#clair’s art storage

[clairvoyyages]

Now THIS is what I mean when I say I haven’t posted anything in a long time..DOODLE DUMPS!!!

One of these is an art fight attack, it’s the 6th drawing for my friend @artpepkin <3 LOVE YOUUU YOURE SO COOL AND AWESOME AND SILLY

A lot of these were drawings that I’ve done at work, but I really wanna digitalize a lot of them :0

[dcbtv]

Title: Leaving Me Soft and Stranded Author: an_ardent_rain Artist: lotrspnfangirl Song: Down Bad Posting date: September 22 Rating: E Any archive warnings: None apply Top 10 main tags: post-canon fix-it, Curses, Sex Pollen, Gender Issues, Lipstick or Lip Gloss, Oral Sex

Summary: 

While helping Sam with an inventory of the Men of Letters storerooms, Cas gets hit with a spell. He's overcome, fueled only by an ever-growing desire for the one human he wants most: Dean.

Dean, while helping Claire clean out an old hunter's storage unit, trips a booby trap and gets hit with a spell. Unfortunately, in his case, the boob part is literal.

When circumstances lead to them finally sharing a night together, can they face the consequences of all the complicated feelings that night brings up?

Author tumblr: frogsinflannel Link to Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59139637 Artist tumblr: lotrspnfangirl Link to Art: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59029930

[stardewremixed]

Black Friday?

Abigail - yes! Adventuring gear. Healing rocks. Tarot cards.

Alex - chauffeurs Evelyn around for the day. Food court pizza.

Elliott - prefers to avoid the crowds. Stays home to write and drink a pumpkin ale.

Emily - has to work... all the shoppers ready to celebrate their 'wins' at the Saloon.

Harvey - tending injuries caused by aggressive shoppers

Haley - first in line, rented a car, stayed overnight in the city. This girl knows how to find deals.

Leah - no way. Stays home to do art.

Sam - has to work. Fending off crazy moms and shopping carts.

Shane - took the day. You can't pay him enough for the madness.

Sebastian - uh Cyber Monday, people. Hits the snooze.

Penny - dragging Pam out of the lingerie store. "For the last time, Ma, that won't fit you..."

Maru - taught the wisdom of Cyber Monday by her brother. Watches a documentary on drones delivering purchaes.

Magnus - teleportation spells are perfect for avoiding crowds

Olivia - hires a driver, has a personal shopper, enjoys the mayhem, makes an expensive restaurant reservation

Victor - nope, but he will join his mom for lunch

Claire - feigns an illness. She doesn't get paid enough for this bullshit.

Lance - lost a bet. Runs the Guild register most of the day.

Sophia - hires extra help for wine sales, sneaks a lunch in the storage room - Thanksgiving leftovers

[cannedbabs]

Bite the Hand that Feeds Fic stuff!!

I’m not going to be able to delve into the entirety of what Jack Horner’s mansion is like in every room, but if you all are interested in the guidelines of his living space here ya go !! You’ll be seeing new rooms in Ch. 5 (even if small glimpses) but not all of them.

Based on actual mansion layouts with a little bit of creative liberty taken into consideration!

It’s very sketchy and incomprehensible sorry. For reference, Ch. 4 saw the Foyer, Library, “Magic”, “Music”, the upstairs hallway, MRoom, and the Room parallel to the MRoom.

I went ahead and developed a large amount of staff for him, people who would take care of the mansion in general! So a lot of background work went into Bite the Hand that Feeds but it’s not going to get showcased (maybe). I also tried taking into consideration his character entirely, and take lots of bits from concept art! So the “Music” room was to showcase more of Claire on a Cloud’s concept art of hun having a room with a music corner with magical items that sing, and his game room has a singular bowling lane (like how the basement in the White House has like 2 bowling lanes!)

