sort of vague longing and emptiness you couldn’t place. What was wrong with you?

“Mrs Shelby, Mr Shelby is asking to see you in his study.” You peered at the housemaid. She still looked at you suspiciously sometimes, her first impression of you and Ed messing around outside Arrow House never fading. You wondered how you could use that to your advantage. Hide in closets and scare her by jumping out of them as she walked past? No, you wouldn’t be that cruel. Might be semi-entertaining, though.

You thanked her and stood, trying to ignore the wave of excitement that washed over you. You picked up Tommy’s dish, fixing him a plate of food before hurrying to his office.

You knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

You had been in his study a few times since the wedding to deal with matters of the merger, but it still felt strange. Just a couple of months ago you had met him here for the first time, and now you shared a bed and a last name.

“We must stop meeting like this, Mr Shelby.” You teased. “I brought you dinner.”

He glanced at you quickly, a flicker of a grateful smile playing on his face before returning to it’s serious expression.

“Thanks, Mrs Shelby. Now, I’ve a ledger from our partners in Camden-”

You exhaled sharply, annoyed. “Tommy, I understand the importance of our work, but I also understand how bad it’ll look when they find my husband starved to death in his office only a couple weeks after I’ve married him.” He looked at you through his glasses, cocking an eyebrow. “Let me handle the account and take a break.”

“Later, (Y/N) -”

“Thomas, I’m-”

Two quick knocks rang out, causing the two of you to stop your bickering, your heads snapping toward the sound.

Arthur and John’s smiling faces peeked out from the crack in the door.

“We interrupting?” John smirked as he leant against the doorframe.

“Yes. Fuck off.” Tommy snapped, an air of annoyance radiating off him. Say what you wanted about Tommy, at least he was direct.

“You,” Arthur strolled into the room, pointing at Tommy. “Can stay here pissing yourself over the Camden account. But we won’t let you take our sister-in-law hostage.” Arthur joked, clapping his hands over your shoulders and pulling you out of your chair. “What do you say, (Y/N)?”

“We’ve brought the goods, too.” John grinned, revealing the bottles of liquor he was holding, enough to kill a small mountain lion, a legion of chickens, or to seriously inebriate a party of four.

You looked at Tommy. No harm having a quick drink with John and Arthur. His irritated glare annoyed you, the food growing colder by the second. Stubborn bastard.

“Sure.” You smiled, linking your arms with the two of them. “Mr Shelby, you may join us if you like. Your choice.” You marched out the study toward the den with your brothers-in-law in tow.

Tommy sighed, exasperated. Fuck it. He threw off his glasses, trailing after the three of you reluctantly.

“Welcome to the party.” Arthur laughed, giving him a smack on the back as Tommy begrudgingly slouched in the far corner of the room, grunting in response.

“You play cards, (Y/N)?” John asked, shuffling a deck.

“I’ll warn you, I cheat.”

“Me too. Let’s play!”

-

The hours ticked by and spirits were high as the four of you downed glass after glass. Even Tommy wore a gentle smile, watching you and his brothers play, the game and your conversation getting rowdier by the second, roaring with laughter at every joke.

Going out drinking with Eddie and your business partners had trained you to drink any man under the table. But John was a formidable opponent, and after Arthur stumbled out the house with John on his back, his head lolling around and slurring some now unintelligible song, you allowed yourself to let go of the cool composure you held in front of them, slumping down into the chair.

Tommy’s face swam into your line of vision, looking down at your flushed cheeks. “Had a bit too much fun?”

You furrowed your eyebrows.

“A perfectly adequate amount of fun.” You slurred, swatting your hand around clumsily, colliding with his thigh.

You heard him hum in response, then felt his arms snake around your waist. You squeaked as he threw you over his shoulder. You felt as though the breath had been knocked out of you as your ribs hit his broad shoulder, and you laughed as he carried you up to the bedroom.

He sat you down on the bed, turning you to have your back face him. His knuckle grazed your cheek. “You’re burning up.” He grumbled. He pushed your hair aside, fumbling with the clasp of your necklace, his fingers brushing against the nape of your neck. “You eat anything before all that drinking?”

He pulled the necklace off, the pearls sliding off your skin as you leaned back into his chest, resting your head on his shoulder as you looked up at him, playfully tracing a finger down the underside of his jaw. “I haven’t eaten, yes. We finally have something in common, Mr Tomathy! I’m on this diet, you see, it just zaps your appetite away!” You giggled, wagging your finger at him.

“Are you, now?” He raised his eyebrow, watching you lift your skirt, fumbling with your garter as you tried and failed to get your stockings off.

“Could you-” you looked at him pleadingly. You propped yourself up on your arms as he sat on the ground in front of you. “And yes... I am. Less of a diet, more of an appetite suppressant, you see. I’m in love!” You sang, throwing a hand up for dramatic effect. “Oh, but he doesn’t love me back.” You cackled, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead. “Isn’t it tragic?” You laughed.

Tommy felt the vise of jealousy tighten around his heart.

“And the worst part is,” you muttered, leaning forward to look at him as he knelt before you. He placed his hand on your chest, gently pushing you back onto the bed. His fingers ran across your thighs as he undid your garter, sliding the stockings down your legs. “I have to live with him!” You exclaimed. His lips twitched as his envy dissipated, pulling your skirt back down.

“Replacing me already? Who’s the lucky bastard?” He asked, watching you whine as you slapped your hand against your back in a violent attempt to unbutton your dress before you pulled on his arm, asking for his help again.

“What’s his name..? Oh, you know, that... Peaky Blinder devil.” You giggled.

He flicked his arm, the stockings whipping across the room and landing in a heap, discarded in the far corner of your bedroom as he moved to help you.

“Which one? The handsome one?” He asked.

“Mhm.”

“That’ll be Tommy, then.” He spoke, making quick work of the buttons on your dress as his knuckles sweeped down your spine.

“But he doesn’t love me.” You sighed, your smile turning a bit melancholy. “Didn’t expect him to. But... would’ve been nice.”

He paused, letting the silence hang between the two of you. The mattress rose as he walked across the room to your closet, pulling out your nightgown.

“Y’know, I happen to know Tommy.” He mumbled, pulling the gown over your head.

“Really?” A smile broke out over your face. Tommy laid you down, pushing a pillow under your head, gently sweeping aside the stray hairs sticking to your face.

“I share a bed with his wife.”

“Scandalous.” You muttered, feeling the lure of sleep as he threw the duvet over your shoulders. He smoothed down the blanket, pressing his hand into the mattress by your hip to brace himself as he leaned over you.

“It is. But I know that Tommy boy well enough. Don’t see how he could resist loving you.”

“You sure?” You whispered, his face inches from yours.

“Trust me.” He spoke. He pressed a kiss to your hot forehead, and you felt yourself grow redder. “Get some sleep.” He pat your knee, putting out the light as he walked out the room.

-

Your stomach growled with an embarrassing ferocity as you sat up to squint at the clock. Four in the morning. You had sobered up a little after a few hours of rest, and you felt thankful the pounding headache you knew would greet you soon hadn’t arrived yet.

Your growing hunger propelled you toward the kitchen and you sat before the ice box, pulling the door open. You felt your thighs press against the cool tile floor through your thin nightgown, and you held your cheek to the large block of ice, sighing in relief. Your eyes scanned the shelves, twinkling in excitement as you saw what you were looking for sitting atop a gleaming cake stand. Cake.

Your mouth watered as you placed the stand on the ground, dipping a finger into the frosting of the cake that sat on it, humming in delight as you tasted it’s creamy sweetness. You had baked it earlier that day, but hadn’t had the stomach to eat it until now. You reached up toward the counter, feeling around for cutlery before cutting a slice, sliding it onto a plate. You stood, knocking the icebox door closed with your hip.

Your bare feet padded against the floor as you ate, ambling back to your room. You stopped in your tracks as you saw the glow of light from Tommy’s study cast itself across the carpet.

You held the fork between your lips, pushing the door open and peeking in.

Tommy looked up. “You should be in bed.”

“That’s my line.”

You sauntered into the room, shoving aside the massive piles of paper on his desk. You pushed yourself up onto the table, crossing your legs as you took another bite, smiling down at him.

He leaned back in his chair, pulling off his glasses and rubbing his tired eyes. He tilted his head to look up at you as he crossed his arms, a hint of amusement in his eyes contradicting his placid face. His hair was ruffled, his shirt unbuttoned. He looked a mess, you thought endearingly.

“It’s hard for me to get any work done with you sitting on my desk.” He mumbled.

“I like the view.” You said, squinting down at him.

He stared at the cake heaped on your plate, a hunger in his eyes. You grinned, scooping up a forkful and waving it enticingly in front of his face, teasing him. He opened his mouth, biting down on the fork almost viciously as he caught it in its path. You laughed as you managed to yank it from his mouth. You reached forward to wipe a smidge of frosting off the corner of his now smiling lips, sucking the cream off your thumb.

The golden light of the rising sun streamed through the windows, and you paused the swinging of your legs as they hung off the edge of his desk, placing your feet on his thigh.

“We better get you to bed, (Y/N).” He spoke, wrapping a hand around your calf.

“Not before I get you a slice of cake.” You said. He opened his mouth to protest, but his stomach beat him to it, growling loudly. You giggled as he sighed in defeat, holding out his hand to help you as you slid off the table, walking toward the door.

You heard him clear his throat behind you. “...Mrs Shelby?”

You turned, leaning against the wall as you gazed at him. “Yes, Mr Shelby?”

“I love you.” He grumbled, almost imperceptibly.

You smiled.

“I love you too, Tommy.”

[ruiniel]

Frost - II

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Characters: Lisa Tepes, Carmilla of Styria

Count: 1.7k

Relationship: Lisa Tepes/Carmilla of Styria (pre-rel)

Rating: G

TW: alternate universe, first meetings, sapphic, gothic, vampire x human

Summary:

This is a continuation for the anon in this ask on writing more of Frost, a Lisa x Carmilla oneshot:

"Please write a second chapter to Lisa and Carmilla meeting. I want to know what they talk about. You sound like you had so much fun writing it and I had so much fun reading it."

Anon, (aka possibly the only person in the world into this ship other than myself rn), I took some references from literature for this one and melded it into a parallel with Dracula's story *sort of* (will explain in the end notes). Hope you like this, I sure had fun writing up the atmosphere. All other asks, still on them, have not forgotten. Bear with me, dears.

A long shriek like the moan of a dying man enters her consciousness; her eyes flash open. Lisa stirs again, but this time, thankfully without a headache to encumber her. Slowly she rises from the soft, dark brocade cushioning, finding herself in the same abode where she had her unusual first encounter with a denizen of this palace. There is no sign of the peculiar yet beautiful stranger, or anyone else, though two sconces now shed their golden light over the vast enclosure, adding some warmth to its tasteful austerity.

She stands, glances around herself: at the sleek but stern refinement of this place, at the windows tall and reaching down to the floor, giving the impression of doors to a balcony though there is nothing beyond them, or so she guesses. Lisa walks past a lonely candle fizzling in a holder on the dark, wooden desk, which is empty but for the note the lady Carmilla had scribbled before her departure. Keeping to her sense, Lisa resists the urge to walk over and read something likely not meant for her eyes. 

Her steps echo in the tall chamber like faded memories and soon she stands before one of the two imposing windows. Lisa gently pulls aside the heavy crimson drape. The source of the earlier sound, she discovers, is a vicious snowstorm, obscuring what she supposes would otherwise be a magnificent view of the mountainous area this country boasts. The ice-winds that had cut at her face before now howl like ghouls in the night, lashing against the thick glass, as if in anger for being deprived of their warm, breathing quarry. 

“At least I reached shelter in time,” Lisa says aloud, needing to fill the barren, pressing emptiness with a voice, even if it is only her own. She gazes at the storm for a while, lost in its curving trails, rubbing at her arms for there is no working fireplace here; wondering whether the lord of the castle had decided to postpone her audience to the morrow. It is rather late, after all. 

Or worse, perhaps he’d decline to see her altogether, which, is also to be expected. As bordering on abrupt as lady Carmilla’s words had been, she had good reason: Lisa has nothing to trade for the knowledge she seeks—at least, nothing she would surrender willingly, that is; which is herself. Besides, the way the lady had watched her makes Lisa doubt her plea and pledge were met with more sympathy than a fox in waiting would grant a lone rabbit. 

She snorts at herself. Yes, the world reeks of hazard and threat, but Lisa likes to think she is no complete fool, for she’d made the journey here from her homeland unharmed, at times owed in no small part to her quick wit more so than coin. Belatedly, she also recalls how said coin is now largely spent, having barely enough to garner passage for a portion of the way back. 

If you make it back, comes a devious thought. 

Lisa shakes her head; it is unlike her to doubt. She releases the curtain, turning to the chamber, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible while satiating her heightened curiosity of its owner. There is no manner of clock to be found anywhere, thus she has no idea of the time. Still, she feels somewhat rejuvenated after that short and sudden bout of rest, and though chilly here, it is still better than being frozen solid on a secluded mountain path in far Styria. 

Her roughened fingers glide over steely-white furnishings, a not unpleasant meld of glimmer and red to the room, now darkened though it is but for the wretched lighting offered by the wall sconces and the burning candle on the desk—had it been there before? She does not remember.

She stares at a generous array of paintings hung on the walls, some of which have darkened with age, others more fresh and colorful, set in ornate rectangular or oval frames. One, in particular, catches her eye. Frowning, Lisa draws nearer to see.

Though she is rather forgetful of names, the physical features of persons Lisa well remembers after the shortest of glances, which makes the view before her all the more curious: she stares at a small, oval portrait of a young lady. Her complexion is full of life and red-cheeked, her eyes dark and long-lashed; her hair is raven-black, sparsely done up but fallen straight over her shoulders, spidering in languid soft coils over a simple white dress with an ornate neckline. In the lower right-hand corner are letters brushed by the artist in silver. Lisa narrows her eyes, and reads: “Mircalla, Countess Karnstein, 1300.”

Lisa wonders yet again, at the mystery of Man: of how features and physical likeness are carried through generations, for the face staring back at her is the spitting image of the lady Carmilla, whom Lisa had met not hours ago. 

The person in the portrait bestows upon Lisa a doe-eyed look set beneath an intelligent brow. An ancestor, then? A young countess, no less, which relieves the question of the present lady’s noble heritage. The likeness is uncanny, indeed, and if she ever gains access to the knowledge she needs, Lisa is determined to discover the intricacies of such biological mysteries.

For now, her stomach rumbles unpleasantly, putting an end to the thought. Lisa walks away from the paintings, heading over to the doors beyond which the stranger had disappeared.

They open easily, but not one step does she take before two polearms are crossed before her, stalling her advance. 

Lisa stops short, gazing left, then right, at the armored guard set on each side.

“Excuse me,” she says, finding their hidden features to be another oddity about this place. They are rather tall, taller than most men she’d seen, and there is a grim set to their mouths.

“You may not wander,” one of them says curtly, the words lacking inflection.

Lisa frowns. “I understand, but I have been waiting—do you know if the lady Carmilla will return this night, has she left any word?”

“You must wait,” speaks the same guard. The weapons are still crossed before her. 

A sprig of annoyance curls up her spine. “I must? I came here freely, and were I to wish to leave, I don’t suppose you would deny me the courtesy,” she states, doing her best to be polite. 

No reaction.

The guard who’d spoken turns suddenly, faster than she expects, and takes a mechanical step towards her. The movement has Lisa retreating until she stands inside the chamber once more. “You must wait,” the guard repeats, and the doors are shut in her face.

