#trinity is rambling again

[mea-trinitas-profana]

being a single father is difficult

[hotfudgecherryrosy]

i dont know if anyone will see this but thank u everyone for all the attention on my FAITH posts. Here is my activity chart. its so funny bc u can see the exact day i made my first FAITH post.

Working on some more high effort things to post. I started the rotoscoping to practice pixel art, animation, composition, perspective, etc... and it has been a good experience :)

[goldiipond]

i love headcanons that just feel so much like immutable facts to me but i can’t explain why i feel so strongly about it. its not supported by any sort of canon material and its not some bit of deeply personal projection its literally just a fact. to me. ray is gay i cannot explain why he just is

[wingsofhcpe]

wow I can't wait for Leigh Bardugo and Sarah J Maas to win Goodreads 2024 for the 4278th time in a row while actual good books like A Dark & Drowning Tide get buried under the rubble again...

[mbirnsings-71]

I know way too many things but not enough to where it feels like I can just randomly infodump on Tumblr unless it's something very specific like Fandom Stuff and even then I'm not infodumping fandom stuff unless it's to my friends who have never consumed the media before because there's pure Joy that comes with me getting to be the one that shares a new thing with them it's so fun!!

[radiocoll]

tags (not including person tags)

> misc

#a priest's confessional: asks

| just our askbox. if you want a specific tag just ask for one, it'll probably be personalized.

1. #bishops: anonymous

| anonymous askers

a. #the acolyte among us: neighnon

| the bitchass anon that is a horse, apparently? /amused || > sal's enemy

b. #make like a fish: pissbowl anon

| the dude that? likes piss? what the fuck, man.

c. #arbiter's arboretum: pine anon

| hi, pine. i love you, pine. /p, familial || the best ever

2. #twinsies in makeup and murder: beyond birthday

| my good pal || > babydoll's pal

3. #penpals through tumblr askboxes: mod star

| hi, star. the creator of cryptid anon shenanigans.

#kit's kitastrophes

| anything that isn't a reblog or repost; something that includes us speaking about something or other.

#touch that dial: lil sans chronicles

| lil sans's adventures. he is the age of a small child now.

#baby's first job: goodwill chronicles

| interesting things that happen at our midwestern goodwill.

#technicolor carousel: kit's images

| images we take, normally of us.

#collection of caricatures: collective junk

| stuff not settled down to a single person. ie: collective junk.

#kit's kittens: poetry & rambles

| our poetry and/or rambles.

1. #the earth sings: the holy trinity

| referring to our work-in-progress screenplay/stageplay, the holy trinity. send ask for more details.

2. #well-fed and loved beyond words: sunnesturn mention

| referring to our magnum opus, sunnesturn. send ask for more details.

#connor's syncopation: weird guy chronicles

| connor has this weird secret admirer that writes him letters. he shares them mostly to file them back and archive them.

#vienna (in memoriam): the yagaymis

| light & sayu wax poetic about their little family. it's sickening and heartfelt. (this is the only time light is allowed to be anything other than mean, stoic, or plain vitriolic.)

#bad opinion zone: kit goes bonkers

| cryptid anonymous adventures

#yearnmaxxing: kit is hopeless again

| kit kuebiko radiocoll is, once again, fucking hopeless when it comes to romance. lord save us all.

#a journey in el-lip-ses: anon's chapstick catalogue

| an anon's quest to find the best tasting chapstick....

#the art that surrounds us: art maxxing

| for art reblogs

[stellacadente]

mahmood was so insane for starting a song with forse miglioro davvero andando in analisi spero..

[symphonyinblues]

i love that even though i’m in the archive/cataloguing/research field you would absolutely not know that by looking at my tumblr blog, i used to have a tag system but now it’s just purely vibes

[lactosefreevanillayoghurt]

>:(

[abyssalpriest]

Talking last night about my power and energy lying in the day - eldritch - madness energies and talking to Leviathan about it..... i suddenly feel both so stable and like Ive just been introduced to edible nutritious food for the first time ever and we're making meal plans what the fuck

[moinsbienquekaworu]

I hate the Trinity College Dublin's fucking stupid website. I thought Reading was bad when they didn't indicate the ECTSs or the semesters but I was WRONG the Trinity College wins worst damn website (out of the 3 unis I want to go to next year so that's not like. atrocious but it's the worst of the bunch okay >:( ) Southampton wins best website though they put the ECTSs the semesters the info is easy enough to find and they have cool classes on queerness

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Carpe Diem | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: After himself being ditched by Oliver, they meet once again. Both seemingly skirting around what happened in the Common Room when they last saw one another. | Word Count: 5.1k~ (oops) | Warnings below the cut!

Part One: Quid Pro Quo Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici

warnings: virgin michael, oral sex (f receiving), fingering

A/N: I feel...like the word count is overboard but FUCK IT it's my blog 😈

“Greek and Latin both belong to the Indo-European language family, which does not necessarily mean they are similar. The branches are totally different. Whereas Latin belongs to the Romance branch, Greek belongs to the…”

She half-listens to the lecture, caught between Professor Wardon’s monotone ramblings and scribbling whatever bits and pieces she can string together in swirly handwriting, trying to ignore Trevor two rows in front of her, typing loudly on his brand new Macbook that he no doubt got from his well-off parents for Christmas.

Pencil and paper for the peasants, she thinks bitterly.

The laptop she has back in her dorm is clunky, too thick for carrying in her bag, and any notes she makes now will have to be typed up meticulously later. She supposes it’s a good way of getting the information to be irreparably printed into her brain though. That’s the only thing keeping her from going insane.

