two the story
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By admin
During Office Hours
  • Featuring: Akiyoshi Zaizen from Our Two Bedroom Story
  • Rating: Mature, smut content.
  • Author’s Note: First prize for my follower fanfic giveaway goes to @retroandreal ! I apologise for taking so long and the rather abrupt ending, I hope you enjoy it! ;)
  • Similar Stories: (X) | (X)

It was a Friday. Leanne was grateful for the fact that it was Friday. She just had to get through today. Following which, she was going to go home and do nothing at all. With that thought, she started editing the article that was due next week. But, she couldn’t help her eyes from wandering towards Akiyoshi’s office. If she was busy, he was even busier. Perhaps they could cook together tomorrow night. “Ah, concentrate, concentrate!” She exclaimed to herself, pulling her gaze back to her computer.

“Does that work, telling yourself to concentrate?” Takuma’s voice sounded right beside her. Leanne’s head swirled around, finding her lips mere centimeters away from her new colleague. “Woah, what are you doing so close?” She asked, immediately pushing her chair so that she was a respectable distance away from him. He wasn’t part of Seasonelle, but they were working on a joint release with his magazine. More accurately, he was supposed to be working with Minato but somehow he always found his way to her. “Minato’s in the conference room.” She pointed towards said room with her thumb, hoping he’d get a clue.

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• he originally had never considered himself perfect. it was anything but that. if anything,he had a lot of flaws. yet he had decided to hide that. he wanted to come across as flawless. he convinced himself he was flawless. if deceiving the world and himself meant establishing dominance, then so be it. yet…a certain somebody destroyed through that. they made him realize he had flaws, but they also made him accept them.

• his puns used to be unpredictable to her, but they came around. sooner or later, mc was able to predict whenever he was going to make one. it became easy to tell when you figured out his pausing and facial expressions before telling one. however, there are moments where he’ll tell the worst pun with a straight face.

• he occasionally had romantic feelings for people before, but he never desired for them to be returned. he was fine with just having them. the only time he ever wanted them to be was when they had a strong bond with them.

• tsumugu never really has a high view of most people unless he sees something they do that proves them capable.

• he absolutely loves being with mc. being with other people he’s not close with is a tire, but if mc’s going to be there, he’ll consider it. just being with her makes him happy.
he loves the way she’ll take him seriously, but be able to have fun with him at the same time. the way she’s able to have fun with him just by watching comedy, and the way she’s able to have a serious conversation about their feelings makes him go wild.

• tsumugu isn’t the particularly the best with affection. he’s fine with kisses, hugs, and flirting with puns, but when it comes to other things, he’s not exactly comfortable with them. not that mc minds of course. if he’s not comfortable with heavy kissing or subtle, sexual touches, then that’s fine with her. although, he’s absolutely fine with bare skin to skin touching. if it’s just taking a mere shower or bath together, or sleeping next to each other bare, he’s fine.

queerbird asked:

when im worldbuilding, i want to have reasonable explanations for why things happen so that itll be believeable for readers. however i feel i go overboard with it. i explain everything in a lot of detail because i cant be happy without explaining everything at least to myself, but then i get bored because its all too precise and scientific. how do i keep myself interested in worldbuilding? or, better still, how do i get myself to make it *less* scientific and more fun?

Two things here.

First, a story has to be believable within its own limits. Every story is a closed system, everything that happens there, has to make sense within it. It doesn’t have to be believable to our world’s standars, but to its own. Keep that in mind when writing.

Second, to make your worldbuilding less scientific you have to practice. Create different worlds through the eyes of different people. Not all of their approaches will be scientific because not everyone sees the world that way. It doesn’t have to be fun either. It has to match your story, the genre, the tone, voice, among others.

One more thing. Literature is not a science, is an art, and as such there are several ways of creating it. Practice, it won’t feel right to you at first, but slowly you’ll find the right words for your world.


Follower Giveaway!

For some really weird reason, I now have 160 legitimate followers on this godforsaken blue hellhole of a website.

That calls for a celebration! 

Or just an opportunity for me to throw things at your face! :D


  1. One like - one entry, one reblog - one entry. Max of two entries per person.
  2. You should be following me currently, if you want to enter.
  3. No giveaway/ask blogs
  4. Please like and/or reblog this by March 1st!