Lisa swallows emptily, and turns around; for the first time since her arrival, her doubt lengthens, creeps, and coils about her mind, and the shadows slithering up the walls from the lone candle on the desk no longer seem impotent; instead, they carry a sense of the ominous as they tremble before her, in tune with the storm outside.

She watches. The castle has many hidden passageways and secret chambers, known to none but her and the despicable fool she’d relieved it of, years ago. Rarely had they proven useful—there are none stupid or strong enough in the region to try and assault them now, when the enclave is at its strongest. Arms crossed, observing beyond the wall through an ancient, carefully crafted nook, her icy gaze follows the steps of the raggedy woman she'd left to her own devices. 

Carmilla sees her eyeing the paper she’d left on the desk—but not reading it. 

Good.

Not as nosy as she first thought, though humans, the vampire knows very well, tend to be unpredictable in many such matters. She was one, once, after all. If the woman calling herself ‘Lisa’ had read the note, she would have found nothing of import—assuming she does know how to read, a skill which her unabashed interest in the shelves with books denotes. It was with success that Carmilla had maintained her composure upon this first meeting, and then mirth stole at her with the foolish, though rather endearing and expected belief from the woman that this castle belonged to some lord or other. 

Which, truthfully, it had; once. But this new, warm presence in her refuge has a distinctive effect, one Carmilla had not preempted and which had admittedly found her ill-prepared, as rarely happens. She now watches, with a clenched fist and a latent creeping of resentment, as the human stares at the paintings. She witnesses her fearless ask and rebuttal by the guards—Carmilla had left orders that their visitor was not to leave the chamber, not until she decided upon the next course of action.

The simplest would be, obviously, the least troublesome: feed, then throw the remains to their horses.

She stalls. It is impossible. She knows. And yet…

Carmilla closes her eyes and lost in memory, hating every second of loving reminiscence, listens to the human heartbeat drowning out the snowstorm. She listens until it slows, and the woman is, again, fast asleep on the couch; exhausted, no doubt, for as Carmilla remembers, trudging through the colds of Styria is no mere trifle and she knows the willpower it takes to do so.

Whatever the intruder is here for, they are determined to see it through. Head high, arms raised, the vampire disperses into mist, materializing to the other side of the wall, inside the chamber proper like one would wade through a barrier of water. 

Soundlessly, she approaches and regards the tired face, smoothened by slumber. The breath of life trapped inside a ribcage, rising and falling. The shining hair with its ringlets of gold spread over her couch. The countenance, pale with fatigue, and the pulse fluttering at the long, slender neck. 

Carmilla sits on the side of the couch, leaving no impress upon it, in so fine and ghostly a movement Lisa does not even stir.

The vampire watches until the storm quietens. Time passes, and the spears of a violet dawn strike against the chamber's red-draped windows. A moment. A mere moment in time, she can allow herself this. It has been so long, and all she wants is to take nowadays, to take and to punish. It all began, so long ago, too long for it to matter, not long enough to forget.

Involuntarily her thin, taloned hand reaches and softly strokes the warm cheek, the face she’d not glimpsed in over a century.

“You have found me again, it seems,” she murmurs.

The morning spreads its wings wider over the horizon; she cannot stay. “What am I to do with you this time,” she asks, her cold fingers retreating, “...my Laura?”

Part I

AN:

Made a mash here. I took some speculative elements from Dracula's story in the gameverse LOI (that Lisa could possibly be the reincarnation of Elisabetha, Mathias C's first wife), but let's call this something of a Carmilla version. I then took elements from the novella 'Carmilla' such as the name 'Mircalla, Countess Karnstein', the name 'Laura', and inspiration for the portrait scene. Like I said, a mash.

Likes/reblogs/comments are always appreciated.

MASTERLIST

[thecurioustale]

I agree with a fair amount of this despite the fact that Fip and I take different bottom-line views of both the book as a whole and the character of Herschel Schoen in particular.

The Frederick angle was my favorite part of the book too, aside from, first, the delicious and extraordinary feat of the biblical language style that Herschel uses (which I did note in my own review could be a liability for others just as it was an asset for me, since I love that stuff), and, second, the (in my opinion) very impressive characterization of Herschel's deeply weird perceptions of the world (which I can relate to in my own way albeit not one-per-one). I absolutely loved...well, not Frederick himself, who is well and good, but the picture of Frederick that Herschel has in his mind, and the dynamic between the two of them in real life. They're great together on-screen, and Herschel is great when he's thinking about Frederick.

Like you Fip I would have liked to see more interactions with Fredericks and more school scenes in general. The book took a turn with "The Burden of Babylon" (the train ride chapter) into something fairly different from what it had previously been setting itself up to be. But perhaps one area where we differ is that I don't count any of the above as a negative. The way I want a story to go is something I try to treat independently from my assessment of where the author decides to actually take it. At least up to a point! I mentioned this to Rob somewhere in my line-by-line commentaries: that I have a problem of getting too interested in my own preferences and tastes and focal points, and have long since made efforts to separate that from my ability to enjoy other people's art on its own terms. Other people's stories never go in the directions I want them to, just about; that's one of the reasons I write mine. When The Wheel of Time Season 2 came out a few months ago, and Lanfear made her big splashy appearance, it was like it had been back in the books: Here is this amazing character with all this potential. And the TV show did a much better job with her than the books did. But I'm not an idiot. You can only fool me so many times. She's gonna have the same dumb and wasted arc that Book Lanfear has. I don't need to see the future to know that. In The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen, when I realized that we weren't going in a direction of more school / more Frederick / etc., I took a moment, stepped back, and was like "That's okay. That doesn't mean anything. It just means Rob had a different direction he wanted to go in." And I'm to the point in my life where that mostly works for me, now. So I think it took it a little better than you did, from the sound of it.

beyond that i get the impression this book is made of a lot of different ideas rob wanted to explore and play around with but all these ideas dont necesarily cohere thematically

Maybe? Rob can speak to that definitively, but my read on any "thematically non-coherent" subject matter is that he was pressed for time due to a self-imposed deadline. I can't be sure, though, and I do know that coherency and completeness in plot, theme, and narrative is probably the hardest part of authorship. I don't doubt that Rob had a bunch of different ideas that all got fed into this project, but I don't see it as, say, a collection of smaller works trying to masquerade as a single whole.

ill rip the band aid right off, i dont think i enjoyed it very much.

I did enjoy this book quite a bit, but I didn't enjoy it as much as I wanted to. I went into it wanting to be able to say at the end that it was my pick of the year. But it wasn't; my favorite book in 2024 was either my reread of Best Served Cold (because I am intensely interested in powerful female characters who are also vicious and screwed up and take no prisoners) or my reread of The Lord of the Rings, which has an authorial style and depth that is among my favorites of any work of literature and whose message of wholesomeness and love of life was so effortlessly easy for me to enjoy. In contrast, I am not in the core target audience of The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen—perhaps except as an enjoyer of Herschel's style of speaking. I spent many pages in my commentary detailing what I did enjoy about it, beyond the top-line stuff, but, to boil it all down, I really appreciate how smart this book is, and how it has such interesting things to say. Reading some of the other reviews about it, I honestly think that some of the best qualities of this book are being lost on those who dwell heavily on the AI stuff. To me, that's really not what this book is about. Even in "Of Nativity," the big Santa chapter...even that is less about AI and more about, to borrow Rob's own phrasing, having a "mystical experience." AI was merely the conduit for that to happen. Mystical experiences are one of my core interests in stories, which I'm sure you know because I've written about it in my own way many times over the years. I'm always trying to capture and evoke "magic"; that's a big part of why I rate Mate of Song as highly as I do among my own work: It is the most magical story I have worked on, to date.

Interestingly, and something I didn't directly say in my commentary, the most "magical" part of The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen for me wasn't Chapter 21; it was those moments earlier in the book when I was able to entertain the possibility that Herschel's delusions were true. Like when he's going on about how the city that replaces New York is going to be the one and only city needed in all of existence, because it will be so perfect and complete. That's really grand to think about. And Herschel's elaborate yet indirect paintings of his Adversary are truly exquisite. I really enjoyed that characterization, even though the character himself never actually existed. I love it when characters are painted indirectly in this way; it takes on the heft of myth and legend, and rises above the mundane, face-value, worldly prose with which most characters in most stories are characterized. Sort of like how the era of Star Trek: The Next Generation as literally depicted in Star Trek: TNG was so different from the memories and recollections of that era as painted in Star Trek: Picard. That latter show took advantage of our own real-world 30-years passage of time, and really gave a feeling that the adventures of the USS Enterprise D were like a legend, compared to the mundanity of the PIC setting. The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen did a great job of this in its own way, implying layers of reality that aren't really there but which are delightful and compelling and romantic to think about, like legends and myths are.

i love how frederick clearly is very weird in his own way because of how he doesnt mind interacting with a clearly younger kid when that could be social suicide in high school

I had that exact same thought, and the way I rationalized it is that being Damien Eggert's kid means your friends aren't real friends anyway, and they'll put up with your "eccentricities" in exchange for proximity to you. Just as Frederick was Herschel's only real friend, I think Herschel was Frederick's only real friend, too. I think, although it isn't said in words, this is why Frederick was so animated and longwinded around him. I'm the same way when I'm around people I genuinely like. 😅

Anyway! I'd been looking forward to your review, Fip, so thanks for posting it! And I value your willingness to pull no punches; I hope you'll do me the same honor when my next book comes along and you inevitably find things about it that don't land for you.

ok, ive read a few reviews, i have marinated on the story a little. i think i can put together a more thorough review of the apocalypse of herschel schoen.

ill rip the band aid right off, i dont think i enjoyed it very much. it is dense, and it is morose, and it is very sad and tragic. It takes effort to read and your reward for those efforts are pages upon pages of a sad family coming apart and self destroying, with a hefty serving of deranged theological disquisitions. all written on an ornate portentous, reiterative style that eventually wears off its welcome.

@thecurioustale claimed that for him this book dignifies and humanizes herschel. that hile it presents us someone with severe mental issues and deliriums, it puts things from his perspectiv, it makes us empathize with him. this story had no such effect on me. in fact quite the opposite: i found that the more i understood herschel the more i disliked this guy, for one simple reason. he is gurion mccabe.

there have been many comments drawing parallels between nostalgebraists previous stories and other famous works of fiction. people have said that floornight is his evangelion, that northern caves is his house of leaves, that almost nowhere is his homestuck.

well, the apocalypse of herschel schoen is very much nostalgebraist's The Instructions. a text written and compiled in-universe as a sort of testament/conversion book/biography about a jewish kid with mental issues and his own delirious interpretation of judaism who tries to ennact by force his beliefs upon the world. the only diference is that herschel is a lot more realistically pathetic and less threatning than gurion. but he IS gurion.

he is how harry james evan verres potter comes off to anyone who doesnt like hpmor. he is a self important, arrogant, sanctimounious, deranged little shit with all the makings of a cult leader. and he ends up sacrificing all of humanity to the AI overlords, for all this i had a hard time enjoying the time i spend following him around.

beyond that i get the impression this book is made of a lot of different ideas rob wanted to explore and play around with but all these ideas dont necesarily cohere thematically (the vague anacronistic feeling of it all, the shared narration between herschel and miriam, whatever was going on with miriam's own strange ideology, the meditations on AI risk, the numerous inconsistencies in the narrative and the plot, the entire chapter of SHE OF HIGH MIND). these are all cool ideas on their own but the whole feels less than the sum of its parts. there are a lot more questions than answers in this book and by the end of it i was left with the vague and dissapointed impression that most of these questions dont really have answers and are there just to look cool.

but really i cant call any of these things flaws necesarily, i know they are here by design and they were indeed done masterfully. im sure there is a lot to get out of this book if you are into that sort of thing, and i could even see myself getting into all this if one key element wasnt missing that i personally really need in my stories and that is "human conection".

there is a thing that happens in this genre of stories, stories like RA or Fine structure or Unsong, or Worm or homestuck or even almost nowhere. there is only so much you can dial things up to eleven before i stop caring, before i lose all emotional investment on the story. is just talking about great cosmic inhuman things and i read stories for human drama. as i read chapter 21 i couldnt help but wonder what happened to frederick, (who was an continues to be my favourite character in the whole story, oh how i wish this could have been an entire book only about his conversations with herschel, those were far and above my favourite sections) would we get to see one final conversation between him and herschel or was their sad encounter with damian all we get? what happened to ruth and her plan to presumably bomb the eggert labs? will mirian be happy with vincent? but no, by all means herschel, keep talking to that ant.

no to be fair, this book had me hooked all through out the first half, up until herschel takes the train to manhattan. and the entire reveal in chapter 21 was riveting and i couldnt stop reading this thing once i got there. i want to insist, this book is indeed masterful, and if i complain is simply because of how it didnt manage to dance to MY taste.

overall i could have done with more scenes of herschel at school. herschel interacting with other students, with the teachers, with madeline, with frederick, sweet satanic brilliant frederick.

(complete tangent but frederick is so fascinating. i love how he doesnt mind any of herschel strange beliefs or his childish behavior or his cringe inducing moments, all he cares about is that he got them all on raven, and as far as frederick is concerned that is all that matters to him. i love how patient he is, how he knows that herschel finds the machines abominable but he doesnt mind, he appreciate he weird new perspective herschel brings into his conversations, i love how frederick clearly is very weird in his own way because of how he doesnt mind interacting with a clearly younger kid when that could be social suicide in high school, how he doesnt mind that his mom is a wanted criminal, herschel is his friend and he understand him whent he talks to him and he got them all on raven. ultimatly i loved him because his conversations with herchel reminds so so so much to my conversations with @ericvilas hen he sits down to patiently explain quantum mechanics to me, ok tangent over)

strange fascinating story hat i cant say i enjoyed but i AM glad i read. 8/10

[lov3nerdstuff]

Virtual Strangers {Part 10}

*Tom Hiddleston x reader*

Parts: 10/10

Words: 14.4k (yes, that's not a typo)

Summary: When you first replied to a stray text message that was accidentally sent to you from an unknown number, you couldn't have known who the virtual stanger on the other end was, or would be. You couldn't have known that he was soon to become your very best friend and steady companion. You couldn't have known that you would fall for him quite as deeply as you did. You couldn't have known. After all, you had never even seen a glimpse of each other, nor heard the other's voice. You only ever conversed through text messages, even if you did so every day and every night. You couldn't have known that you would fall for a stranger, who you knew even better than yourself. Even if you did not know his name. Yet there is another question that remains unspoken: If you really are best friends and even live in the same city, why does he not want to meet you in person?

~virtual strangers to friends to lovers~

A.N.: What exactly are you getting from this story, you ask? An online friendship-turned-romance? Check. Flirting via texts? Check. Annoyed yet overly supportive publicist and friend Luke? Check. Literary references to classical literature and plays? Check. Bobby being adorable and a valid character in the story? Check. Just the right twinge of angst? Check. Humour? Check. Fluff? Check. Super long chapters because I just can't be bothered to keep it short? Hell yeah.

Find Part 1 here! All Parts can be found on my Masterlist!

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“The thing is, darling… Looks can be very deceiving.” With that, Tom snatched the box of cake out of your hands and stood back in an instant, moving away from you and out of your reach only to sit down on the swing next to the one you had taken with a huge grin on his face. That little stunt had inevitably made his heart beat way too strongly now again, relentlessly trying to break free from his chest, but going by the delightful look on your face, it had been absolutely worth it.

For a second you just gaped at him in pure and utter shock, looking entirely overwhelmed by what had just happened, until your lips finally curled into an incredulous smile, and you tried your hardest to glare at him in protest. “Oy! Rude!!!”