Which is where she finds herself now, in the wee hours of the morning, her fingers so tired and eyes so strained she feels that all the letters and characters are beginning to merge together.

She's just about to close the damn thing when a notification blares in the bottom right corner of her screen.

‘m_gav_314159265359 is now online’

She presses her lips together to stifle a laugh at the username, it makes her giggle every time. Of course his username is fucking Pi.

After their little ‘happening’ in the Common Room, they'd talked for a bit over MSN, sometimes texting when she had enough credit and even more rarely meeting up at Trinity College campus. Their timetables never seemed to line up very often, so their meetings were quick and over before they could even get settled into really getting to know each other.

It felt strange to have done something so exciting and yet not really know someone.

The memory made her blush. She was never usually that impulsive and brazen. But she didn't regret it.

Everytime Michael saw her, his cheeks flushed almost without her even needing to try. And it felt nice to see someone act like that in her presence.

After lectures had started after Christmas into the New Year and then into Spring, she found herself somewhat self-conscious. Second guessing herself. Wondering if the freedom and calmness of the holiday period had given him a new sense of clarity.

After all, he'd not spoken to her once since lectures had started again.

A heaviness weighed in her chest, bitterly like rejection.

Maybe she was delirious from the time of night, but she felt a surge of courage, desperately wanting to just know if this was going to be more or not.

She felt her cheeks heat somewhat, rubbing the backs of her knuckles against her lips. There was no time to reply before he sent another.

And if what he'd said before didn't make her face burn, that certainly did. She nearly smirked when she thought to herself, 'you mean when I sucked you off in the Common Room?'

But she didn't type that. She decided to have mercy on him, if only a little.

His replies were so blunt and to the point that they were so quintessentially Michael. She found herself wondering if what he'd typed before had been for the intention of making her blush, but she doubted it. He seemed the type to be somewhat oblivious to how words could affect the opposite sex.

Or anything to do with the opposite sex for that matter.

Her stomach fluttered with excitement as she typed off a few quick goodbyes and with a soft, plastic tap, shut her laptop for the night.

“There are no fit guys in my class this semester, fucking livid,” Priya rolls her eyes, nursing a stale pint and a cigarette.

“Did you really expect Modern Languages to be teeming with attractive men?” She smirks in response.

“No. But I at least expected a good shag within the first three months.”

“Does they have to be within our course?”

“No, course not. I'm not lazy as fuck. Can’t be arsed to go off campus.”

She laughs, waving the smoke trail that's formed between their faces, the smell of cigarettes and damp, beer-soaked carpets fill her senses, nursing the only pint she's capable of downing.

“Don't shit where you eat, Priya.”

“Don't you fuckin’ start,” she grins with all her perfect teeth before checking her phone, “fuck, is that the time. Sorry mate you've got like half your pint left-”

“Don't be silly, just go. Whoever you're meeting is bound to have a bigger cock than me anyway.”

“You're a nasty bitch, you know that?” she smiles, standing and pulling her mini-skirt down, “see you later? Catch up?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world. Have fun!”

“Oh I will!”

She smiles, sipping the stale beer as Priya rushes out the door excitedly tapping the keypads on her phone in reply to a guy no-doubt, nearly running right into a lamppost.

She pulled out her own phone, spotting a new message from the ex-boyfriend she hadn’t heard a peep out of since Freshers Week, groaning with a displeased expression at the first few lines of text that read as if he were desperate. Even over the crackling sound of the speakers and Daniel Powter’s ‘Bad Day’ lulling quietly through the pub, she was still sensitive to the sound of his voice.

“-get me another pint please, Oliver? Thanks.”

She had to crane her neck, half-swivelled on her chair, but it was undoubtedly him. Only one person had that hissy, direct way of speaking, had dirty, blonde hair that touched the nape of his neck and was likely to wear such an…interesting selection of clothes.

Her mouth was barely open before she realised it was Michael, and by then he was too far away to shout from across a busy pub. She found herself with a sort of stupid grin, watching him walk with such a lanky gait, as if walking were an inhuman thing for him to do. 

It took her a few moments to text back a reply to her ex before she looked up again, eyebrows furrowed when she saw that whoever Michael had been with, was now umming and ahhing about whether to join the popular lot, for which she recognised Felix Catton amongst them, shockingly ill-dressed in a ‘what happens in Kassiopi stays in Kassiopi’ t-shirt, with a cigarette between his lips that had been inhaled to a nub. 

She grimaced. Only rich people could dress so fucking shocking.

And then her heart leapt in a different way when she saw Michael look distantly at Oliver, his hand half-raised in an awkward wave, his face crumbling in a way where she knew he was disappointed and yet, not surprised in the slightest. 

It was when Michael pushed his glasses up his nose in a way she couldn’t help but find sweet and go for the door, that she slipped from the stool she was on, a quarter of her pint left, and took off after him.

“Michael!”

The late winter air nipped at her skin, cursing internally that his legs were so fucking long he could stride a hell of a lot further than her. 

“Michael!”

It wasn’t hard to see the glint of his glasses lenses off the streetlights once he’d turned to face her, his lips parted in surprise and a heat rising to his cheeks.

He swallowed visibly, “H-hey..”

She felt her own heart rattle in her chest at how easy it was to fluster him, “Hey, you alright?”

For a moment, the self-proclaimed mathematical genius seemed genuinely lost for words, his throat closing up on him like he was having a sort of allergic reaction to the opposite sex. So with all that, he simply nodded, his hands clenched as if not knowing what to do with them.

