#I finished the documentary and I’m halfway through the paper

[theshadowrealmitself]

Documentaries of animals are great for coming up with alien stuff, at least for me because most of the time I never really think about why an animal looks/acts like that or how an animal does what it does

Tsudilo Geckos of the Kalahari Desert have adhesive pads to grip rocks with, which I’m guessing most geckos have now, and tbh I never really thought about how geckos and lizards and stuff could do that, I just accepted that they could

But! Now that I’m aware, it’s a fun detail to think about with any alien species that might be reptilian, if you ever shook their hand, you might be ready for the scaliness, but their hands might also be sticky!

Also, Kalahari’s ostriches will have scarlet shins if they have high amounts of testosterone, so it’d be an interesting detail to add of an alien species having a body part that’s a different color/shade than the rest of them and why it looks different

[123ghj37hyf6dg]

Can’t Say It.

Aizawa x Reader

Word Count: 3,541

A/N: Fluff, dragged out but it’s a happy ending. One shot. Age difference (9 years) Reader is 22 while Aizawa is 31. Mentions of alcohol.  

Reader is a young teacher at UA who has a unique relationship with Pro Hero and coworker Eraserhead. After a while of getting to know each other, will they realize their feelings? OR will they let self doubt get in the way. 

CHARACTER REPORT

Position: UA SCHOOL ADMINISTRATION 

Job Description: Quirk Analysis and Evaluation Processing. 

Name: (L/N), (F/N)                Power: 2/5 D    Intelligence: 4/5 B

Birthday: (5/10)                     Speed: 2/5 B    Cooperativeness: 5/5 A

Age: 22                                 Technique: 5/5 S

Sex: Female (She/Her)

Quirk: Analysis 

-(Y/N) is able to instantly analyze a person and their abilities after observing them, familiarizing themselves with their qurik. This also includes evaluating/predicting situations with higher than average accuracy. With this ability, she can use this information with or against a subject. She can keep up to three peoples' worth of information perfectly memorized at a time. Anymore, her analysis starts to create more errors and her accuracy decreases. 

--

Ever since (y/n) started working at UA, everyone knew that Aizawa’s single streak was in danger. 

While the scruff chined 1-A homeroom teacher taught his bustling young hero course, she supported the admin staff! Specifically falling under processing and evaluating every student's quirk and how to help progress their potential. This means every homeroom teacher ran their notes and evaluations about their students through her every quarter, possibly more depending on how active and intense their training has been. She and her small team are a key to the school’s successful hero and support course. No matter how a quirk was used, they would find the best way to help them improve it. 

Classroom 1-A currently holds the record for most updates and changes to analysis (surprise). With an increase in updates, (y/n) has spent more sleepless nights making sure her work was perfect than she originally thought she was going to. Not that she minded of course! She was young, and found that it helped drive her to improve her passions and skill. Besides her administrative work, she also works as a substitute teacher for English, and Hero Strategy lessons twice a semester. If needed she is more than happy to help with summer lessons. 

Aizawa has had more than his fair share of interaction with the young lady, more than others if one was keeping track. After the hero noticed (y/n)’s sleepless nights because of his students, he offered to stay and bring her coffee. When (y/n) noticed extra heavy bags under his eyes, there would be a nicely wrapped lunch on his desk with a cute thank you note in return. 

Over time a unique relationship developed between the two that anyone looking in could clearly see. Including the students. 

“Mr Aizawa! Your lady friend left ya another lunch, you’re so LUCKY.” Denki and Mineta whined without hesitation. 

“Why don’t we get cute lunches made by cute girls?” 

“Shut up! That’s Ms. (L/n) you’re talking about, not some side chick you dumbos. I think it’s really sweet.” Mina cooed alongside some of the other girls. 

Their homeroom teacher could only sigh, carefully tucking away the lunch box into his work desk as he partially ignored their scattered comments. “Lucky or not, you all should have your notes out and study. Your test scores from  last week clearly tell me I haven’t given enough in class work time. Do I have to cut down on our outside training hours?” The instant shuffling of paper and pencils brought a small smirk to his face. Nothing got his students off his back faster than less training hours. As he took attendance and organized his schedule, the small peeks at the lunch box reminded him about his last encounter with his….coworker. 

--

“Midoriya is such a strange boy you know? I’m surprised his quirk doesn't instantly tear his body apart every time he uses it. I’m glad he’s getting a handle on it, I hated seeing him hurt himself so often.”  You were sat cross legged in your office chair, typing away at your laptop underneath a bright desk lamp. 

“I agree, he needs to learn how to use his body with his quirk.” 

“Exactly!- Well, it looks like his rate of injuries compared to training has decreased. Based off of Recovery Girls records, his quirk usage deteriorated his arm muscle effectiveness. This means he’s got to either limit his usage on his arms, or learn how to use the rest of his body to compensate.” Rubbing your eyes shifted your reading glasses off of your face, exposing the bags that were starting to grow underneath them. 

“You shouldn’t be getting such heavy bags under your eyes like that, you’re too young for those (L/n).” He always notices them, no matter how well hidden. 

“Ya, okay GRAMPS. You’re not that much older than me and YOUR eyes are just as bad, if not worse. And call me (y/n), we’re friends aren't we?” 

Rolling his eyes, Aizawa gets up with a huff to pour some coffee from the nearby coffee pot. “Midoriya is your last report tonight right? Go home, you’ve got Hero Strategy classes tomorrow.” as if on cue, he hands you the cup of warm coffee while you reach out for it with a quiet “Thank you”. 

The way you hold the cup in your hands and let the warm steam brush against your face leaves him staring at you with a soft look. 

“I guess I could leave a little earlier than I thought....” blowing cool air onto the coffee, you slowly take a sip of the warm beverage. Every time you see that look on his face, you can’t help but wonder what he’s feeling. 

After a short while, you both clean up and close the office up. It’s 1 AM and both of you are more than ready to get at least a few hours of sleep in. Like usual, he walks you halfway to your home before bidding his own goodbye. 

“Goodnight (L/n).” As Aizawa turns to walk away, he feels a small tug at his sleeve. 

“I uh-” Turning to look around, he sees you with pinker cheeks underneath a streetlight. How do you always look so...nice? No matter the light you always look nice. 

You slowly slid your hand down his arm to gently hold onto his hand. It was so soft, not just the hold but your skin. You couldn't even look at him but your voice was clear as day. 

“Thank you, for staying with me. I know how tired you must be too….so I feel honored that you decide to spend your important time with me- er, to help me. You’re a great teacher and man Aizawa. Good night.” Just as quick as the moment had started, your touch was gone and you made your way home. 

He was alone, yet he could still feel your touch on his skin. Aizawa stood there for minutes, looking at his hand in awe and strange curiosity. His coworkers and friends told him multiple times, “You two aren’t a thing?”, “It’s obvious that you fancy her Shouta.”, 

“She has to feel the same, you don’t see how she looks at you when you aren’t paying attention.” 

--

         The school bell alerting the start of their first class was what pulled Aizawa out of his mind, looking up to see (y/n) walk into the class with your information tablet. ‘Ah, right. Hero Strategy.’          “Good Morning class! Great to see you all again.” She was chipper as always, her makeup easily covering her endeavors from the night before. The young teacher wore simple black tights with her training sweat jacket, everyone murmured in excitement because this meant that there would be out of class training and demonstrations          Rubbing his exhaustion from his face, the black haired male stands up to go stand near (y/n). “You all have ten minuets to change and get to the field. Any longer and you’ll be stuck in cleaning duty for the week.”

         Iida is quick to stand and grab his fellow classmates attention. “Quickly but in order, please gather your things and head to the gym! No RUNNING!” As valiant as his efforts were, everyone rushed out of the class in fear of being put into the cleaning crew while it was out of their turn. 

         The small smile he saw on your face was sobering, calmly following behind you as you made your way to the gym. 

         Usually, Aizawa would sneak into his sleeping back and nap during other teachers' lessons. These ones were different for him. He would sit off to the side and observe how you worked with the kids.

 While some students could take simple suggestions and immediately apply them, others needed physical examples. You were more than happy to adapt to all their needs as they all trained with their new plans and teachers notes. While Tokoyami nodded and talked with Dark Shadow about your observations, Uraraka carefully mimicked your moves as you slowly countered her attacks explaining how they affected her opponent's momentum even more. 

         He knew you were a natural when it came to children and hero work. The obvious proof was right in front of him. That and he was nine years older than you, yet you both were doing almost the exact same job. That's where everything starts to blur for him. 

         After a quick practice round with Shoji, a rundown with Bakugo about his quirk usage along with Midoriya and the rest of the class, their first class of the day was over. 

         The rest of the day went normal, and (Y/n) left to finish the rest of her lessons while Aizawa did the same. 

 --

         After a long week, you were more than happy to have the weekend to yourself, or so you thought. 

Incoming Call: Keigo <(‘v’)> 

“Keigo?”

 “Hey tiny, sorry to bother but I felt like I should call in and see how you were doing.” 

 “I’m fine, just getting ready to watch some movies and order take in. Had a long week. You?” 

 “Gonna be heading out to an event soon! Glad to hear you're doing good. Any luck with your crush on the office grandpa?”

 You roll your eyes as you wiggle yourself into more blankets, clicking through the different documentaries you could find on YouTube.

  “I don’t have a crush on Aizawa, and even IF I did he is NOT a grandpa. He would probably want someone closer to his age anyway. The whole life experience gap and everything.” 

 “Yeah okay, whatever. Don't get mad at me when you realize I’m right and you're missing out on not being single anymore.” 

 “You’ll be the first person I call when you’re actually right. ” “Ouch-” 

 “Pfft, talk to you later Kei. I have an hour long video about the origin of heroes and it’s calling my name.” 

 “Bye bye!” 

-

         No matter how relaxed you were or how interesting the documentary was, you couldn't get you know who out of your mind. Could you have a crush on Aizawa Shouta? Silver Fox hero of the night? Grumpy man who likes taking naps in the middle of the day? You couldn’t lie, he was attractive and his personality was more than pleasant to you at least. It always felt like something was there between you two..between late night talks and having lunch together sometimes. It felt like there was a connection, and the only thing keeping you two from connecting was a waterfall of hesitation and doubt. 

 “Whatever…”

--

         “WoooOO! Staff Party, this is gonna be a blast Listeners! Present Mic here to keep your evening thrilling with an amazing music selection!” 

         Upbeat music with minimal words played through the old speakers of a rented out ballroom. It was the end of the first semester staff party, everyone was dressed semi formal with their hair done nicely and makeup to match. The decorations were nice, and tables were laid out with food, drinks and chairs to relax and chat. 

         Aizawa was one of the first to show up since he and Yamada came together like usual. Although he socialized with other teachers as they passed by, he stayed closer to the walls and talked with Kayama most of the time. He was dressed fairly well, a simple fitted dark g suit coat with normal slacks. The usually wild and wavy mess of locks was neatly tied back into a very clean half knot that showed off his handsome face. 

         “No date Shouta? I was sure that pretty young thing would be with you tonight. (L/n) Right, she’s such a lovely girl.” Kayama’s hair was curled beautifully around her, a long fitted dress with a deep V cut showing off her lovely charm. Aizawa only rolled his eyes, sipping on his Champaign class to avoid talking even if it was just for a second more. 

         “It would make more sense for her to come in with someone closer to her age or with a friend. She is the youngest person on staff you know.” 

         “Age this age that blah blah BLAH. I know love when I see it-” 

         “Not love, this isn’t some romance film Nemuri.” 

         With a small and understanding smile, Nemuri reaches out to gently pat her dear friend's shoulder. “Someday, you’re going to realize that the things that are holding you back are nothing but a reflection of your own worries. I know you’ll figure it out. You both will. Now try to have fun-” Her attention was stolen away for a moment, a glint of excitement in her eyes clear as day. “If you’re worried about how she feels and how she’s doing, why don't you go show her around and make sure she feels welcomed?” 

         Turning around, the first thing Aizawa see’s is you. A cheesy thing to say, but he almost feels his heart skip a bit.  

         You wore a black turtleneck underneath a midnight blue spaghetti strap dress that fit you just right. Knitted knee high socks and stylish black heel boots finished off your look along with a beautiful pearl pendant necklace. Your hair looked soft and styled in a way he had never seen it before. Your eyes were done up just enough in a way that made them shine even more than they usually do.

         He’s trapped, and he is slowly realizing that he never wants to be set free. 

         When your eyes scan the room for anything familiar, they finally land on a set of eyes that are looking right back at you. You have to stop yourself from visibly gasping, why did his eyes feel so intense? What was he thinking as he made his way across the room to you. 

         Like Moses and the sea, everyone carefully parted to let you both have your moment. They all knew the chemistry between you too, and were more than happy to leave you  alone as they carried on with their conversations and laughter. 

         “You look beautiful.” His voice was low, and held a sense of hesitant tenderness even he was unsure of. You knew he meant it. 

         “And you look very handsome, you even shaved for the party.” With a small laugh you gently ran the back of your fingers across his shaved cheek. This wasn't new, you had done this exact touch multiple times before when you made fun of his stubble yet- it felt more intimate than it ever had before. Aizawa knew he didn't mind it. 

         Carefully sliding his hand into yours, he lifts it up to press a soft and long kiss to your knuckles. “It is a special occasion. Would you like to join me tonight?” He was never a man who cushioned his words, straight to the point and expressing just how he felt was never an issue. You were different. 

         Accepting his offer, you move to accept his offered arm. The night starts slow as you both walk around and chat with other faculty members you work with. With Aizawas help you were confident that you were able to make some new friends, maybe going to this party wasn't so bad after all.

         Everything else almost felt like a breeze. Laughs were shared, drinks were drank- and barriers were being broken down. You and Aizawa found yourselves slowly standing closer and closer together, close enough to where your fingers would brush against each other when one of you moved. All of Pro Hero Eraserhead’s friends could only watch with warm and excited smiles for him. 

         Like always, nights must always come to an end. 

         While some people left to retire for the night, others stayed longer to help clean or help more than drunk coworkers make it home safe. “I’m helping Nemuri make it home Sho! You gonna be okay making it back tonight?” Yamada had Nemuri balancing into his side, laughing as she drunkenly waved some of the others goodbye. “Oh! You all can head back home together if you’d like. I’m just helping clean a bit before I head back home.” you politely cut into their little chat, holding a medium sized black trash bag in your hands. 

         Taking a moment, Aizawa starts to shrug off his coat as he takes the garbage away from you. “I’ll stay behind to help clean. If you’re alright with it I can walk you home.” with wide eyes, the younger teacher could only nod before she turned away to hide her reddening cheeks to pick up more trash and plates. 

         “No worries, now get em TIGEr. RaaArW-” As Kayama tried to cheer her friend on, Yamada tugged her away with an amused laugh of his own. 

          Not even an hour later, everyone was out and the sky was as dark and it could be. The only stars you could see were the large ones as the light pollution shrouded out the smaller and weaker stars. 

         This time around, Aizawa's coat was wrapped around (y/n) shoulders, her head resting on him as they linked arms on the walk back to her house. Instead of splitting off halfway, he walks her all the way up to her front door. It was silent for a moment, the events from tonight silently washing over them. 

         “Thank you Aizawa, this...was a really nice night. I don't think it would have been as enjoyable as it was without you.” (y/n) broke the silence, turning to face and look up at the man she knew she would never look at the same again. Rubbing his mouth in thought, his eyes flicker between the young woman standing in front of him and the road. 

         “I want to thank you as well. I-.” He paused for a moment. 

         “I would like to kiss you, but I understand if you wouldn't. I think after tonight you know what my feelings are for you. I didn't even know about them fully until tonight. Kayama- Midnight was right. I was letting my worries hold me back when I should have been forward like I always am-”  

         Time freezes when he feels your hands pull down his face, your lips eagerly pressing into a kiss with such raw love and desperation. Instantly his arms move around to gently lift you up into him. One minute, two..three. You both only break apart for air and your warm breaths mingle against each other. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now I think. My friend was right haha...maybe I do have a crush on you. I was just worried because I had no idea if you would even be interested in a relationship, let alone with someone as...young as me. I feel like a high schooler again haha.” 

         The fact that you were able to laugh the way you did and still hold him in your arms brought flutters to his chest. He knew now that he more than just saw you as a coworker or a close friend. He wants to be more. “I know what you mean. Who would want to be with someone as old as me? I would never want to make you feel like I was holding you back.” He would never admit it, but he felt like a young adult experiencing love for the first time...it was a bit embarrassing (in a good way.) 

         “You make me feel so helpless sometimes you know that?” pulling his head down again, (y/n) presses another soft kiss to Aizawa’s forehead. “What am I gonna do with you Aizawa?” 

         “Shouta.”

         “Huh?”

         “Shouta, call me Shouta if you want.” Thankful that it was dark out, he could feel himself heat up at the intimate suggestion. 

         With the way your eyes sparkled while you said his name, he knew he was hooked. There is no going back.          “What am I gonna do with you, Shouta?” 

         “You’ll figure it out eventually. I’ll help you along the way as long as you’ll help me too.” The shared silence was an unbroken promise to do the best you both can. 

         After sharing your final kiss good night, you watch Shouta walk down the street and out of view before returning into the comfort of your home. The jacket around your shoulders smelt strongly of the stoic man you now called yours. Enjoying the warmth and comfort his coat brought you, kicking off your boots you hop over your couch and settle into a comfortable position. 

 Calling: Keigo <(‘V’)>

 “WHY are you calling me at….2 in the MORNING. You gave me a damn heart attack-” 

 “You were right.” your voice was soft and held no regrets. 

 “Right? Right about what?” 