Tom merely snickered to himself with an even larger grin, placing the box in his own lap now to get out the large piece of chocolate cake at last, only to take a big bite of it with nigh exaggerated relish. Once he actually got a taste of it though, his eyes fluttered shut in sincere delight and he didn't even bother holding back the pleased moan that started as a low rumble in his chest and ended with the softest sigh on his lips. As far as cake went, this was bloody perfection. He sincerely doubted that a piece of pastry could get better than this, ever.

When he looked over to you once more, about to voice his positive assessment in greater detail, the flustered expression on your face made him stop before he'd even started, and frown at you in amusement and question instead. “What?”

“You’re lucky that you're cute, or else I'd have your head on a bloody silver plate for stealing my cake.” You grumbled to yourself, too pouty in tone to be even nearly believable, and both the sight and sound made Tom laugh out loud again.

“I don't think my head would taste nearly as good as the cake does, darling.” He winked at you in the same tease, then took another bite of deliciousness with only a sigh this time around. If he was entirely honest, he enjoyed your reaction almost as much as the cake itself, and that in return was most amusing indeed.

For a while you just glared at him then, not taking your eyes off his face for even a second, while Tom in return only smiled at you sweetly. He could honestly do this all day, waiting for you to make your move first… In this sense, his patience was nigh eternal.

“Will you share the stupid cake with me already or do I need to throttle you first?!” You finally blurted out in frustration, in the most sympathy evoking whine, and Tom almost felt bad for winning this time around. But only almost. He knew that he would never actually deny you a single thing, and as startling as that realization had been when it had first occurred to him, by now it was common knowledge in all areas of his mind. So he placed the cake back in the box, and held the entire thing out to you.

“As much as I'd like to see you try, I surrender in the face of your wrath when it comes to stolen pastries.” He couldn't help smiling, sincerely smiling now without the tease, but then almost would've laughed in irony at the thought that returning the cake to you now felt by far more rewarding to him than obtaining it in the first place. He really was hopelessly gone, good lord… Luke had a point in calling him out for it. And yet, he wouldn't have wanted it to be any different than this.

“Smart man.” You praised him in approval of his decision, with a grin on your face no less, while taking the box out of his hand and then the cake out of the box.

“Right…” Tom could've cursed himself and his breathy little laugh, could've cursed how much your words of praise kept flustering him. Compliments usually did that to him, fair enough, but yours were so much better and so much worse in so many ways… Perhaps he was a hypocrite. Teasing you like that, without being able to handle the payback. Oh, but he loved teasing you… And if he was honest with himself, he also loved the payback. He'd just have to work some more on not becoming a flustered mess every time. At least not in public, or rather not in front of anyone but you.

“Oh my god!” Your exclamation brought him back to the here and now in an instant, and while he had to realise with a hint of shame that he had been staring at you this entire time without noticing, the consecutive realisation that you were by far too focused on the cake to have noticed either erased the shame as quickly as it had appeared. Nonetheless, he quirked an eyebrow up at you when you finally turned to look at him again in the utmost astonishment. “This is the best piece of cake I have ever had the pleasure to taste! It's bloody fantastic, just wow!”

“Right?” He laughed, while on the inside though the mere sight of how happy you looked right then and there with the stupid cake just made his heart melt and weep in likewise happiness. Was it idiotic that he would happily spend fifty pounds on cake every single day for the rest of his life if only to see you smile like that? Probably. But he'd pretty much come to terms with the fact that he might just be an idiot after all.

“Did the cake rob you of your eloquence?” You raised an eyebrow at him in amusement in return. “You keep on smiling and saying nothing but ‘right’...”

“Right.” He absolutely did it on purpose this time around, and he knew that you were well aware of that, too. Your groan and the exaggerated eye rolling were good indicators, as was your laughter.

“C'mon, T! You deliver me with no incentive whatsoever to return the cake to you, and it'll be gone soon if you don't come up with something to stop me! And don't you dare say ‘right’ again…”

Fine, that made him laugh. So much so that he indeed reconsidered and refrained from saying ‘right’ yet again. So he went with the first thought that came onto his mind instead. “I'm sorry, I just can't take myself seriously while we're sitting here at four in the morning on a playground in a part of town we both don't know, eating crazy expensive chocolate cake for dinner like it's the most ordinary thing in the world.”

“What's wrong about any of that?” You frowned, then grinned while threatening to take another big bite off the cake. “I mean, if you'd rather not eat any more of this, that can most definitely be arranged.”

“Don't you dare!” Tom gave you a playful glare in return and leaned over as far as the swing would let him to, snatching the cake out of your hand. “Mine!”

“Fair enough.” A pause. “So… you're not underwhelmed by any of this?” Your voice still had that playful tone to it, even if quieter now, but the question itself, the way you were asking, put a pause to Tom's every move and made him look at you with a frown istead. All jokes and teases aside.

“How could I? This is absolutely perfect.” He relied sincerely, calmly, in a way that would hopefully convey to you just how much he meant it. “It's honestly all I ever wanted in life.”

“Chocolate cake and playground dates?” You chuckled with an expression he could only try to title as adoration, as you leaned your head against the chain of your swing seat, keeping your eyes locked with his.

“Well, not quite…” He huffed out a short laugh, then took a deep breath in return and finally just smiled at you openly and without bothering to come up with a tease. He knew you were asking this out of the sincere concern that this might not be enough for him somehow… and he would answer in the sincere conviction that this was more than he could ever have dreamed of. “But little adventures, finding joy in all the small and ordinary things of everyday life and making them remarkable through that. Being able to be silly and to play and to still have meaningful conversations that actually matter, that are genuine and heartfelt… you know, all of these things; all of the little things we've talked about before. I want it all, have it all, if only together with you.” Oh… While he was well aware of just how much he did mean that last part, he was also quite aware that he hadn't meant to say it. Or he had, but not right now. Perhaps right now after all. But the way your breath quietly shuddered, the way your eyes widened quite like his own did, the silence… It scared him. It scared him that perhaps you didn't feel the same after all, no matter how convinced he actually was by now that you did. And so he spoke on, like he always did when he was scared. “But you know me… Of course I want chocolate cake and playground dates as well.”

“Ha! I knew it.” You chuckled with a grin, then motioned to the cake in his hand with a softer smile. “You can have the remaining cake for yourself, if you answer me a question in all honesty first.”

“That’s an easy deal… It's just what I've been doing this entire time.” Tom finally gathered some of his wit again, smiling back, even if he rather regretted now not having left the statement standing without a joke. It hadn't quite taken back what he'd said, alright, but he felt like a coward no less. He could've had this happiness long ago if he just wasn't such a chicken about it. If he wasn't so scared of losing you by making a single wrong move. “Go right ahead.”

"Did you have Luke give me the tour of the theatre because you wanted him to assess me first?”

"What? No!” Okay, he hadn't seen that question coming either. He really shouldn't be surprised though at this point that you always kept on surprising him. It was one of the many things he loved about you after all. But thoughts back to the topic, or he'd blurt out things he wouldn't be able to brush off with a joke this time. Luke assessing you… “The mere idea of it is honestly just absurd… I mean, Luke did give his assessment, unasked for I shall say, but I told him to shut it and then proceeded to ignore him. You know, like friends do.”

“Right… I guess that's the risk of asking Luke for a favour; I can absolutely see it derailing.” You snorted in sincere amusement again, and Tom relaxed a little bit more just by seeing you still at ease as ever. "Why'd you ask him to do it though, if you knew he was going to tease you? And not literally anybody else who just happened to be around?"

“When you've learned to trust someone with your career and life's esteems, you more or less also trust them with your girl. At least for an hour.” He replied honestly, factually, but then couldn't help laughing either. Not when you looked at him with such passionate annoyance.

“Wow…” You rolled your eyes with a smile you obviously couldn't suppress entirely, trying to push his swing away from you without any success whatsoever. “Charming, T... Very, very charming.”

Again, he could only shrug and smile. “You are the one who asked, darling. And I wouldn't dare to give you anything but the truth.”

“I do regret asking already.”

“Do you?”

“No… I just regret giving up the cake for it.”

“In that case, I shall be gracious and share my reward with you.” He smiled, then chipped off the majority of the cake only to hold the bigger piece out to you. “Any other scenario would probably only end with you making heart eyes at the cake and me drowning in eternal guilt for taking it from you.”

“Smart man indeed.” You grinned at him openly while taking the cake, then added with just a touch too much mischief, “You know, as much as it's true that you're absolutely brilliant, I also just love how it flusters you to no end when I point it out.”

The comment made Tom both laugh and blush even more, but he didn't try to hide it this time around. If you were enjoying the effect you had on him, he wouldn't deny you the reward for your efforts. But after a moment he did put on that feignedly wounded expression once more, and again it didn't fail to make you laugh. “Really? Mockery and scorn? That's what I get for sharing my cake with you?!”

“That’s what you get for saying something incredibly meaningful to me and then trying to pretend it didn't happen by covering it up with a joke.” You gave him a pointed and surprisingly serious look, yet with a breathtakingly tender smile, both of which didn't fail to make Tom’s heart skip a beat and another for good measure. So you knew. At least that he absolutely meant what he'd said, even if what he'd said was only an effect of the truth rather than the entire truth itself. But you were brilliant, and you knew him better than he knew himself for the most part… Of course you knew that he wanted you in his life more than anything else. At least Tom hoped you did, now.

“I wasn't sure if it was something you wanted to hear. At least not at that moment. Saying things like that scares people away more often than not, and I-… I still should've known that it has never been like that with you and me. I do know, please don't doubt that. Emotions just don't always follow reason, and I… I just didn't want to be overbearing, even if just by saying something out loud that we both know to be true.” He finally replied in a calm and serious tone, but in honesty no less. In a way, he was beyond relieved that you were braver than he had been, that you were not just skipping over it like he would have. That you were well aware of how much he had meant what he'd said. “I'm sorry.”

“I always want to hear what you have to say, T. Whether it's silly, or playful, or genuine and heartfelt. I want it all, just the same as you. Alright?” You said so very softly, and Tom knew himself reminded of his first thought upon meeting you tonight. You really could end the world in a heartbeat, and bring it back to life in a far, far better way. All of you could, not just your smile. But before he could even begin to voice what his entire mind was literally screaming at him right now, could finally find the bloody courage to just say it to you as well, he was distracted yet again when you plucked the piece of cake out of his hand only to replace it with the larger piece he had given you before. Then you were smiling at him again, and he couldn't remember a single reason not to smile back. “Now eat your cake before I throttle you after all.”

Chuckling, Tom finally came to terms with the fact that it had apparently been the right thing to say after all. If you willingly surrendered your chocolate cake now, he must've done something right. Actually, that reminded him… Before too much time could pass after your adorable little threat, he focused his entire attention on you once more with a teasing smirk, raising an eyebrow as if in a dare. “Right…”

“Oh, you are impossible!” You laughed out in protest, once more trying to push his swing away, only that this time he actually helped you make it happen, lifting his feet off the ground just enough so that the swing could move freely from side to side, almost bumping into yours in return on the way back. You however only used the opportunity of him coming closer to try snatching the cake away from him again, but Tom was quicker than that.

“Mine!” He gasped in feigned shock and protest as he leaned away from you, holding the cake as far away as possible. “I do not take lightly to an attempt at taking from me what is mine.”

“Bit possessive, isn't it?”

“You haven't seen the end of it, darling.”

“Oh come on…” You snorted, giving him a look while Tom finally bit into his well deserved cake in bliss, directing an innocent as ever expression over at you as you spoke. “You don't have a single mean bone in your body, and you share your kindness literally with everyone. You can't fool me, Mister…”

“Well, but I am rather particular about some certain things.” He pointed out in half feigned, half honest seriousness, as he took another bite of cake. “Chocolate cake, for example…”

“Or literature…”

“Or my job…”

“Or your dog…”

“Or you.”

“Or me indeed.” You smiled down at your lap, brushing the last crumbs of cake off your dress carefully with an almost flustered expression of your own now, then looked up at Tom again, making his heart skip a beat with a start. “You know, I'm actually incredibly proud of that. Always have been. That I'm on your list of priorities.”

“You're at the very top of it.”

“Good… You're on top of mine as well.” You replied with a quiet laugh, eyes returning to your lap as your cheeks seemed to flush even more, and in a way it astonished Tom that while you quite apparently felt nervous about your admittance just now, he felt absolutely calm and certain about his own for once. Well, calm wasn't quite the right word for it of course, his heart was beating frantically as it was and he was so filled with happiness and adoration that he might spontaneously combust into flames of materialised intensity any second, but he wasn't scared. Not when you were, just like you hadn't been when he had. In a way indeed, that was rather ironic, and it didn't fail to make Tom smile just now. Perhaps you both were idiots after all… Nuts always came in pairs, didn't they?

“You know, I think Luke would have a blast telling us just how… dramatic, we keep on being.” He finally chose to say, to rescue you from your own thoughts and insecurities like you had done for him only minutes ago. And he held out the last piece of his cake to you, tiny as it was by now, as an offering to the only deity he knew to worship. Gods, he was dramatic indeed… But you accepted it with a smile, and let him speak on, while the pastry finally saw its last of night at your hand. “I mean, we could blame it all on the cake… But it was too good for that, wasn't it? Would be terribly unfair.”

“Unfair to the cake or to our mutual dramaticism?” You snickered, smirking at Tom in that way that left him just a little too breathless yet again. But it also made him chuckle just the same, happy just the same.

“I believe the fact that you just invented a word to describe it speaks for itself, darling.” He winked back at you with the same teasing expression, and for once got to enjoy how that gesture actually seemed to make you blush now. Oh, he would have to remember that… All those little things he could do to make your breath catch in your throat, to bring that lovely tint to your cheeks.

“The cake was actually bloody amazing, too, though… I mean it looked good on display already, but I really wouldn't have thought that it would taste that good as well.” You finally countered, picking up the box from the ground to fold it together now. “And I'm taking the risk that you might smite me for saying this, but I think it was well worth the fifty bucks even just for making you moan like that.”

Oh bloody hell, he really did love the payback you constantly gave him for teasing you. Even if it made him hide his face in his hands in embarrassment now as he laughed, good embarrassment if such a thing even existed, while his mind promptly supplied him with a wide array of scenarios how the instance could easily be replicated without cake. But that wasn't the point right now, the point was to tease you, not seduce you. Not that he'd currently have the nerves to do the latter anyways. So he took a deep breath, and did his best not to straight up start laughing again once he looked up at you to get out his own payback tease. “I do see your point, but…” He just couldn't keep the laughter from bubbling up and disrupting his sentence again, and therefore he actually had to make use of every trick in the book to keep a straight face and a low tone for the last part of it at least. The part that mattered. “I shall not make you pay again when you come back for seconds.”

Your lips parted in an instant, amusement mixing with shock and awe so clearly on your entire face while every and any word remained stuck in your throat, and Tom's composure just vanished entirely at last. He had to laugh, eyes closing and head thrown back without a care in the world about who might hear or see, unable to help it or even to breathe, so that before long every sense of balance was lost on him and he toppled over, falling backwards off the swing and into the sand below it while still unable to stop laughing. He hardly even noticed the pain searing up his spine for a second, hardly even cared that he was undoubtedly making a fool of himself… He hadn't been free to laugh like this in ages.

“Oh my god, T!!! Are you alright?!” Your panicked voice very close by finally brought an end to his fit, and he gasped to get the air back into his lungs with a few remaining chuckles, as he finally opened his eyes to look right into yours above him. The sight made him smile in an instant.