(Prizes for those who play RS are in bold, prizes for those who are not are italicized!)

  1. First Place: 2m gold, two one-shot stories and two aesthetics pages of any character/pairings you would like OR a playlist for any character/pairing. If you do not play RS, you would receive three one-shot stories and two aesthetics pages or a playlist.
  2. Second Place: 1m gold, a one-shot story or two aesthetics pages or a playlist. If you do not play RS, you would receive two one-shot stories and an aesthetics page or playlist.
  3. Third Place: 500k gold, and a short drabble or aesthetics page. If you do not place RS, you would receive a one-shot story and an aesthetics page.

I work well with OCs, and while my range of fandoms is rather vast, I specialize in RuneScape, One Piece, Undertale, Outlast, Until Dawn, The Evil Within, Portal, and Bioshock.

Instead of one-shots or aesthetics pages, I am also capable of doing journal entries, letters, minor voice acting, and the like. If you would rather receive that as a prize, just let me know, and I can do that.

I love you all, and thank you for sticking with me! 

Originally posted by nevercangettoclose

Here are two WIPs for a story of which I don’t know I’ll be able to finish.


“All right class! Our model is sick, so I had to search for someone to take his place.”

The class groaned. Last week they had started drawing humans instead of the usual fruit and glass bottles. A new model meant starting all over again.

Someone knocked, the door creaked open, and a young man stepped inside. “Ah, apologies. This is room 3A?”

Alfred glanced up for a moment, and immediately had to do a double take.

Snowy ashen blond hair, a rather imposing nose, long scarf draped over broad shoulders, elegant shoes, eyes with a mysterious purple hue. Alfred had seen him before, but never from up close. Everyone had heard of the Braginskys. They’d moved in only a few years back, the two sisters and one brother. No parents, no other relatives. Alfred had never approached him before, the guy being in a different year and not seeming all that approachable. He’d only said a few words to him once, accidentally running into the foreigner in the hallway. He often wondered why he’d never tried to befriend him, as the Russian couldn’t possibly be fine with having next to no friends.

“Thank you for coming Ivan. I’m sorry for taking up your time.”

Ivan shook his head, his thin lips curling up into a tiny smile. “Nyet, not a problem at all. I am happy to help.”

He was told to take off his shirt and sit on the table in the middle of the room. He could keep his scarf, giving the students something more of a challenge.

Alfred sharpened his pencil and began working on his drawing. He didn’t consider himself that much of an artist, but had figured taking this class would be more interesting than cooking 101. And since Arthur wasn’t going to take the cooking class either, they both ended up here somehow.

He started working on the other’s face first, deciding to keep his body for next class.

First came the basic structure. Two curved stripes crossing, and at the part where they met he began drawing that ridiculous nose. Only, while copying the flesh onto paper, it suddenly felt a little less out of place. As if Ivan’s face was made to fit that nose. His cheeks soft and puffy, jawline manly yet not in a harsh manner, that giant olfactory organ following the line of an elegant brow smoothly, as if it had every right to be there and more. Alfred took his chance to study Ivan’s face, really study it.

Beyond the nose were two hooded eyes, the Russian looking away for a moment when teacher asked him a question. His eyelashes were very light, almost whitish beige in colour, a darker grey at the base. He had thin lips quirked up in a constant smile, smooth and only the slightest bit rosy. His hair had an almost platinum shine to it, curled at the tips, and there were small sideburns on each side of his head. Alfred wasn’t quite sure, but he thought he could distinguish the beginnings of a layer of stubble there…

Suddenly Ivan shifted, snapping away from the teacher until he stared right into Alfred’s eyes. The American felt a shock ripple through him once their gazes met, like a fizzy electricity pooling from the tip of his spine all the way down to his little toe.

There lay some sort of childish curiosity in the other’s unabashed gaze, a want to know just who this stranger was that kept staring at him.

And he really did have the most gorgeous eyes…

Someone coughed, and Alfred was instantly pulled from his trance. He cast his eyes down, noticing he hadn’t been drawing for like ten minutes or so. Glancing up once more, he found Ivan staring at nothing instead.

Swallowing, he set to completing his drawing.