 “You were right, I did have feelings for Shouta. I said you would be the first person to call if you were right. And well, you were right.”          The next hour was spent catching your best friend up on everything that happened tonight. 

-

         On the other side of the story, Aizawa finally made it home and had no problem finding sleep that night. He felt as ease knowing that things weren't going to turn out as bad as he thought it originally was going to be. 

         He can't say it, not yet. 

         But he is in love. 

         And so are you.

[gowns]

tips for reading w/ ADHD

i’ve had a few conversations with fellow attention-deficit friends lately, about how to read + retain information. here are some tips that i have learned:

don’t be afraid to skim. skimming for information is not “fake reading.” you’re still getting the main idea. sometimes i find it takes skimming a page 3-4 times before i’m ready to either 1) actually slow down and read the page or 2) decide that whatever it is (maybe a detailed description of a wallpaper pattern, something not essential to understanding the text) has been retained enough and i can move on to the next page/section.

for non-fiction essays, medical and legal information, and theory: the main idea is at the beginning and the end. if you like it and/or understand it, then read the middle bits to learn more of the “how” and “why.”

don’t be afraid to only read something partway. you’re still getting new information. you’re still getting new information! even if you don’t read a book cover to cover! you can decide “you know what, i get the point” and then skim the rest. or just chuck the book behind the couch and never look at it again

don’t be afraid to look up wikipedia summaries, reviews and responses. i was always told that cliffnotes / wikipedia was “cheating” so i was afraid of looking those up, and would instead falter somewhere around page 10 of a book, and not get any information at all. look. it’s ok to “spoil” a book. (honestly, if it weren’t for detailed plot descriptions, i wouldn’t have been able to get all the way through jane eyre, or decide that i didn’t have to to finish the last 1/3 of 100 years of solitude.)

it’s OK to spoil anything! do you know how substantially my life got better after i realized i could look up the plot summary to ANY movie, tv show or documentary? allowing me to actually pay attention for the next 40-60 minutes so i could watch how the plot points happen??

don’t be afraid to read multiple things at once! i am queen of the “stack of books” / stack of magazines / many open tabs reading technique. if you get restless halfway through a paragraph, just bounce to something else. know that you will return. know that you will retain the info eventually.

if you doodle while reading or listening to something, or write down words / quotes that stick out to you, it can help you retain information! this is something i have been doing since i was in elementary school, and i used to get comments about it from teachers or classmates. but for me, retaining information is connected to a kinetic + visual understanding. so when i pair an action (moving pen on paper) with a visual (doodle / written-out keywords) then it clicks a lot more than if i had “just” read and/or listened to something.

another tip for kinetic learners: feel free to pace around the house, read upside down, read while cooking dinner, read while doing yoga poses. you don’t have to sit down to read!

related to those last two points: everyone has different kinds of learning styles. for me, and a lot of ADD and ADD-adjacent people i’ve talked to, we have issues with retaining purely auditory information. so the best way to cope with that is to always turn on captions, or to find transcripts for podcasts / documentaries when possible... or to take your own handwritten notes if you’re listening to a lecture where you really want to retain the info. or! maybe you’re someone who struggles with retaining info through strictly written/visual info. then you’d flip it around, and stop and read passages out loud to retain it more; or listen to podcasts, youtubes, radio shows, etc, that explain the information. for scientific concepts, i find it REALLY difficult to wrap my mind around if i’m just reading about it, and i often have to stop and look up videos on youtube to understand. and that’s OK! all of this is OK. none of it is “cheating.”

and if you don’t retain every bit of information that you set out to understand... it’s OK. it’s really, really OK. we are not androids. we cannot retain and understand every single thing. if you’re struggling with something and it’s causing you pain, you can just let it go, and move on to something else. maybe one day, you will return to the concept that you were struggling with, and it will suddenly click and make sense. (or maybe it won’t! someone out there understands it! it’ll be your task to understand & convey something else!)

--

for years and years after graduating college, i was in a rut. i found that my fear of not reading books “perfectly” or “correctly” or “neurotypically” kept me from reading books... for years. literally years. it’s so silly. it’s just a mind trap. 

release yourself from the idea that you have to read everything “word for word,” “cover to cover,” and you can read so much more. even reading one page is better than reading random ppl’s social media posts (for my eyesight + brain). social media is often too fractured, like endless channel flipping. a book or long article is more like a conversation, or meditation. and -- most likely -- the more that you swim in those waters the more it will help your attention deficit! build those muscles!

[afoolnottoloveu]

moonlight ♡

Summary: Spencer wants to go to sleep, but Reader doesn’t wanna break tradition (WC: 1.6k) {Masterlist <3}

Pairing: Spencer Reid x (intended she/her but technically gender neutral)!Reader (could be read as platonic or romantic!!)

TW: none!

A/N: i was supposed to post this on the 29th.. we dont talk about it its okay its fine everythings all good, I ALMOST FORGOT thank you to gracie for beta reading this!! she’s the first one on the taglist at the end if you wanna check out her amazing work as well mwah, n e ways enjoy :0

Playlist Pairing: it’s not a singular song this time, listen to the inspo playlist here! 🌘

_

You rushed up the stairs, praying to some deity that you would catch him before he sent himself to bed or was too immersed in some book to answer the door. JJ had called you 7 hours ago, so it wasn’t surprising that you somehow didn’t notice the time passing, plus the fact you had to get gas for your little trip.

Rapping at the door insistently, you were delightfully startled when Spencer opened the door only a few moments later. He was still in his work slacks and button up but tie-less. A quick glance behind him and you could see he had been making himself tea, and the satchel by his feet couldn’t have been dropped more than 10 minutes ago.

“Peanut?”

You were too elated that you had caught him to respond, instead opting to attach yourself to his torso. “You’re back! Oh my gosh, I was so worried you wouldn’t make it back in time, but luckily JJ called me that you were getting back today, but that was over like 7 hours ago, and then I got worried I wouldn’t make it here before you went to bed--” you rambled, but Spencer quickly brought you back down to Earth by removing you from his torso.

“Y/N! What’re you doing here?”

“We’re going on a drive, duh!” you said, before grabbing his wrist and making it halfway out the door before being pulled back.

“Now? I just got home from two back-to-back cases, and it’s almost midnight.”

“Spence, we can’t break tradition now! Unless Mr. Eidetic Memory forgot what tomorrow is--” you interrupt yourself with a very exaggerated gasp, earning an eye roll from Spencer.

“Of course I know what tomorrow is but--” Knowing he would only go on and on to list reasons why he shouldn’t come with you, you used your last resort, the “puppy dog eyes.” All Spencer did was stare at you, both of you knowing fully well that he was capable of resisting, but he didn’t like to. After a whole minute of unnecessary intense staring at each other, Spencer let out a groan and turned around to walk away, which you thought meant that he was going to bed. Instead, you were pleasantly surprised when you heard him half-yell from across his apartment, “I’m just getting my keys!” You squealed excitedly, knowing what was ahead of you both that night.

~

Your car was small, a basic silver Toyota corolla you named Carrie. She smelled of gas and was decked out with teddy bear head pillows and keychains that you asked Spencer to buy, hanging from the rearview mirror, (but only from the cool states). You even kept a tan knitted blanket in Carrie, which Spencer was now wrapped in.

You couldn’t help but notice Spencer’s infatuation with the moon tonight, as he took a long sip from one of his two cups of hot cocoa you guys had picked up on the way.

“Is it a full moon?”

“No,” he said--not in a rude way, just quietly and quickly, like he didn’t want to take his focus away from the moon or it might disappear.

So, you let him be. He was most likely tired, and despite tomorrow, which most people would be restless for, he probably just wanted rest. You almost felt guilty, but your tradition was important to you, and you could only hope that it was important to him as well. 

“Did you know the full moon is one of the most powerful symbols in astrology? It can represent one’s emotional instincts, habits and private aspects of one’s personality. It’s said that while the sun sign of someone represents their head, their moon sign represents their heart. Though, most astrologists say the moon is heavily compulsion-based. Similarly, someone’s sun sign depicts their actions, but their moon sign depicts their reactions,” he told you, still gazing, almost longingly at the moon.

“I didn’t take you for an astrology type of guy, Doctor.”

“I have knowledge in many areas, Y/N, I thought you knew this by now.” You snickered at the understatement. “If the moon smiled, she would resemble you. You leave the same impression of something beautiful, but annihilating,” he quoted.

“Plath--are you flirting with me, Doc?”

“Never, peanut.”

You rolled both your eyes and the windows of your car. Hopefully the blanket and cocoa was enough to warm him. All you wanted was to not blow out his eardrums as you turned up the music. Night Changes by One Direction was playing, and you reminisced on the fact that he originally had never heard of the band, causing your binge session, which consisted of watching their documentary and listening to all 5 of their albums straight. He told you he thought they were okay and he saw the appeal. What he didn’t tell you was that his favorite album was Midnight Memories, but if the way he was humming along to the song now was any evidence, you could’ve been a profiler.

You two listened to your playlist, made specially for the tradition, (Spencer insisted you always pick the music on these trips, since you weren’t very interested in classical piano) and besides the melodies, a comfortable silence encompassed the car for the most of the ride. As the road started to incline and your destination started getting near, you broke it.

“Can you believe-” you started, earning Spencer’s gaze from the sudden conversation, “Can you believe the audacity the calendar has, to change dates in the middle of the night, just like that, while we’re sleeping?” Spencer couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled out from him. “Like tomorrow… You’re gonna wake up and, and you’re gonna be one year older.” When you said this, you couldn’t help but steal a look at him. He wasn’t making eye contact, just fidgeting with his fingers, but the small smile was there.

“Just like that,” you finished, as you pulled onto the edge of a hill. 

When you showed up at his apartment the night you got your driver’s license, you found this spot. This was your guys’ cliff. The one you guys found on accident, when your car ran out of gas on your first night of the tradition. The same one you guys have had a handful of picnics at and late night rambles about both of your favorite things. Covered in the blanket of light that the moon so graciously provided, it was perfect, and it was both of yours.

Parked atop the hill, you turned off the car and turned to Spencer, who went back to admiring the stars. You were just about to tell him that you would be right back, but you decided he was a little busy, and so you quickly shuffled to grab the box he wasn’t aware was hiding in the trunk.

He finally noticed your disappearance when you came back with a lavender gift box in your lap and an excited smile on your face. “Oh Y/N, you know you didn’t--”

“Save it, Spence. Just open your gift,” you demanded, shoving it into his arms and the smile on your face only lingering. He rarely received real gifts, only for Christmas. You were essentially his only non work friend, and he told everyone at work that he never wanted nor needed anything.

He repeatedly blinked, yet carefully removed the lid. He first saw the small brown envelope which contained a gift card for the local coffee shop near his apartment. Underneath that and the matching lavender tissue paper, he found a tie of no other color than purple and two pairs of socks, one of colorful stripes and the other of baby tardises. (You knew nothing about Doctor Who, but he appreciated the references.) The whole time smiles adorned both your faces. The last item was a copy of The Alchemist. It was one of the main books you two had bonded over, and only a few weeks ago, someone had spilled coffee on their copy. Spencer was against buying another one, saying he could literally recite it in his head word for word if he ever wanted to again, but you stubbornly insisted that it didn’t have the same sentiment, (and of course you were right).

He took the book out the box and held it by the spine as he flitted through the pages, taking note of the annotations, your annotations. When done, he closed it and only opened the cover, finding your heartfelt message. 

Dear old dear old Spence,

I know you’re probably gonna read this in .02 seconds, and probably right in front of me at that. Unless we broke tradition. But I trust that I convinced you. (It was the eyes, wasn’t it?) Regardless, I wanted to wish my very, very best friend a happy birthday. You alone are so strong for going through all that you’ve gone through, stuff that no one should have to even imagine. You are one of the strongest people I know. You need to know that I’m proud of you, Spencer. I’m beyond grateful for you, for having such a caring, resilient, and just incredible friend as you. I hope I don’t need to remind you that I will be here for you, through anything and everything. See you in 500 years :)

Love, with all my heart, Peanut

In only a handful of seconds, he shut the cover once again, and the happiness (and slight gleam) in his eyes became painstakingly evident. “This is your copy?” He asked, mostly rhetorically, because he knew it was. At this point, he was lightly sniffling between words. “Thank- thank you, peanut,” 

“It’s no problem Doc,” you smiled and lightly punched him on the shoulder, “happy birthday, Spencer. I’m glad we didn’t break tradition.” And by the look on his face, well- you were no profiler, but you could safely assume that he was just as glad.

-

Taglist: @bxbyspxncer @goldenxreid @prettyboy-reid @rottenearly @rainsong01

[ren1327]

Taken Everything Ch.1

-November 2020-

The table was set with white plates and crystal glasses filled halfway with rose wine. It was the sweet kind with hints of watermelon he liked so much.

The plate had still steaming crab cake, asparagus and a leafy salad with the dressing to the side. A favorite meal of his.

“Do you like it?’ The man across the table asked him. “I know you don’t care for the regular Thanksgiving feast.”

“I love it.” He said softly. “It smells amazing.”

He cut a piece of the crab cake and hummed as he let it melt on his tongue, chewing slowly before swallowing. The man across from him smiled, pleased.

“What have you been up to today? Do you want more books? More journals? More paint?” He asked.

Ben looked at his lap.

“No. I’m good.” He said, smiling softly at the man. “And I just drew some dogs I saw on tv. I can show you if you want.”

The man smile widened. “My sweet Ben. Have you finally stopped fighting me?”

He knew better than to say no.

He never hurt Ben. Never laid a hand on him. Never lost his temper in front of him. But he would stop talking to him, leaving Ben alone for long periods of time in his room; the bathroom door gone, the shower curtain and rod gone, the mirror removed and timers on the automatic sink and tub drain.

The camera lights from their high corners would blink their little red lights to show they were watching him. And they always blinked when the man was away. He would bring him food, but never speak to him. Giving him no stimulation. No entertainment beside the mattress and windowless white walls, the lights never dimming.

And Ben would beg to be let out after only two days. He would do whatever was asked of him. Happily.

Ben looked down at his ankle where a thick metal cuff hung as not to irritate his skin.

“I won’t take that off.” The man said. “Not for a bit. It’s for your safety, My Ben.”

“It’s fine.” Ben said hollowly. “I understand.”

“…finish your food for me?” He asked. “I don’t want you to get malnourished. I can’t bear to see you in pain.”

“Yes, Kenji.” Ben said and raised his fork again.

 *

 -November 2019-

Ben watched as they lowered his mother into her grave. Sammy held him close to her as Darius placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Ben.” He said. “If you need—”

“Thank you. Darius.” Ben grit out, trying to hold back his tears. “I think I need some time to process this…”

“Ben…” Sammy said as Ben walked away from the grave.

He wiped at his eyes and took out a paper, seeing how much he stilled owed for his mother’s hospital bills and now the funeral. He knew he could cover most of it if he used his savings.

His mother deserved to be put to rest.

He sat on a stone bench and checked his phone, seeing a message from his boyfriend Jeremy.

“Meet you at home.” He read out loud and sniffed softly. “My mom died. Why couldn’t you come?”

He got to his feet and walked to the bus stop.

The ride was silent. He ignored people and they largely ignored him. He was invisible.

When he reached his crappy one bedroom apartment he shared with Jeremy, he felt exhausted just unlocking the door and seeing his boyfriend lounging on the sofa, drinking a beer.

“How did it go?” He asked.

“Fine.” Ben said.

“Did you get anything?”

“We used everything on her treatment.” Ben said. “All the money was used to pay off the—”

Jeremy threw the bottle, Ben ducking out of the way and covering his head when the bottle shattered on the door. He stayed on his knees as Jeremy stalked past him, slamming the door as he went off to who knew where.

Ben let out a sob and covered his face. He cried for hours, and when he woke up, among glass and stale beer, Jeremy hadn’t come back.

 *

 -November 2020-

Ben accepted the fingers that combed through his freshly washed hair.

“There we go. Better?” Kenji asked as he placed a comb down.

“Yes, thank you.” Ben said softly and smiled at Kenji.

“Would you like to sleep with me tonight?”

“…” Ben looked at his lap.

“I get it. You’re not ready yet. But I promise I won’t touch you. Not like that. Not yet.” Kenji said, kissing his forehead with soft, dry lips.

“Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course!” He said, delighted at Ben’s answer. “I swore to you. I would never hurt you.”

“…Can we watch another movie together?” He asked, knowing it would calm Kenji.

“Of course. What would you like?” He asked.

“Something with animals? A documentary?” He asked, feeling a bit better when Kenji’s shoulder relaxed.

Kenji leaned down and Ben closed his eyes, giving him silent permission to kiss him. He felt his lips again and pushed slightly into him, making him believe he was accepting of the affection despite the numbness he felt.

He lifted his arms and Kenji picked him up like a bride, Ben leaning his head on Kenji’s shoulder as he walked him to the living room, his bound ankles swaying slightly.

Kenji sat him on the sofa and Ben waited patiently as he untied his ankles and stood. He looked at him a moment before walking to the next room to get blankets. Ben shivered in his clothing.

He was given soft loungewear, short sleeved shirts and shorts, and slippers. Not allowed anything more or less, as Kenji always feared Ben could hurt himself. Blankets use to be only allowed when Kenji was home and could get to him. Now, he had gained enough trust to have them and a few more luxuries.

At this point, Ben knew better than to run. He wasn’t strong or fast or smart enough to escape.

So he tucked his feet up under him and leaned on the sofa arm.

When Kenji returned and saw him relaxed and waiting, he tilted his head with a smile.

“Hold me, Ben?” He asked.