“Quite perfect, actually.” He replied in a last huff, finally feeling more apologetic than humoured for worrying you like that, and thus he sat up with a quiet groan upon the final reproachful sting in his back, which only deepened the frown on your face. You were kneeling in the sand right next to him, almost face to face now that he was sitting, and honestly Tom didn't think he had ever seen anyone but his mum look that concerned for him. It only made his heart melt all the more, and he offered you a soft smile in an attempt to ease your worry. “I'm alright, Y/n. Honestly. I pretend to die gruesome deaths for a living, occasionally at least… I've been through worse than falling off a swing.”

“You’re a nut!” You huffed with a reproachful frown, then practically leapt at him so quickly that Tom almost toppled over yet again, while you wrapped your arms around his shoulders tightly and hid your face in the crook of his neck. After the initial second of surprise upon an action so contradictory to the expression on your face, he wrapped his arms around your waist in return, pulling you as close as your position on the ground possibly allowed, then took a deep breath to keep his eyes from watering even more than they already had. Not because he minded that he was so easily moved by your concern and affection, touched so deeply by a great deal of things that never failed to bring him to the verge of tears in general, but because he was trying to comfort you here, not the other way around.

“It's alright, I'm alright… I'm sorry, I really didn't do it on purpose.” He finally said in a quiet and serious voice, leaning his head against yours even though it made his heart beat out of his chest all the more, which you surely could feel as an echo in your own body at this point, pressed tightly against him as you were. He didn't mind you knowing what you were doing to him though, didn't mind at all.

“I know… I'm sorry for overreacting like that.” You sighed quietly, and the way your warm breath gently fanned against his neck gave him goosebumps all over, as did the subtle brushing of your lips against his skin while you spoke. “It's just… You really did give me the best and the worst shock of my life consecutively right there, in such a quick succession, and it… it somehow ended in an emotional shortcut to panic. I'm sorry…”

“Don't be, I understand that perfectly well. Too many emotions at once can be quite overwhelming, and then you either end up in a frenzy of nerves, saying things you don't even want to, or… Well, or you end up saying nothing but ‘right’ for the next ten minutes.”

His words made you chuckle, he could both hear and feel it oh so clearly, and that finally made him close his eyes with a content sigh. Yes, he loved teasing you, he loved debating the world and sundry in astonishing detail, but most of all he loved being there to comfort you, in any way he possibly could. He loved that he could be both comfort and excitement to you, just like you were for him. And after a moment of very high energy just now, perhaps it was time for some quiet and calm in return, without teasing, without revelations, just enjoying the presence of each other.

Still, after a while longer of letting you cling onto him more than happily and without anything but ease and comfort on his mind, the sand you were both sitting on finally became rather uncomfortable in return, as its clammy moisture started seeping into his jeans more and more insistently. Realising that it would not fare much better on your bare legs, rather all the worse, he released one arm from around your waist while the other tightened its hold, then moved to stand up while simply pulling you up along with him. “C'mon darling, the ground is far too cold to be sitting on. We better get up.”

“You're warm though… I like warm.” You sighed into his shoulder, so heart-wrenchingly disappointed yet with enough of a pout to make Tom smile nonetheless.

“I'm not letting go of you, I'm just picking you and me both up off the ground before we're entirely sodden. Alright?” He couldn't help chuckling when you grumbled something incomprehensible in reply, but did let go of his neck once you both stood straight again only to wrap your arms around his waist instead, making him move his own around your shoulders in return. Needless to say, the mere fact that you refused to let go of him made him your devout servant all the more now, always, no matter what you'd wish for. Hugging you back was the least of it.

“T?”

“Hm?”

“It's been like an hour since, and you still haven't made fun of me for being called ‘Professor’ by my student, even though I'm not even a doctor just yet… Are you sure you're alright? Or are we blaming that missed opportunity on the cake as well?”

“Oh dear…” Tom laughed, then rested his head on yours once more and thought for a moment before a suitable tease to your liking came to his mind. “For all I know, your unmatched intellect could be the talk of the school, in which case that moniker would be very well justified.”

“There it is…” You chuckled in return. “Thank you, I really needed closure on that.”

“Am I wrong though?” Tom quirked an eyebrow up in question, not that you'd have seen that, but he was tempted to believe that you could hear it, at least.

“Well… Now I will probably end up being the talk of the school indeed, coming to think about it. Miss Moore is somewhat of a chatty bird. Or at least I'll be the talk of this year's intro to early modern lit class.” You replied with a more or less humoured huff.

“Aren’t you supposed to be just that anyways? Being the talk of the class, as the one teaching it?”

“No! I mean yes, kind of, but not for something like this… Only for the content, not my personal life!” You sighed, and for once Tom actually didn't quite know what to make of your tone, without seeing the expression on your face that was still buried in his chest, or rather in the fabric of his coat.

“I’m sorry.” He thus said, with a frown he noticed too late, and the tiny twinge of insecurity it was born of. It's not like he had ever truly gotten used to all the rumours and gossip about him either, nor to the literal tons of attention he received for things that weren't worth drawing attention to. His work, yes. His public appearances related to the job, alright. But him walking Bobby or having coffee with a friend? He'd never get why people were interested in that kind of thing. Nor did he understand why other people were being pestered just for knowing him.

“You-...” You started, interrupted yourself almost immediately, then finally pulled back to look at Tom with your eyes widened in an apology as it obviously dawned on you that he wasn't quite sure just what he was sorry for here. “Gods, T, I wasn't referring to them talking about you and me!!! I'm perfectly happy and okay with that! I was talking about my totally uncanny chocolate cake addiction; that isn't supposed to become known! It's bad enough that they know about the pudding and vainly try to bribe me with it. I just don't want to find a chocolate cake on my desk every other day and-... Wait, actually… That wouldn't even be half bad though. Useless for them of course, but we would at least get free cake out of it.”

“Right…” He chuckled in return, looking down at you with a soft smile, uncertainty banned for now. “I was almost actually concerned for a second.”

“Don't be, I just didn't think before trying to be funny. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you.”

“No, it's quite alright. I just have to stop thinking at every corner that you will be put off by the prospect of… well, all the downsides my life brings along.” He really had to. To stop thinking that every little negative thing you pointed out was somehow related to him and thereby also his fault. Or that you might spontaneously hate him now if something happened that he had no control over whatsoever. Everyone had flaws, and just because you were so very accepting of his many ones didn't mean he shouldn't be working on them. He knew that you weren't going anywhere, public life or not, so he should start acting on that knowledge. “But I get it now, I really do. I'm willing to put up with all the downsides of my life for the love of my job, and you're… you're for some miraculous reason willing to put up with it all for me. I wouldn't doubt my own conviction in that, so I won't doubt yours either.”

“You really are a remarkably quick study, you know.” You smirked up at him in an instant, then gave him a little squeeze with your arms that were still wrapped tightly around his waist, smiling. “I'm glad my terrible joke brought you some insight.”

“It really did, in a way.” He shrugged with a small smile in return, and therein caught himself drawing little circles on your shoulder blades with his fingers again, which however you did rather seem to enjoy, so he continued on with it even as his smile turned into more of a chuckle now. “And if you ever need someone to help you distract your class from your chocolate cake addiction, with some well rehearsed Shakespearean soliloquy perhaps, you know just who to rope in for the task.”

“You know, I might actually take you up on that if you keep offering it.”

“And you know that I'd be delighted to comply.” He replied easily, without even needing to come up with a tease. Honesty was working just fine. “I'm always happy and proud to help you with anything you could possibly ask of me.”

“Just like yesterday, when-...” Your eyes widened for a second, then you let your head drop forward with a groan until your forehead connected with Tom's chest with a dull thud. “Good lord, I finally get why Luke was so upset that I made you run around half of London yesterday! That must've been a bloody nightmare for him!” But then you couldn't help snorting either way, and your hold on Tom tightened even more. “I literally made Tom Hiddleston run errands for me… That's bloody hilarious.”

“Well, what else are you supposed to do with me while you're working, dear?” He grinned, mostly to himself, and found that he was rather enjoying the fact that it humoured you so much to boss him around. Not that it ever felt like that to him, really. “I thought it was fun. And I didn't even cause any trouble, so Luke really has no reason to be upset with either of us in the first place.”

“Right?!” You laughed, then sighed. “It really is his luck though that my plans to take you dancing went down the drain at the train station we missed.”

“We could dance here…” He shrugged easily, swaying from side to side and moving you along with him to make his point, but it rather served to make you giggle and lift your head from his chest once more.

“C'mon, T, don't be a dork… Here, really? There's not even any music.”

“Here’s as good a place as any. We've got you, and we've got me, and that's all we need.” Again he shrugged, grinning perhaps just a little too widely at you as he simply moved his right hand into position on your back, while picking yours off of him to hold in his left. “Now be so kind and put your left hand on my shoulder, will you?”

“You know that I don't know how to dance like this…” You sighed defeatedly, yet complied and placed your hand where he'd told you to. “Unlike you, I've never had the pleasure to learn all the classical dances.”

“And you know that I've been telling you I would love to teach them all to you one day.”

“And that day’s today?” You raised an eyebrow up at him in amusement.

“That day can be every day, if you want it to be.” He replied easily, smiling as he nudged your elbow higher with his own, lifting his chin just enough to prompt you to do the same. You mirrored him immediately, probably even without noticing you did, and he couldn't help feeling a little pride over that. “Now just look at me, and let me lead you through the movements, alright? It's just some easy fun, I promise.”

You nodded, even if a little insecurely, but once he took the first few steps slowly and in the knowledge that you would need some time to get accustomed to the flow of the movements, the frown on your face vanished and was replaced with a smile instead which grew in brightness the longer you kept going. It didn't fail to brighten his own along with it.

“This actually is easier than I thought…” You finally commented after a while, with an almost incredulous little laugh. “People at my workplace always make it look terribly complicated or incredibly awkward during social functions, while apparently it really is rather more of the opposite of either.”

“Perhaps we will just have to show those people how it's done correctly then.”

“Right…” You snorted in obvious sarcasm, shaking your head with a smile. “I'll make you sit through an entire evening of boring conversations about some random people's current research, just so we can show them how to dance properly at the end of the night.”

“Sounds fun to me.” Tom replied with a sincere smile, very much intent on making a point of just how gladly he would accompany you absolutely anywhere, boring or not, if only you'd want him to be there.

The incredulity returned to your face in the form of a frown, but the smile stayed on your lips either way. “Really? You'd actually want to be my date for all my terrible work events?”

“For all the nice ones, too, I hope.” He smiled, with as much of a shrug as the silent dance allowed for. “And if it makes you feel any better, I'd also make you sit through entire evenings of boring conversations about some random people's current movie projects and luxury vacations in return, just because I like having you by my side.”

For a few seconds upon that you merely looked at him with that surprised, if not even reverent expression all over again, almost making him feel nervous enough through his racing heartbeat to joke it off once more against any better judgement, but luckily it didn't have to come to that. You averted your eyes for a short moment only, with a flustered laugh and the loveliest blush on your cheeks, then looked back up at Tom with a sincere smile. “Alright. I guess I'll be very much looking forward to the next terrible work event, then.”

“Great.” Great, yes, that he could ask you to be each other’s date to work events, but not tell you that he wanted to be your date everywhere, to everything. Yours, date or not. Always, entirely. Great indeed… He was slowly starting to get seriously frustrated with himself. All those fancy words at his disposal, but he could only ever scratch at what it actually was he wanted to say. It's not even that he didn't know what to say, for heaven's sake! He knew perfectly well. He just was an idiot with a ridiculous blockade in his head that he couldn't seem to get rid of just yet. Great, indeed. But at least he was making progress… At least he was getting closer. Perhaps that had to be enough for now. He almost scoffed at his own thoughts; he had never been one to settle for ‘enough’. He wanted bloody perfection, always had, always would. And right now, right here with you, he was the closest to having it that he had ever been. The thought made him smile, and he chose to put his internal dilemma to rest again for now, in the face of the bigger picture. “You better hope I won't embarrass you in front of all your colleagues, darling… I already had to try extremely hard not to do so in front of your student tonight.”

That comment made you snort in an instant, then look up at him again, so entirely humoured yet with such a great fondness that Tom actually had to laugh as well now even as his heart skipped a couple of its many racing beats. He really had no idea how you could unravel him so softly over and over again and still leave him feeling more whole than he ever had.

“You really are a nut, T… But you and I both know that you can actually behave if only you make an effort to.” You said with a pointed look, but in obvious amusement no less. “You can literally be bloody Prince Charming, if only you want to, with your dazzling smiles and your impeccable politeness and all. Oh, and with the dancing of course. I have no idea how you can even keep the rhythm this steady without any music and while we're having a bloody conversation at the same time.”

“Practice.” He shrugged, smiling. “And there is music to it, even if you can't hear any right now. It's just all in the heads of the people dancing. A steady rhythm, three-quarter time ideally for this particular dance, but that only serves as a rudimentary basis if you are to do it properly. Which in this instance, we are.”

“And how does one do it properly?”

“You simply listen to the music. For every move of the body, for every twist and turn, every breath and every touch there is a movement in the music that tells you precisely what to do. A tone, an emotion that leads you and guides you as much as your partner does. A rise and fall of action, of tension, an ongoing up and down of intensity in the face of time in its passing. And as you listen, you will know what to do, and how to do it.”

“What if there's nothing to listen to though, like right now?”

“Right now, my dear, we are making our own music.” Tom smiled, and couldn't resist the temptation to twirl you around once even if just to hear your startled little squeak, before pulling you back towards himself with ease. “Reverse the order of things, create the perfect soundtrack for reality merely but entirely through you and I. The way we move, the way we feel draws up and plays the music in my head, and… in the end we create music through dancing right now, instead of creating a dance through music as it usually goes. But I guess with the two of us things just never want to stick to the ordinary, do they?”

“No. I mean yes. All of it, just…” You replied in a breathless laugh, looking up at him in untainted awe. “I'd really love to have your imagination, T... Or even just your eloquence at my disposal. Your mind is truly incredible, and while I dare say I believe to know it quite as well as my own at this point, it still never fails to enchant me entirely.”

“Do you actually mean that just now or are you just trying to make me blush again?” He raised an eyebrow at you in an exaggeratedly questioning manner, while his face without a doubt gained in colour just as described. Yet, he couldn't help revelling in the way your eyes lit up as you listened to him speak, the way your hold on his hand tightened even more from moment to moment, the way you almost missed a step in your dance but continued on anyway just by trusting his lead. The way you laughed in such sincere enjoyment about his quirks instead of trying to erase them from your image of him.

“You're well aware that I absolutely do mean it. We've covered that much on the first day of knowing each other.” You tried to mirror his raised eyebrow in the very same manner, and it didn't take more than that for Tom to finally chuckle as well. If he looked anything like you did trying to pull off that gesture, he wasn't too surprised that you would laugh at him doing it.

“Fair enough.”

“But I still do very much like making you blush as well.” You added without wasting a second, smirking up at him in a pointed tease that served its purpose quite wonderfully indeed.

“I'm well aware of that, too.” He laughed lightly, smiling down at you, but then just had to smirk to himself instead, as an idea entered his mind that simply seemed too good to forego. He rather enjoyed making you blush, too, after all… And he was quite confident that he had figured out the best way to do just that by now. Even if it would inevitably send his own heart into a frenzy as well.