Anything to ignore the hammering of his heart, or to chase away the blush that threatened to spill.


The shocked sound of a forced breath intake, and the moment was gone, Ivan letting go of his body and taking a step back. Anger and confusion flashed across his features, making him draw his lips back in a sneer.

“What are we even doing? Why are you doing this?”

Alfred frowned to hide the hurt he felt at Ivan’s harsh words, his hands balling themselves into tight fists.

“I don’t know okay? I don’t know a thing about any of this. Only that it feels right.”

“Nyet,” Ivan spat, furiously shaking his head as he stumbled backwards, “not right. The complete opposite of right. We have to stop. You have to stop. You have already found your soulmate, remember?”

The air turned acid at his hissed words, eyes darkened with pain and regret. The broken man turned around and began walking towards the door, giving everything in his might not to look back.

Alfred raised his hand, pointing at that broad clothed back. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, maybe apologize, tell that idiot how much he hated him for doing this, for making him feel like this, how much he hated being who he was, how angry he was with everyone and everything, but then…

Then he suddenly found the words dying on his tongue, ability to speak slipping away with every step Ivan took. They echoed through the room, as if these really were the last sounds Alfred would ever hear of him. And suddenly it became too much.

Alfred never cried. Never, not since he had upset Matthew as a kid by doing it without reason. He didn’t get sad, he got angry, or at least tried to cover it up with jokes and fun times.

But now there was only despair. It constricted his heart, made flip-flops in his stomach, seeped into his muscles and veins and ran up his throat, drowning him. His vision became blurry and his entire body trembled, each heartbeat feeling like a gunshot as he watched Ivan retreat.

A mangled sob clawed its way out of his mouth, and Alfred hated himself for sounding so weak.

As soon as the sound broke through the angry silence, Ivan jerked to a halt. He immediately looked over his shoulder, surprise evident in the way his fine eyebrows disappeared behind snowy bangs and his mouth fell ever so slightly agape.


He wanted to tell Ivan to leave, that it didn’t matter. But he could only curl in on himself, retrieving his accusing outstretched hand and cradling it to his chest, laying it to rest right next to his heart. The held-back sobs and sniffles tore through his small figure, his first heartbreak immediately being the most painful thing he had ever felt.

Why oh why did it have to be Arthur? Why couldn’t it have been Ivan instead? Life would have been so, so much easier. He really knew how to pick ‘em, didn’t he?

Alfred didn’t hear the sound of approaching footsteps, didn’t feel the warmth of a body crouching down next to his. Then suddenly his hands were captured, gently pried away from his teary face and heaving chest. Alfred glanced up in surprise, the outlines of Ivan’s image a blurry spot of almost pure white, his eyes the only distinct feature.

The other moved closer, not saying a word. Alfred hiccupped when a tender kiss was placed upon his right cheek, a nearly non-existent fluttering stroking the salty wetness. A soft brush of hair over his forehead, and Ivan did the same to his left cheek. A barely noticeable presence, touching the place where his tears stained flushed flesh.

Ivan moved their combined hands up to Alfred’s temple, caressing gently, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Alfred’s eyes were hooded, him being more focussed on the tingly sensation of being so close to another human being he could count their eyelashes, draw the shades and hues of their eyes.

Ivan gave a soft squeeze in his hand before moving in one final time. Alfred’s eyes slid shut as he parted his lips, their breath intermingling before the fated meeting.

Ivan’s lips were soft, much softer than he’d ever expected.

It was salty and bittersweet, the hotness in his throat keeping him from fully enjoying the moment. But Ivan was so incredibly gentle, kissing the hurt away, making them forget about the drama and responsibilities.

All that mattered now was the soft colliding of teeth, the content sighs and nudging of noses.

When Ivan finally pulled away – it only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity – , he pulled the other to his chest to let him finish his crying and dry his tears.

“What am I to do with you?” he sighed.

In response, Alfred simply buried his fingers into the other’s sweater, feeling Ivan’s rapid heartbeat through the fabric.

It’s 9pm and a random bunny just showed up at our house.

Where did he come from? We don’t know. We asked  all the people on the street to no avail. We have a two story bunny condo for our bunnies so we set him up on the to floor for the night.