Ben opened his arms and Kenji hugged him, nuzzling into his chest. Ben hugged back and closed his eyes.

He was warm, he was loved, but still so empty and scared.

 *

 -November 2019-

Ben sat alone at the diner, in a corner where no one would bother him.

Jeremy had come home. Angry.

Angry about not having enough money. Angry at his job. Angry at life. Angry at—

Ben winced as he touched the skin swelling around his eye.

He wanted to take the bus to Sammy and Yaz. To Darius or even his old teacher’s apartment.

Somewhere to hide away until Jeremy calmed down.

But they would ask questions. They would demand to know. They would hate Jeremy. They would say Ben had to leave him when Jeremy had done so much for him.

Jeremy had paid attention to him. Had been there when his mom’s chemo failed. Had taken his mind off the sadness. Had held him throughout.

But once his mother had taken her last breath, he changed.

He wanted to know where the insurance was. What had she left him? Did his family leave or send him anything?

And Ben had been open and honest.

His mother had no family and he never knew his father. He was just alone trying to get as much money as he could for college working at a flower shop.

And Jeremy…

Ben looked at his glass of water with a frown.

He loved his boyfriend, right?

A plate was placed before him and he gasped when he saw it was a veggie burger and sweet potato fries.

“Um, I didn’t…” His stomach growled and the waitress placed a glass of sweet tea next to the plate.

“Another customer asked us to send you a meal. Said you looked so alone and sad, that a hot meal might help.” She said, an older woman who often waved at Ben when he would visit. She looked at his eye and made a face, then smiled.

“He was real handsome. No ring and some fancy clothes.” She said with a wink.

Ben looked around.

“Sorry, Sugar. He bought your meal right before he left.”

Ben smiled and looked at the plate. The sweet potatoes had salt and extra pepper. The veggie burger most likely was dressed with mustard and had no tomatoes. The bun was the cheap honey wheat they offered but he loved so much. And even the tea had two lemon slices and only half ice like he preferred.

“I’m surprised he knew all the details of your order.” She said and walked off.

Ben froze and stared at his food. She was joking, right?

Right?

  Ben walked back to his apartment to find Jeremy asleep on their bed.

He took a duffle bag and filled it with as much of his things as he could. There was a room for rent right across from his shop and he would beg the owner if he had to.

He had to get away.

 *

 -November 2020-

Ben moved closer into Kenji’s body, sleepily seeking out his warmth.

Kenji had been stroking his back, lulling him into a daze as lion cubs played on screen.

“Are you tired, my Ben?” He asked.

Ben nodded into his collar bone, feeling the other shiver as he exhaled on the warm tanned skin.

Kenji cupped the back of his neck and Ben could feel the larger man’s heart thudding through his ribcage. Ben had never felt that from another person before.

His nerves died down, and he took advantage of this lull in his anxiety to kiss Kenji’s chin. He felt the heart speed and he moved to kiss Kenji’s neck.

Kenji gasped and clutched Ben’s hips. He surged forward, kissing Ben, who welcomed it this time. He pinned Ben on the sofa and started kissing the right side of his face, Ben moaning sleepily.

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you!” He chanted as he kiss Ben’s neck, cheeks, lips, nose.

“Kenji.” Ben moaned softly. “I changed my mind.”

Kenji wasted no time lifting him and taking him to his bedroom.

Kenji’s bedroom had a tv, a plush sofa, an empty desk with a flat bolted down lamp, two shelves full of Ben’s favorite books and even newer additions to certain collections, the bathroom had no door still, but a rainfall shower with thick plexiglass and a large tub that could fit four people. The bed was what was most impressive. A four poster with a high luxury mattress and piles of fleece blankets and plush pillows.

Kenji laid Ben in bed, leaving only to lock the door and the windows that overlooked the sea.

Ben still couldn’t believe he was still here.

The mansion was a beautiful creation of dark wood and white brick. It sat right beside a cliff where a grove of trees had flourished along with long feather grass. The cliff had a wooden deck and wall keeping people from falling to their deaths, but from Ben could tell, no one had ever fallen.

Kenji’s father had jumped.

Kenji forbade Ben from going to the back yard or deck. And when Ben looked at the greyish blue water, Kenji would sweep him away or call the house phone to suggest Ben do something away from the sea that took his parents.

Not that Ben could. As he was always bound by the chain and cuff around his ankle when Kenji was at work or busy in his office.

Trapped by a man living off his parent’s wealth and not having to do anything but go into a fancy building and sign papers. His fortune was enough for several lifetimes, perhaps even enough to fund, care for and pay for college for at least three generations.

But he hadn’t want anything.

Until he saw Ben, he had said.

Ben remembered that night. In snippets and flashes. Screaming and limbs pulled taunt. Yelling and—

He broke out of his thoughts when Kenji’s door locked.

Ben laid on his side, watching his captor.

Kenji never initiated sex. Even when Ben tried to use it to gain favor and escape, he denied it.

“You’re not ready yet.” He’d coo and kiss his cheek.

But he always pulled Ben close, spooned him, kissed him, touched his body. But never under clothes or more than light rutting before Kenji excused himself to the bathroom. And Ben would will his body not to react to Kenji’s moans and groans and his name being called softly.

He felt Kenji lay next to him, pulling him close into his bare chest. Ben pressed a sallow pale cheek to Kenji’s skin.

“I love you, Ben.” Kenji whispered a final time as Ben fell asleep, fighting between the feelings of being secure and knowing he wasn’t yet safe.

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

Here’s the first chapter of Taken Everything. 

I’m sorry, I’m a little tired, so please enjoy while I nap.

[thatharpist]

✨ Do you enjoy doing tags? ✨ I'm such a sucker for them, and I'm so stoked that @berrybookpages is asking us to do one for Day 17 of the #30bachallenge Also featuring my #magicalathon School of Sorcerers picks in today's picture! 🧙‍♀️ I decided to try out the #netflixbooktag for today's challenge, and I tag anyone who wants to do it -- bookish account or not! I love to see everyone's answers to things like this! 🔹Recently Watched (The last book you finished reading) House of Many Ways by Diana Wynne Jones 🔹Top Picks (A book/books that have been recommended to you based on books you have previously read) Red Queen by Victoria Aveyard The Gallagher Girls series by Ally Carter 🔹Recently Added (the last book you bought) FINALLY caved and bought A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas. I'm halfway through now and am LOVING IT!! 🔹Popular on Netflix (Books that everyone knows about -- 2 that you've read and 2 you have no interest in reading) The Percy Jackson series and spinoff series by Rick Riordan (read) The Selection Series by Kiera Cass (read) The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer Paper Towns by John Green 🔹Comedies (A funny book) My Lady Jane 🔹Dramas (a character who is a drama queen) It's probably a solid tie between Howl Pendragon and Mia Thermopolis 😬 🔹Animated (A book with cartoons on the cover) I'll count manga style for this one! Fruits Basket! 💕 🔹Watch it again (a book/book series you want to reread) The Faerie Path series by Allan Frewin Jones! Been on my mind a lot lately 🔹Documentaries (a non-fiction book you'd recommend to everyone) Rocket Boys by Homer Hickam Jr.! It has a special place in my heart. 🔹Action and Adventure (an action-packed book) Library Wars by Kiiro Yumi (and Hiro Arikawa) 🔹New Releases (a book that just came out or will soon that you can't wait to read) The Tower of Nero by Rick Riordan . . . #pagesfromalibrary #magicalathon2020 #bookstagramacademy #bookishlove #bookstagram #bookaddicted #booksta #booksbooksbooksandmorebooks #bookishlove #readmorebooks #readathon #booktag #instabooklovers #instabooks #bibliophiles #bookstagrammer #books #booksbooksbooks https://www.instagram.com/p/CDiXmAEHY_a/?igshid=f2g9ay8oe9pu

[roman-writing]

two, across (6/8)

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Hilda Valentine Goneril / Lysithea von Ordelia

Rating: E

Wordcount: 6,748

Summary: Lysithea can barely keep afloat under the workload of giving undergrad lectures and finishing off her PhD thesis. Meanwhile Dr. Hilda V. Goneril is somehow both the laziest person as well as the most successful young professor she has ever known. It’s absolutely aggravating.

Author’s Note: Please be aware of the rating increase for this chapter. There is explicit sexual content (finally), which includes but is not limited to: oral, strap ons, stupid banter, and some slight overstimulation.

Read it here on AO3 or read it below the cut

Almost a whole week passes before Lysithea is able to work up the courage to ask if she can stay over at Hilda's apartment again. She tries to manufacture some excuse as to why she should come over, but eventually gives up on any pretense.

When she finally does ask, the work week is nearly finished. A three day weekend is fast approaching, with the Monday a national holiday. Lysithea is standing in the doorway to Hilda's office, waiting to be taken out to lunch.

Hilda shuffles through a stack of student reports when she answers Lysithea's request. “Of course! You’re welcome over whenever. Just so long as you, like, text me you’re coming or whatever."

“So you can pretend to clean up for guests?” Lysithea replies in a dry tone. Her arms are crossed.

“So I can piss you off by making it even messier.”

“I knew it.”

Hilda crouches down to start rifling through more stacks of reports on the ground. “Yes. All part of my cunning plan. I have an image to uphold, you know."

"Is that why you do it? For your carefully manicured image of laziness? Not because you actually like the mess?" To drive her point home, Lysithea gestures at the entirety of Hilda's office, which is mostly hidden by stacks of papers and books.

Hilda gestures with a paperback before tossing it back to the floor. "I refuse to incriminate myself. In fact, this line of questioning is borderline entrapment."

Lysithea rolls her eyes. "Oh, hurry up and come grab lunch with me already."

"I'm trying! My TA put the damn marks somewhere different this time, and it's driving me crazy! I've told him a squillion times that they need to go -! Oh! Found them!!" Hilda rises to her feet, stuffing a few loose pages haphazardly into her bag. "Okay, we can go now!"

"Finally."

--

This time when Lysithea comes over she brings a gift. The bag of cider bottles bumps against her shins as she chews her lower lip outside Hilda's apartment. Behind her, night is falling, turning the sky a dusky purple. The brass 2-A plates on the door gleam in the last fading rays of sunlight on the horizon.

Steadying herself with a deep breath, Lysithea knocks.

Hilda answers the door wearing shorts and one of those tight-fitting black undershirts she prefers, the kind that strategically hangs off her shoulders. It gives the illusion that it might slip completely free without ever actually being in danger of doing so. Her hair is loose and long, hanging down her back.

"You don't have to knock when you've already texted me a million times saying you're coming over. Just come in," Hilda says, exasperated.

She waves Lysithea inside, barely looking at her, already striding back towards the kitchen.

"It was not a million times!" Lysithea calls after her.

Hilda's voice drifts from the other room. "Four times is basically a million times. I know you're polite and all, but it's just me we're talking about."

Lysithea toes off her shoes and closes the front door behind her, locking it and casting the chain as well.

The smells of cooking waft from the kitchen. Lysithea wanders in that direction. Hilda is humming to the music playing from her tablet. Her back is turned, and she puts down a pair of tongs to perform some perfectly executed air drums.

Lysithea lingers in the kitchen doorway. She takes a moment to admire the glimpse of bare skin, the flex of muscle along Hilda's back and broad shoulders. Her mouth goes dry. She swallows.

"What are you making?" Lysithea asks, placing the cider on one of the countertops.

"Baked chicken parmigiana. It'll be ready in forty." Hilda opens the oven door, and slides a full dish inside before slamming it shut once more. When she turns, her eyes alright upon the bottles. "Ooh! Are those for me?"

"No, they're for your cute neighbour and her cat."

"Well, I can't blame you there."

Hilda begins rustling through the grocery bags to see what Lysithea has brought. When she leans over, Lysithea catches a glimpse of generous cleavage, and quickly averts her gaze. So far, all her carefully laid plans for being cool and composed about this whole evening have been wholly tossed out the window.

Turning to the drying rack piled high with clean dishes, Lysithea grabs a dish towel. She dries and puts away the various pans and cutlery that have accumulated there. It strikes her that she now fully understands Hilda's system, and doesn't need to ask once where anything goes.

"I'm not that hungry yet to be honest," Lysithea says while she goes up on her toes to try to put a cutting board away.

"That's fine. Just let me know when you are." Hilda twists the oven dial off. Then she crosses the kitchen. "Here. Let me get that."

Standing directly behind her, Hilda takes the cutting board and easily reaches up to tuck it beside the bamboo steamer. Hilda's arm brushes against her, and Lysithea has to clear her throat. It does nothing to stop the burning in her cheeks however.

Hilda does not linger there, as much as Lysithea might have wanted her to do so. Though she trails her hand across Lysithea's back as she moves away, opening up a nearby drawer and pulling out a bottle opener.

"You want one?" she asks, picking up one of the bottles of cider.

It's tempting, but Lysithea shakes her head. "I shouldn't. Just soda, please."

"You know where it lives." Hilda taps the floor cabinet with her bare foot.

"What a gentleman." Lysithea grabs a glass for herself. She bends down, opens the cabinet in question, and pours a glass of sparkling lemonade.

"Your gentleman privileges were revoked when you started leaving spare clothes in my bedroom. Honestly, at this point I should probably just cut you a key."

"I wouldn't say no." Lysithea tries to keep her tone light and playful, but the implications of what she has said are not missed.

Hilda hesitates when she lifts the bottle of cider for a sip. Lately most of their conversations have felt like this. Like a dance around an inevitable topic neither of them are willing to address.

Then Hilda ruins it. "Great! On that basis, I'll start charging you rent, too."

Making a face, Lysithea lowers her own glass which she had been taking a sip from. "I am not going to pay two rents."

"I'm implying that you should just move in with me already. Duh."

"So I gathered." Lysithea can feel this conversation already treading dangerous waters, and she has barely walked through the door. She veers it towards safety. "Speaking of rent, you're still using my Netflix login. Does that contribute to my share?"

Hilda pretends to mull over the idea. "Only if I get to pick tonight's show."

"No horror," Lysithea says with a glare. "And no more drag races, either!"

"Why do you hate fun?"

"You know what? I'm picking the show this time." Lysithea starts towards the bedroom.

"Oh noooo," Hilda whines, trailing after her. "Not another nature documentary! Those narrators are always such a turn off!"

"I like learning new things."

"So do I. But I also like taking a break, and letting my braincells regenerate with some good old fashioned trashy television."

Crossing the bedroom, Lysithea sets her drink onto the bedside table and flops onto the mattress. It is so easy to fall back into these habits. It's most as though the last few weeks of staying away from Hilda's apartment never occurred.

Hilda sits beside her, cider in one hand, tablet in the other, already flicking through a list of shows for them to choose from. The music has been paused. She hands the tablet over while tilting the bottle back for a sip. Lysithea takes the device, and scrolls for an acceptable alternative to the documentary she originally had in mind.

"What about this?" Lysithea holds up the tablet for Hilda's inspection.

"Too sad. I would be a blubbering mess twenty minutes in."

That seems fair. Though Lysithea does not point out that she has extra tissues in her bag for just that purpose. She had started bringing them after the first experience of Hilda becoming a sobbing wreck during an emotional chick flick.

Lysithea keeps scrolling. "This?"

"Saw it last week. Was bored out of my mind, and abandoned it halfway through for a new jewellery project and a podcast about infectious diseases."

"You're so picky," Lysithea grumbles.

"Then pick something good for once."

Lysithea sticks out her tongue at her, then turns the screen around again. "Okay. How about this one?"

"Ohh, I've heard that one's good! But also thought-provoking. After the week I've had, my brain is not up for it." Hilda takes a last swig of her cider before setting it aside. "Turn around. I want to do your hair."

Setting the tablet aside, Lysithea gives up on the idea of finding a show for now. She turns without question. "What's wrong with my hair?"

Hilda touches her arm, and guides Lysithea back so that she's seated between Hilda's legs. "Nothing. I just want to try out a few different styles and see how they look on you."

"Hmm," Lysithea says in mild suspicion, but Hilda's fingers are running through her hair now, and she doesn't actually want her to stop. Hilda's hands are gentle and inquisitive, expertly parting her hair into sections.

"I can't believe this is your natural colour," Hilda says. "You know, when I first saw you, I thought you dyed it."

Lysithea snorts. "Like I would ever do that."

"Well, I mean, now I know better. Obviously."

"Neither of my parents have this hair colour. They're blonde but not like -"

"Peroxide blonde?" Hilda supplies helpfully.

"I was going to say 'etiolated' but yeah. Sure."

"Outstanding crossword clue, but not a word I would ever use to describe you."

"Are you sure about that? You should never try taking me to the beach, then," Lysithea says dryly.

Hilda has begun to pleat Lysithea's hair. "Let me guess: you go full goth. All black. Big hat. Sunglasses. Parasol."

In admonishment, Lysithea tickles the sensitive underside of Hilda's knee. Hilda squeaks, and jerks her leg.

"Don't be an ass," Lysithea says.

"You really wanna start a tickle war? Huh, punk? When I have you trapped between my legs?"

"That would mean risking the integrity of the braid you're working on, which you would never do."

"You severely underestimate how competitive I am."

Immediately Lysithea stiffens. "No tickles."

"Wow. Hypocrite much?" Hilda teases, but lets the topic drop. "Anyway. This summer we're going to the beach."

"What? Why?" Lysithea can't keep a slight whine from her voice.

"Because I want to take you swimsuit shopping. And also I want to wreck some fools at beach volleyball."

Lysithea has exactly zero doubt that Hilda would do just that. "Do you realise just how sunburnt I get?"

"That's what sunscreen and beach umbrellas are for. Now, let's see how you look."