Before he could overthink it yet again or even consider backing out, he twirled you around once more and brought you back in, just like before, only that this time he didn't catch you once you were face to face before him; no, that had never been the plan to begin with. It was only the beginning. Instead, in the matter of a broken second, he had you pulled flush against his body with your back pressed to his chest, trapping you there with an arm wrapped around your waist even though his hand was still tightly holding onto yours. Lowering his lips to the shell of your ear once more, he had to consciously refrain from smirking, to keep his voice to a mere but steady whisper. “You better be careful when playing with fire, darling… Or have you forgotten what happens to those who fall for the flames?” He could feel you shuddering against him, could hear your breathing hitch, could almost taste your scent on the tip of his tongue. It only made his tone drop even lower with emotion. “Like Icarus and the sun… we will always burn.”

For a few seconds there was but the silence of night, the echo of his own heartbeat in his ears… Then he couldn't help it any longer and started giggling in equal rushes of excitement and embarrassment. That had been a bold move, even when keeping in mind that your hugs had been far closer than this. Still, he loosened his grip on you in an instant, in an admittedly poor attempt to make himself feel any less nervous about it now, about how you might react to this. It had rather been a bit much, hadn't it? Even if it did quite obviously fluster you just as intended. But then again… you made no attempt to step away from him now either. You only let go of his hand after a few seconds of shock so you could turn around while keeping his arm wrapped around your waist, staying close to him on your own accord now while looking up with that awestruck expression that made every fiber of his being light up in excitement. Still, it soothed his nerves in an instant just the same, and he had to smile at you in both humour and a twinge of remaining embarrassment alike.

“Fuck…” Was the first thing you blurted out after a moment, dropping your forehead against his chest with a thud once again, releasing a single breathy laugh. “I can literally feel my heartbeat everywhere in my body right now.”

Your words inevitably made Tom laugh, and his free hand moved to your back once again as well, on its own accord, to draw soothing circles in an attempt to help you calm down with him. “Is that a good thing or did I just terribly overstep the boundaries of our mutual teasing?”

“Good thing!!!” Your reply came immediately, so quickly in fact that Tom could feel his cheeks heating up even more as a flustered chuckle left his lips without his consent. You also noticed what you'd done though, and had to laugh as well after barely missing a beat. “Well, you really are bloody brilliant at this, good gods… I surrender, you've officially won the game of teasing for tonight. I couldn't possibly do it one better even if I tried.”

“Seeing as I flustered myself about as much as I flustered you with that little stunt, I think we can in good conscience call it a draw.” Tom had to smile in earnest now, and while his heart was still beating almost painfully fast, he was beyond relieved that you had indeed understood his action as a means of teasing back, and had even enjoyed it as such. He hadn't overstepped. It was alright. Even if in the depths of his mind, he wasn't quite so sure if he could still put it off as a mere tease after all. If anyone, it was him who could tell what it felt like to act a part… and this hadn't been it. In the means, perhaps, but not in the intent.

“Fair enough.” You chuckled, and finally leaned back enough again to look up at him in amusement. “A draw it is.”

“And as the winner and loser of this imaginary competition I wasn't even aware of until now, what would you like to do next?”

“Why do I have to decide? You won and lost just the same!”

“Don't argue with the mad man, darling.”

“Fine…” You groaned, unable to keep the smile off your face now matter how hard you apparently tried, quite the way Tom liked so much. “Well, I for my part am not nearly done dancing with you.”

“Really?” He quirked an eyebrow up at you in amusement, glancing at his watch just out of sincere curiosity before his eyes moved back to yours. “And what kind of dance do you fancy at ten past five in the morning?”

“Well, what did we dance to the last time we were up at ten past five in the morning?” You replied sweetly, looking up at him with an innocent yet terribly excited smile that didn't fail to brighten Tom's own.

“That would have to have been a swing, I suppose.” He grinned, biting his bottom lip for a moment to tone it all down. The memory of it wasn't too old, really, barely a month or two… You and him had spent the majority of the night texting as ever, unable to find a point to call it quits and go to bed, only to decide roughly around five in the morning that you would stay up to watch the sunrise together, because even if separately seen, it was still the same sun. And in order to stay awake during that last hour of dark, you both had taken to dancing around your homes to a playlist of old swing music. Tom had always loved that memory with a fondness great enough to remember it in its every detail.

“So…?” You prompted with a grin, raising your eyebrows.

For a moment Tom looked at you as if in consideration, pretending to think hard about it even though he had already made up his mind the second you’d said ‘dancing’, then he grinned at you once more and started unbuttoning his coat. “You better get out that playlist, darling, because I'm not dancing a swing without the right music. That's best left for the olden classics only.”

If a smile had ever been as bright as yours in that moment, Tom wouldn't have been able to tell, nor would he have cared for that matter. Your excitement was quite enough for him as it was, and he was beyond content just watching you, as you dug through your phone for the music, then tossed your coat on top of his own over a metal bar. It didn't even matter that Tom had absolutely no clue how to swing dance, at least not properly; he was inspired enough to try anyway. And when you put your phone down on the swing seat, with it playing swing music, you just wiggled your eyebrows at him knowing full well that the inherent-yet-terrible pun wouldn't be lost on him. It wasn't; he was still grinning like a loon when you took his hand and started moving to the music together with him at last.

The songs came and went, piece after piece flowed by but neither of you really bothered to count them up. There were far better things to do, things like dancing in the most ridiculous yet fun ways there were, like finding ever new ways to touch, for reasons to be found in the self but to be blamed on the music, like jumping around to keep out the cold of dawn, like laughing too loudly just because. In a way, Tom found great amusement in the fact that you were almost putting the playground to its intended use, after all. Only that you weren't his childhood sweetheart but his… well, his everything really, and that children probably didn't try to, or rather fail to swing dance at five in the morning either. Perhaps those were the only perks of adulthood at the end of the day, being able to stay up late and to have chocolate cake for dinner if only he wanted to, and to be able to love someone like this, like you. Or at least these were the only ones that mattered, currently.

He was just about to let you twirl him around just for the sake of it, when your shared laughter was joined in by yet another party; the loud barking of a dog, no doubt not too far off to your left. You immediately stopped in your movement, as did Tom, which left him awkwardly yet comfortably wrapped in your arms as you both turned to look at the origin of the disturbance. Indeed, a Collie of some sort with an elderly man attached to the other end of the leash were crossing through the park-ish side of the playground, and while the former seemed rather enthusiastic about seeing you, the latter only frowned at you in mere and utter distaste. The sight made Tom snort, but he kept his face straight and just stared back with an unrelenting little smile, until the elder looked away with an irritated frown, shaking his head to himself.

“Perhaps… Perhaps we should get going. Before we get arrested for lurking around a playground.” You laughed, biting your bottom lip with an expression both apologetic and humoured to equal parts, as you tried to unwrap Tom from your arms without letting go of his hand just yet.

“I think, just perhaps, you're right. We should probably go.” He chuckled in return, and yet, the question that came to his mind promptly and inevitably made him frown, especially as you both went to stop the music and put your coats back on; it was nearing six o'clock in the morning, where exactly were you supposed to go at this time? And far more importantly: wherever it was you were going to go, would you allow him to come with you?

… … …

After leaving the playground behind at last, you both continued on down the street you had strayed from seemingly hours ago. Truth be told, you were beyond relieved that Tom still didn't make any indication that he'd like to go home at any point in the near future; he'd only taken your hand once more, quite like before, and you were happily walking next to him at so close a distance that your shoulder bumped into his arm more often than not. It really was rather ironic that apparently you both knew perfectly well that you both wanted this, that you both craved the other’s touch and closeness, yet neither of you could actually say it out loud. You didn't doubt anymore that he felt for you exactly the same as you felt for him… You were rather certain of it even. But still… The fact that he couldn't say it as of yet also left the words stuck in your own throat. Not because you doubted him, not at all, but rather because you trusted his inherent timing for things. Or rather, the timing inherent to you both, and the way you worked together as one. There was no rush hearing him say what you already knew to be true anyway.

“Are you tired?” His words drew you back to reality, back to him. You turned your head to look up at him with a smile, careful not to trip over sticks and stones (yet again…).

“A little.” You sighed happily, and really, you'd never been this delighted to be exhausted. “It's not easy keeping up with you energywise, you know… Though you do a great job charging me back up again. How about you?”

“Quite the same, I suppose.” He smiled back, and you could've sighed in happiness all over again. “I can't believe I've gotten through a full day of tasks, a very high energy run of the show, and then all the things that came after… I should be bloody exhausted, shouldn't I?”

“I guess.” You chuckled, shrugging. “It honestly doesn't feel like this has just been 24 hours, I mean can you even believe that? And we've only known what the other looks like for about seven or eight of them.”

“That's just crazy. And I do not quite believe it, no.” He huffed out a little laugh, shaking his head to himself. “I just wish I'd gotten over myself sooner and met you a week ago, or a month…”

“Why did you change your mind about it quite so suddenly last night? About meeting me, I mean. Not that I'm complaining by any means at all... I'm just curious.” You couldn't help asking, curious eyes meeting his own as you slowly sauntered along the empty streets. The explanation that he'd only wanted you to see his work just wasn't quite doing it for you anymore; you wanted to know the truth he currently had.

“Well, I… I had a talk with Luke yesterday, or rather two days ago at this point. We talked about the choices I make, and… I realised that nobody was going to tell me what is right and what is wrong.” He said, in calm seriousness, shrugging but just ever so slightly. “It's all only determined by what I can live with in the end, and what I cannot. So I asked myself if I could live with the decision that I would never allow myself to meet you, the one person who ever truly knew me entirely, and... the answer was that I could not."

"Why?"

"Because absolutely nothing makes me happier, and nothing makes me sadder than you."

The quick but easy sincerity in his voice made your heart jump with a start, while his words rather seemed to wrap around your throat like vines that threatened to strangle you if you weren't careful as you spoke. "I… I make you sad?"

"Your absence does.” He clarified quickly, tightening his hold on your hand as if afraid you would let go. “Only ever, but always, your absence."

"Oh…" You replied, on a breath you hadn't quite known to be holding before. But as soon as your mind clicked back into place, you started drawing lines on the back of his hand with your fingertips, like he had done before, to let him know without a doubt that you weren't going anywhere. "Yours does that to me, too, you know. Do you think it is inevitable to feel that deep sadness in the absence of someone, because it's the shadow of an even greater happiness their presence grants us?"

"I believe one doesn't feel sadness in someone's absence at all for the longest time. Only when the happiness they make you feel reaches a certain point, a point of no return, the sadness is there, too, all at once and with a maddening force and depth to it.” The mere passion in his voice left you breathless as he spoke, but it was his words that truly were your undoing. “I think that this is what makes the height of happiness so lethal... That you never see its shadow coming until you are already in danger of drowning in it."

"And that's when you realise you can't live without the presence that is your height of happiness anymore?" You asked in a tone too quiet now to not let on just what you thought, too raw to keep hidden just what you felt.

"It's when you decide that you don't want to live without it anymore." He replied almost solemnly, and for all the right reasons in the world, that just made it all the better.

"And you decided to meet me." You smiled, still in a quiet tone, but with an uproar of happiness within you far too strong for you to fight.

"That I did." Silence. A quiet smile. “And now I can't imagine parting from you again.”

“Neither can I. From you, I mean. Of course.” You couldn't help your own breathy laugh now, couldn't help leaning even further into his side, which he welcomed immediately with an even brighter smile. For a minute you stayed silent, then you had to smile, and thus looked up at Tom again. “I think it's rather ironic that neither of us wants this night to end, Dylan Thomas would be proud of us… We most definitely do not go gentle into that good night. Only that we rage against the dying of the night, not the light. We caught and sang the moon in flight, and learn, too late, we grieved it on its way.”

The smile on Tom's lips broadened as far as it could go, then he let out that little breathy laugh again, and finally just grinned down at the ground that ran along beneath you as you walked. The sight didn't fail to amuse you, too, and thus you released a playful scoff and nudged him in the side merely by shifting your weight.

“What's so funny?” You inquired as he still wouldn't talk, raising up an eyebrow at him, which he finally looked up to see as well, still smiling.

“Just a thought.” He shrugged, giving you one of those looks that could drive you up the wall in one way or another. “But you're right, of course… I don't want the night to end either. Never, if possible. And that made me think of something both very appropriate and terribly inappropriate. Not that there's still such a thing as inappropriateness left between you and me in the first place. So it's just a thought, really.”

“Well, out with it then!” You protested in a laugh. “Now that you've got me curious already, you can't not tell me!”

“Right… Are you familiar with the work of Mark Strand?”

“Vaguely, I'll have to admit. Not my period in time nor my country of origin, if I'm honest.”

“Fair enough. The piece I'm thinking of is titled ‘Provisional Eternity’. I think you'll enjoy it.” Again, he gave you a smile in utmost humour he failed to tone down, then cleared his throat and went to recite from memory. “A man and a woman lay in bed-...”

“Good gods, T! Do I even want to know how this goes on?!” You interrupted him with half a laugh, in a vain attempt to fight off the heat on your cheeks just as you crossed into another street that finally bordered upon a real park, giving you something to look at for a moment before you could bear looking at Tom again. He was extremely good at making you blush, and you honestly both loved and hated that he was getting better and better at it with each time he tried. Even if right now, it apparently hadn't been his intention to fluster you after all for once, and thus you took a deep breath, enjoying the first signs of dawn visible over the treetops for a second, before looking back at Tom with one eyebrow raised in question and with a smile.

“Just let me finish the whole thing and you'll know. It's not about what you apparently think it is about.” He mirrored your expression, then started over without waiting for you to voice any further protest. “A man and a woman lay in bed. ‘Just one more time,’ said the man, ‘just one more time.’ ‘Why do you keep saying that?’ said the woman. ‘Because I never want it to end,’ said the man. ‘What don't you want to end?’ said the woman. ‘This,’ said the man, ‘this never wanting it to end.’”

A pause. After an opening line like that, you really hadn't expected the piece to end in that way, to end so… deeply. With such a palpable sense of longing to it. You could see why he'd had to think of it just now, could feel why even. And honestly, you were glad that Tom granted you a moment of silence to let the words sink in, before he looked to you for a reaction.

“Okay fine… You're right. I do like the piece.” You sighed, smiling up at him in defeat at last. “I mean, of course you're right! You literally always are, it's scary how you do it. And I just think it's amazing as much as it's ironic how badly we all crave the eternal and yet condemn it so cruelly for being meaningless.”

“Do we, really? Condemn it?” He asked right back, brows furrowed just ever so slightly in a way you'd come to recognise as a sign of sincere interest, one of concentration. Of deep thoughts and difficult questions with even more difficult answers to them.

“You know that we do, T… I know what you've read, I know that you know.” Your smile stayed on your lips nonetheless, even as you sighed at last. “I doubt that I could put it quite as eloquently as any of the people who have written about it over the centuries.”

“That’s why I'd like to hear your own thoughts on it, not just your version of the truth in someone else's words.”

“Well, but my thoughts on it have been forged by the forces of others!” You argued back, almost tackling him in the side with your attempt at a dramatic shrug. “Take Eliot's words, for example...”

Before you could even try to get your words straight, he beat you to it. “If time and space, as sages say, are things which cannot be, the sun which does not feel decay no greater is than we. So why, Love, should we ever pray to live a century? The butterfly that lives a day has lived eternity.”

“Exactly!” You went right along with it, nodding enthusiastically enough to make Tom chuckle to himself, but you spoke on anyway. “Even Blake said that ‘Eternity is in love with the productions of time.’ And don't even get me started on all the people beyond that who wrote that the meaningfulness of life lies in its brevity! Thereby they all condemn eternity to lose its value in the face of time, in the face of the fleeting moment and of a brevity therein. Apparently, for all of them, eternity is too long a time to be enjoyed or meaningful.”