“Sorry about your mate, that was a shitty thing to do.”

“Oh, he’s…he’s not my mate.”

She nodded, rubbing her hands together to warm them from the chill, “d’you wanna go somewhere?”

Michael’s eyes behind his glasses widened, “like…together?”

“No, I’ll make you go off on your own,” she grinned, “yes together!”

He huffed an embarrassed but elated laugh, and only now her eyes studied his shirt, cocking her head in amusement at the ‘that’s how I roll’ shirt with what looked like a maths equation beneath it. The actual meaning was lost on her, but it was so dorky it made her smile.

“U-uh, my mum bought it me for Christmas...” he muttered quickly to which she cracked an even bigger smile, the two of them laughing quietly for a moment before he spoke up again. 

“Do you wanna come to mine?” he asked, and it was so direct it made her blink, her lungs feeling as if they were fluttering, “I mean-my dorm.”

She wet her lips from the dry cold, watching how nervous and twitchy he was. And how it reminded her of the last time they were alone together. 

“Like…catch up or something. I-I’ve got alcohol if you-”

“That’d be lovely, Michael.”

He at least seemed grateful that she’d actually replied to save him from rambling, and even cracked a thin-lipped smile himself, clearly and delightfully nervous. Thirty-minutes ago, he’d have never considered this to be the ending to his evening. 

Michael’s room is disturbingly tidy, she wonders if he actually even lives here. It’s like those university rooms that they take photos of to advertise the ‘spacious’ and ‘community-driven’ atmosphere of campus life. 

At least it was clean, she mused as Michael passed her a bottle of the only alcohol he had, which were lukewarm WKDs.

“Thanks,” she smiles, taking a sugary sip and looking about the room. Michael has since cracked open his own drink, but seems disinterested in it as it rests on his bouncing knee, looking up at her from where he’s sat on his desk chair from under his brow.

His laptop sits shut, pencils in a neat line next to it. His walls are bare, with what she can only assume are blue tack marks from the previous tenant’s last year. With the exception of a wall-mounted calendar next to his desk.

“No posters? Was hoping I could be nosy, see what you like.” 

When she turns back to Michael he quickly looks down as if not wanting to be caught staring, “It’d just be maths stuff.”

“And Carol Vorderman?” she teases mindlessly, not catching the way his cheeks go alight.

She hums an amused laugh behind the bottle at her lips, “It’s very tidy.”

When he just replies with a shrug, she scoots off the bed to have a roam about the place, needing only a few steps to cross the room to his bookcase, filled to the brim neatly with books. She runs her finger along some of the spines.

“You’re not going to mess anything up are you?”

She laughs, coming out more of a snort, which makes her cheeks warm, “Sorry. Just curious about your books. ‘Mathematics of Language. Sounds like a bit of me and you.”

There’s that flush again.

That deer in the headlights look.

“Uh…just sounded interesting.”

“And is it?”

“Is it what?”

She smirks, “interesting.”

There’s a silence that for a moment neither of them are able to shake. 

Michael swallows visibly, “don’t know yet..”

She sees something in his expression when a playful smile lifts across her face, suddenly the memories and implications of what they’d done before now weighing heavily on them. And all at once, he’s able to smell the body scrub she’d used in the shower that morning and eyes flitting to the glint of her stud earrings. He’d remembered brushing past them with his fingers when her mouth wrapped around his-

“And who says you’re not a languages man?” she presses with a teasing lilt to her voice. The tone and sing-songy nature of her voice has his heart doing backflips, feeling as if he could feel the erratic beating between his ribs. 

Michael seems stuck in the position he finds himself as she lazily crosses the room, slipping back on his bed, one hand brushing across his bedsheets and the other setting the drink on his bedside table. For a long moment, his eyes couldn’t leave her. The whole situation was suitably extraordinary. A girl who had come onto him (to say the least) was now in his room, sat on his bed, touching his things…all while wearing something he personally deemed unsuitable for the cold, a dress with black tights beneath.

She turns her head to him, smiling, “you seem nervous.”

He swallows, trying to claw at any sort of reply, “is that an accusation?”

It comes out a bit harsher than he probably expected, but instead of recoiling, she bites her lip as if to stifle a full-toothed grin, “an observation.”

He shrugs, “just never had a girl in here before.”

“Worried I’ll mess up your feng shui?”

“My what?”

She genuinely laughs at that, nearly smacking her head on the bed frame, but a hearty chuckle all the same. And Michael doesn’t know why his own cheeks start to heat up at that, taking this opportunity that her eyes are shut to look down at her legs. For some reason, making her laugh just makes him want to try more. 

He’s never had that feeling before. Wanting to make someone laugh.

“No, really, my what.”

She meets his eyes brightly with her own, “feng shui, it’s like…the vibe of a room, a space. Like,  how you place your furniture or whatever.”

Michael raises a brow, his lip quirking on one side, “sounds like bullshit.”

“It probably is.” she laughs.

“Can I ask you something?”

The quick u-turn and tone in conversation has her eyes meet his nervously, her interest and curiosity piqued. Her hands find themselves nervously stroking her legs, the texture of the tights providing some level of comfort, “yeah sure.”

She can't quite figure out what expression he's trying to put on. His brows are furrowed in judgement and a curious sense of guarding himself. And yet he's sat back in his seat, looking at her like he is trying to figure her out, and yet wants to know why she is the way she is.

“Why did you do that?”

She blinks at the accusatory and monotone rhythm of his way of speaking.