Tying off Lysithea's hair with a spare elastic band from the bedside table, Hilda reaches for her phone. She uses the forward facing camera as a mirror. With her chin resting upon Lysithea's shoulder, Hilda studies their reflections on the screen.

"Not sure if a braid is quite your style," Hilda muses. She picks apart the braid with one hand, running her fingers through the waves left behind in Lysithea's ghost-pale hair. "Maybe a bun?" She twists the hair up, and her mouth forms a contemplative moue in the mirror. "I'm thinking something classic and scholarly. But stylish, not dowdy. You know?"

"Yeah. Sure," Lysithea replies, but she is not paying any attention.

She isn't even looking at herself in the reflection. She is too focused on the way Hilda is tucking a stray flyaway behind her ear, and the way Hilda's face rests so comfortably beside her own, and the way Hilda's chest is pressed against her back.

In the reflection, Lysithea's staring does not go unnoticed. Their eyes meet in the mirrored phone screen. Hilda grins, mischievous. She presses a kiss to Lysithea's cheek, and Lysithea is so preoccupied by it that she does not register the camera shutter noise indicating that Hilda has just snapped a picture.

Leaning her chin back in the crook of Lysithea's shoulder, Hilda wraps her arms around her to play with the phone in both hands.

"Cute," Hilda murmurs. She modifies the image slightly, and then sets it as her background.

Lysithea can feel Hilda's smile against her neck. The corner of Hilda's mouth is curled in one of her signature grins, the kind that she never can get enough of, no matter how much time they spend with one another.

"Hilda."

"Hmm?" Hilda tosses her phone aside, but remains where she is seated, wrapped up around her. She glances at Lysithea with a curious cant to her smile.

Before she can even comprehend what she's doing Lysithea turns her head and closes the distance between them. It is a chaste press of their mouths. Hilda freezes. The moment Lysithea realises what she has done, she pulls away. An apology is still on the tip of her tongue, when Hilda grabs her face and pulls her back down.

Lysithea isn't quite sure how it happens, but the next thing she knows is that she has turned around in Hilda's lap and is being thoroughly kissed.

One of Hilda's hands has pressed against Lysithea's lower back to steady her, and is now slipping beneath the hem of her shirt to trace the waistband of her skirt with clever fingertips. It sends a shiver racing up Lysithea's spine. Of the many ways Hilda is lazy, this is not one of them. She kisses skillfully and cannily, leading Lysithea along until Lysithea clutches at her shoulders.

Lysithea's knees dig into the mattress as she kneels over her, straddling one of Hilda's legs. When Hilda bends her knee so that Lysithea is seated upon her thigh, a coil of heat spools low. A noise rises, unbidden, in Lysithea's throat and is trapped between their mouths.

Hilda pulls away just enough to ask, "Is this alright? Can I -?"

"Yeah," Lysithea breathes, already tilting Hilda's head back for another kiss. "God, yeah."

Hilda's hands grasp at her waist, urging Lysithea to rock against her. Lysithea's grip on Hilda's shoulders tightens. When a whimper escapes her, the world pitches sideways as Hilda tumbles her over so that she is pressed back against the warm-scented sheets with Hilda crouched over her on all fours.

This time when Hilda reinitiates a kiss, it is urgent. Hilda lies flush against her, and rocks until Lysithea is gasping. She grasps at the back of Hilda's shirt, the fabric bunching between her fists. It does nothing to ground her; she can feel the pool of heat spreading in her stomach with every roll of Hilda's hips.

"Ha-Hang on. Just -" Lysithea pushes weakly at Hilda's shoulders, and Hilda immediately pulls back. Lysithea stares up at her, as if unsure that this is even real. "Are we -? Are we really doing this?"

"Do you mean in, like, a metaphysical sense?" Hilda asks, slightly breathless. "Or just in a 'oh my god are we finally gonna bone' sense?"

"The latter, of course." Though in truth, Lysithea thinks it's a little of column A and a little of column B.

"Okay. Good. In that case: only if you want to. Because I want to. Like a lot. But if you don't want to, then -"

"I want to," Lysithea blurts out before Hilda can even finish.

Tugging at the hem of Lysithea's shirt, Hilda says, "Great. Glad we've established that. Now, can we get this off? I've been dying to have you naked and under me for, like, months to be honest."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"What? And risk scaring you off?" Hilda snorts. "No way! Besides, who doesn't like a little anticipation, am I right?"

Lysithea makes a face, but helps Hilda get her top off. "No, thank you." Her voice is briefly muffled by cotton until the shirt is tossed carelessly onto the floor. "I much prefer to just get to the point."

In a single smooth motion, Hilda lowers herself down on her elbows once more so that their bodies are pressed together from chest to calf. Lysithea shivers when Hilda runs one of her hands lightly from her shoulder and stopping at her hip to toy with the waistband of her skirt. Slowly, she nudges Lysithea's head to one side so she can ghost her mouth against Lysithea's neck.

"Don't worry," Hilda breathes against her throat, "We'll work that bad habit right out of you."

Hilda shifts. Even through a layer of black fabric Lysithea can feel the flex of muscle in Hilda's abdomen as she presses a thigh between Lysithea's legs and drags it slowly upwards. Lysithea has to clench her teeth to keep herself from making a noise. Hilda repeats the motion, long and slow, so that she can hear the first faint creak of the mattress, and the entire bed rocks slightly.

Throughout it all Hilda is still lavishing Lysithea's bare neck and shoulders with attention. She has to pause to push aside some of Lysithea's long pale hair.

"Should've left it in the braid," she says, laughing softly against Lysithea's throat.

Lysithea takes the opportunity to tug at Hilda's shirt. "Can you take this off?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Hilda pushes herself to her knees, and divests herself of both shirt and bra, casting them to the floor alongside the last scraps of Lysithea's dignity. Lysithea sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth, and stares.

"You okay there, tiger? You're not going to faint on me or anything, right?"

Lysithea opens her mouth to respond, but no sound comes out, so she shakes her head instead.

For a moment, Hilda's brows furrow. "Wait. You've done this before, haven't you? I mean it's totally fine if you haven't, but, like -"

"Once," Lysithea admits.

It had been in the last year of her undergraduate studies. She hadn't enjoyed it too much, but she hadn't hated it either. She'd been indifferent to the classmate who had asked her during one of their final study sessions. Honestly, she had been surprised at herself for replying that yes she would go back to his dorm for the evening. He didn't speak to her again after graduation, and that had suited her just fine.

"Though I know what I like to do to myself," Lysithea adds.

"Okay. Cool." Hilda has reached over for the elastic hairband, and is tying her own hair back into a single ponytail. "Just tell me if you want me to do anything different or whatever. I'm always open to requests, and feedback, and stuff."

"I'm fine with anything," Lysithea says, leaning up on her elbows to remove her own bra and fling it aside.

Hilda's answering grin glints wickedly. Her voice lowers to a note that makes Lysithea's breath catch in her chest. "You say that, but we'll take it nice and slow."

"As opposed to what?" Lysithea asks, but Hilda has placed a hand on her chest and is pushing her gently back down.

"As opposed to me strapping up and fucking you 'til you can't walk straight for the next few hours. Now, lie back. I want to go down on you."

Lysithea lies back. Her heart thuds in her chest. She feels dizzy and they have hardly done anything yet.

Hilda takes her dear sweet time working her way towards her final destination. She is languid but thorough. She teases Lysithea's breasts with mouth and teeth. She kisses her way slowly down to Lysithea's navel until Lysithea is squirming beneath her. Her hand inches up Lysithea's skirt to toy with the elastic band of her underwear before sliding the fabric down her legs. When Lysithea reaches for the zipper of her herringbone skirt however, Hilda nudges her hand aside.

"No, no. Leave it on. Just for now."

"Why?"

"Because the hot librarian look on you really does things for me."

"And here I thought you wanted a hot goth."

"Listen. There's only enough room for one hot goth in this family, and you're looking at her."

Lysithea gasps on a laugh, when Hilda begins to kiss up along her inner thigh. "How are you goth? Your favourite colour is pink."

"Excuse you. Pink is goth!" Hilda insists, but it is impossible to take her seriously when her head has been reduced to a bump beneath Lysithea's skirt.

"Is your strap on pink, too?"

"Why? You want to find out?"

"Yes."

She can feel Hilda snicker against her leg. And then Hilda places an open-mouthed kiss to her clit, and all thought of banter goes sailing out of Lysithea's head.

Her lower back arches, pushing her further against Hilda's mouth, but Hilda's hands hold her firmly in place. The slow, deliberate pace drives Lysithea half mad. Hilda rushes through nothing. Every time Lysithea's breathing starts to grow irregular and she clutches at the bedsheets like a lifeline, Hilda moves her attention somewhere else.

Lysithea loses track of time. She gasps towards the ceiling, her eyes squeezed shut. Dimly she is aware that not much time could have passed in the grand scheme of things, but it feels like she's taught classes shorter than this.

"I swear to god, Hilda, if you don't hurry up, I'll -"

At that, Hilda pauses entirely. "You'll what?" she asks, her voice muffled.

Thighs trembling, Lysithea doesn't answer.

Hilda pushes Lysithea's skirt up so that her flushed face comes into view. Her mouth and chin are slick, but she doesn't seem to care. "No, go on. I'm super curious to hear about what you'll do to me."

Lysithea's cheeks are already red. She glowers, but the effect is ruined by the way her legs are splayed open, and her breathing is ragged. "I'm - I'm really not good at dirty talk, if that's what you're aiming for."

Hilda shrugs, smiling. "Like I said. Nice and slow."

"You also said something about requests?" Lysithea asks. She waits for Hilda's nod before saying, "I don't like being treated like I'm made of glass, and I don't want nice and slow."

For a moment, Hilda just stares at her with wide eyes. Then she wipes her face clean with both hands. "Am I dreaming?" She lightly smacks her own cheeks. "Is this a dream?"

"Hilda."

"Right! Okay. Yeah. I'm on it. Just give me a sec."

For someone who had seemed to enjoy making Lysithea wait, it takes an impressively short amount of time for Hilda to kick off her shorts, and step into a harness. Though she has to rummage around beneath the bed for a plastic storage box beforehand.

Hilda is seated on the edge of the bed with a bottle of lube in her hands, and Lysithea sits up to run a hand across her back. She kisses Hilda's shoulder and relishes the reaction that invokes.

"You know," Hilda says, "this is really not how I expected this night to go. Not that I'm complaining or anything. Because I'm really not, let me tell you."

"I see that my suspicions are confirmed, and all you're good at is talking."

Hilda blinks at her in surprise, then laughs. She turns, pushing Lysithea back onto the mattress so that Lysithea lies beneath her.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" Hilda grins down at her. "I am great at multitasking."

Hilda is lying between her legs, and Lysithea can't think of a witty retort. She's still incredibly wet from when Hilda had started using her mouth, but regardless Hilda has taken every precaution, and the toy is slick with lubricant. It is also predictably, violently pink.

Lysithea angles her head back, when Hilda kisses the line of her jaw. Her skirt bunches up around her waist. She bites her lower lip but can't keep a whimper at bay as Hilda eases the tip of the toy inside of her. Her knees splay open to accommodate the stretch, and one of Hilda's hands glides up her thigh to grip her by the waist and hold her steady.

A dull thrill of pleasure winds up Lysithea's spine as Hilda takes the time to work the shaft fully into her. By the time their hips are brought flush together, Lysithea is panting towards the ceiling, her breaths coming in short sharp bursts. She can feel Hilda's mouth at her neck, the gentle rasp of teeth at her throat.

Then Hilda pulls back. She draws the toy almost completely free, and sinks it fully in place once more in a single slow thrust. The second time the motion is repeated, Lysithea angles her hips up to receive it. The joint movement sets the toy more firmly inside her, and draws a sound from her lips.

The noise seems to spur Hilda on, for the next thrust bears a bit more weight. She uses one forearm to hold herself up, and her other hand grips Lysithea's waist tight, urging her along, encouraging a more exaggerated roll of her hips. It isn't until a steadier pace has been set that Hilda pushes off of her forearm to kneel between Lysithea's legs.

Shifting somewhat, Hilda guides Lysithea's knees to the angle she wants, and murmurs, "Relax. Let me do the work."

Relaxing is the absolute last thing on Lysithea's mind. Lying back like this, she can't reach Hilda's shoulders, so instead she grabs at the bedsheets for purchase. Hilda drives her hips forward, and a sharp cry is wrenched from Lysithea's throat.

"You alright?" Hilda asks even as she thrusts again at the same pace.

"Y-Yes."

The single syllable ends on a breathless noise. Hilda drives the toy to its base again and again in a hard, steady, unrelenting rhythm. A jolt rushes headlong through Lysithea with every thrust. The mattress creaks in time with their movements, and the bed's base knocks against the wall. At any other time she would have been relieved that the bed is situated against the wall facing the living room and not a neighbour's apartment, but she can't bring herself to care now.

Lysithea doesn't know how Hilda is able to maintain the pace, let alone increase it. At one point, Hilda has to pause to readjust, almost effortlessly lifting Lysithea's hips so that she can brace herself and continue with short rapid thrusts. With a hard quick rhythm, it doesn't take long for Lysithea's breath to start hitching every time the curved end of the toy is lodged deep inside her. She comes with a sharp cry, hands grasping at Hilda's lower back when there's no sign that she will relent and slow down.

Eventually, Hilda does slow and instead grinds their hips together, her hand wandering downwards until her thumb is stroking softly against Lysithea's clit. She continues until Lysithea is shuddering and seeing stars again. Fingernails digging into Hilda's lower back, Lysithea can't stop her hips from bucking when Hilda maintains that constant pressure all while keeping the touch of her thumb feather-light.

When a broken note cracks at the back of Lysithea's throat, Hilda stops.

"Sorry," Hilda breathes. "Too much?"

Lysithea nods faintly, and her voice is strained when she says, "A little. But keep going."

For a moment, Hilda does nothing. She watches Lysithea with an intense and unblinking expression. Her forearms tremble slightly, and Lysithea can feel a light prickling of sweat that has gathered along the divot of Hilda's spine. A few strands of pink hair have escaped from Hilda's ponytail, and stick to her temples.

Then she starts moving again, and Lysithea hisses through clenched teeth. She squeezes her eyes shut. Hilda resumes a staccato rhythm of shallow thrusts, but her thumb circles slowly, out of time and gentle in comparison. Lysithea's lower back is set back down on the mattress, and the sudden shift in angle makes her grind her hips upwards to seek more friction against Hilda's fingers. With her free hand, Hilda holds her down by the waist, carefully controlling the balance between the hard press of the toy and the soft caress of her thumb.

Whenever she touched herself alone, Lysithea has always stopped after finishing. This is new. This wavers on the bleeding edge of beyond the pale. She feels trapped in a fugue state where every single one of Hilda's motions seems too much to bear and not enough simultaneously. As if from a distance Lysithea hears the feeble, plaintive whines that escape her own throat.

Hilda only slows to a halt when Lysithea's heels begin to slip and flounder against the bedsheets. Lysithea can still feel small aftershocks racing through her, clenching at the toy until Hilda pulls out of her. Lysithea is barely aware of the sticky silicone bulge against her already slick inner thigh.

Hilda sounds winded when she speaks, "Alright, I would really appreciate if you'd just, like, do literally anything to me, because I am unbelievably turned on right now."

With trembling hands, Lysithea tugs at the harness to loosen it. Hilda helps, their hands fumbling as Lysithea leans up to kiss her. After the harness has finally been kicked to the foot of the bed, Lysithea manages to get Hilda on her back. Her arms and knees can barely keep herself up, and Lysithea has to drop down to her elbows.

Whereas before Hilda's movements were precise and controlled, now they are sloppy and desperate. She is already making high-pitched impatient noises, as Lysithea leans down to mouth at her breasts.

It takes Lysithea a moment to realise that only one of Hilda's hands is clutching her shoulder. The other is already between her own legs. A glance down confirms that Hilda has buried three fingers up to the knuckle inside herself, and is frantically seeking release.

"Now who's impatient," Lysithea mumbles around Hilda's nipple.

"I don't think you understand how close I am," Hilda gasps. "Please, just -"

Lysithea reaches down. Rather than push Hilda's wrist aside, she manoeuvres her hand in such a way that her fingers can slip against Hilda's clit at the same time.

Immediately, Hilda cries out. Her free hand tangles in Lysithea's hair and holds her in head in place. Even so, Lysithea is nearly dislodged by the shuddering jump of Hilda's hips every time Lysithea's fingers circle her clit.

Hilda is noisy. She writhes when she comes, gripping the back of Lysithea's head tight, and chanting the first broken syllable of Lysithea's name until her cries dissolve into utter incoherence. Shivers continue to roll through her, slowing in time with both their fingers.

When Hilda's muscles begin to relax, and she pulls her fingers out of herself, Lysithea follows suit. Rolling onto her side, the two of them lie on their backs, and the only sounds in the room are their harsh breathing. Lysithea can feel Hilda's arm pressed up against her own. Gracelessly, Hilda wipes her own fingers off on the sheets, but otherwise does not move.

Lysithea dares to break the silence. "Are you normally so quick to get off?"

Hilda lets out a huff of breathless laughter. "Not really, no. But fucking you was hot. Like, really hot. And this thing -" Hilda weakly hooks her foot into the harness' straps, and lifts it a little from the bed. The pink dildo dangles comically from the ring that holds it in position. "- was rubbing me the whole time. I almost came, like, twice when I was getting you off. Why? We're you not impressed by my godlike stamina?"

Lysithea rolls her eyes, but Hilda is grinning at her with that old familiar roguishness, but for the fact that her hair is darkened with sweat, and she is both very naked and sated. Like a proverbial cat, though Lysithea herself has never felt less like a canary.