My fixation REALLY hit when I made these. I don’t mind questions on anything regarding it. Without spoiling Ch. 5 I will sadly say we don’t explore much of the downstairs still (Sorry Magic Storage room, you will be missed) unless I decide to continue it past Ch. 5 which.. IS a possibility. It just may see even slower updates, but who knows!! ❤️❤️

(THIS IS IN NO WAY SAYING THIS IS CANON TO JACK HORNER IN GENERAL I JUST DIDNT KNOW IF THE FANDOM HAD A SET AGREEMENT ON A “MANSION”. I know he sorta lives out of his factory but since the mansion was even ‘mentioned’ in the movie I thought I’d take a crack at it even if it was a bluff or something or other)

[arinayukirathecreator]

Random's nimona AU

What if ballister has a parent's noble bloodline/is a noble bloodline part 2

° during lunch, everyone's eating their food except ballister who's been through a lot of pain from what happened to his parents. Ambrosius thought it might be the best for giving him comfort and telling him that he needs to eat

° Todd (extremely punchable guy) interrupted their conversation as he always does making fun of ballister

° the queen came to visit with Clara boldheart, she noticed ballister never been eaten or rest and she feels so bad from telling him a truth

° Clara tell ballister about his mother's life, Claire used to be a princess and being a knight but only one problem that she wanted to refuse is arranged marriage with Micheal hacker (the most bully like Todd)

° she also telling him about his father, mother and valerin were actually best friends since childhood, valerin is still a princess who needs to be a queen soon. Ballister silverwar supposed to be a prince but he wanted to be a knight as he's always promised to his father

° ballister silverwar is a cheerful, determination, joy, clumsy (most the time) and confidence. Valerin is a funny, caring, confidence (a little) and patience. Claire boldheart is a quiet, dark soul, smart (battle IQ), confidence, and passion. Clara is a funny (mostly), smart, passion (like Claire) and clumsy (a bit)

° ballister boldheart changed his feelings about hearing their past life, he wish that he knew before if his mother telling him a story between them

° Clara shows the magic of memories but his father's wish about ballister boldheart's bright future, ballister started tearing his eyes falling through his cheek. He notice that his parents loves him so much as he wanted to be loved and proud by them

That's all, I hope someone made a fanfic or fan art because I don't have experience of being a writer, I'm good at drawing but my storage won't let me

[3thurs]

Third Thursday events and exhibitions for September 19

The next Third Thursday — the monthly evening of art in Athens, Georgia — is scheduled for Thursday, September 19, from 6 to 9 p.m. All exhibitions are free and open to the public. This schedule and each venue’s location and hours of operation are available at 3thurs.org.

Georgia Museum of Art, University of Georgia

Yoga in the Galleries, 6 p.m. — This free yoga class surrounded by works of art in the galleries is led by instructors from Five Points Yoga and open to both beginner and experienced yogis. Sanitized mats are provided. Space is limited and spots are available on a first-come, first-served basis; tickets are available at the front desk starting at 5:15 p.m.

On view:

“In Dialogue: On Wonder and Witnessing at Tallulah Falls” — 19th-century landscapes of Tallulah Falls and contemporary photographs of the area by Caitlin Peterson, illuminating the contradictions involved in marking off natural wonders and the paradoxes of witnessing nature. 

“Waffle House Vistas” — Photographs by Micah Cash taken from inside Waffle House restaurants, plus a newly commissioned time-based work.

“Saint Petersburg as Franz Liszt Saw It” — Organized in conjunction with the Liszt Festival at the University of Georgia’s Hugh Hodgson School of Music in October 2024, this exhibition features works on paper that show Russia at the time of Franz Liszt’s visits there in the 1840s.

“A Perfect Model: Prints after Anthony van Dyck’s Portraits” — Prints that attest to Anthony Van Dyck’s lasting impact as printmaker and portraitist.

Permanent collection: A wide range of the museum’s permanent collection is always on view, featuring painting, sculpture, works on paper and decorative arts from the Renaissance to contemporary periods.

The museum’s days of operation are Tuesday – Sunday. Reserve a free ticket and see our policies at https://georgiamuseum.org/visit/.

ATHICA: Athens Institute for Contemporary Art

ATHICA@675 Pulaski St., Suite 1200:

“How to Measure an Ocean: James Enos and Jess Machacek” — Sculptures, wall-based reliefs and objects acting as sensorial metaphors for describing atmospheric variation.

ATHICA@CINÉ Gallery:

“Garden of Dreams: Photographs by Austin Emerson” — Darkroom-based alchemical images.

Lyndon House Arts Center

Please note: the Lyndon House Arts Center will close at 8 p.m. on this Third Thursday.

Artist talk, 6 p.m. — Elaine Stephenson will speak about a public art mural she is creating for Athens with the Athens Cultural Affairs Commission.