“Quite obviously none of them has tried to part from you, darling.” He said so easily that your every thought came to an immediate halt. “None of them has been faced with such magnified impossibilities. Or else they would have realised that even eternity is not nearly long enough a time when spent together with you.”

“I-…” Your own heartbeat cut you off, your words stuck in your throat, until you huffed out a shallow laugh at last, with the only words that found their way past your lips. “I really get what Luke meant, when he said that you could put any poet to shame without even trying. And that you always know what to say, in the most impressive and dramatic way possible.”

“Did he really say that?” Tom raised an eyebrow at you with a huge smile, obviously trying his best not to straight up laugh again even as he undeniably blushed as well.

“Yep…” You sighed, then grinned in return. “He said it makes him and everyone else feel severely uncultured.”

“Oh that twit…” Tom rolled his eyes with a groan, but it only made you chuckle all the more, until he spoke on with a sigh of his own. “He’s got a point, I can be a tad dramatic at times, but otherwise he's really just a master of exaggeration and mockery. He does it literally all the time, especially to me.”

“In this case though, he really didn't. You truly have an incredible gift with words, T… One he couldn't possibly exaggerate even if he tried.” You replied without any hint of tease or joke, with just a smile that probably let on too much a glimpse of your yearning heart all over again. But you were beyond caring at this point, you only wanted him to see how amazing he was, all and every version of him, or even just make him understand how amazing he was to you. Exactly as he was. “I adore that you can so easily express a depth most other people even lack the ability to feel. And it doesn't make me feel uncultured at all, actually. Being at the receiving end of such an art only makes me feel… loved, in a way. Even silly as that might sound to you.”

“Does it sound silly to you?”

“Well, no, but-…” Your heart skipped a beat, multiple really, perhaps it even stopped beating entirely as your eyes fell onto his expression that said a million things at once, which yet again you could not find the words for. His eyes were screaming at you, but his lips stayed closed as before, as well. A tragedy of a million unspoken delights. So when your heartbeat returned at last, you gasped, and granted easy passage to the first words that came along with it. “I guess I'm just so used to interpreting the words of people long dead that I hardly know how to deal with them when they're coming from someone right in front of me. It just feels silly to me to try understanding what you meant by what you said when you could tell me any minute that I'm completely mistaken, that it's all in my head and-...”

“What if I told you that you're absolutely right, though?”

A pause. “What?” Your voice was quiet, remarkably so, as he stopped in his spot and thereby forced you to do the same.

“What if I told you that I want you to feel loved not just in one way, but in all ways possible?”

“Why would you want me to feel like that?” The words didn't come out as more than a whisper, and you could only hope that he had heard them at all, could hope that he could read in your eyes that you already knew the answer.

“Because-…” He started, stopped, with that same frustration on his face that you recognised oh so well by now, understood as what you'd come across too often yourself tonight. You knew; you knew the words just wouldn't be spoken without a fight. But if he wanted to do this right now, do what you hadn't been able to do before either, all there was left for you was to draw gentle circles on his hand, and to smile at him in a way that would let him know this was a fight he had already won. There was no rush… Nothing to prove between you. For a few seconds he just closed his eyes, releasing a long breath and tightening his hold on your hand at once, then his gaze was back on your soul. “Because I've been trying to prepare for this moment all day, and yet here I am now, still feeling absolutely terrified for absolutely no reason at all. Because you really are my height of happiness, and being here with you now is… a joy impossible to find words for that could do the reality of my feelings justice. Because quite apparently I'm unable to tell you what I feel, not without using words that are borrowed from someone else and therein lose their entire meaning. So I… want you to feel what I feel. I've tried to make you feel what I feel for you all evening, I've been trying, in every way I could, to show you, not to tell. Turns out that's the only thing I'm actually good at.”

A smile.

A pause.

“You aren’t just good, you are absolutely breathtaking, T… How else in all this time would you have managed to make me feel loved quite so intensely, huh?” A pause. A smile. “If you feel for me even half of what I feel for you, then I still would never have been loved more truly than this.”

A pause. A quiet chuckle. “Who's the poet now, huh?”

“Still you, of course. But you endlessly inspire me to try to keep up and do you one better.” You grinned, poking him in the chest with your free hand, then just held onto the lapels of his coat as you stood right in front of him anyway. Taking one more deep breath before meeting his eyes which would inevitably steal it from you again. “And I… I also promised you this morning that if we meet, when we meet, I… would tell you what I feel for you above anything else, which emotion comes-…”

You had been wrong, oh so wrong, it wasn't his eyes that stole your breath away. It was the way he cradled your face, the way his fingers softly brushed against your cheek, your jaw, your neck, caressing every inch of your skin in their gentle path. The way he reluctantly let go of your hand only to place his own on the curve of your waist, slipping down to your hip to pull you even closer to himself. The way he still gave you the time of two eternal seconds to stop him if only you wanted to. Then his lips finally touched upon yours, and it brought both life and breath back to your body with a start. You felt it all at once, the rush, the lightness, the softness of his lips, all tied together by a string of heartbeats both his and your own. You could only think in the language that was Tom.

Thus it was both tragedy and delight at once, when he finally pulled back just enough to speak, with his forehead touching yours, and his breath on your lips. “All this time, you have been telling me just that. How else would you have managed to make me feel loved quite so intensely, huh?”

“That's plagiarism, you know…” You couldn't help smirking, in just a whisper, nor could you stop yourself from leaning into him even more. “Those are my words.”

“It literally is my job to borrow other people's words, darling.” He smiled as well, and you could hear it, feel it, surrounding you entirely. “And your words, to me, are simply the most perfect. I won't apologize for that.”

“I am already madly in love with you, T… You don't need to make me fall for you even harder.” You couldn't help laughing, quietly still and breathlessly even beyond, yet not without relishing the way it felt to say these words aloud at last. To know he heard them, believed them, just by the way he breathed you in, the way he shuddered when you moved your hand from his chest to delve into the soft curls at the nape of his neck instead.

“But what if I want to?” His voice was no louder than yours, no less thoroughly delighted, but sounding a million shades darker when spoken so reverently against your lips. “What if I want to make you feel just how much I love you, have loved you this entire time…”

That was all the invitation you needed to press your lips to his once more, in every grain of passion and longing that had been building up for far too long now, and he happily indulged you just the same as he kept you tightly pressed against his body. There really was no place in all of eternity you would rather have been than right here, right now, with Tom. Nibbling on his bottom lip as your lips moved against his in the most luscious urgency, making him put his quick tongue to an even better use with your own and drawing a moan from him in that way you hadn't been able to stop thinking about for over two hours now. Burning up in a blaze of divine delight when he did the same to you, only so much better. Good gods, that man really was quite magnificent at everything he did… Your perfect nut indeed. He even tasted like chocolate cake, for heaven's sake! Chocolate cake that had to make a conscious effort not to devour you on the spot as it seemed, instead of the other way around for once. The thought made you grin against Tom's lips after a while, flooding you with liquid lightning in every fiber of your body. Even more so when he smiled brightly as well, just because you did.

“The night is over, the darkness is tamed… more or less at least.” He managed to say, or rather to laugh in a breath, after taking a moment for you both to catch up to the world, without however moving more than a breath apart even now. “The question is, will you allow me to make breakfast for you, darling?"

The bright grin wouldn't leave your face now, wouldn't dare to disappear. “I think that was the classiest way of asking someone to come home with you I have ever heard, in my entire life…” You laughed, shaking your head to yourself in awe before resting it against his chest, right next to his chin. “You are way too good at this, T, and I am powerless before you. I've always been.”

His chuckle in return was both a low rumble in his chest, and the most delightfully happy sound you had ever heard. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

Smirking to yourself, you just couldn't help it now either. “As long as there is T with my breakfast, take it as an always.”

… … …

This time around, your slow saunter down the street eventually continued arm in arm, and with far too many smiles you were both unable to tame. Unwilling, would be more like it. Tom couldn't even begin to get a reign over the immense flood of happy excitement in his system that was lighting him up inside out like the sun and stars combined, and he didn't bother trying to either. Not when he knew that there was no limit any longer, nothing that could or would keep him from having this every day from here on. Perhaps that was what happened when happiness wasn't an event or process, wasn't bound by the means of time, but by a person. And you were his, now, always. Why on earth should he ever stop smiling about that?

“Would you like to make me breakfast at my place or at yours?” Your voice made him look down at you again, just as you reached the nearest train station Google Maps had been able to find in the area you'd ended up in. It was time to head home, after all.

“Well, that depends entirely on your preferences for the day ahead…” He shrugged, the smile turning into more of a grin. “If we were to head over to yours, I would have to leave again sooner rather than later to go check on Bobby.”

“Your place it is, then.” You smiled back up at him sweetly, then had to laugh and bit your bottom lip for a moment before voicing your thoughts. “That's probably for the better anyway… Because I wouldn't even have been making a move on you by saying that with my tiny apartment, you literally wouldn't fit anywhere but in my bed.”

“Right…” He laughed, shaking his head to himself as the inevitable heat crawled back onto his face. Perhaps that would never change, who knew… It didn't have to. “You really do have a point there though, your apartment is almost ridiculously tiny.”

“And you're tall as fuck.”

“Right…”

“Are we really back to that again?” You sighed exaggeratedly, in the worst mocking annoyance he'd ever seen, and Tom could only laugh and shrug with an innocent expression.

A quick glimpse at the map of train lines and stations later, he'd come up with the best and quickest way to get you both back to his neighbourhood at least, even if you'd still have to walk a short distance from there. Then, as you waited for the next train to arrive already, he caught himself remembering something. Biting his tongue to refrain from grinning more than usual, he removed his arm from around you, but took your hand in his instead, intertwining your fingers. For a moment he didn't say anything, just stared right ahead at the train tracks with a clenched jaw to keep in the laughter, while he could practically feel your frowning gaze burning holes into his side. When he thought you'd suffered enough as a payback for repeatedly teasing him, he turned to you with feigned surprise about finding you staring at him already, and when your frown only deepened in question, he finally went to explain.

“Well, you told me to let you hold my hand before stepping onto the train…” Still bloody difficult not to laugh… “And as I've said before, when the lady commands, I'm obliged to follow.”

“You actually still remember I said that, after the entire night that happened afterwards?” Your astonishment replaced any question on your face, and apparently on your mind as well. Didn't help much with Tom's amusement though, and he finally allowed himself to laugh, then shrug yet again.

“I tend to remember most of the things you tell me, to be honest. No matter when or where.”

“Your memory is just crazy, honestly, T… Is there anything you don't remember in detail?” You wondered, just as the train finally rolled in and the doors opened up to allow you passage onto your ride home.

“Well, to be fair I generally tend to remember the things I read far better than those I hear, which generally works in my favour though. In most cases, at least.” Tom replied honestly, but didn't bother to find a seat once the train started moving now either, only leaning against the wall by the door once again as his eyes stayed on yours.

“Well, perhaps I better write this down for you then.” You smirked, and instead of holding onto something like Tom very much would have liked you to, you just grabbed your phone out of your pocket with your free hand. Well, at least you were still holding onto his hand as well, so he could probably still catch you in case you'd just topple over again. That definitely had worried him a bit too much at the beginning of the night for the instance to be repeated now.

He didn't get to dwell on it though, as his phone pinged in his pocket, and he had to hold back the grin yet again. Still, his eyes didn’t leave yours for even a second as you slipped your phone back into your pocket while he got his own out at the same time. Only once he'd unlocked it and instinctively tapped on the spot he knew the messaging app to be, his eyes finally left yours to see what mischief you'd come up with now again, what your text said.

Y: ‘I love you.’

Okay, screw holding back the grin, even if it had just been for the sake of teasing. Tom didn't bother to hide it even a second longer as he kept his eyes on his phone, heart thundering in his chest, and sent a text back.

T: ‘I know ;)’

Then he looked back up at you with the most innocent expression and slipped his phone back into his pocket, keeping his eyes fixed on your face again as you got yours out with a smile in return. That smile however turned into an incredulous yet humoured gaping once you'd read the message, and your eyes shot up to meet Tom’s in an instant.

“Oh, you nut!” You laughed, eyes sparkling in a way he could never get enough of, and he waited just long enough until you had put your phone away again to tug on your hand in a single fluid movement that made you fall the short distance forward, and thereby inevitably fall against him in return.

With a tiny squeak you barely still caught yourself on your hands on Tom's chest, nonetheless leaning against him now while he leaned against the wall behind his back. Still holding onto your hand that he'd tugged on, he let his other one come to rest on your hip again as he leaned down the minimal distance to your ear with a smile. “I love you, too.”

______________________________

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[spinster-sisters]

Arrangement. psh

TW: Oral, fingering, corruption, unprotected sex, public sex, reader is kinda selfish but in the oblivious way not the malicious way, seonghwa is seonghwa. Honestly I was going for something kinda specific here and i dont think i succeded, its not bad or anything just not what i was going for but i dont think yall will be able to tell hopefully.

The first thing i write in probably well over 2 weeks and its something that nobody but @deja-vux wanted. what can i say? this idea gave me brain rot.

One last thing, this is kind of a part 2 to the corruption kink blurby thing I wrote for Seonghwa (can be found in my master list) but it’s not a direct continuation or anything and you don’t have to read that to get this.

-

Your jaw ached in strain as you held your mouth open, trying to keep your throat relaxed. Seonghwa’s grip was tight in your hair as he thrust his dick shallowly past your lips. The position was altogether uncomfortable. Seonghwa laid across the back seat of his vintage car, back propped up against the door with one knee raised. You were knelt between his thighs, bent over in a painful arch trying to keep still in the tight space. But all of that was inconsequential, the breathy groans and crooked smirk of the man in front of you were enough to drown out the pain.

As his hips pushed into your mouth again, dick sliding further down your throat than before, in a desperate attempt to please the man you did your best to swallow around the long length of his cock although tears pricked in your eyes. His grip on your hair tightened and you looked up just in time to see his head thump back against the glass window followed by another low groan and a face screwed up in pleasure, his normally perfectly styled black hair now tousled and falling into his eyes. Deep satisfaction ran through you.

To your surprise, the hand in your hair yanked you back and off him. You whined at the roughness, despite the way it sent shocks down to your core. Seonghwa’s eyes cracked open to peer down at you with a grin.

“You're getting good at this, princess.” He compliments in his velvet voice. His words elated you and a smile crept onto your lips.

“You’ve come so far in so little time, you could barely take me in your mouth without gagging a month ago, now look at you. You should be proud.” Seonghwa continued, running his hand through your hair once before regaining his grip on it. You practically purred. While you looked back on those first few times with Seonghwa fondly, you much preferred his smooth praises to the harsh words and instructions he gave you before. But you were still glad for them, there was no way you would have come this far this quickly if he hadn’t been hard on you.

Seonghwa’s hand was pulling you back down again before you could voice anything, “come on princess, show me how much you’ve learned.”

Back to work you went. He gave you a tad bit more freedom this time around, not making any move to thrust into your mouth, instead, allowing you to show your newfound mastery of dick sucking. But you kept his preferences in mind, he always wanted to draw things out, to take his time with you. So you began by kissing gently along the red tip, then lapping at the precum that spilled from it. The taste was definitely an acquired one, your face had screwed up in disgust the first time I touched your tongue, but now you sought it out as it meant you were doing well.

Taking the tip completely in your mouth, you hummed as you swirled your tongue around it for a moment before popping off and caressing the underside with a flick of the tongue. Seonghwa hummed in approval, nudging your head forward again in gentle encouragement. You took him into your mouth again, this time hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head in a firm rhythm. You kept your tongue pressed into the underside of his dick, running along the most prominent vein. Each time you took more and more of his impressive length into your mouth, moaning in satisfaction as you went.