“Do what.”

“Don't play stupid. Doesn't suit you.”

She nearly scoffs at that, “what? Why have you gone all weird all of a sudden?”

“Why did you do…that at the Christmas party?”

She shrugs and shakes her head, as if the answer should be obvious, “because I wanted to? And you didn't seem to mind either.”

“I didn't-that's not the point!” he retorts, “are you genuinely taking the mick out of me?”

“You've asked that before and no.”

“Well why then?”

“Is it not enough to really think that I find you interesting? And nice to talk to?”

Of all the things she expected Michael Gavey to go quiet at, it certainly wasn't that. But she watches him all the same, the line between his brow slowly disappearing as his frown vanishes.

She cocks her head, “and not bad looking either.”

“Stop it.”

“I mean it!”

“Nobody wants the fucking maths virgin-”

“Michael. I don't give a fuck about that,” she says calmly, “Hell, I was a virgin not that long ago. You keep saying ‘nobody wants the virgin’ but you can't keep using that as an excuse just because you're embarrassed you haven't done anything.”

He sighs, like he doesn't want to believe her. And she can hardly believe how self-deprecating and yet direct this man can be in a single breath.

“Look, if you don't want to talk to me, I can always go-”

Almost as soon as she is stood, he is too, one large hand wrapped around her forearm, “No.”

They've been sat so long, she had almost forgotten how tall he was, and the difference between them briefly has her tummy doing back flips. From here, she is able to smell whatever body wash he uses, and if she had to guess, probably blue radox.

“No, I didn't say I wanted you to go. Stay…”

He doesn't say ‘please’ once, and yet she's able to hear the desperation.

When she doesn't move, his grip loosens, and she feels tingly all over when his hand slides up her arm.

“Can I kiss you again like last time?”

She almost smiles in adoration at how he asks it, but for the sake of saving him the embarrassment of thinking she's laughing at him, settles for a simple and gentle nod of her head. She is sure she's not really thought it through. Weighing up the pros and cons isn't exactly the first thing on her mind right now though as Michael has to bend significantly to crash his lips to hers.

Much like last time, he is a bit endearingly clumsy, his lips moving quickly on hers like he's running a race with his mouth. This time there is no pool table for him to cage her against, but all the same his legs take him forwards until her knees hit the edge of his bed.

By the time he is on top of her, she's managed to weave her fingers through his hair, her nose nudging against his glasses every now and then, and guiding him with her own movements to slow down and enjoy the moment, with no need to rush.

She knows that secretly he's probably just excited.

But this time, his hands are extremely active.

She's unable to help the breathy whimper between desperate kisses as he tentatively squeezes her thighs, not quite brave enough to go beneath the dress yet and drifting upwards to her breasts, touching and clutching fondly, as if any harsh grip or movement and she'll get up and leave.

He's still unsure, maybe even nervous, she can feel it.

It's here she realises that whether he is doing it subconsciously or not, she can feel the strained bulge at the front of his trousers rubbing up against the inside of her leg, probably chasing friction that feels too good for him to feel lucid.

“Can I see you…” he asks as his lips break away.

She doesn't even reply, she just complies, pulling the sleeves of her dress over her shoulders and the bra straps along with it. The position she's in making it near impossible to reach behind her.

If she could print his face in her mind as she pulled her dress down to her ribs, she would. He looks entirely mesmerised in adoration, and once the only thing covering her breasts is the thin material of her bra, Michael looks at her with an almost dream-like gaze. 

His hand moves before his mouth, or at least before he catches himself, “Is it oka-”

“Course..” she says far too quickly. 

All she can hear as Michael pulls the thin straps of her bra fully down her arms, exposing her breasts, is his breath, staggered and uneven. His hand easily covers one of her breasts, squeezing experimentally, his thumb gently drifting over her nipple and watching them stiffen to needy buds. 

She doesn’t need to look between them to see how hard he is, she can feel him against her thigh, where her dress has since ridden up to her hips. 

His glasses knock against her chest as he leans down, all-too-carefully covering her nipple with his tongue, like he is trying to print the taste of them to memory. 

There is an unconscious desire to press her thighs together, but she settles for rolling her hips, causing Michael’s voice to rumble against her chest where he mouths at her breasts. One hand forever stays at the one he isn’t paying lip service to, testing the weight and shape in his palms. 

It feels like all sensitivity has been turned up to 1000. He is so slow, so unsure, that every languid movement has every nerve feel as if it’s on fire. A selfish part of her wants him to go faster, so used to the fervent, almost rushing nature of who she’d been with before. It was never like this, borderline worshipping.

“Michael…” she breathes, rolling her hips against him experimentally, rewarded with a low whine from him.

She watched as her nipple slips from his lips in the most erotic manner she’d ever seen, before his clear eyes are on her again. 

“Is this okay? Am I doing something wr-”

“No,” she shakes her head quickly, “feels nice.”

Michael licks his lips, a sign of how nervous he is, “Can I do something else?”

He is so eager to please, to learn, that looking at his face as he asks she can hardly deny him. And her head moves without effort, nodding as she watches his hand disappear beneath the hem of her dress to pull her tights down her legs. 

It then becomes obvious what he wants to do. 

“Are you sure, I-”

“I’m sure.” he adds, rolling the black nylon down her legs until all that is left between Michael and her bare skin below her hips, is her underwear. A flush of embarrassment engulfs her face at the thought of how aroused she might be, knowing he has no experience, she doesn’t want to scare him off. The tender and yet needy way he’d mouthed at her breasts had her body all warm, and she can’t remember the last time she’d been this ready for anything.