"I would be lying if I said no," Lysithea concedes.

In response, Hilda brushes the backs of her fingers against Lysithea's leg. Then she sits bolt upright. "The oven!" she says with wide eyes, until she places a hand over her chest, and heaves a sigh of relief. "Oh, wait. I turned it off. Thank god."

"It hasn't been forty minutes anyway," Lysithea adds.

"Are you sure about that?"

Hilda leans over her and taps her phone on the bedside table just to wake up the lock screen display. She tilts the screen towards Lysithea so she can see.

Turning her head aside on the mattress, Lysithea's stares in incredulity. "An hour and a half?"

"Yeah. That chicken parmigiana would've been charcoal." Hilda bounces a bit further down the bed, picking up the strap on and giving it a preliminary wipe down on the sheets as well.

Lysithea sits up, and swings her legs over the side of the bed. The moment she does so, her skirt falls around her knees. She can feel the area of fabric that has been soaked through. With a grimace, Lysithea unzips her skirt and slides it down her legs.

"We may not have ruined dinner, but we have ruined my favourite skirt," she laments. Then looks at the bed. "And your sheets."

"I'll wash them." Hilda holds out her hand, and Lysithea passes the skirt over to her.

"Thanks. Though it is your fault, to be fair."

"That's a compliment, thank you very much. Totally worth it. Eleven out of ten." Hilda checks the skirt's tag to see if there are any special washing requirements. She grins over the skirt at her. "Wanna mess up some more clothes?"

"I am going to need a few hours to recover," Lysithea says. "And a bath."

"Can I join you?"

Hilda has begun to strip the pillows of their casings, chucking the fabric along with her skirt over towards the bathroom door. Gripping the edge of the bed, Lysithea studies in fascination how relaxed Hilda is. About everything. Meanwhile just sitting here leaves Lysithea reeling, like she's in some alternative dimension.

They have just had sex -- really quite fantastic sex, if Lysithea is being honest with herself -- yet they still haven't spoken about anything in any material sense.

"I really like you," Lysithea blurts out before her courage fails her.

Hilda snorts in amusement, tugging the bedsheet free from the two corners of the mattress nearest her. "Well, that's good. Otherwise this would be kind of awkward. Can you get up real quick?"

Lysithea gapes at her. "Wait. That's it?"

"What do you mean: 'that's it?'"

"What do you mean: 'what do I mean?'" Realising that this is starting to border on the ridiculous, Lysithea lets go of the sheets she has bunched in her hands. "I just - I just was hoping for something a bit more -- I don't know -- concrete."

Hilda eyebrows have risen towards her hairline. "Concrete."

"Are you just going to repeat everything I say? Because if so, then -"

Hilda interrupts before Lysithea can finish that sentence. "I think you need to see an optometrist, because I am pretty sure I've been dropping hints that I've been super into you and wanted to date you for at least, like, three months now -- maybe more -- and I am not someone known for my subtlety."

A slow flush mottles Lysithea's pale cheeks a ruddy hue. "Oh."

"So, anyway, is that a yes on the bath? Because otherwise I can just take a shower after you're done."

"That's a yes to the bath." Lysithea staunchly refuses to feel embarrassed by how easily this conversation has occured after worrying about it for weeks and weeks.

"Great." Hilda leans over to drop a brief kiss to Lysithea's temple. "Now, I'm going to throw all of these sheets in the washing machine, chuck this -" she brandishes the bright pink dildo like a battle axe, "- in the dishwasher, and then make sure we get to actually eat something tonight. But first, I'm going to need you to get up."

She tugs at the bedsheet under Lysithea for emphasis.

Lysithea sighs. "Alright. I'll go run the bath."

She tries to stand, but her legs wobble and she has to sit immediately back down or else risk collapsing to the floor. Delicately clearing her throat, she stretches her legs out, and can't suppress a slight wince at the twinge in her knees and thighs.

"Nevermind," Lysithea says primly. She does not meet Hilda's gaze. "I'll go run the bath in a moment."

Hilda laughs.

--

They don't leave the apartment for almost two days. By the time Sunday evening rolls around, Lysithea feels more well rested than she's been since starting the PhD program three years ago. She is also significantly more relaxed. It is a joint effort, a combination of copious amounts of both sleep and sex.

Eventually however, Hilda is champing at the bit to get out of the house even for a little while. She drags Lysithea down the road for walkies, and to grab some cheap takeaway for dinner. Neither of them could be bothered to put on real clothes. Lysithea is swimming in a borrowed pair of black sweatpants and a white hoodie with a gold crown threaded across the back.

Hilda holds her hand. She laces their fingers together, and swings their arms in a broad arc, chatting all the while. Lysithea allows it, but feels a bit silly. She casts a glance around and tightens her grip whenever someone passes them, but nobody seems to care, least of all Hilda.

If the past few days have taught Lysithea anything, it's that Hilda has very little concept of shame. She acknowledges its existence, but disregards it utterly. More than once, Lysithea had to scurry around the apartment and draw the curtains, while Hilda strode about wearing not a stitch of clothing.

Not that Lysithea would ever berate Hilda into putting on clothes when they are alone. She rather likes the view.

At the restaurant, their order, which Lysithea had called in back at the apartment, is already sitting on the counter in plastic bags, waiting. A weary-looking cashier with a five o'clock shadow - one that has extended to well beyond eight o'clock - rings them up on a battered register.

Hilda swaps cash for the plastic bags. After she's scooped up the change, she heads towards the exit. "Let's hurry back. I want you to ride my face."

Lysithea almost trips. Her face burns, and she looks over her shoulder to find the bored cashier completely ignoring them. She hurries through the door after Hilda, who is waiting for her on the street just outside. This time however, Lysithea is the one to reach for Hilda's hand. She receives a playful stroke against the sensitive skin of her wrist in return. It sends a shiver of anticipation racing up her arm.

By the time they actually get around to eating at the apartment, the food is cold and Lysithea's knees are sore. They stand in the kitchen, leaning against the counters, and eat directly out of the cartons. Lysithea is wearing nothing but one of Hilda's oversized shirts, and Hilda is wearing nothing but an impressive smattering of bruises at her neck and shoulder. Lysithea admires them while she twirls her fork through cold takeaway.

"So," Hilda waggles her eyebrows as she puts aside her carton of food. "I take it that you're still really great at being available for dating?"

Lysithea shrugs. "Depends on who's asking. I'm very picky, you know."

Hilda bumps their shoulders together. "C'mon and date me already. Officially, anyway. Since we've basically been dating for, like, months now, except without all the great sexy times I could have been providing."

Lysithea tries to hide a smile by taking an extra large bite of food. She isn't very successful. "Oh, fine."

"Oh, fine," Hilda mimics. "Like you aren't dying to be my super cute and awesome girlfriend."

"Well, when you put it like that -"

"- How can you resist?" Hilda kisses her cheek. "Trick question. You can't."

Rolling her eyes, Lysithea allows the fork and carton to be taken from her hands and placed aside. She accepts another kiss, when Hilda drapes her arms around her neck.

"I was eating that," Lysithea says.

"You can eat me instead."

"I already did."

"Well, apparently you're still hungry."

"You're insufferable," she mumbles against Hilda's mouth.

"You love it."

Lysithea does. She kisses Hilda rather than say it aloud.

[wolfpawn]

Life is a Game of Risks, Chapter 61

Chapter Summary - Tom and Alexianna decide it is time to tell the people closest to them, starting with Emma and Benedict. Whilst talking Ben sees something is bothering Tom and decides to get him to open up to him before he says something that could cause consternation between himself and Alexianna if Tom let it to fester.

WARNING - CONTAINS REFERENCES TO PAST POST-NATAL DEPRESSION

TRIGGERS - Past domestic abuse, Past emotional abuse, Past sexual abuse.

Previous Chapter

Tags: @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @theoneanna

Request if you wish to be tagged

Alexianna smiled and watched as Tom went to the front door to answer it. She was officially ten weeks, their baby was healthy and doing well according to the hospital, so, with her stomach starting to show ever so slightly, they decided to tell their family, Emma and Jack being first.

Lily was in school. They decided they would tell her after the twenty-week scan, if they could get that far without her noticing. Twenty weeks was an incredibly long time for a young child, thirty was a lifetime at that age, so they did not want to tell her yet.

Truthfully, Alexianna was a little scared to tell Emma, she did not want her friend to feel as though they were taking from her pregnancy. Tom dismissed her worries as nothing but she still fretted. With a gentle hand over their baby, he kissed her and told her it would be fine before the knock came and he answered the door.

When Emma entered, she embraced her friend tightly. “I was starting to feel you were avoiding me.”

“I've had a lot of college and work stuff of late, it's been very hard to juggle everything,” Alexianna explained. It was true, she had been juggling a lot. The job did not work out, the interview process was brutal and she did not get through. She was disappointed but as always, Tom was supportive and she decided, with the baby coming, she would focus on finishing college and having the baby, then apply to more places. “Look at you, you look amazing. How are you feeling?” Alexianna looked to Emma's small baby bump which was bigger than hers. “I'll get everyone some tea.”

“Actually, I’m really good, bar being sick randomly, but it is getting less frequent and the tiredness has stopped, I'm not feeling so bad these days. I'm relieved I am so close to halfway through this. ”

“Lexi finds Liga the best thing to stave off morning sickness, they really work, we've bought about six packets in three days.” Tom made the comment nonchalantly, smiling as though there was nothing of any note about the words he just stated.

Jack's face filled with confusion at the comment, he looked between Tom and Alexianna, noting Tom's grin and Alexianna's attempt to hide her smirk as she made the tea.

Emma spent a moment longer processing his words before looking at her brother who gave her the biggest smirk he could muster before she looked at a coy looking Alexianna. “You're pregnant?”

“Ten weeks,” Alexianna confessed.

Emma barely inhaled before she emitted a high pitched squeal that hurt everyone's ears, including her own. “We are having babies seven weeks apart, are you serious? Please tell me you're not lying. You're actually having a baby as well?” She rushed over and pulled Alexianna to her again. “This is the best news ever. Oh my, God.” She then went to her brother and embraced him. “Congratulations, both of you.”

“Thank you.”

“Wait, did you know this at Christmas?”

“We found out Christmas Eve. Lexi gave me the most incredible gift.” Tom beamed over to her. “This is incredible, for both of the babies to have someone so close in age to them. When Evan and I were kids, because we were the closest in age, we had the best time of all the cousins. Our children will be the same. Lily and Sophia are really close and our kids will be close. If these two are the same gender...they'll be as close.” He hugged his sister. “This is incredible.”

“You're the most excited out if everyone.” Emma laughed. Tom beamed even more proudly. “So, who knows?”

“You and Mum. She found Lexi's vitamins and added that to our shocked behaviour on Christmas Eve.” Tom explained.

“And she's happy?” Emma shook her head and laughed. “What am I saying, of course, she is. This is so incredible. Are you finding out the gender at the scan?”

“We haven't even talked about that yet.” Tom had not even considered it.

“I'm also very suspicious of them. I mean, our son is a daughter.” Alexianna laughed.

“It had two options and was wrong. We won't paint the room pink and drop three thousand on baby clothes,” Jack added. “Congratulations to you both by the way.” He gave Tom a hug then went to Alexianna, eyeing her carefully. “You don't throw up easily, do you?”

“No, I am at my worst in the evening. As Tom said, I am just stuffing myself with Liga and Rusks.” She smiled. “It works for me.” He gave her a hug.

“We can leave these two have an afternoon together when they’re born and we can suffer together.” Tom joked to Jack.

“Translation, you'll go to your mother's.” Alexianna laughed. Tom gave her a hurt look. “No, you are a great father but Lily is older, little babies will be harder.”

“This is hilarious, you'll be giving me advice about being pregnant because you did it before, and a few weeks after that, you will be going through it all again too.”

They spoke and laughed for a while before it came time for Emma to go prepare for work.

“I am so glad you’re not mad. I didn’t want you to think we were trying to take from your pregnancy in any way.” Alexianna confessed as they were getting ready to leave.

Emma, like Tom, knew better than to simply dismiss her concerns, knowing as well as he did that as much as she had grown, Alexianna was prone to odd thoughts on occasion. “What, no. This is amazing.” Her friend dismissed. “I get to be a mum and have a new niece or nephew in one summer.”

“At least this gets you a great excuse not to feel awkward declining to look after our two, you’ll be busy with your own,” Tom commented.

“Mum is going to never be home. Honestly, between these two, and Sophie and Lily, it’s going to be madness.” Emma noted. “God, this is weird. I am having a baby weeks before my best friend growing up has one with my brother...wow. It’s like some weird TV show.” She walked over to Alexianna and hugged her again “So, Liga, you couldn’t have told me that one?”

“I did, you went on about not being a baby, remember?” *

Tom watched as Ben looked almost lost between his bickering sons. Hal had the audacity to take the crayon Kit had been in no way interested in as he had been playing with blocks, so naturally, on seeing his brother with the crayon, Kit was convinced he was using it and he needed it more than oxygen. “A good day then?” Tom asked.

“I am going insane. If I was asked to go narrate a documentary on paint drying right now, I would ask if they wanted me to do a three part series.” Tom erupted in laughter at the other man’s words. “I am jealous of you some days, just swanning around as you do.”

“I have Lily.”

“She lives with her Mum, you get a break.”

“They will be living with me soon, or me with them, so no break then.”

“You’re moving in together?”

“We are.” Tom nodded.

“Congratulations.” Ben was genuinely happy for Tom. He had been suspicious at first of Alexianna, he did not want someone making a fool of Tom, or wanting to use him to fund them through life. But he saw how Alexianna was. How adamant she was that Tom never feel pressurized to tend to her and her daughter. She made Tom so happy, her and Lily. He truly was happy for them. “What spurred this on then?”

“Well, we want to be settled before the baby comes. It wouldn’t be fair to Alexianna.” He watched as Ben’s eyes widened. “Alexianna and I are having a baby.”

“But...you said she didn’t want to have another child?”

“She didn’t, she was shocked when it happened.”

“How did it happen?”

“I doubt I need to tell you how I got my girlfriend pregnant.”

“No, I am not stupid, Tom. You know what I mean,” Ben growled.

“We have no idea.”

“You have to have some. Were you sloppy one evening?”

“No, I always took care of my side of things and Alexianna ensured them on hers.” Ben had no inkling as to what he was talking about. “We used two preventions, both failed.”

“Both...Jesus, I thought we were bad when Sophie got pregnant with Kit, but two contraceptive methods to fail, you can’t even blame one of you.”

“There’s no blame. It happened, we are dealing with it, we are very happy.” Tom's face told of his elated joy at the news.

“Are you?” Tom nodded. “Well, then, congratulations.” Ben got up and embraced his friend. “And give my congratulations to Alexianna too. As long as you two are happy, and Lily of course, then this is wonderful. How are your parents about it?”

“Mum is delighted, over the moon really. Emma is seventeen weeks pregnant, so two grandchildren this summer, so she's very happy with that. Emma's happy because she has her best friend having a baby two months after.”

“Wait, your sister is pregnant too?”

“She announced it Christmas Day,” Tom stated.

“Did Alexianna know this?”

“Apparently she knew they were trying to plan for a baby, why?”

“And you're sure Alexianna didn't want another one?”

“Ben, I only knew she was pregnant because I found the paper pamphlet that goes in the box, she had hidden the box and test from me, she never planned to tell me and just...deal with it in London herself without my knowing.” Ben's eyes widened. In truth, Tom had wanted to discuss Alexianna's previous plan for the baby. “She broke down crying when I asked her what it was, apologising and telling me she'd already researched the closest clinic.”

Seeing that it in some manner was bothering Tom, Ben realised it was true. “What changed? Surely you don't go from not wanting to have any more children to being incredibly excited to have one very quickly?”

“We talked it over, we listed why things were not ideal now and could they possibly be overcome. Her main concern was work and college, but of course, she is entitled to maternity leave and her final exams are in May, so that's doable, it is not easy because she is suffering morning sickness, but doable. She took time to consider everything, I told her I would support her regardless and thankfully, she said she wanted to keep it.”

“You wanted it?”

“Yes.” Ben was startled by that. “Why wouldn’t I? I love Lily, I always stated that I wanted children. I love Alexianna, I agree with her way of choosing to raise children.”

“How are you with it all? Her thinking to go through with the other option?” Ben could still see there was some part of it bothering Tom. Tom said nothing. “Look, it is clearly bothering you, so either say it here to me, where it goes no further or risk it coming out at the wrong time or festering in you. Neither of those is healthy.”

Tom looked at Hal and Kit, who had foregone their previous argument to chase each other with toy cars along the couch nearby. “I just felt so angry.”

“That she would think to do that?”

Tom bit his lips together for a moment, worried that if he said the next sentence, would it mean he was a terrible person. “For considering that for our child but having his.” He awaited Ben’s judgement.

For his part, Ben took a moment to consider Tom’s statement before answering. “I understand what you're saying, I do but did you ever consider she considered that then too? That she couldn’t because of the control he had on her.” Ben had been made aware of a lot of the issues Alexianna suffered through in her marriage. “You said he used the pregnancy as a form of control of her. I know she loves that little girl, I have seen how much so and she most certainly would die for her, but I do not think for one minute she would have thought any differently before, the only difference being, this time she was allowed decide for herself if she wanted to continue the pregnancy, with your support regardless, which in turn, unlike what you said about her being miserable when carrying Lily, has meant she is embracing it more and can actually look forward to motherhood this time.” Ben pointed out. Tom’s stared at him silently. “I could be entirely wrong, of course, but on the outside looking in, it seems to be some bit logical that this is in no manner indicative of how she views you as a potential father to her children but rather how she viewed the situation based on her past experience.” Tom nodded pensively. “You never stated how was your father with this information?”