You couldn’t help the way your legs pressed together as more wetness pooled in your underwear. Your mind flashed with the first time Seonghwa had taken you completely. Your body had shuddered as he eased his cock between your legs and into your cunt. It had been uncomfortable sure, and the sensation had been unfamiliar, but Seonghwa had taken care to prepare you enough before ruining you in that way. Your first time had been exceptional needless to say.

You were drawn back to the present by the low growl rumbling out of Seonghwa’s chest as his dick hit the back of your throat, all of him save for the part you had your hand wrapped around for support was now gracefully sliding past your lips. You ventured another look up to his face. He was watching you intently with fire behind his dark eyes. You looked up at him with wide eyes, barely able to meet his strong gaze. His elbow rested on his bent knee and his head was leaning against his hand. If it weren’t for the low sounds he released from time to time you would never be able to tell what you were up to between his legs from his face.

The sudden desire to break his composure overtook you, to make him feel as desperate as the ache between your legs. So as you removed your hand to take his length all the way down into your throat your hips began rocking back and forth, rutting into nothing as your legs pressed tightly together.

“Keeping going like that, and I’ll cum down your throat.” His voice rumbled.

You doubted that. Another thing you had learned about him was that he was unbelievably composed. The kind of restraint that came from much experience. He wouldn’t cum unless he wanted to, his words were only to encourage you. But regardless you took them with glee. Seonghwa had long since discovered that nothing encouraged you more than the thought of his cum, the very reward for your efforts.

Despite his promise, it was several more minutes before he spilled into your mouth, having finally decided that you had sufficiently proven your knowledge. His head had fallen back against the window and he let out a trail of deep groans as he spilled against your tongue. You swallowed it appreciatively, beaming up at him from between his legs, awaiting the praise for your efforts.

When he looked at you again it was with a crooked smile and a gentle hand stroking your hair.

“Well done princess,” he spoke far too casually for having just cum down your throat. His free hand took your hip between his fingers and hoisted you up to straddle his lap. He adjusted to sit normally in the seat and he took a moment to size you up. His gaze burned as his eyes trailed over your body and your legs tried to squeeze together again as another bout of wetness spilled out of you, but Seonghwa’s hips kept them apart. He noticed the attempt, however.

With a smirk, Seonghwa slid his hand into the waistband of your shorts and into your panties. You sucked in air only to release it with a whine as his cold fingers slipped between your folds, releasing the slick into his palm. He chuckled at you.

“Oh what have I done to you,” he started with mock remorse, a small pout painting his features, “only a true slut could get his wet from sucking dick, I suppose I have truly ruined you,” he finished with a wild smirk. Your hips ground into his palm subconsciously.

“Mmmhmmm” you sighed in agreement, absolutely loving when he spoke to you like that, only Seonghwa’s words could ever affect you like that. If anyone else said them it would sound vile.

“Yours,” you added with a hoarse voice, rocking your hips into his still hand again.

“Mine?” He asked, pretending to be confused, tilling his head to the side as if asking for clarification. Though the next words to leave your lips were no surprise to him, as he had taught you them.

“Your slut.”

-

It was getting harder to avoid Seonghwa at school. Not because either of your schedules changed, not because he stopped ditching as much as he did. In fact, those things hadn’t happened at all, it just seemed like they had. It seemed like everywhere you went you saw him. Either sauntering his way through the hallways, gathered with his like-minded friends in the courtyard, or even sitting in the far back of the single class you shared flipping his pen between two fingers as he stared absently out the window.

Once upon a time, before you had seen him as anything more than trouble making pretty boy, it had confused you how he had even managed to be in the same advanced literature class as you and it hard infuriated you when you discovered that Park Seonghwa had the audacity to be smart. Your one-track mind had seen it as a waste for him to have even a shred of intelligence behind his starry eyes when it was clear school was the last thing ever on his mind. But at the time you had pushed the thought aside, thinking that as long as you still stood at the top of the class it didn’t matter.

But when you found it most difficult to avoid Park Seonghwa was when he was leaned against the locker of some pretty face showing that crooked half-smirk that you had become so familiar with. And it caused quite a few unnamed emotions to stir in your stomach each time. Each time you shoved those emotions away before they had the chance to manifest. You had no right to feel them. It was your reputation at stake if the student body discovered that you were Park Seonghwa’s latest pass time, not his. In fact, it would probably gain him a feather in his cap from his crowd if they knew. You and Seonghwa had never discussed the exclusivity of your arrangement, you hardly had the clarity of mind to do so at any moment his gaze was focused on you, so you could never be sure if his velvet words had led him between the legs of any of the pretty faces you saw him with. And you didn’t allow yourself to dwell on it, even though very deeply wanted to know. Once again, you pushed the thoughts from your mind, as long as you still to be with him the most, it didn’t matter what those other people did with him.

But as the school slowly emptied at the end of the day, and you were making your way to the student council room once again (trying your hardest to not remember when he had taken you against a table in there as well) you found Seonghwa loitering in the hallway with a girl leaned against his chest inches away from his face.

You came to a dead stop. The gears of your brain are either unable or unwilling to comprehend what you saw. Why this particular time bothered you so much was a question you could not answer, it was not the first time, nor would it be the last. Normally you would simply turn your head and keep walking as though you had seen nothing, and you had almost convinced yourself to do exactly that when the girl noticed your presence.

“Do you need something?” She spat, clearly from the crowd that thought the student council was all prissy know it all’s, and you had to remind yourself that until very recently that is exactly what you were. But you were also stubborn. You composed yourself quickly and kept your eyes on the girl.

“Unless you have somewhere to be, I suggest you move your groping elsewhere. Somewhere off school grounds preferably.” You called in an even tone, thankfully your voice had not betrayed the way your stomach was churning.

“Come on, don’t be such a prude,” the nameless girl countered. Her choice of words temped you to glance at Seonghwa, but you had a feeling he would be looking at you, which you don’t know if you could handle.

“Trust me, the rest of the student body would be just as grossed out as I am, whatever is going on here is not as ‘hot as you think it is,” you added air quotes around the word for good measure. The girl smirked at you.

“I don’t know, I think they would be lucked to see such a sexy couple.” She retorted, her arms curling around Seonghwas middle. At the word “couple” you couldn’t help it, your eyes flashed to Seonghwa. He had the audacity to look amused as if the back and forth was the best entertainment he had seen all week.

You didn’t like that she used that word. You had absolutely no desire to be in a relationship with Seonghwa, quite the opposite, in fact, it would ruin you. But your mind flashed with the one word you heard him use perhaps most often, “mine.” Granted, you had never called him ‘yours,’ but the experiences he gave you seemed somehow cheapened if he was giving everyone else the same ones. You felt spiteful, what was the point in teaching you all those wonderful things if he could get them elsewhere. Those were the thoughts that spurred on your words.

“I’ll let them know when I find one then.” You deadpanned. It took her a moment to realize what you meant, then her mouth hung open. She looked ready to retort before Seonghwa cut her off.

“Why don’t you go home, leave this conversation to the big kids.” He said, looking at her for the first time since the conversation started. Once again, it took her a moment to realize it was her he was talking to, and then she gapped like a fish. Seonghwa had turned his eyes back to you, not bothering to entertain her shock. Finally, with a huff she stormed off, leaving you and Seonghwa alone in the hallway, locked in a stare-off.

“Kinda slow isn’t she? You can do better than that.” You grumble, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh I know I can,” he replied without missing a beat, but the less than subtle once over and the knowing smile he gave you only served to tick you off, rather than flatter you.

“Then why waste your time with her?” As soon as the words came out of your mouth you regretted them. They sounded far too much like jealousy for your taste, and based on the look in his eyes; an invitation as well. Seonghwa’s lean body pushed from the wall and took several long strides towards you, till he stood over you. His hand came to rest all too familiarly on your hip.

“Why? Have something better I can do with my time?” He said, not at all trying to hide his suggestive undertone. You scoffed, in an attempt to keep the burn of his stare away from your mind.

“Your disgusting,” you said, though it came out far less convincing than it sounded in your head. You took a step back from the all-to-magnetic boy. If someone came across you two now, you needed as much distance between him and you as possible.

“Are you going to report me? Madam President?” He replied in a moc disappointed tone.

“As if I adding today onto your record would change a thing. We have a filling cabinet for just you and your friends, Seonghwa. I don’t want to overflow it.” You threw back.

“I didn’t know the student council was such fans of my work.” He replied casually without missing a beat. You opened your mouth to retort but he cut you off.

“Come find me tomorrow night if you're still looking to help me waste time, princess,” he began, turning to grab his bag from the floor, “I think you have a council meeting to get from, wouldn’t want to get in your way of upholding the high standards of the school.” As he spoke he began walking away, only to throw a smirk over his shoulder at his last four words. Leaving you alone in the hallway.

-

You did not find him the next day. You had decided you were upset with him, not because of the girl, you told yourself, but because of the patronizing way he spoke to you. Not that that was different from normal. It just seemed to be the best way to allow yourself to be mad at him without those unwanted feelings worming their way into your brain.

Whether Seonghwa had even noticed your boycott was impossible to tell. He would never come to you, he wanted you to come to him. He never seemed even the slightest bit bothered in the few times you had glanced at him from the corner of your eye. He laughed with his friends without a care in the world and his blank face during class held no emotion besides boredom. You on the other hand, now that was a different story. You had become used to meeting up with him once or even twice a week in various places around town for your “lessons” and you had become “insatiable.” (his word not yours)

Your resolve to be mad at him was cracking as the days went on and was replaced with the need for him. Him and only him. No one else would do.

But in an effort to keep your resolve you threw yourself in the opposite direction, instead, making plans with the Vice President of the student council, a lovely girl named Marie.

Marie was your friend. She chose to use the words “gal pals” from time to time. An airy upbeat girl who rarely let her soft smile fall from her face. And right now, the furthest possible thing from spending time with Park Seonghwa.

So on Wednesday, both you and Marie piled into her silver car and drove off to her house. You both stumbled into her orderly bedroom with a fit of quiet giggles at the expense of several other council members. You shrugged your bag off your shoulders and plopped down onto the plush carpet beside her bed as she did the same.

“Oh my gosh, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever! Outside of council meetings obviously, I mean, I was starting to think you had found a different best friend and I was-“ Marie started rambling almost as soon as she sat down. You couldn’t help the small smile that found your lips. It’s true you had been neglecting her as your friend for the past month or so, instead of spending time with, well, him. But now that sat in her familiar room, seeing the pictures of the events you had planned together scattered on the walls, the sudden realization that you had indeed missed her was shocking.

“Sorry about that, there was some stuff going on at home, that needed my attention. But now I’m back!” You replied, trying to match her seemingly boundless energy. Her face screwed up in worry at your words.

“Oh no! Is everything ok? Do you want to talk about it?” She asked in her characteristic wide eyes. You shook your head.

“It’s not serious I promise. My parents were just redoing the garden and my mother insisted I be home every day to help planting and stuff.” You continued with the lie you had prepared. It was the same thing you had been telling everyone when they asked about your general absence.

She looked content with your answer, smiling and pulling her binder from her bag.

“So, the basketball game this Friday, I know we have the event mostly planned out but I think that we still need to-“ she started again, going right into her work. And you held up a hand to slow her.

“Woah hold on,” you started with a smile, “we have been planning this game for 2 weeks I think we can take a break tonight. You know? Just hang out a little?” You asked. She looked at you surprised.

“Since when have you ever wanted to take a break?” She asked with a curious glance but it broke into a smile, “come on, it’s the first game of the season and the coach asked us specifically to make sure that the whole school showed up and it runs smoothly. Besides if I do a good job I might just beat you out for president next year.” She said the last part with a low voice and a wiggle of the eyebrows.

But that wasn’t the part of her outburst that surprised you. She was right, when have you ever been the one to want to take a break? Surely you have been indulging yourself too much lately. You recovered your momentary lapse.

“Oh you wish,” you replied with a coy smirk that broke you both down into giggles once again.

The rest of your night was flung into a casual discussion with homework and planning galore.

-

Perhaps there are better places, and there are definitely better times. But since it came down to either the locker room showers or the back of Seonghwa car, at least the showers had more room.

Outside the door, the basketball game was raging on and I likely would be for the next hour. You could hear the school cheering along with the game, and the surprisingly loud squeaks of the player's shoes on the gym floor. Nobody would be coming in here till the game was over, you had until then.

You had been leaning against the sink when Seonghwa walked in. One look at him was all it took for you to be willing to break your streak, it’s hard to be mad at someone when you can’t glance at them without your mind flashing with every dirty thing they have done to you. So the moment he crossed over to you, you flung yourself at him. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck when your lips meet his. You could feel him smirking on your lips, but at the moment you couldn’t care less.

Seonghwa’s hands fell to your hips and to your utter dismay he used his grip to gently push your body away from him. A whine pulled from your lips as you looked up at him with pleading eyes. He looked amused.

“Hold on there princess, what’s the rush?” He asked head tiling to the side with a patronizing look. You huff at his words, tightening your arms around his neck you push yourself flush against him again.

“The rush is that I haven’t had time to see you all week and I’m going insane.” You convey in a tone that clearly says ‘shouldn’t this be obvious?’ Seonghwa’s eyebrow raised accusingly.

“Oh, is that what it was? That you didn’t have time?” He asked, though his tone suggested he knew the answer. You could feel yourself blushing, so he had noticed you had been avoiding him. Honestly, you didn’t think he would.

“Because I’m pretty sure I saw you and miss congeniality meeting up every day after school.” You wish now more than ever that you had more experience in the “relationship” field, even if this wasn’t one because you could not for the life of you decipher Seonghwa’s expression. His face was relaxed, showing no sign of anger or disappointment or any other emotion, but his eyes were staring you down with great intensity. But then again, he always seemed to do that.

“Council stuff.” You mumble in reply, trying with all your might to speak as casually as him. At this, Seonghwa gifted you with an expression you understood. Fake surprise.

“Oh, is that what it was?” He began, looking up at the ceiling as though pondering the idea, before looking back to you with that damned crooked smirk. His grip on your waist suddenly tightened. A moment later he had pushed you back against the sink, caging his arms around you.

“Or is it because you were jealous?” He was grinding madly now.

Jealousy. That was that emotion that you had been shoving down all week. How you had not realized it before was a mystery. But to hear it come from his mouth? It made you see red. Suddenly you were far angrier than you had any right to be. Your gaze hardened quickly and you did your best to put space between your bodies, though it was practically impossible with his arms changing you in and head leaning down into your face.

“Do you want to waste time talking, or are you going to fuck me?” You spat. He processed your words for a fraction of a second longer than necessary before he had the audacity to look amused.

“So you were jealous.” He practically giggles, shaking his head and looking down in amusement. The tips of his fluffy black hair brushed your nose and you almost swatted at it. How dare he? You pressed your hands into his shoulders and pushed against him, trying to move him away from you. He allowed you to move him, but not by much, just enough to give you a little room while you fume at him.

If you had the slightest bit of hindsight at this moment, you would have realized your anger was misplaced. You were angry at yourself for feeling that stupid emotion in the first place. But at present, blaming him seemed easiest. And the fact that your anger only served to amuse him made it feel a bit more justified.

“What’s so funny.” You spat, crossing your arms in front of your chest. He peered at you, and your clearly ticked-off demeanor before chuckling. His hands still gripped the porcelain sink behind you and for a brief moment, his hand flexed against the hard surface, holding some unseen emotion in the action.