On view: 

Ahndhi Stitcha’s VHS Tape Collection in the Community Collections case

“Amiri Farris” — Farris’ work delves into themes of history, culture, perception and time. Through his innovative style, he blurs the lines between contemporary cultures and pop traditions.

“Scissors, Paper, Art: Jack Burk & Claire Clements” — Utilizing paper, painting and drawing, these works sing with the vibrancy of the natural world. Plants and flowers are present in all of the images, expressing a lushness that connects material and subject matter.

“Art in a Bottle: Leonard Piha” —  Local artist creates small sculptures inside glass bottles.

tiny ATH gallery

“Stay On It Stay On It Stay On It” — New shaped paintings, recent works on paper and a selection of pieces from 2017 to 2018 by Jason Matherly.

The Athenaeum

“Fission or, Eclipse” —  New York-based artist Rose Salane uses seemingly mundane objects to explicate systems of evaluation, exchange and organization that shape daily life, arranging collected items of disparate origin from personal and bureaucratic archives to better understand historic cycles through an object’s recovery and storage.

ACE/FRANCISCO Gallery

"Murmur Trestle: Photographs by Jason Thrasher” — Opening and book release, with Avid Bookshop selling copies of “Murmur Trestle” (University of Georgia Press) on-site. Thrasher spent six years focusing his lens on an immersive exploration of the R.E.M. Murmur Trestle, photographing it within its changing natural environment.

“Grit Portraits: Paintings by Tobiah Cole” — Paintings of some of the artist’s friends from his many years at the Grit, a beloved restaurant formerly on Prince Avenue in Athens. A limited-edition fine art print of one of Cole's landscape paintings made in Maine will be available for purchase.

The Classic Center

Closed this Third Thursday between exhibitions.

—

Third Thursday was established in 2012 to encourage attendance at Athens’ established art venues through coordination and co-promotion by the organizing entities. 

Contact: Michael Lachowski, Georgia Museum of Art, mlachow@uga.edu.

[bedrock-123]

Commercial Lease Calgary: Finding the Ideal Commercial Space for Rent

Finding the right commercial space for your business is a crucial step in ensuring its success. Whether you’re a startup, an expanding business, or looking to relocate, Calgary offers a vibrant market for commercial leases. The city’s diverse economy, growing population, and strategic location make it an attractive destination for businesses of all sizes.

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Another critical aspect of securing a commercial space for rent in Calgary is understanding the lease terms. Typical lease agreements include the length of the lease, rent amount, and additional costs such as maintenance fees, property taxes, and utilities. It’s advisable to work with a commercial real estate agent who can negotiate favorable terms and help you navigate the complexities of the leasing process.

Calgary’s commercial real estate market also offers a variety of spaces to meet different business needs. From modern office buildings with state-of-the-art facilities to industrial spaces with ample storage and production areas, you can find a space that aligns with your business requirements. Additionally, co-working spaces and shared offices are increasingly popular for startups and freelancers looking for flexible and cost-effective options.

In conclusion, securing a Calgary commercial lease involves careful consideration of location, amenities, and lease terms. By understanding the local market and working with experienced professionals, you can find the perfect commercial space for rent in Calgary to support your business’s growth and success. Explore your options today and take the first step towards establishing your presence in one of Canada’s most dynamic cities.

[ultraheydudemestuff]

Ford Motor Company Cleveland Plant (Cleveland Institute of Art)

11610 Euclid Ave.

Cleveland, OH

The original Ford Motor Company Cleveland Plant, currently the Cleveland Institute of Art, is located in the University Circle neighborhood of Cleveland, a cultural hub known for its museums, performing art centers, prestigious universities, and nationally-recognized hospitals. The Ford Motor Company Cleveland Plant was originally constructed in 1913 to accommodate the manufacturing of Ford’s Model T. 

     Ford produced over 15 million Model T cars, making it the most widely sold car in history. Although most were made in Highland Park, Michigan, more than 100,000 Model Ts were produced in Cleveland. The Ford Motor Company established a sales and service office on Euclid Avenue in 1906. In 1911, it moved its Cleveland operations to a facility at East 72nd Street and St. Clair Avenue. And, in 1914, an assembly plant, located at 11610 Euclid Avenue, took parts made in Michigan and assembled Model Ts.