“I just want to do the same for you as you did for me. Make you feel good.”

And that certainly doesn’t help that feeling either.

She’s not sure if she will get tired of the sight of his long, lithe fingers gripping her thighs apart, and for a moment she finds herself entranced by the view, until he is pressing sweet kisses to the inside of them. Open-mouthed, with an addictive cooling sensation when he pulls away, only to edge closer to the centre of her underwear.

Her breath remains stuck in her chest as she watches him navigate the female body, mapping it out in his head. She knows better than to say anything, knowing him as she does now, he is immensely competitive, and wants to get things right. It’s likely if she stepped in to instruct him, it would only embarrass him more. So she stays quiet, and lets him come to her.

His thumb dips beneath the leg hole of her underwear, “Can I?”

She swallows visibly, now for some reason it’s her being the nervous one. Possibly because the first time, it was her doing something for him. And now, it is very much the feeling of being studied, of being watched to see what made her tick. A feeling that has her desperate for some kind of fulfilment. Anything.

She lifts her hips to help him slide her underwear down her legs, her cheeks warming at being so utterly exposed to him herself for the first time. There is a finality to it that she just can’t quite put into words. A point of no return.

A full body shudder made its way through her when she felt his thumb trail across the spot where her leg met her hip, trailing the line there that led to her sensitive womanhood.

Michael looked as if he was being presented with an equation, she could practically hear the thoughts in his head. But beyond not entirely knowing what to do, it didn't dissuade his curiosity.

She could tell though, that he didn't know what to do.

Michael nearly flinched when she took his hand, encouraging his thumb to touch her bundle nerves hidden between her folds. 

She watched him as his thumb cautiously collected the wetness that had begun to come out of her and used it to gently apply pressure to her clit. Breath was hot in her chest  as he started slowly.

“Does that feel good?” He asked softly.

As soon as she nodded, confirming how pleasurable it was, Michael's first reaction was to go faster. And so he did. Like he was trying to light a fire.

“No, no, no, it's fine to go slow.”

“Shit, sorry…”

“It’s fine,” she smiled, “just more gentle.”

The panic on his face had been clear. But at her gentle instruction, she saw him relax, taking her words and applying gentle pressure in slower, tighter circles. And it seemed Michael was now fully aware of its intended effect, as his eyes were able to lift up to hers underneath the rim of his glasses to see her breathing had increased, and blood rushing to her cheeks. 

It felt incredible to watch his expressions, she thought. Seeing the little thoughts rattling around in his head, to be able to awaken something in him for the first time. But it also felt utterly exposing, and every time his thumb drew circles against her clit, she heard the soft click of her arousal that made the room feel as if she were inside an oven. 

Michael’s lips parted, his head moving as if pulled by an invisible string to her core.

“Can I…?” he asked again, but more uncertain this time. 

The anticipation gnaws so much at her skin, combined with the way he is taking his time that she has become somewhat impatient, so it’s completely involuntary when she nods her head and somehow manages a whispered ‘yes’.

She doesn't really, really know what's wrong with her. She's had head before. But when he dives between her thighs so quickly and eagerly, his thumbs almost pulling her skin gently to expose as much of her as he can, and swiping his tongue over the centre. From her entrance, all the way to her bundle of nerves.

It has her breath stuck in her chest, instinctively reaching down to run her fingers through his sandy hair. Even the slightest tug on it has a low groan vibrating through her where his mouth moves slowly against her.

“Michael…”

At first he is careful, taking the instruction she'd given him before and applying it to tasting her instead. But his eyes flit up to her when she breathes his name like that, so he redoubles his efforts, gripping the underside of her thighs to tug her towards him in a teasing rhythm.

She didn't really know what to expect, assuming he hadn't done anything like this before. But Michael seems eager to please, as he nudges between her sensitive folds to tease her entrance with his tongue, the sharp shape of his nose butting against her bud with every movement, as little as it is.

With one hand in his hair, her hips move against his face, the glasses perched on his face hanging askew. And all she can see is that his eyes are closed as he tastes her, every now and then he makes a noise between a whine and a moan, as if he didn't want the experience to end.

Dragging his tongue back up to her bud to focus his attention there, Michael experimentally slides one long, slender digit easily inside her, pleased at the breathy sound it seems to elicit from her. Two feelings at once, just as she'd given him before.

“Oh, shit-” 

He fights the urge to smirk when he hears that. She's so warm and wet, that it's easy to slide in the second, feeling her walls suck him in as they clamp around his fingers moving in and out of her. It's a feeling he couldn't describe if he tried, and he daren't think of what she'd feel like around his cock, or if she'd let him.

She can feel her stomach muscles tightening, an orgasm bubbling up to the surface when he gains confidence, flicking her swollen clit with his tongue and pistoning two fingers with a pornographically wet smack into her over and over. Brushing that sweet spot inside that he manages to find sometimes, seemingly without realising.

“Michael - fuck - I'm gonna-”

He groans as her fingers tug at his hair, her hips grinding herself against him and chasing that delicious friction as her high barrels through her, sparking pleasure down each notch of her spine until it fizzles out through her limbs.

She can feel Michael grinding himself against the bed, searching for his own, as he maintains his actions, lapping up everything she gives him with determination. When she dares to look down at him, as if he can sense it, his eyes open to watch her expression, the blue of his eyes nearly entirely eclipsed by black.

As if something had been awoken in him that even he couldn't recognise he'd wanted.