“You are, princess. For someone so smart I forgot how absolutely clueless you can be about anyone who isn’t yourself.”

You almost stormed out of the room. And you probably would have if it wasn’t for the placement of his arms. But he continued speaking despite your livid expression.

“I was keeping up appearances.” He said in a flat tone. You could now add confusion into the storm of emotions brewing inside you.

“What does that mean?” You said the words with venom but there was a clear tone of lack of understanding in your voice. He, once again, found this amusing.

“Exactly what it sounds like. How would it look for me, if I suddenly started to ignore every advance made on me? Believe it or not sweetheart but I also have a reputation to uphold. Just the same as you. And since your the one who is so adamant that nobody knows about our ‘meetings’ it’s business as usual.”

Realization washed over you like water to a flame, all the rage dissipating just as quickly as it appeared, and your face softened. And then came the guilt. You just basically blew up on the man for doing exactly what you wanted him to, for doing exactly what you were doing by avoiding him. You had never before considered Seonghwa’s reputation in your musings. Your eyes glazed over a bit as you looked down, letting out a quiet “oh.”

You kept your gaze rooted to your shoes, unwilling to look at Seonghwa for fear of what you would see. You jumped when you felt his touch. One hand came to your waist and a gentle caress and the other took hold of your chin more firmly and tilted your head up to his eyes. And to your surprise, a coy smile lay across his features.

“It’s ok princess, your obliviousness was what drew me to you in the first place anyways. You were so caught up in your own little self-centered world you didn’t even notice how badly I wanted you till I had you pressed against the wall. I don’t think this would be as fun if I didn’t have to teach you a thing or two along the way,”

you blushed again at the memory and he slid his thumb against your lower lip. Your mouth parted automatically to wrap your lips around it, lulled into the submissive trace his silken words always put you in. He chuckled at you. “At least now I know you haven’t been messing around with anyone else. You’ve been too busy sulking over me to even notice if any other guys tried to seduce you.”

You hummed around his finger, slightly comforted by the fact he would have been jealous too. His words suggested that he wanted you to himself as much as you felt the same about him.

His thigh was suddenly pressing into your core and the hand on your waist dragged your hips across it. The skirt you wore did nothing to shield your panty-covered cunt from the rough denim of his jeans and your mouth hung open to mewl at him, his thumb still dangling from your lips. He leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“You wouldn’t let any other guys touch you, right princess?” He mumbles though he spoke like he already knew the answer.

You garbled put some kind of agreement as quick as you could. With a smirk, Seonghwa hiked up the fabric of your skirt to expose your damp underwear and lifted you ever so slightly by the waist onto the edge of the sink. There was a sliver of pride in his eyes at the way you spread your legs willing for him, presenting yourself as best you could, just as he had taught you. He pushed the fabric covering your pussy to the side and slide a fringed through the slick that gathered there. And you muffled a whine into his neck as your arms flung over his shoulder.

“I’m gonna have to be quick with you today sweetheart, the game is almost over, but wouldn’t want the whole basketball team to come piling in and see you like this would you.”

You shook your head as best as you could with your face nestled into his collar bones. Your eyes were screwed shut as his fingers continued to glide through your folds, sometimes barely slipping inside you before pulling out. He was working you up with well-practiced hands. He had learned his way around your body much faster than you had learned his, knowing all the ways to make you tick.

“No, this is for my eyes only, right sweetheart?” One of Seonghwa’s slim fingers caught your clit and you gasps, gripping the shirt covering his shoulders. He tutted at you.

“Don’t tell me you've forgotten what all I’ve taught you in just one week. Come on and use your words.” You could feel his words rumbling in his chest for how tight you held him. You were hesitant to pull away, but the edge in his voice urged on. Moving away just enough to let your voice carry.

“Only for you,” you mumble. Despite your quiet tone, you meant the words far more than you anticipated. Seonghwa pushed two long slim fingers inside you at your response, stretching your walls with ease. You gasped at the intrusion and buried your face in his chest again, trying to muffle any noises that may come out of you. There was still a game going on outside after all.

Seonghwa’s fingers arched inside you, brushing against the most sensitive place on your walls and your back arched. You could feel yourself getting louder and louder with every passing moment, but you were still unbearably on edge of being discovered.

“You especially responsive today, maybe leaving you alone for a while has its benefits.” Seonghwa mused into your hair as he worked, pulling even more sounds from you with every movement of his hand. His practiced fingers touched and toyed with you so well, it was impossible to keep quiet.

“No-“ you started in a shaky voice, not wanting to go so long without his touch like this again.

“Only joking sweetheart,” he giggles in your ear. But at that moment he pulled his skilled fingers away from your core and you choked on air. He ran his free hand up your spine in what was meant to be a gentle caress but it sent shivers through your body regardless. Your face stayed hidden against his body, at this point, his body heat seemed to be the only thing grounding you right now.

With your vision obscured there was a brief moment of heated silence where it seemed like nothing was happening, then the distinct sound of a belt clicking open and a zipper being pulled down echoed in the room. You pulled away from his chest and looked up at him with wide star eyes. He was already watching you with a smirk. Your mouth hung open with anticipation. He took in your face with a pleased expression, one hand coming down to cup your chin and tilt your head further up.

“I love it when you look at me like that,”

As soon as the words ended Seonghwa was crashing his lips onto yours and without missing a beat he thrust his length into your cunt in one quick movement. You were suddenly very thankful for the kiss, as it did well to muffle the cry ripping pst your lips. His grip on your hip was like iron as he began to set a pace. Each time pushing if possible even deeper inside you. You forced your legs to spread wider as your hands clawed down his back. Each time he filled you completely your body twitched as he brushed over your most sensitive spot.

Seonghwa still held your chin tightly in his palm, keeping your lips locked in a heated kiss. He seemed to be timing the kiss with his thrusts, which meant it was incredibly fast. He was kissing you as though he wished to devour you whole and at the moment you wanted nothing else but to allow him. Every few minutes the kiss would break as you both panted for air before it resumed with that same fervor.

Quite suddenly it became all too much, you were melting into him. Every stroke of his dick against your pulsing walls felt like fire shooting through your body in the best way, making you twitch uncontrollably. Your body acted of its own accord, hips bucking to meet his with every thrust and your hands grasping wildly against his back, trying to bring him impossibly closer. Several times you tried to break the kiss just to moan but his mouth chased yours and swallows up the sounds before they could escape.

And the kiss was something else entirely. You had kissed the man before but never like this. This felt so raw and unyielding. Every swipe of his tongue against your own felt like an invitation or a promise, for what you did not know. All of a sudden it felt entirely too intimate, too real. The kind of kiss reserved for true lovers in a moment of passion, not two teenagers fucking in a bathroom. But you couldn’t break away, not that you wanted to.

A gasp rang through the room. And in a moment that felt not unlike plunging into a freezing ocean, you realized that it had not come from you, or Seonghwa for that matter. Seonghwa had stilled to a halt inside you from the moment he heard it. He abruptly broke the kiss, sidestepping just enough that his broad back blocked the exposed parts of your body. But you couldn’t focus on the surprisingly chivalrous way he had protected you from sight, or the way he was mumbling under his breath as he righted himself and his clothes before doing the same to you.

No, your eyes were locked on the door. Where a mortified-looking Marie stood with her mouth hung open.

-

so can yall see what I was going for? or did I fail miserably lol.

[princesssarisa]

Character ask: the crachit family excluding Bob and tiny tim from a Christmas carol

Favorite thing about them: What a loving, heartwarming family they are, how much joy they share at Christmas despite their poverty (it's no wonder that their humble yet happy Christmas dinner is one of the most iconic holiday scenes in all of literature), and how they support and comfort each other through the pain of Tiny Tim's death... or rather, how they would have if Scrooge's change of heart hadn't saved him. In the case of Mrs. Cratchit, I also like how unabashedly she despises Scrooge. Her husband Bob, of course, is the embodiment of goodwill who can't utter a word against him, so I'm glad that Dickens allows some righteous anger from her. It's annoying that the 1938 film cuts that part and has her cheerfully propose the toast to Scrooge instead – apparently, Hays Code-era Hollywood had more rigid ideas of how "the deserving poor" should behave than Dickens did.

Least favorite thing about them: Nothing about them personally. But if it's true that the Cratchits are idealized versions of John and Elizabeth Dickens and their children as they were during Charles's childhood (the oldest boy Peter corresponding to Charles himself), as Michael Patrick Hearn argued in The Annotated Christmas Carol, then it makes me a little sad to know that the real family was more dysfunctional than their fictional counterparts. But that has no bearing on how I view the characters.

Three things I have in common with them:

*I love Christmas.

*Like Mrs. Cratchit, I can't stand greedy, hard-hearted people like pre-redemption Scrooge.

*I can make very good mashed potatoes and homemade applesauce.

Three things I don't have in common with them:

*I'm not British.

*I haven't lived in poverty.

*I've never tasted roast goose, though I'd like to.

Favorite line:

From Mrs. Cratchit, in response to Bob's Christmas Day toast to Scrooge:

“The Founder of the Feast indeed! I wish I had him here. I’d give him a piece of my mind to feast upon, and I hope he’d have a good appetite for it.”

“I’ll drink his health for your sake and the Day’s, not for his. Long life to him! A merry Christmas and a happy new year! He’ll be very merry and very happy, I have no doubt!”

And following Tiny Tim's death in Christmas Yet to Come, her response to Peter's remark that Bob seems to have walked home more slowly lately:

“I have known him walk with—I have known him walk with Tiny Tim upon his shoulder, very fast indeed... But he was very light to carry, and his father loved him so, that it was no trouble: no trouble."

brOTP: Each other.

OTP: For Mrs. Cratchit, Bob. For the children, none until they're older.

nOTP: Each other, apart from Mrs. Cratchit and Bob.

Random headcanon: Peter Cratchit is the great-great grandfather of the Pevensie siblings in The Chronicles of Narnia and Peter Pevensie is named after him. Maybe this is a silly idea, since it only stems from the fact that they're both London families whose oldest sons happen to have the same name, but why not?

Unpopular opinion: I wish more adaptations would include all six Cratchit children from the book. Even some of the best adaptations reduce the number of children to five, four, or even three. I understand why this happens, since not all versions have the budget to include all six, but I always enjoy seeing them all. In the book, it's clear that the "two young Cratchits," the boisterous little boy and girl whose names are never mentioned, are a chief source of the family's Christmas cheer – probably because they're the most free to be lively, playful children, since Martha, Peter, and Belinda are more focused on helping their mother with the work of the feast, while Tiny Tim is too frail. Yet those two are the children who most often get the axe in adaptations, and I think that's a shame.

Song I associate with them:

"The Lord's Bright Blessing" from Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol.

"Bless Us All" from The Muppet Christmas Carol.

"Christmas Together" from A Christmas Carol: The Musical.

"Yes, There Is a Santa Claus" from The Stingiest Man in Town (the subject has no basis in the book, but it's a rare solo for Martha Cratchit that shows her being a sweet big sister to Tiny Tim).

Favorite pictures of them:

This illustration by Sol Eytinge Jr.:

This illustration by E.A. Abbey:

This vintage illustration:

And this one:

This illustration by Roberto Innocenti:

From the 1938 film:

From Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol, 1962:

From the 1970 musical Scrooge:

From the 1984 TV film:

From The Muppet Christmas Carol, 1992:

[crescentmp3]

hi, thank you for tagging me ^^

are you named after anyone?: my name and my mothers name have the same meaning, but i wasn't named after anyone. for the name ari that i picked myself, it was inspired by jaidenanimation's bird ari, if that counts. does the name crescent count as being named after the moon

when was the last time you cried?: today - but it's not usual for me to cry. it tends to be once a week at worst, perhaps once a month.

do you have kids?: no and i would rather die. i would absolutely fail at giving a child a livable life and it would be soul-crushing for me. and im literally a little guy

do you use sarcasm a lot?: it depends on who im talking with! i tend to under-do any sarcasm with someone im not sure wouldn't be hurt by it - or with someone im aware would be hurt by it ^^" otherwise if i know someone would enjoy it, i can be quite sarcastic.

what sports do you play/have played?: absolutely none. my mom tried to sign me up for swimming classes when i was about four but i failed with flying colors, let me say. if they asked me to run for five minutes i would drop over and die

what's the first thing you notice about people?: their manner! i tend to keep an eye out for how people act so i can adjust myself to it. second is usually their humor.

what's your eye color?: i do say it's hazel but it's been a while since i've seen any green in it. brown?

scary movies or happy endings?: i love myself both! scary movies can be unintentionally funny if they take themself too seriously, and i do always enjoy a happy conclusion.

any special talents?: im not sure what a "special talent" would entail - i suppose i can curve my tongue into that flower shape and vibrate my eyes horizontally. in another aspect though im great at morphing my personality within seconds

where were you born?: right in the city i live, istanbul - i'll choose not to go into specifics.

what are your hobbies?: there's a lot - i've recently gotten into coding ^^ i draw, i write (i was in the middle of re-outlining a story of mine when i got this tag), i do some dancing but nothing professional, i suppose i sing (i had a spot in choir last year) but i doubt my ability, i was into origami at some point but my knowledge is very basic, i was also into interior design at some point which amounted to nothing, i was also into making little notes that looked flattering at some point which my older friends have kept with them to this day, oh i write poems every other blue moon, and i used to make little tunes at some point but they were terrible to put it lightly.

do you have pets?: i do wish i did! we live in an apartment and my mother doesn't want a cat that doesn't have a yard to be out in. she's an outside cat believer, which is unfortunate. i used to have five cats when i was six and seven ^^ i've talked about them in the past.

how tall are you?: i was 164cm last time i checked; that's 5'3 for americans. im sorry that im relatively short

favorite subject in school?: tough pick! i'd either have to say literature or qur'an(<-on account of my favorite teacher being the teacher of that class). i also really enjoy biology ^^ but most of the subjects can pique my interest depending on the teacher - im not picky with my academic tastes.

dream job?: i'd love to be a software engineer, which is what im working towards ^^ i even began taking a course.

anyone may participate if they wish ^^

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

I was tagged by @oh-goodness-loki - TYSM dear!!!

1. Are you named after anyone? No... my Mom liked the name. (I hate it btw, and have taken on another in day-to-day life.)

2. When was the last time you cried? The other day, watching "For all mankind" (which is better than I had thought it would be?!)

3. Do you have kids? A daughter.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? MEEEEEE???? ^^

5. What sports do you play/have played? I used to ride. Stopped when I got pregnant.

6. What's the first thing you notice about people? Whether they hold eye-contact, maybe?

7. What's your eye color? Dark brown.

8. Scary movies or happy endings? Depends. I don't like torture movies, but I do not like overly saccharine stuff either. Aliens as a prime example for both?! :)

9. Any special talents? Errr.... I used to have a lyrical soprano... wanted to be an opera singer once upon a time.

10. Where were you born? Skipping, sorry.

11. What are your hobbies? Reading, video games, music, vampires. I also read a lot.

12. Do you have pets? I have a cat, Mo.

13. How tall are you? 5'4"

14. Favorite subject in school? Biology and philosophy

15. Dream job? Not sure. I used to love my job a lot, but now it's more and more meetings and... well.

Tagging:

@prigorie @isabellehemlock @lynnenne, @thefairylights @slutaciouslestat @inkyblotposts @burstingbone @blackgirlasis @alcassin @shashiatnight @anannua @dreamofme9 @danissa10 @redversaillesrose @onlymywishfulthinking ... and whoever wants to!

(Feel free to ignore this if you don't want to, obviously^^)