     The Euclid Avenue assembly plant included a showroom and sales office on the first floor, facing onto Euclid Avenue. The second, the third, and fourth floors served as the assembly area. The plant was offered to the War Department during World War I and served as a storage depot for war materiel through 1918. By the next year the plant was again producing Model Ts.

     In 1923, Ford updated the Cleveland plant to the "improved moving assembly" process, which was already being used in its Highland Park plant. The plant achieved its peak production in 1925, producing 225 vehicles per day while employing 1,600 people. The last Model T rolled off the line on May 31, 1927. Later that year the factory was retooled to produce the new Ford Model A.

     In 1932, Ford began producing the Model B, but because of a large drop in sales and large company wide losses, Ford closed its Cleveland branch plant in December 1932. The building continued to serve as a Ford sales office until the beginning of World War II, at which point the company gave the factory to the federal government. The building was sold after the war and used as a warehouse. It has also been used as office space, artists' studios, and a public storage site. The Ford Motor Company Cleveland Plant was added to the National Register of Historic Places on March 17, 1976.  It is currently being used by the Cleveland Institute of Art as a studio and classroom space.

[shyocean]

A thing I am thinking about submitting to

Ecodread: Art and Ecology against the Double-Bind

deadline for submissions: 

March 2, 2024

full name / name of organization: 

Claire Frances Spaulding

contact email: 

cspaulding2@willamette.edu

     “Paper or plastic?” Sustainably sourced or affordably manufactured? Organic or GMO? Every day, consumers are faced with small decisions marketed to make a big impact. ​​Choosing either paper or plastic puts the onus onto the shoulders of the customer rather than acknowledging that regardless of whether or not you leave the store with a paper bag, it’s the planned obsolescence of what’s inside the bag that’s left unaddressed. Opting out of paper billing feels great, until you realize that the WiFi bill’s gone up and an electric bill leaves you contemplating if your LED bulbs are a sustainability placebo. 

     Small decisions are navigated on an endless loop as individuals seek agency and consider the impact of choice against the dreaded future of ubiquitous Garbage Patches. Faced with omnipresent and overwhelming questions of personal consumption throughout each day means acknowledging that there’s no “right answer,” no escape from the double-bind of ecodread.

     Ecodread is a contradictory affect unique to our contemporary moment. We feel it while tightly gripping a reusable tote bag, crossing the threshold of a budget-friendly grocery store. We feel it coiled within tense shoulders as we reach for the cellophane-wrapped meal kits comprised of organic vegetables and free-range chicken. Ecodread is the omnipresent tension arising from the realization that the cost of living has to be paid from the ledger of sustainable measures. More than anxiety, ecodread is a state of consciousness in which the individual experiences and dwells within the double-bind of inaction and a tense attachment to an imagined apocalyptic future. Urgency and stalemate counter one another as a desire for agency, action, and relief hold the self captive. Ecodread registers the conditions of this impasse.

     Ecodread: Art and Ecology against the Double-Bind considers the theoretical and methodological intersections between art and ecology as sites that resist, critique, or alleviate ecodread. As an anthology, the varied forms and expertise of the collection offers readers moments of engagement that consider relief, distraction, remedy, practice, and more as methods for evading ecodread. The project will involve multidisciplinary works that can be read linearly or intuitively. By welcoming a range of creatives and academics to submit for this open call, I seek diverse responses that imagine how the affective burden of ecodread can be lifted from the shoulders of the individual. In the spirit of community building, I invite a range of contributions such as auto-theory, poetry, theory, methodological practice, academic research, and creative non-fiction. 

This project proposes a future otherwise from the double-bind of ecodread. Consider the following questions as preliminary methodological counterpoints:

How do everyday practices, art practices, modes of community building, and so on work against the impasse of inaction? 

How does a critique of ecodread entail a critique of the orientation to the future as inevitably apocalyptic? 

How do the various practices of artists, poets, scholars, and others offer strategies of evasion?

What are possible counterpoints to ecodread? Which communities activate or access these counterpoints?

If we trust our imaginations to consider the future with a glimmer of optimism, what becomes possible? How can a consideration of such futurity be an antagonistic affect to ecodread?