With one last swipe of his tongue over her centre, Michael withdraws his fingers, gripping her thigh with them and making the skin there glisten.

Her cheeks feel as if they're on fire when he rights himself to his knees before her, looking down at her with admiration at how she is still essentially half naked. The tightness at the front of his jeans makes it obvious how he felt about what he'd just done.

Engrossed by watching her breasts move as she breathes heavily, the slight shimmer of sweat on her collarbones, Michael raises his hand to his face, using his palm to wipe her slick from his lips and chin.

She breaks the silence with a tired laugh when he pushes his glasses back up his face, one half of the lenses completely fogged up. It prompts him to laugh too.

“Was I okay?”

This time she doesn't hold back her smile at the way he asks it. As if she hadn't just shaken with the force of her high all over his face.

She nods, “More than okay.”

He seems genuinely relieved.

She bites her lip as she looks at him, his cheeks all tinged pink, his mind reeling at what they'd just done.

He doesn't know what to say or do, and she can see it.

“Do you fancy having a girlfriend, Michael?” she asks.

“Uh…I've never had one, not properly anyway.”

“Yes, but would you like one?”

She watches the bob of his Adam's Apple as he swallows heavily, “Y-yeah…”

She pushes herself up to meet him where he's knelt, admiring his features for a moment, before leaning forward to kiss him, encouraging him to kiss her back. It takes a second for him to respond, but when he does, it's needy, teeth and tongues clashing as the musky taste of her is captured on him.

“Tell you what, after your exams, when you can relax, I'll be your proper girlfriend. In every way..”

His breath comes out shuddered against her lips, “what do you mean?..”

She wets her lips as she smirks, “I think you know exactly what I mean, Michael.”

She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of seeing him blushed and bothered.

And when they're both dressed, sharing awkward giggles and nervous kisses, she gives him a look with a cock of her head as he checks his wall-mounted Countdown-themed calendar.

“What you looking for?”

“My last exam is the 15th. There's exactly 12,246 minutes between now and then and all I'm going to be thinking about is whether you'll really be my girlfriend or not.”

She nearly smiles at the fact he does the maths so quickly. 8 days, 12 hours and 6 minutes until his last exam. And even though she's made it clear she wants him, he's still unsure.

She meets his gaze, unable to hide the grin off her face, “Better get studying then. You've only got 12,245 minutes left until you've got me.”

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[djevelbl]

On the same vein of holy shit they remind me of another character SO violently, we have beach babygirl:

She's pretty and looks like a cool person, I am matching her when us poor ppl have her available but like. she INSTANTLY reminded me of that one person who said they imagine Holly May as a redhead and I can NOT take that outta my head now

I've matched with him on MeChat so whatever I'm about to say is not that serious but holy shit, he really just is red head half-naked marvel loki--

[tyrantisterror]

Saw Godzilla Minus One again and yeah, just as good if not better than I felt it was the first time.

But it does have me thinking - well, honestly, I've been thinking about this for a while - about how often critics of this series have bandied the argument that only certain Godzilla movies are "true to the spirit of the original," and others are not and thus are trash. It's always used as a way to not just praise the movie in question the critic is talking about, but to still paint most of the Godzilla movies as disposable garbage - which is really to protect the critic's status as an authority by emphasizing they do not challenge the popular assumption that Godzilla movies are by and large garbage, and instead only think certain Godzilla movies - a rare and specific few - managed to rise above their station as garbage to be worth something.

Godzilla (1985) is the only Godzilla movie to hold true to the spirit of the original.

Shin Godzilla is the only Godzilla movie to hold true to the spirit of the original.

Godzilla Minus One is the only Godzilla movie to hold true to the spirit of the original.

And I have... too many thoughts on this to put in a normal tumblr post, I should probably organize them into, like, an essay (god it's been ages since I actually wrote one of those, nowadays I just let myself ramble with only a thin grasp of a point). But this is bullshit, right? This is a bullshit thing that critics and especially fans, so many Godzilla fans do this. It's so fucking cowardly and pretentious, the act of a person without the bravery to truly stand up for art they love, a person who'd rather cover their own ass than be bold enough to fight for what others have ignorantly deemed trash.

Like, my feelings on Shin Godzilla are not negative - they're lukewarm, a "well it's not really for me but I get what they're going for" feeling. But so many people for so many years have held it up high and said, "Finally, a Godzilla movie that's not trash like all the other sequels, one that FINALLY lives up to the SPIRIT of the first, FLAWLESS, PERFECT FILM!" that I can't help feeling resentment for it, a sort of petty envy at how it is constantly held up so the people praising it can shit down on all the others that preceded it. I think I've been more harshly critical of it than I have most Godzilla movies specifically because so many people feel the need to praise it as flawless while shitting on the Godzilla movies that I like more - as if I need to find flaw in Shin Godzilla to prove my love for the others.

Which is cowardly too, in all honesty. We shouldn't need to burn one movie to praise another.

I love Godzilla Minus One. Objectively (or as objective as any critique I make can be) I think it's the best movie since the original, maybe even surpassing it (unlike the 1954 Godzilla, Godzilla Minus One has not jump cuts or other glaring editing mistakes caused by a rushed production time that didn't allow for proper film coverage). And while it may well be impossible to overcome nostalgia and topple the Holy Trinity of Godzilla sequels in my personal rankings, it might manage to fight its way into my top five Godzilla movies. It's an excellent movie, one of the best for sure.