Tom inhaled deeply. “I haven’t told him yet.”

“Is there a reason for that?”

“He is more stern about things than Mum.”

“In what manner?”

“Children should be born into a married home, it’s more stable.” He responded in his father’s Scottish accent. “Irony of ironies, as his marriage did not last.”

“Well, have you planned to ask her?” Tom looked at his friend. “Kit rushed us along, you know that.”

Tom said nothing in return, he merely thought over his friend’s words.

[keyboard-smashed]

The Storm That's Brewing

Warnings: Snake, blood (not in detail but it's mentioned), tell me if there's anything else

(link to chapter 1 & 3 at the bottom)

-----

Chapter 2- Singing With The Birds

To Virgil’s surprise, three whole weeks past by with no incident- unless you counted the morning that Patton told a joke about something sciency that made Logan laugh so much he choked on his tea, which caused him to drop his mug, which caused Roman to run our of his room, his hair wrapped in a towel and wearing a red bath robe, brandishing a pool noodle as a weapon (though why he had a pool noodle in his room was beyond Virgil). No, Virgil would only class this as an incident if he’d not managed to get a picture, but his lock screen proved this not to be the case.

In the brief amount of time, all four men had managed to find jobs. Acting was Roman’s profession of choice, but the local theatre was already halfway through their rehearsals for the upcoming play (We Will Rock You) and no roles were left, so he’d have to wait a few months to persue that. Instead, he found a job as a singer in a small restaurant that had live music on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays. He only worked two or three of the nights per week, but the pay was alright and the tips were very generous most of the time.

Patton’s job surprised Virgil the most. A librarian wasn’t something he’d ever imagined Patton being. Pat always been insecure about his dyslexia, avoiding books and reading as much as he could, unless he was being read to by someone else. Virgil had vivid memories of Pat begging him to finish a story at 2am. Sure, he loved stories, but he hated reading. That’s why when Virgil visited Patton at work, he was utterly shocked to see Patton sitting in a circle of kids, reading to them. He did well for the most part, but whenever he was struggling, he’d call on one of the older children to help him out. The scene was so sickeningly sweet.

And Logan- well nobody knew what he did. He spent most of his time hauled up in his room, and would rush out of the house at random hours and be gone from any time between forty minutes and a day. When asked what he was doing, he simply responded “work”, and retreated back to continue that. It seemed to be the only subject he wouldn’t lecture everybody about. The lead theory about his job was Roman’s, who believed him to be a spy. It was ridiculous of course, but the others had no proof against the claim to disprove it.

Virgil briefly, when delivering the message from Roman that dinner was ready, caught a glimpse of the inside of Logan’s room. As he’d expected, it looked like a science lab more than a home. The space was very impersonal. His walls were stark white and his bedsheets and curtains a dark blue, bordering black. A large bookcase sat next to his bed, filled to the brim with books. It was all extremely neat and precise. Except the desk. The desk was full of paper, strewn around like it had been hit with a small tornado- something very familiar to Virgil. He didn’t get a good look at anything specific Logan had been working on though, which left the work a mystery still to him, Roman and Patton.

Virgil’s work was a lot less interesting than Logan’s, as a barista at the local Starbucks. He hated it. The pay wasn’t great, he hated coffee, he had long hours and had to deal with rude people all day which left him too socially exhausted to do anything after work except eat the dinner than Patton forced upon him on the days he was there.

What Virgil really didn’t want to see when he got home- exhausted and in serious need of a nap- was a bunch of birds in the apartment, chirping at his brother, and his brother chirping back. Virgil really couldn’t deal with this today.

“Patton! What the hell?” Virgil scolded, quickly closing the door behind him, “What if Roman had come home, or Logan? How could you possibly explain this?”

“Hey, bad day at work?” Patton asked. He chirped something at the birds. They chirped back enthusiastically and flew through Roman’s room and out the window. Virgil relaxed a tiny bit.

Patton chuckled and put his arms up in defence, his attempt to change the subject clearly thwarted, “It’s okay, they’re friends of Margaret. Roman left for a manicure ten minutes ago, and Logan’s busy in his room.”

Virgil dropped his voice to a loud whisper, moving closer to Patton so he could hear him, “He’s inside the apartment?! What if he’d seen you? Or heard you?” Virgil’s mind was racing with all the ways that it could’ve possibly gone wrong.

“You know Logan, he doesn’t stop work for anything-” Patton started. Virgil internally screamed.

Suddenly Logan’s door swung open, “Is everyone alright? I heard yelling, and... Chirping?”

“Sorry we disturbed you, Lo, we’ll try keep it down.” Patton promised.

“Oh, it’s fine, I was just checking everybody was alright, and the chirping...?” Logan asked slowly. Patton and Virgil looked worriedly between each other. Logan continued, “Were you watching a nature documentary?”

Virgil visibly relaxed. He didn’t suspect anything.

“Actually, it was the sound of me tweeting.” Patton laughed. Virgil’s shoulders tensed. Whhhhy?

“Uh yeah, Patton has a custom sound when he tweets. It’s a bird sound because he’s tweeting.” Virgil recovered, sealing the deal with a completely unbelievable fake laugh. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Logan furrowed his eyebrows. There was no way he was buying it.

“Right. I must return to my work. If you do end up watching a nature documentary, please call me, the Discovery Channel is doing an intriguing piece on the kookaburra.” He said, walking back to his room. Virgil couldn’t believe he’d bought it. Had he bought it?

As soon as Logan was out of earshot, Virgil whispered, “How did he even hear us, we were whispering when he came out. Jeez, it’s like he’s got super hearing or something.” Patton gasped.

Virgil quickly said, “No. I was kidding. No.”

Patton pouted.

“Okay, I’m going to my room.” Virgil said, desperately needing a nap.

“Okay!” Patton agreed.

Virgil walked into his room, dodging the boxes be still hadn’t had the time to unpack, and fell onto his bed.

Patton followed and sat on the edge, “So, Margaret sent Michael to find-“ Virgil groaned and rolled into his back, “-the local birds that aren’t migrating this year, their friend has a hurt wing and they’re staying on our roof, so that we could meet them. She also wants to visit, as soon as she can get her kids to behave well enough to be this far into the city.” Patton finally paused to take a breath.

“Is Margaret the one that sat on my window and woke me up every morning?” Virgil asked.

“Yep!” Patton twirled himself around on the desk chair.

“And she had kids?”

“Yeah, how could you forget? We stayed up all night waiting for her eggs to hatch.” Patton said. The memory came flooding back to Virgil.

“Sorry, my brain’s a bit...” He trailed off, unsure what word would best describe the mental haze that seemed to lurk in his brain the past few days.

“Foggy? Cloudy? Misty?” Patton suggested. Virgil rolled his eyes. “Do you think it’s because you haven’t been using-”

“You were saying about the birds.” Virgil interjected, hoping his subject change would go unnoticed. To his joy, it did.

“Right! So Michael also told the birds that they can come to us with any problems they have-“

Virgil mumbled, “Great.”

Patton ignored him, “-and so they came to ask for help.”

Virgil sighed, there was no way he was going to get a peaceful night. He sat up in his bed, “Fine. What’s the problem?”

“There’s a snake trying to take over their habitat.” Patton said calmly.

“That’s snakey.”

Patton’s head shot up, Virgil had made a pun!

Virgil lay back down in his bed, “Forget I said that. What exactly do the birds want us to do?” He asked, already knowing the answer but praying for another one.

Patton offered no such solution, “They want us to talk to the snake and ask him to move.”

“Pat, come on, it could be dangerous. What if it’s poisonous? What if it attacks” Virgil said as his brain supplied him with all the possible solutions for what could go wrong. Gosh, he loved being him.

“Then you’ll save us.” Patton said with one hundred per cent certainty. Virgil wasn’t so sure.

“Snakes can strike really quickly, what if I’m too slow or it bites me first and then you. Nobody would find us.” He said solemnly.

“Why don’t we ask Logan about poisonous snakes?" Patton asked.

Virgil wanted to say, ‘Are you crazy?’, then realised that would be completely insensitive. He felt bad for even thinking it. Instead he settled for, “That’s too conspicuous, Pat.”

-

Virgil must’ve spent too long thinking about what he was going to say, because before he could talk Patton down, he was gone.

Virgil heard the sound of knocking and ran out of his room. Logan opened his door.

“Have you decided to watch a documentary?” Logan asked.

“Aw, not yet, sorry,” Patton said. Logan’s face dropped a little, “But we were wondering if you could tell us anything about how to tell if a snake is poisonous or not.”

Logan sighed, “Well I assume that you mean venomous. Poison is ingested, unless you plan to eat the snake, which is, of course, delicacy in some cultures,” Virgil and Patton both looked disgusted. Logan guessed that this meant they wanted to know about venomous snakes, “Alright then. You can usually identify them by the shape of their head. Venomous snakes tend to have broader heads and skinnier necks. Their snouts are also pointier. If you can get closer to the snake, which I wouldn’t recommend unless you are sure it is not dangerous, you will see that they have heat sensitive pads and their eyes are elliptical rather than circular.”

Patton looked back at Virgil where he leant on his bedroom doorframe. He shrugged.

“Uh, could you possibly draw that please?” Patton asked.

Logan nodded, “I suppose. I am not an excellent artist but I can probably show you the basic ideas.” He walked into his room to retrieve some paper and a pen. While he routed through his disaster of a desk, he said, “May I ask why you’re inquiring bout venomous snakes?”

Patton laughed nervously, “Well a little birdy told me that there was a snake on our roof.”

Virgil ignored pun. “On the roof? How did it get up there?!” He exclaimed.

“Large birds of prey often eat snakes. Perhaps this one escaped its captor.” Logan suggested. Finally he found some paper. He walked out of his room and closed the door.

“If there is indeed a snake on the roof like your confidant said, the proper protocol would be to contact the landlord. Then he may contact an exterminator if that is necessary.” Logan said, but he started drawing a diagram of a venomous snake anyway.

Virgil knew Patton would decline, he hated exterminators with a passion. It was one of the very few things he actually hated.

Just as Virgil had had known he would, Patton declined.

“I don’t want to bother them unless we have to.” He said, shaking his head. Virgil doubted he’d call in the authorities even if the snake bit him. His compassion was really going to be his downfall.

Logan considered for a moment, “Alright,” he agreed, “But I beg you remember that even non-venomous snakes can bite. I think it would be best if I went with you so that I could identify it or remove it. ”

Finally Virgil piped into the conversation, worried that Patton would accept Logan’s offer. As much as he wanted an expert- or whatever Logan was- to identify the snake, he couldn’t risk Patton’s cover being blown.

“No thanks. We don’t want to bother you working. I’m sure your drawing will be fine, and I’m sure I can remove the snake without being bitten.” He said.

Logan sighed. “If you’re sure.” He said, handing his drawing to Patton. Virgil walked next to him to see the drawing. Logan really hadn’t been being modest when he said he wasn’t a great artist.

“Wow Logan, this is really...” Patton tried to think of a suitable compliment about the drawing.

“You don’t have to try and compliment me. I am aware that my drawing skills are subpar and can tell when you are lying.” Logan said. Virgil really hoped the last bit wasn’t true.

“...Helpful!” Patton beamed.

Logan smiled slightly, then coughed and reclaimed his usual stoic expression.

“Thank you.” He said, pushing his glasses back up onto his nose.

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Right well we best be off- dangerously high roofs to be on, possibly venomous snakes to extract, ya know.”

“I best get back to my work.” Logan said, turning back towards his room. He paused, “Text if you need me.” He closed his door.

“So how are we going to get onto the roof then?”

----------

Taglist: lmaoooo as if

Chapter 1:

Chapter 3:

(^idk how to link stuff in the nice, wordy way)

[creepypasta-fandom-is-trash]

Can I request a short fic where Jane keeps bullying and bullying E.J about his animal characteristics, about his tail/ears, that he needs a shock collar and a muzzle to keep him in line until he finally breaks? With Toby finding him in the locked basement with a gag in his mouth and tears down his face as he tries to cut off his tail. Extra points if he manages to cut through halfway. Thank you!

This is not a short fic.

"And here we see the wild mongrel," A slightly raspy feminine voice whispers, causing the ghost of a sigh to escape from Eyeless Jack's mouth "As you can tell, he's tame for now. But behind that facade is a vicious killing machine." Jane's tone mimics that of a wilderness documentary filmmaker, her voice low as she hovers by Jack. Reaching up, Jane flicks Jack's ear, causing the demon to recoil and hide the elf-like ear behind a lock of curly hair.

"If I'm careful, he won't attack," Jane chuckles "But he might attack anyway. Chernobog is known for being unnaturally aggressive." Eyeless sighs, turning a page in his book and trailing his gaze along the words, attempting to be absorbed by the text. Grimly, EJ notes that Jane's presence is spawned entirely by Jeff and Toby's absence. Jack's brow furrows under his mask, his eyelids fluttering softly to hold back the endless black ooze in his eye sockets. 

"of all the days," Jack grumbles under his breath "of all the days to send those four to the Underrealm..." Jane giggles, sitting on the table next to Jack's book. 

"What? did Toby forget to put your muzzle on before he left?" the female killer coos, sitting back "If you want, I'm sure I can find your leash somewhere, mutt." Eyeless sighs softly, shifting to face slightly away from Jane's masked gaze. Crossing his legs, Eyeless remains calm, his breaths coming slow and soft. Gently, Eyeless comes to the realization that he hasn't drunk anything today, a dry sensation resting uncomfortably on his tongue. Vaguely, EJ looks up at his refrigerator, wondering how fast he can get up to get a beer. "Hello?" the voice coos again "are you listening?" 

"no." Jack answers unconsciously, shifting and looking back down at his book.

 "Oh," Jane grins, gently patting Jack's shoulder "You're hungry. Dogs tend to stare at their food bowl too when they're hungry." Eyeless lets a long, deep sigh and turns the page, admiring the feeling of yellowed paper slipping along the pad of his finger.  The feeling of rough, almost scale-like skin slips along Jack's stomach as his tail flicks against his will. Jane catches the movement, grinning as the tip of the long, black appendage pokes out from under Eyeless' jacket. 

"What's this?" Jane notes, reaching down and grabbing onto the demon's tail "a tail? Eyeless darling, you can't go around calling yourself a human when you've got this rat tail." Fixing his gaze firmly onto the page, Jack furrows his brow and tries swallowing what little spit is in his mouth. Jane, sensing the perfect moment to pick on the older male, leans down to whisper. 

"you should cut it off, maybe then people will like you." 

CRACK

In a split-second, Eyeless slams the book down onto the table. Wood cracking and splintering under the thick spine of the book. The table itself bows inward, creaking softly. Jack stands, tucking the book under his arm as he turns to leave the room, white-hot rage flushing over his hidden features. Jane snickers softly, smirking under her own mask. 

"Even rats will fight when cornered..." 

Jack sighs, his fists unclenching at his sides as he slips off toward the basement. 

Silence hangs heavy over the house, a silence that would typically be rather comforting to Slender as he opens the door. Quiet typically means that the monsters have abandoned the manor and have decided to terrorize another place for the time being. And the stillness can be taken advantage of. However, as Slender enters his house, the sight of a broken table in the adjacent room catches his gaze. One long, jagged crack in the wood indicating one thing. 

Jack. 

Walking down the hallway, Slender notes the presence of Jane, who has probably retired to her room. Which, in this case, is a fantastic thing.  Slender strides calmly toward the basement, hoping to any god willing to listen that Chernobog hasn't decided to rear his ugly head. The damage caused by a demon such as him could warrant killing Jack, which given the fondness Slender has for him is not a good idea. It is likely that the table could have been broken by Seed Eater or Smiles, and the thought soothes Slender's mind. A calm feeling seeps through Slender's body as he manages to subdue his fears. 

 As he slips his hand around the basement door, though, Slender becomes frustrated to find that the door has been bolted shut. Another typical sign of Chernobog. And while the door is no problem for a beast like Slender, the stirring anxiety in his chest at the implied purpose of the door is almost too much to handle. 

Forcing the door open, Slender rapidly descends into the dark abyss of the basement. The lights, being dim as they are, reveal the lab door to be hastily pushed shut, one slim sliver of light peeking out from the steel frame. Soft, almost nonexistent sniffling comes from within the lab, groans and pained grunts littering the periodic whimpers. Slender rushes toward the door, panic flooding his head as he opens the door to find..

Black blood coats the floor in small puddles, the gooey texture running down along the cracks and crevices in the tile. Tracing his gaze along the floor, Slender feels something drop in his chest. 

"Jack?" Slender whispers, staring at the bloody form of the man he grew to call his son. A bloody gag in his mouth to hold back the crying, black oozy tears racing down his face endlessly. His jacket, for once, is off and discarded across the room, leaving his cut and bruised arms exposed to the dim white lighting of the room. Fresh bruises litter the poor demon's shoulders, having probably tried to bash his limbs in with doors and drawers. One hand is wrapped around his tail, gripping on tightly while the other presses a knife into the thick skin of his tail. Blood already pouring out of a deep cut in the appendage. 

"Eyeless?" Slender states, dumbfounded as he walks closer to the curled up demon. Jack whimpers, shying away from Slender and instinctively spitting out the gag, shouting in fear. 

"It's not what it looks like!" Jack yelps, dropping the knife and shuffling away toward the wall. If he had eyebrows, Slender would have furrowed them, scowling down at his friend in worry and fear. 