Areas of research or creative practice may include:

sites of salvage (goodwill, dump, your own storage, gift exchange/white elephant, estate sale)

kitsch

aesthetic theory

object theory

new materialism

breathwork

curatorial or artistic practice

community engagement

fieldwork

performance 

academic study

environmental criticism

creative nonfiction

poetry

Proposal Guidelines:

Submissions for abstracts should consider contemporary criticism, artist practice, sustainability studies, and ecological thinking as starting points for inspiration.

Essay contributors should submit an abstract of 300–500 words for a proposed final essay of 2000–8000 words (exclusive of notes and bibliography).

Poetry contributors should submit a project statement of 200–300 words along with three writing samples. Poetic contributions could be anything from a single poem to appear individually, to a series of poems that either appear in sequence or distributed throughout the volume.

For all contributors, please include a 250-word bio that details how the proposed contribution aligns with your creative or academic practice. 

Submissions should be submitted as PDF or Word Documents by March 2, 2024. Email your document to lead editor, Claire Spaulding (she/her), at cspaudling2@willamette.edu by 11:59PM PST.

[clairvoyyages]

Did anyone call for a badass mystic warrior?

This was my side of an art trade with @noxvee6 ! I haven’t drawn future Mikey in such a long time, so this drawing was well overdue >:0 🧡

[televinita]

Library Triage

All right, after a worrisome 24 hours I remembered that nothing can kill my obsessive Need 4 Read actually, so I spent all weekend immersed in books. And yet still have so many I'm acutely excited about that I have to actually try and structure my reading plans to ensure I can finish as many as possible before even more show up and knock these out of the way.

CURRENTLY READING

Daughter of No Worlds - Carissa Broadbent: first in a fantasy trilogy - "Televinita since when do you read fantasy???" there's a long story here that got lost because this happened on November 8th and the post about it got kicked out of the queue, but tl;dr someone reblogged a moodboard with a quote from book 2 that really tickled my fancy, I investigated, my brain immediately said "hey Sylvie, Loki," and of course that didn't actually transpose well in the slightest BUT the first 5% of the book so quickly hooked me on its own merit that here we are.

I'm 2/3rds done now so unless something goes horribly wrong, I expect to continue and/or finish the trilogy as soon as I can get ahold of the next books. Interlibrary loan vs. Libby audiobook, who's gonna get here first...

ON DECK

2. A Haunting on the Hill - Elizabeth Hand: I am so annoyed this new release didn't get here one week earlier, because now I'm yearning to go in new directions, but this one has a long request list so I kinda have to read it in the next two weeks or give it up 'til next year. And on the bright side, this "authorized return to Hill House" looks like the book I wanted Shirley Jackson's book to be.

3. Sunny Song Will Never Be Famous - Suzanne Park: I was in the YA section to pick up a different book (that I ended up not finishing) when this caught my eye. I feel like it has been an eternity since I tried such a bright-n-shiny/upbeat/cute/fun read like this, and seeing it made me realize I am in desperate need of a palate cleanser.

Anyway, back to dark-n-serious...

4. Dream To Me - Megan Paasch: Another random pull from YA -- the cover caught my eye, it looks kiiinda spooky? or maybe more like eerie, as the back makes comparisons to Twin Peaks -- and it's blurbed by Ashley Schumacher as also a book about grief, so cool. Good November-mood stuff.

5. Forgotten Trail - Claire Kells: Third in the National Parks mystery series I so enjoy, it was released last week, so I'm just waiting for the library to finish putting all its stickers on before they give it to me. Could be anywhere from a few days to another 2 weeks.

6. If We Were Villains - M.L. Rio: the inspo went like this --

Me: I have no interest in this book. The Internet: here's a list of books Loki would read. Me: okay sold (literally, I bought it at a used book sale after 1 week on the library waitlist and deciding it was worth $2 to shift the wait to my own terms)

That said if don't get to it before my brain switches back to David Tennant mode, it's gonna go back on the shelf until I switch back.

7. The Work of Art - Mimi Matthews: The good news is, when the David Tennant mode reactivates, so will this book. (The library copy I wanted in September is still missing, but it turns out the branch that just reopened after ten months of remodeling had a Secret Copy in storage so now it's here. And yet, it must wait still longer.)

Plus a few more I'm juggling on the waitlist, mostly on pause until I get through more of these.