...but people are ALREADY doing the "It's the first Godzilla movie that's true to the spirit of the original!" bullshit already, and specifically using it to tear Shin Godzilla down. I'm at least a little guilty of it - I mean, it was just an honest expression of my preferences, but still, there wasn't a need for me to express my lukewarm feelings on Shin while praising Minus One - and fuck, man, I already regret that.

It's a coward move. Fight for what you love even if people say you're cringe or uncultured for it. Fuck 'em, be the atomic freak you were born to be. You can't find your monster island if you don't.

[kissorkill16]

Company: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: Nicky brings Trinity over for the first time.

Nicky caught up with Trinity and walked beside her, "Hey!", he said, getting her attention. Trinity turned to look at him.

"Glad you didn't sneak up on me this time.", said Trinity.

"Yeah, I learned from last time.", said Nicky, "I do admire your strength though."

"Thanks."

They walked beside each other, minding their own businesses. It was silent for a moment longer before Nicky spoke up again.

"Do you want to come over to my house?", he asked his new friend, "My parents won't be home for another hour, so I normally just do whatever until they come back."

Trinity's eyes widened, "You just do whatever you want?"

"Kind of.", replied Nicky, "Mom and Dad have to work and travel a bunch, so I gotta find some way to keep myself entertained until they get home."

Trinity thought about it for a moment.

Her mind flashed back to the time where Principal Abanate stopped by her house to warn her about Nicky and his bad behavior. She seemed to know a lot about this kid.

But Trinity's barely known him for a week, so who was she to judge?

She nodded, deciding to take him up on his offer. If her parents asked her where she was, she could always say she was walking home with her friends.

"That sounds really nice, Nicky. I'd love to go to your house."

The walk home was silent until they walked onto Nicky's front porch. When he tried to open the door, his shoulders sank when he realized it was locked.

"Mom forgot to make me a spare key.", he mumbled. He turned to Trinity, "Follow me.", he said. Then he ran to the side of his house.

Trinity followed the boy, despite being super confused. She was even more confused when he just started climbing his trellis.

"It's my spare entryway.", he said as he noticed Trinity's confused face. When he finally got into his window, he motioned for her to follow him.

Trinity was hesitant, but she reluctantly climbed up the trellis and into Nicky's bedroom. She just wished she wore better shoes if she knew she was going to have to climb today.

She looked around Nicky's room to see a bunch of Alien movie posters and Talking Heads posters hung up on his walls, and the shelves held a bunch of conspiracy theory books, old toy UFOS and dismantled CB radios.

One thing that sat alone on one shelf was a piano like machine with an air horn glued to it. Nicky noticed her looking at it, so he decided to give her a little surprise.

He picked up the machine and talked into the microphone, "This is my fart noise machine.", he said.

A loud, juicy fart echoed through the room.

In an instant, Nicky fell to the floor, hugging his sides and laughing so hard. Trinity just stared at him in a bit of amusement and disgust.

"He really is a weirdo.", she thought, she looked around the room again, "And a nerd."

Nicky slowly got up, still wiping his eyes from laughing so hard that he started to cry a little bit. "I'm sorry, I just had to. It's been a while since I've played with that thing.", he said in between giggles.

Trinity walked around the room, hands behind her back. "Well you could still play with it, no one's forcing you to follow Mr. Peterson everywhere."

Suddenly, Nicky stopped laughing altogether. He looked down at the floor, his eyes hinting sadness. Trinity noticed this and began to grow worried.

"What's the matter?", she asked. "Was it something I said?"

Nicky put his hands up, "No no, of course not. It's just...", he sighed. "Look, the more time I spend playing with my toys, the more I realize that Mr. Peterson could be killing his next victim. So I thought it'd be best for me to just put all of this aside until justice finally gets served."

Trinity raised her eyebrows. "Ah, okay.", she said.

Nicky sat down on his bed and pulled out a box full of spy gear from underneath. "We could use this to gain more info on Mr. Peterson."

Trinity sat next to Nicky, listening to him ramble on about the gear.

As he talked, Trinity couldn't help but not pay too much attention. Why? Because she was looking at something she didn't know that she liked.

Nicky's eyes.

They were so beautifully sparkly and jade. Her favorite color was normally purple or violet, but her second favorite color was the color of Nicky's eyes.

She thought it was jade, it could be jade. Maybe blue green, turquoise, or light blue.

Either way, they put a warm feeling in her heart.

Those eyes were so lovely, lively, full of joy, and they just glistened in the reflection of the other pair of goggles in the box he held.

She thought she should stop staring at them so much before it got too creepy, but they were just...impossible to look away from.

Just then, a knock on the door came, making Nicky drop the box in his hands. A man and woman stood at the door. The man had brown hair and a blue shirt, and the woman had black hair and a violet shirt.

"Huh.", said the woman, "I would've cleaned if I knew you were gonna bring company over, Nicky."

Nicky fell to the floor, picking up all of the gadgets that fell out of the box. "Mom! Dad! When did you guys get back?", he asked through nervous giggles.

"Don't change the subject, young man. It would be nice if you could call us to let us know -"

"Work wrapped up earlier than we expected.", said the man, interrupting his wife. "Who's your friend here?"

Trinity waved at the man and woman, who she just put together were Nicky's parents. "Hi, I'm Trinity. Trinity Bales. Me and my family just moved in a couple weeks ago."

The woman smiled, "Nice to meet you, Trinity.", she said. "Do your folks know you're here?"

Trinity's eyes widened a little. Her parents had no idea she was here, no idea that she was still hanging out with Nicky after Principal Abanate specifically told her not to associate with him. But she calmed down.