He’s so friendly and giant!

robininthelabyrinth asked:

How do we reconcile LoT 1.3 w/Joe's description of Lewis as "a bad cop who took it out on his kids" (plural)? If he didn't hit them before jail, is it possible (unlikely, but possible) he got out on parole and became a cop after? LoT only says (1/2)

sentenced to 5y, not necessarily 5y served. I know most depts wouldn’t take an ex felon, so the two stories conflict, but it’s odd that a cop would incorrectly ID another cop. What do you think? Any theories? (2/2)

Well, that’s one possibility, that he became a cop after leaving Iron Heights. That seems unlikely to me. Other than that, there are two possibilities as far as I see it.

1) They retconned Lewis having been a cop entirely, so we can sort of ignore that line from the Flash.

My belief is that this is the intention of the writers. It fits with a long-standing theory I’ve been holding that they completely changed the intended narrative for Leonard Snart after S1, when they decided to have him on LoT and got the green light for the show. From a writing standpoint, the end of The Flash S1 and all of the related build up in that season points to making Len the leader of the Rogues in Season 2. We get the introduction of the ‘Rogues’ name, some of the core Rogues villains, and in 1x22, we see Len help the prisoners escape and him more or less declaring he wants those metas to be part of his Rogues. We also see him have all of his records erased, the perfect position to become an incredibly formidable villain, if one with a code.

From a writing standpoint, what they do with him in The Flash 2x03 is strange in that it goes against a lot of that development. Not only has he not been working to develop any sort of Rogues team or seemingly been in contact with any of the meta’s he helped bust out, but he also gets thrown back in Iron Heights at the end of the episode. It seems strange for the writers to have gone out of their way to make sure his records were erased, only to recreate those records and his name back in the system on his next appearance in the show, before he’s even had time to enjoy/benefit from the relative freedom of movement. They also have him knocking over a ‘cashier’s cage’ as a sort of grab-and-go cash heist, which is so far from his usual targets for heists that it seems almost OOC. Len is known for big scores every 6 months or so, and we know he likes to pick up expensive and unique things. It seems thrown mostly to emphasize the criminality of the character (family) and not the characterization developed to date.

So… I suspect they had a plan for Len’s story arc in Season 2 of the The Flash that changed dramatically once they decided to go for anti-hero Len on LoT instead of Rogues-leader Len in The Flash. And one thing that changed was to change his backstory to include his father being in prison for a big chunk of his childhood rather than a cop, so that they could write that 1975 scene they way they wanted it to go.

2) He was a cop in or pre-1975 and not after. 

In this case, either he was kicked off the force already (for being drunk and disorderly and probably pissing off the wrong person) and that’s why he was pulling that emerald heist, or else he gets kicked off the force after the botched heist (for obvious reasons). This fits vaguely with the line from The Flash 1x04, but doesn’t explain Joe’s comment about taking it out on his kids while he was a cop (which was the implication). It also seems weird but not impossible that he’d have been caught trying to sell the emerald to an undercover cop, because he’d probably know what to look for if he was a cop himself.

With this in mind, the way we can explain Joe’s line is that Lewis was a cop, and he was a shitty one. When Lewis got out, some of his old friends from the force might’ve tried to see how he was doing, and it became workplace gossip (after a matter) that Lewis had turned from stupid to mean, was taking it out on his kids now instead of just in a bottle, and what a damn shame it was.

I’ll also take a second to point out that Lewis going to prison when he did and his dad having been a cop beforehand do make some other sense too. Len seems to have had a close relationship with his grandfather, who likely stepped in and helped a lot when Lewis was in prison, and still did after, when Lewis was out and really in no shape to raise kids, let alone be around them. It makes sense for why the Snart family seems to know so much about police response times and movements and codes and where to go to listen in on their conversations to get information – Lewis having been a cop when he was quite young, I mean. 

And I can only imagine how extra rough prison must’ve been for Lewis, had he been a cop who was sent there. Not that I have much sympathy for the person he became after his time there, but beforehand, I have a little.

Finally, this also explains Len’s line in The Flash 2x03 about visiting his father in Iron Heights – he did it when he was little kid, and not after his father came back and was abusive (and eventually sent back to prison).