"It looks like you're hurting yourself," Slender hums, picking up the knife and putting it out of Jack's reach "Why?..." Jack sniffles, looking away from Slender and whispering. 

"Jane...." 

Slender remains silent, scooping up the smaller man into his arms and cringing at the amount of blood soaking his clothes.  Jack softly squirms in the larger monster's grip before tiredly settling into his arms. One blood-soaked gray hand clutches onto Slender's jacket as the demon stares blankly into space. For a moment, Slender wonders if Eyeless has passed out, but periodic sniffling reassures him that the younger male is still very much conscious. Gently, as to not disturb the young man, Slender gathers together the first aid kit and carries Jack out of the room. 

Jack doesn't protest when Slender places him down on his bedroom floor. Not a word is said as Slender wipes away the black blood coating the demon’s features.

There are several cuts along Eyeless' tail, showing that the young man was attempting to saw it off in sections. Some cuts are deeper than others, and Slender holds back the urge to hiss and cringe at the sight of bone in one particular cut. Needles are threaded and Jack sits calmly as Slender sews up the deeper wounds. Silence hangs thick in the air like fog over morning hills. As he wraps Jack's various limbs Slender finds that there's something missing about the room, something that should be said. 

But Slender was never that fantastic with emotion. 

"Jack?" Slender hums, finishing with the bandages and packing up the kit. Eyeless hums, his eye sockets dripping steadily with 'tears'. 

"Please...." Searching for words, Slender finds himself more confused than sure "Please don't do this again..." Jack sighs, bringing his knees up to his chest. 

"Why? I'm just an animal..." Jack whispers "You know it too. That's why you keep me here, right? Because of of....him?" Slender stands silently for a brief moment. Gently sitting down on the floor with Eyeless. 

"That was the original intent, yes," Slender begins, watching Eyeless' tail flick feebly "But over time it came to my attention...that...some particular monsters have... developed a form of affection for you...." Eyeless sighs deeply, staring at the floor. 

"Like who?" Jack murmurs, wrapping his maimed tail around his body.

"Well," Slender hesitates, awkwardly clearing his throat "There's Toby.... Jeff rather enjoys having you around....me? I... see you as a family member. A...son of sorts?" Internally slapping himself, the tall faceless man observes as Jack lets the faintest of smiles cross his features before yawning. Slender, hasty to hide the "son" comment, is quick to speak. 

"Sleep in my bed," He states "It's right there and frankly it's far away from sharp objects." Slender's worries clear up ever so slightly as Eyeless nods in agreement, standing feebly and walking over to the large bed. A strange warmth flows through Slender's ribs as he watches the comparatively tiny demon shuffle into the bed. Jack curls up beneath the covers, looking more like a lost cat than a bloodthirsty demon-man. Slender turns, preparing to put away the med kit when he hears Jack speak. 

"Goodnight Dad." 

Looking over at the now sleeping bundle of curly hair and darkness Slender feels a certain resolve stirring. An understanding of the warmth he feels. 

Hate. Bitter, vile hate. 

Hatred for those who have harmed what little he considers his. The same hate that spawned when he was left alone by his siblings, the hate that brought Tim and Brian into the picture. Slender understands the hate, letting it consume him as he turns. 

Static fills the air, lights flickering and windows rattling as a deep, growling voice hisses out. 

"Jane"

[drlauramccoy]

(set in the verse with @masterfulxrhythm )

It’s morning coffee - both the McCoys are taking it black and strong and silent until they’ve finished at least half their cup. This has become a kind of tradition now: Jack and Koschei come to her room once they’re up, help her get dressed and brushed (though she’s needing their help less and less, she still enjoys the attention), then Koschei goes off to his workshop and Jack gets the coffee.

The location always changes, as Laura wants to see as many to see as many rooms of the TARDIS as she can before settling on her favourite. Right now, they’re in a room with a waterfall, a lovely shallow, little lagoon pooling at the base of it with tendrils of soft pink flowers curling up the cliff. She can see the line of little bottles and jars on a rock ledge, and can guess it’s used as a shower by at least one of her boys. It makes her smile, these little hints of their domestic life, and as she sets her mug down, she decides it’s time to chat.

“So, how did you two meet?”

Jack nearly chokes on his coffee. “That’s... a little complicated.”

Laura just looks expectantly at him.

“Timing was bad,” he puts delicately. “We were both hung up on the same guy and... well, we both did things we’re not exactly proud of.”

Now she looks incredibly intrigued.

“It’s in the past,” Jack insists. “We can’t change it, so we moved on from it.”

“So then what changed?” She can’t help but wonder just how dark or shameful it must be if her son is shifting the issue so insistently. But maybe it’s best left buried, something that goes against at least half her instincts as an archaeologist.

Now it’s Jack’s turn to silent.

“I don’t know,” he says at last. “It was little by little. We met up again, years and years later, and we were both very different people. We realised we had a lot more in common than we ever wanted to admit and started travelling together.” He pauses, a chagrined smile on his face. “I’ve never felt more like myself when he’s around. When I realised that, everything changed.”

Laura looks satisfied with that answer, though she’s still certain that her son is concealing far more than he’s sharing.

But she also knows him, knows how jealously he guards secrets and especially his own. Prodding will only make him dig his heels in and calm up even harder. Patience and time is what he needs most times - or she’ll just ask Koschei for the juicy details later and see his reaction. She might not get the full story but she’ll be better able to see if this really is a story better left untold, or if Sam is just embarrassed to tell his mother.

“Did I ever tell you the story of how your father and I met?”

“NO!” Jack perks right up at that, laughing and turning a mischievously wicked grin on her. “I need to know all the details.”

Laura laughs at how easily he can bounce back from the small cloud of remorse - though she’s a little saddened he’s ever had to develop that skill.

“It was my first dig,” she starts, taking a sip of her coffee and setting it aside to tell her story. “I’d done mostly lab work and desk-based assessment work up until that point, but I’d always been itching to get out there into the field. The company I was with at the time sent me to an excavation on Lachter Seven’s moon. It was an old monastery, some order that never really spread, and this was the only known place they’d built a monastery rather than converting it, so it was a pretty big deal. Anyway, halfway through the dig, this film crew came in to grab some footage of us but also start to film a documentary about this order. And your father was the host.”

“No!” Jack nearly cackles, trying to imagine his father as some stoic, boring academic narrator - the image doesn’t come easily. “I can’t believe Dad did that! Doesn’t really seem his style.”

“Oh, I’m using ‘documentary’ in the loosest sense of the word. His whole persona was a bit more Indiana Jones, exploring ruins and climbing mountains and that whole lot. On principle, I hated the whole idea. When I met him, though, it was a completely different story.”

Jack looks intrigued. 

“He was so soft-spoken, completely different than the character they were making him out to be. He was funny, too, and charming and intelligent and oh my goodness, gorgeous.”

“Mum!”

“He was! I had a crush on him immediately - and let me tell you, after spending three months with the same twenty people, he was a breath of fresh air, too. Almost everyone in the camp fell for him, but only ever when he was... well, I guess performing is the best way to describe it. He could turn on the charm and have people falling at his feet, but when he turned it off, it was almost like a cloaking shield. He’d be in the middle of a crowd, and if he wasn’t ‘on,’ no one noticed.”

“No one but you.”

“Of course,” she grins slyly. “His crew was there for a week, and after the second day, I noticed the pattern. If he wasn’t the life of the party, he’d stick to the edges of the group. Still there, but not really. He was especially like that at lunch. People were generally too busy shovelling down food to notice, so I started having lunch with him. Really casual conversations that soon would keep going until someone came to fetch one of us, usually him, and we both went back to work. The last couple days, we’d eat breakfast and dinner too, and just talk away like old friends.”

She pauses and looks at Jack, and he’s hanging on her every word.

“The last night, we climbed to the top of the cliff that overlooked the dig site to watch the stars. I kissed him as we watched the planet rise and as perfect as that week was, I never in a million years thought a one-night stand would ever be more than that.”

Jack has an almost dreamy look as she finishes, happy to have finally heard that story. “What changed?”

“We met again, years later,” she says a little cheekily. “At a conference. He’d ditched the film career idea, but he’d specialised in experimental archaeology. That was one of the driving ideas behind our time at Boeshane, trying to recreate how we thought they lived back then. Your dad was a battlefield specialist, and-” She abruptly cuts herself off there, realising she’s headed down a dangerous path she has no desire to visit right now. “Anyway, I was starting to make a name for myself, and he came up to me after a paper I presented, asked if I remembered him - of course I had - and asked me out to coffee. We started dating, trying to get on the same excavations, which wasn’t difficult when I started running then, and got married just after I won the funding for Boeshane. And there you have it.”

[starsscribble]

All The Time In The World

Ship- MiniCat

Tyler was the last of his family with this power, the power of time travel. Every male in his family had this power but because Tyler’s blood was so diluted he couldn’t control his ability on his own. Because if this his father gave him a watch, something simple that would alway help to control his abilities. He normally used his power for small things, like saying the right thing to comfort a friend, get the right answer in class, or maybe to flirt with someone. However, for his 11th-grade history project, he went back farther in time to get the real facts. This was how he met Craig.

Craig didn’t remember much of his past, he had lived too long. Craig was an immortal with no clue why. He lived through the rise and fall of many empires, the colonization of America, the French Revolution; which was where he learned that not even cutting off his head would kill him. So the point was Craig had lived a long time and hated it. Fleeing from France he went to America, the once British Colony that was now free and trying to become its own country. He didn’t take part in the war but if he had, he would have when on America’s side. Walking down the cobblestone streets , of New York, late at night, Craig stopped when he saw a boy just appear in front of him. The boy wasn’t older than seventeen and with his clothes he clearly wasn’t from this time period. “Hey, you. Boy.” Craig walked over to the young man as the boy looked at him. “You are going to stand out wearing those clothes. Follow me.”

It was a simple meeting not big and flash, Craig helped the boy blend in and Tyler got the information he needed. Tyler asked Craig one night why he didn’t freak out when he just showed up in front of him. Craig didn’t answer just shrugged his shoulders. Soon enough Tyler returned back to the present getting an A on his paper. His father also tore him a new one for using his powers to pass an assessment. Tyler counting that the teacher asked for facts that were true and that was what he gave her. His mind often wandered back to Craig the man that helped him. The clothes Craig gave him had been foldaway and space saver bag that was on his closet shelf.

His next major jump back in time was after watching a documentary on Prohibition in the United States. It was summer, most of his friends were on family vacation, his own parents were working, and he was bored. So Tyler put a date on his wristwatch and went back in time. He was in Philadelphia this time, placed in the back alley of a place he peeked out to see people moving around. He heard a door open behind him, turning to see who it was his eyes widen.  “Craig?” He spoke without thinking, there was no way this was Craig. With the time it was now Craig had passed on. This must be someone from Craig’s lineage, that look so alike to Craig. The person that looked like Craig set the box in his hands down. “Tyler get in here.” So this was the same Craig but how? Listening Tyler walked through the door and waited for Craig. Looking around the dim room Tyler could tell that it was a speakeasy. As the door closed he turned and looked at Craig. “You run a speakeasy?” He asked, Craig just shrugged and gestured for Tyler to follow him. “Didn’t think I would see you again. Since you left without a goodbye.” Craig said climbing the stairs. Tyler catches the hurt tone in Craig’s voice. “Sorry. I’m not good with goodbyes.” Craig nods his head as they reached the top of the stairs. “Craig.” Tyler start as Craig unlocks the door and pushed open the door. “Yes?” Craig replies as they start up another thing of stairs again. “How are you here?” Tyler is halfway up the stairs when he sees Craig stop at almost the top.  “I guess I’m just lucky.” That was all Craig said before he got up to the top of the stairs. Again Craig gives him some clothes, they are a bit tight but they work. This time he asked Craig for his last name and Craig gives it to him. It sounds pretty common but Tyler hopes he can find Craig when he gets back to the present. “So.” Craig begins as they make their way back down to the bar area. “Why are you here?” Craig glance over his shoulder to see Tyler shrug. “Bored. Parents were working and most my friends we off with their families on trips.” Craig chuckles as they reach the basement. “Well, you could help me out for a bit. Since the boys, I hire always show up late.” “Sure why not.” So that is what Tyler does he helps Craig around the bar, cleaning it up and stocking. He learns why Craig runs this speakeasy, it was a good way to get money and even though Craig had enough money to live on he knew he always needs more. Tyler stays for two weeks this time, he enjoys his time with Craig and he feels that Craig enjoys him being there. This time when he leaves he tells Craig bye. He can see the sadness in Craig’s eyes but he knows he has to leave. “Visit me anytime you want,” Craig tells Tyler, he nods before pressing the button on his watch and returning home. Tyler does the same thing with this clothes that he did with the first set Craig gave him.

Tyler starts his search found for Craig Thompson, he was right the name was common and hard to search for. Most of his summer and senior year in high school was filled with him trying to find his Craig. However, it wasn’t until the started college did he find the Craig he was looking for. He was in another history class, the professor giving a lecture about the Second World War. She had a slideshow and would change in between the slide when she finished with it. One picture caught his eye, in the background was destroyed a building, however, there were American soldiers standing in front of the camera smiling. In the middle was Craig, even with the black and white Tyler could see that the man hadn’t aged a day since when he last saw him. The bell ring signaling that class was over, as everyone rushed out Tyler stayed behind to talk to this professor about the picture.

Tyler rushed back to his house once he got the date of the photo, it was towards the end of the war. So hopefully Tyler wouldn’t be in any trouble when he went there. He set his things on the kitchen counter and he pulled out the date his professor gave him. Putting in the date in his watch; he disappeared from present day and reappear in the ruin of a city. Seeing a picture was one thing but being here was something else. He walked around a bit looking for Craig and where the picture was taken. He figured that the last two time he met Craig was just luck so this time he went looking for him. Sure enough, Tyler soon came across the spot where the picture was taken.  “See you found me again.” Tyler almost jumped out of his skin when he heard Craig’s voice. Turning he saw Craig sitting on a pile of rubble with a smile on his face. “When I told you to see me again. I didn’t mean in a war zone.” They both chuckled as Tyler shrugged. “Believe me I searched for you after our last meeting, but you are so hard to find.” Craig laughed again before he stood up and walked over to Tyler. He wrapped his arms around him. “Seeing you here means a lot to me. Thank you for coming.” Tyler hugged Craig back, he could only imagine what Craig saw not just in this war but throughout his long life. “So catch me up on what’s going on in your life,” Craig said with a smile as he moved away from Tyler looking up at him. “Well, I’m in college now.” They both took a seat on some rubble as Tyler catch Craig up on his life. Craig listened to every detail. His mind was making notes of was the stories Tyler was telling him because he didn’t know the next time he would see Tyler. As Tyler kept talking Craig slipped off the chain that was around his neck. When Tyler noticed this stopped talking. Craig held his dog tags out to Tyler. Tyler opened his arm allowing the cool metal to touch his palm as Craig set them in his hand. “I always give you something when you show up,” Craig explains causing Tyler to smile as he looked at the tags. “I want you to do something for me, Tyler.” Craig was still looking at Tyler, as Tyler moved to looked at him. “What’s that?” “Find me in your time. When you do have the dog tags with you. I have something I would like to tell you.” Craig smiles at Tyler as he nods at Craig’s request. Craig hears someone calling for him, they are about to move out. “I got to go. See you in the future.” Craig waves bye to his time-travel as Tyler waves by to him. Before Tyler heads back to present time he puts on the dog tags.

Tyler wears the dog tags every day, at school or working they are always under his shirt. He looks for Craig but he doesn’t make it easy on him. Tyler had also started recording more gameplay and editing so his time is limited in his search for his Craig. He as also noticed that he uses the phrase ‘his Craig’ a lot. Today he was going to play some games when the guys, getting the call he greets everyone. However, he notices that there is a new person with them. “Hey Vanoss who is MiniLadd?” “Oh, Mini is just a guy I meet in a few games. You don’t mind if he joins?” “I don’t give a fuck.” Honestly, the more people that were with them in a call the funnier it would be. Mini can back from getting him something to drink and Tyler swears that it’s Craig who is talking. However, he doesn’t say anything and they begin to play.

The more they play together the more Tyler is sure that this is his Craig. When it comes out that his name is Craig, Tyler is 100% sure that this is the same Craig who he is looking for. At a PAX in 2014 that all met up and Tyler almost jumps out of his skin when he sees Craig. That is him, that is his Craig. When Craig saw Tyler he smiled as Tyler carefully showed him the dog tags hidden under his shirt. The spent the day together with their group of friends. Acting like this was the first time they ever met face-to-face.

When the group split up for the night, Craig grabbed Tyler's hand a pulled him along to Craig's room. “Jeez. Craig slow down,” Tyler said as with a chuckle as Craig opened the door to his hotel room pulling Tyler in. For being short than Tyler, Craig was pretty strong. As the door closed behind Tyler, Craig launched himself at Tyler holding him tightly. “I thought you forgot about me.” Tyler held Craig up as he carefully moved towards the bed in the room. “I couldn’t forget you, Craig. It was just harder to find you. But like always you show up and make it easy for me.” They both laugh as Tyler falls on the bed as Craig lays on top of him. “So what did you want to tell me, Craig?” Tyler asks looking up at curly hair man, he notices the Craig is moving closer to his face and before he could say anything Craig’s lips are on his. He is a little surprised but in no time Tyler is kissing Craig back. It's simple, not overdramatic, Craig pulls away looking into Tyler’s eyes. “I love you, Tyler. I have loved you for all of my modern day life.” Tyler chuckles as he sits up, Craig sliding off of him. “You are a major dork and I feel the same way, Craig.” Tyler watched as Craig’s face lights up, he felt his arm wrap arms his neck as he let out a happy laugh. Tyler rested his arms around Craig and his head on Craig. They just sat there for a little bit because this time there was no need to rush. They had all the time in the world.