"Yeah, I texted them before I came here.", she said. She looked back at Nicky with pleading eyes, and Nicky nodded in agreement.

The man clapped his hands, smiling wide. "You kids want some snacks? We got Zingers, Twinkies, Ding Dongs, Ho Ho's, Suzy Q's -"

Trinity put her hands up, "Kind offer, sir. But I have to decline.", she said, pointing to her stomach. "Diabetic."

The man looked down at his shoes, a little ashamed, but he quickly perked up. "Well that's alright. I can always run to the store and grab some sugarless cookies if you like.", he offered.

"That would be very nice."

And just like that, the man left the room, leaving his wife to the kids.

"He did the same thing the last time Nicky brought friends over.", she said to Trinity. "Y'know, Nicky's has friends over before, but he's never brought just one friend over."

Trinity looked at the woman in confusion, "What's the matter?"

"I just didn't think Nicky would want a relationship so early."

Nicky dropped the box again and his face turned red, "W-What?!", he said as he turned to his mother. "Mom, she's not my girlfriend!"

"I didn't say she was, I was just -"

Nicky pushed his mother out of the room, looking down at the floor to hide his red face. "Well, we're busy, Mom! So come back when Dad's back with the sugarless snacks! Bye now!"

Then he shut the door.

He looked back at Trinity, who was looking at him with her cheeks as red as his face.

"I'm sorry about that, Trin.", said Nicky. "My parents can be a little embarrassing at times."

Trinity crossed her arms and looked at the floor, "Yeah, I understand. My parents are like that sometimes too. Especially my mom."

Nicky went back to his bed and sat down, "Well, regardless of how embarrassing they are, I love them anyway. They make me happy with just their presence.", he said. "Now, back to the walkie talkies."

Nicky continued to ramble about the spy gear in the box, and Trinity resumed to just staring at those beautiful jade eyes she liked so much for some reason.

As she was lost in her trance, Nicky suddenly stopped talking when he realized that Trinity was looking directly into his eyes. His face turned red again. "What?", he asked.

Trinity snapped out of her trance and looked away all flustered. "N-Nothing. Sorry.", she quickly said. "Just keep talking about the walkie talkies."

A moment of silence passed through the room, then Nicky resumed to talking about the spy gear and how it worked.

Both their faces red.

[angelspitxx]

random dexter rambling.. i miss rita.

instead of her dying, dexter saves her in time. she doesn't remember much about the assault but she swears she saw him kill her attacker before she loses consciousness. she wakes up in the hospital, he's there by her side. his hands trembling as he holds hers, brows furrowed, unable to meet her eyes. he mumbles "im sorry" and they sit in silence. she's trying to remember what happened but it's a blur. debra comes in and checks on her, gives them the bad news that trinity is in the wind. only, he's not and dexter knows it. he's at the bottom of the ocean, rotting in a trash bag. he's grateful for that at least, but he feels so guilty for what almost happened to rita. weeks pass, things are *different* between them to say the least. strained, painful. almost as if they can't look at each other anymore. he tries to talk but the words won't come out.

one day, rita has a dream of the attack, and clearly sees dexter stab trinity. she decides to follow him one night. she isn't sure why she hasn't ever done this before, he's always out so late.. and she's never quite sure what he's really doing. she watches with wide eyes as she sees him heaving what looks like a body in his trunk. he drives to an abandoned looking house. the moment he's inside with the body she shuts off her vehicle and follows him. she's peeking through the windows but can't see anything, so she sneaks inside quietly.

it's then that she sees all the plastic sheeting, curiously, she peeks behind it. only to reveal dexter, in all his homicidal glory, shoving a knife into some random man she's never met. the look in his eyes terrifies her and she lets out a gasp, almost tripping over something and falling back. his head snaps up and he can't believe his eyes. before she even gets a chance to run he's grabbing her, covering her mouth so she can't scream.

"it isn't what you think i promise- i was only-"

he can't think of a reasonable excuse, instead he just starts begging her not to leave him. he doesn't even care if she turns him in, he can't kill her. a million thoughts are running through his head and the biggest one is: "i can't lose them. my family. my wife. i won't lose them."

she's crying, her tears running onto his hand. the way she's looking at him makes his chest ache. he isn't sure what that feeling is, maybe hurt?

he takes his hand away slowly, "please.. rita. i can explain."

she shakes her head and looks away from him. she can't speak. she can't move, too terrified of the man she thought she knew. the man she married, the man she loves. loved? she doesn't even know anymore. was everything a lie?

he begins kissing her tears, salty on his lips. his hands, always so gentle when they touch her. even now, when they are covered in someone's blood.

"please," he begs again, his voice desperate.

she's shaking against him and she rasps out, "you killed him.. didn't you? the.. man who hurt me? i saw you.."

he nods and swallows the lump in his throat, "yes.. and this man. he hurt other people too. i only kill the ones who deserve it. i swear, i can prove it to you."

as if that justified him, as if that would make her stay. she finally looks up at him, and he can't tell what she's thinking. she's searching for something, he thinks, in his eyes. deceit, truth. every moment that passes is like an eternity until finally she stops shaking and her eyes soften. it's all beginning to click for her.

"this is your addiction, isn't it?"

he wants to say yes, because for the longest time it had been.. but the fear he just felt when he thought he could lose her told him otherwise. he kissed her, expecting her to pull away in disgust. only she didn't, she let him melt against her. shedding the mask he had put on for his entire life. someone finally saw him.. and she didn't leave.