[sushmita-devi]

Reflective Journal: ICT

Outline of the assignment

In this assignment, you are revisiting your previous blogs and creating a reflective journal blog. Journal should be a reflective document that provides personal and thoughtful analysis of your individual participation/progress and reflection. You are required to submit a full reflective journal, aggregated collection of entries so that your “final” journal covers the entire semester analysis of your thinking process and articulating what you learned as a creative thinker. HOWEVER, it is very important that you be honest in your journal entries.

________________________________________________________________

Therefore, I have revisited my blogs from the beginning and have reflected back to it and have summarised through physical experience of how my first semester has been. From every blog, what I have picked up so far is very opinionated. This reflective journal is through the blogs I have been doing based on the projects we were given. Also on what I have done physically to achieve the outcome. This journal is not exactly based on blogs and what could be improved on but the practices that was explained and expressed through blogs and what was improved on the next projects and what could be improved on in the future. The whole purpose of blogging continuously was to have the tutors updated on our progress through everything we do in and outside of class.

SO...

From a very small knowledge about creativity to something imaginative which I thought I already had but nothing was clear until explored halfway through this course. Whatever I was doing on everyday basis at BCT was something felt to be done also in the future ahead of me too. This wasn't something that just pops out of a jar and into the table. This was something that was juggled over and over again into a jar, until I was satisfied enough to feel confident pulling that 'something' out. These were the ideas, thoughts, emotions, passion, hobby, my needs and wants that we're juggled. All those things were juggled and pulled out onto the table without even choosing what I needed out of that jar.

This is half way through the first semester of my first year, and I'm already excited about literally everything about this course from now until I finish my degree. I didn't choose to decide what I wanted out of that jar because everything was in the jar for me to utilise and play around with. But my vision towards that jar was clear. It was totally empty last year. With all those things I pulled out of that jar, I still wasn't able to work with those until I connection myself to the attributes collaboration, team work and responsibilities which I realised was the most important aspects in order for me to deliver a final work/outcome across to someone. This is not only it but through out every project I have done so far, iteration was the most important aspect that came in handy which helped me develop my ideas but through the iteration, a prototype is made to be discussed about form the beginning to end of the project and this carried on since day one of this course. What I learnt so far is that a prototype is never a final copy as the iteration takes part when the thoughts and ideas come in and other people starts to contribute as they grasp onto the brief idea of what you're working on. Idea never has a dead end. It keeps developing overtime. 

However, the first project we got for studio was tough even though it sounded easy. It got a little difficult when the ideas were put onto the paper, people deciding over what was correct and what should and shouldn't work out with all those random questions thrown at each other wasn’t an easy decision to make. It was hard wrapping our heads around the outline of the project. It became a little clear when we got feedback from one of the tutors but the funny thing was we found it harder sticking to the projects outline then coming up with completely different idea, having our own unique thoughts put into it to collaborate with others. Believe it or not but having our originality was one thing that made the whole concept so much easier to tackle. Nothing made it original just by blogging about the concept and what not but I provided prove of my originality too. I posted the images of my projects and most times, I blogged my steps into the projects with a brief explanation. We made it through with the best result we all could possibly get as a group.

The second project we got was the sound project which had multiple tasks to complete individually until we got together as a group for a final performance. I blogged nearly everything on this project. From the time I started on my planning to prototyping, it was important for me to do so as the lecturers mark on the progress as well. But it was two time more challenging than the first one. It was tough making a decision what you want to do your project on when your outline could be open to any source. At this point, I thought it would've been much easier having an outline given to you by your tutors then just choosing what sort of things you could do for your music in, your instrument and organising your own performance and its setup and what not with extra criteria's if you wish to. This time, we got tested on or originality and our own ideas and thoughts and how we deliver them individually and as a group. This was one of the projects I enjoyed the most as it left me be myself and do whatever I wanted to do for the project and the project was also named freely “Sound Project”. This involved, any music, any beat, any rhythm, anything but nothing more than sound. This project was time consuming but whatever skills I had, I made sure I demonstrated them in the project. If I didn’t express my skills and knowledge during that project’s time frame, then there wouldn't be a time I would be given a chance to express my abilities. 

OK! Another time consuming project... ‘Speculative Artefact-Film making’. Man! What the hell! This was confusing. We changed our ideas several times. We wrote a script and made a story board but nothing worked out. Did the same thing on another idea but that didn’t work either. We decided to combine those two rejected ideas and think outside the square. Instead of having another new script, we manipulated that and started thinking towards making a documentary film which could be suitable for any age and viewers. We made it through but don’t know how well we did it but that was original from an outline given to us. From having an outline given to us to no outline to another outline given to us, nothing really balanced well. It was difficult but working as a team solves it all. 

This final project given to us last week sounds easy but trust me, it HARD! It’s hard to even come up with an idea of what I want to present as a final outcome. It’s hard to decide in a group because everyone has different opinions, ideas and questions that ruins it all but having all those rhetorical questions helps us think outside the square. It gets us to think like a lecturer and what would they be expecting from their students. What I have realised so far is that thinking from a lecturers perspective is the only way to get your head around things. The only way to get good grades. But not only that, original ideas get you good grades as well. I have not yet decided on my concept for the final project but this is definitely something original I would be creating either from scratch with those last project topics or pulling ideas from those previous projects I have done to improve on those projects to show what I was trying to convey within that time frame. 

The little activities we were given for ICT literally built my self-confidence up. These were pretty much Vlogging. It only built my confidence up to the point I would video myself talking but not to the point I would make the video public on YouTube for everyone else to watch. Those activities weren’t easy. It took a lot of time and effort to collect all my ideas and feelings together towards the course to video myself about it for the lecturers to watch and mark. Knowing the lecturers would be marking it, I kept making mistakes while videoing myself over and over again. If it was just for myself, I would have given in my freestyle like I do on Snapchat videos but that video was nothing like that. But they were the task given to show our originality and how we think. That went great too. 

OK I would even given up my life if I never got to program. I love programming. Something that used to be my weakest point is no longer weak. I have coded in C before but just by coding in one language, it made the whole concept of it so much easier for me this year for ‘programming for creativity. It was easy for me to grasp onto every topics, the tests and the projects. The final project we are given for Processing is all done and dusted even though I have two more weeks till it’s due. I always wanted to do software engineering but I also wanted to do something that relates to my passion and that suites me which is ‘creativity’. But I'm glad I got a chance to at least one programming paper with the side trails for creative papers which fits into the course overall which I totally enjoy. 

Last but not the least, I would like to confess that I am fully committed to this course as this is something I see myself doing in the future but not only that. I feel that this course will provide me with every skills and knowledge I need to have and also know what is out there for me to do. What I love about this program is that it lets me be myself. Moreover, this isn’ t limited to a certain topic. This covers nearly everything around the technological area which was expected from the day I decided to do a degree. 

Overall, this course does make me emotional as times especially when it comes to the release dates for the grades. I have set my feelings on relying my life on those grades I get for my degree because I feel that my future depends on my grades. But I also do know that grades don’t always matter. It’s also about my knowledge, skills and experience that may matter to most employers. Nothing is ever the same. Nor the ideas or the feelings.

If the weather has its high and low temperature, so does our feelings and emotions. Not just that but our grades too but what about our future?

If nothing is predicted then why do we predict our own grades might be lower than we think? I mean why do I think negatively towards my work when I should have pride in my work. But on the other hand, I love what I do. See what I mean? I’m confused! Put it this way... If we don’t laugh at the same joke over and over again then why do we cry at the same problem? Relatively, why do I keep thinking negatively when I could improve on my grades, follow the rubrics, hand in my projects on time then maybe see the difference? Then let the future show it’s magic for me? Doesn’t that mean I must work hard for it? Maybe I should...

Some people may think...

There is no innovation and creativity without failure._Brene Brown

But you know what I think? Don’t fail! Find a million ways that wont work.

[fallwritesfiction]

Prompt: 013. test Fandom: RWBY Pairing/Characters: Blake Belladonna/Ruby Rose Rating: Explicit Wordcount: ~1800 Summary: Finals hit. Everything is tiredness and forgetting to eat. Part of the Beacon University AU. Notes/Warnings: Transgender Blake, transgender Ruby, yes there are faunus no I haven't worked out what that means for this setting, just to be clear everyone’s of age here

After finals, they curl up in Blake's bed and sleep for basically an entire day.

Engineering finals are brutal no matter who you ask, and while Blake only has one sit-down test - perks of being an English major; all her core classes want papers that she turns in well before everyone else's exams - she took advantage of the business of finals week to pick up more hours at work, and filled her normal Ruby time with working on her latest novel. They snatch little pieces of time together, mostly spent sleeping or desperately trying to catch up on calories, and while Blake misses her girlfriend, she's mostly too tired to actively feel the loss.

Technically, the invitation for the day after finals is for movies and cuddles. The normal implication is that there will be a lot of bad television, some kissing, and if Ruby gets too tired to hike back to her and Yang's apartment, she's welcome to share Blake's bed. This time, when Ruby shows up Blake sees her own exhaustion reflected in Ruby's face, and they skip everything else in favor of sleeping for twelve hours.

Blake feels Ruby leave the bed, but when lips press against her forehead, her half-awake mind assumes Ruby must be using the bathroom, and she falls back to sleep. She's not sure how much time passes between that, and when she feels gentle fingers stroking her face, but it's not long enough for her to get into deep sleep, and it's a good way to wake up besides.

"Hey," Ruby says softly. "You gotta eat something, Blake."

Blake cracks open an eyelid, looking blearily up at her girlfriend. Part of her recognizes the sense in what Ruby's saying. The rest wants to finish sleeping off two weeks of working effectively seventy hours a week.

"I ordered food," Ruby coaxes, "and made tea."

Now that Blake's a little more awake, she can smell spicy beef and seasoned chicken, along with vegetables and, yes, tea. She groans but stretches her arms out over her head. Blake curls back into herself a little, scooting forward to press her nose against Ruby's leg. She'll get up, but she's been starving for contact for the past few weeks. Let her have this.

Ruby laughs, her fingers moving up to stroke Blake's cat ears. Blake groans at the light touch; Ruby's learned all too well exactly how to rub along the base to make her into a puddle of faunus, and it's not fair.

"That's not fair," Blake informs her, eyes closing. "You want me to get up, but you keep petting me."

"Come eat," Ruby says sensibly, "and I'll pet you as much as you want."

"Promise?" Blake asks, trying to be grumpy and failing.

"Promise."

Blake looks up reluctantly, only for her breath to catch. Ruby's eyes are open, soft, and an affectionate smile curls her lips. Blake can't remember Ruby ever looking at her like this, and her heart flutters in her chest.

"I love you," Blake blurts out.

Before she can panic - she knew she loves Ruby, but she didn't mean to say it yet - Ruby leans down to kiss her, smiling. "I love you, too."

Blake wants to pull Ruby down for more kisses, but her mouth tastes like death and she really needs to wash her face. So she smiles up at her instead, hoping Ruby understands how happy she is right now.

"Let me brush my teeth, and I'll be right out."

Ruby nods, standing and heading toward the living room. By the time Blake gets out there to join her, Ruby has set them up with two plates full of food, and is halfway through hers.

"Thank you," Blake says, kissing the side of Ruby's head and picking her plate up. Ruby grins, then goes back to digging into her food.

They devour their food without saying a word, some sitcom playing that Blake doesn't even pretend she's paying attention to. Normally they watch stuff with Ruby commenting and Blake occasionally saying something in response, but they're both too hungry for any of that. They've barely made it through an entire episode of whatever it is before both their plates are clean. Blake leans back on the couch, sighing in contentment. Ruby pulls her down so her head is in her girlfriend's lap, and before Blake can fully come around to being surprised, Ruby's fingers are moving through her hair. Blake lets her eyes close, drowsing.

She manages to catch up on the sitcom by passively listening while Ruby pets her, and she lets another couple episodes slip by while she enjoys the attention. It took a while for her to be comfortable letting Ruby touch her like this, but now that she is, she really likes it. Judging by the way Ruby does it as often as she can, she likes it, too.

Ruby's hand moves down to cradle the back of her head and pull her up. Blake's eyes flutter open, only for Ruby's mouth to gently cover hers. Blake props her hands up behind herself, kissing back. She thinks Ruby is just being affectionate, then a tongue teases at her lips. Blake moans softly, opening her mouth under Ruby's.

Blake shifts so they're on the same level, twisting to face Ruby. Her girlfriend's fingers slide back into her hair, this time causing little pinpricks of awareness along her scalp. Blake shivers, feeling the first hint of heat between her legs. Feeling daring, she moves so she can support herself on one hand, the other guiding Ruby's hand down to slide in under her shirt.

They've gotten this far before, more than once. Blake knows what Ruby's breasts feel like in her hand, knows Ruby's touch. She's not as familiar as she wants to be, but it's happened enough that Ruby doesn't hesitate before she pushes Blake's bra up and starts circling one nipple with her thumb. Blake pushes herself into Ruby's hand, wanting more. Ruby pulls at her nipple, and Blake pants into her mouth.

This is their boundary. Blake's ended up with her shirt off before, but they both skittered away from more, curling up in Ruby's bed without any pressure to go further. This time, Blake doesn't feel the same hesitation. She wants-- maybe not everything, but something. Definitely something.

Ruby must be thinking something similar, because she squirms her legs out from under Blake, twisting around to lie on top of her. It's the first time they've been this close while kissing since Blake confessed to Ruby, and a little shiver of worry goes through her. Ruby's gay, she knows, completely uninterested in men. What if feeling Blake against her isn't something she wants? Before Blake can move to put space between them, Ruby's pressed directly up against her hardness, thighs on either side of Blake's.

She expects Ruby to move away, or at least pause, but if anything, Ruby's kisses get hungrier. Her other hand joins the first in cupping Blake's breasts, and Blake can't help but whimper at the attention. Ruby rocks against her, and for a second, Blake sees white at the edge of her vision. Without thinking, her hands find Ruby's hips, thumbs brushing over skin. Ruby jolts, accidentally nipping Blake's lip. She mumbles an apology, pulling away to meet Blake's eyes.

"I'm fine," Blake pants, trying to think despite the throbbing between her legs. "Are you...?"

Ruby nods, dipping back down to kiss her again. She rolls her body against Blake's, their hips flush. Blake moves with her, meeting Ruby's tongue with her own.

They push against each other in smooth motions. Blake's skin feels too tight for her body, heated almost to the point of being uncomfortable. She can only concentrate on Ruby, on the friction between them.

"Ruby," Blake makes herself say, "I'm gonna...."

Ruby nods, her voice dipping low. "Me too."

Just that admission nearly sends Blake over the edge, but she's determined to make Ruby come first. She fits a hand between them, cupping her. Ruby breathes out a sharp breath, her hips moving in jerky thrusts as Blake rubs her. The back of Blake's hand gives her enough pressure against her cock to keep her thinking hazy, keep her moving. Ruby's breath starts coming in pants, and it's not long before her back arches, mouth opening in a silent cry.

Blake kisses her through it, brushes her lips over Ruby's cheeks, her jaw. Ruby huffs out quiet laughter, then opens her eyes. She catches Blake's gaze and holds it, gently pulling Blake's hand out from between her legs. She starts moving again, purposefully rubbing herself against Blake's hardness, and Blake can't look away.

This is ridiculous. They're dry humping like teenagers, cramped together on Blake's slightly-too-small couch. Ruby doesn't like men - not that Blake is one, but she's never expressed any fondness for penises either - and yet.

And yet this is the most connected Blake has felt in years. She's willing to let Ruby render her helpless, without a single second of hesitation or discomfort. When she orgasms, it's with the sure knowledge that Ruby has her, that Blake can trust her to have her.

Ruby lies back down to press herself against Blake, and they stay like that for a bit. Blake likes the closeness, but she knows she has to take care of the stickiness between her legs before it cools too far and starts feeling disgusting. She doesn't often get hit by the kind of dysphoria most transgender people struggle with, but having her own ejaculate on her skin for too long is one sure way to trigger it.

"I'll be right back," Blake tells her, gently moving Ruby up and off of her.

Ruby nods, sitting up and reaching for the remote.

When Blake gets back, Ruby trades places with her, heading for the bathroom. Not long after, Ruby tucks herself back into Blake's side. They watch some documentary - Blake thinks it's about obesity, but she's also drowsy and satisfied and a little too full from stuffing herself with takeout - for a while.

"Hey, Blake?" Ruby peeks up at her from under her arm. "Next time... can I suck you?"

A thrill goes down Blake's spine, and she closes her eyes, forcefully thinking about their disgustingly pale and skinny History professor (the one everyone is pretty sure is on some sort of drugs) to calm herself down.

"If... if you want to," Blake manages, only barely able to keep eye contact.

"I do," Ruby says, "but I want you to feel good, too."

Blake chuckles, trying to ignore the heat on her cheeks. "If you do that, Ruby, I guarantee you it'll feel good for me."

"Good," Ruby says, turning back to the show.

They get most of the way through it before Ruby starts to feel heavier against Blake's side. She looks down to see Ruby half-asleep, one eye closed all the way and the other halfway there. Blake shakes her head fondly, shifting to pick her girlfriend up in a princess carry.

"Blake?" Ruby mumbles, turning her head into Blake's neck.

"C'mon," Blake says, carrying her to the bedroom, "time to finish sleeping off finals."

"'Kay," Ruby says, relaxing against her.

They curl back up in Blake's bed, sleepy and warm, and forget about the outside world.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three