[ozone-1]

Optimising DevOps with Ozone: A Complete Ecosystem for Software Delivery

In DevOps, where development and integration never sleep, Ozone emerges as the beacon of transformation. It's not just another tool; it's a paradigm shift. Ozone is the key to unlocking a new era of software delivery, where complexity bows to simplicity, collaboration fuels productivity, and security is embedded from the outset.

Imagine a world where your pipelines flow effortlessly, where developers wield automation like a superpower, and where multi-cloud management becomes second nature. This is Ozone—a gateway to the future of DevOps, where agility, efficiency, and excellence converge. Join us as we embark on a journey into the heart of Ozone's DevOps revolution.

Understanding Ozone and its Key Features

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Productivity Boost: Ozone's automation capabilities enable a 10x reduction in pipeline creation time and a 25% improvement in key DORA metrics. It fosters closed-loop feedback from microservices deployments, facilitating continuous improvement.

Freedom in Multi-Cloud Management: With Ozone, manage multi-cloud infrastructure from a single intuitive interface, avoiding the need for specialized skills in different cloud environments. It ensures hyper scaler-independent pipelines built on the Tekton industry-standard framework, promoting workload mobility across providers.

Implementing Ozone for Optimized DevOps

Now that we have a grasp of what Ozone offers, let's explore how to implement it effectively in your organization's DevOps practices:

Assessment and Planning: Start by conducting a thorough assessment of your current DevOps processes. Identify bottlenecks, pain points, and areas for improvement. Create a comprehensive plan with clear objectives and milestones for integrating Ozone.

Tool Selection: Choose the Ozone tools that align with your organization's unique needs. These may include popular DevOps tools like Git for version control, Jenkins for CI/CD, Kubernetes for container orchestration, and Prometheus for monitoring.

Seamless Integration: Ensure seamless integration of  tools into your existing DevOps pipeline as Ozone supports every major tool in the CI/CD ecosystem. The goal is to create a cohesive ecosystem where automation, collaboration, and security complement each other.

Advantages and Disadvantages of Ozone in DevOps Optimization

Benefits of Ozone in DevOps Optimization

Enhanced Efficiency: Ozone's automation capabilities significantly reduce manual tasks, leading to faster software delivery.

Streamlined Collaboration: Ozone promotes cross-functional collaboration, breaking down organizational silos and promoting a culture of shared responsibility.

Scalability: As Ozone is Kubernetes-native and its pipelines are agentless, deployments become flexible and can scale to meet the needs of both small startups and large enterprises.

Accelerated Time-to-Market: Ozone's breakthrough pipeline builder and automation capabilities enable organizations to significantly speed up their software delivery pipelines.

Ozone presents a compelling software delivery platform for modernizing DevOps practices. Its advantages in accelerating pipelines, enhancing security, and improving productivity are clear.

So, take action today, and let Ozone propel your DevOps practices to new heights. 

Let there be a CTA to sign-up for a new account on Ozone: https://cd.ozone.one/signup

[sammyloomis]

what the ud kids look like

ashley looks like shes about to die of consumption in a 4 poster bed in a nightgown asking if she’ll be able to see grandmämä again

jess looks like if you ran through a claire’s accessories covered in glue and threw urself into the nearest rack of earrings and bracelets

emily looks like if u got a 12 year old emo kid and hit fast forward a bit and then threw a boatload of fashion magazines at them in the midst of it

sam looks like if a bag of granola gained sentience and formed a human body a-la sandman from spiderman and started going to the gym

chris looks like the physical embodiment of the vocation of computer science and lives in a server storage room

josh looks like u ran into the nearest showing of any 3 hour art house movie and plucked a random film bro from the seats

matt looks like a pile of warm winter jumpers wrapped in a letterman jacket but the jumpers are filled with bricks and will take u out if it tackles u

mike looks like someone put every white man into a photo merging site and the result stepped out of the screen

[scapegrace74-blog]

Do You Want To?

A/N The second prompt-inspired Metric Universe fic, this time in response to a request for Jealous Jamie/Claire by @stellarpuffin. Often we see Jamie being the jealous one, but this idea came to me fully formed. Set way back at the beginning of the Metric timeline, sometime between Breathing Underwater and Lost Kitten. Claire POV, and also just a hint of Jamie/John. Inspired by the Franz Ferdinand song and video referenced in the title, which is gloriously sexually ambiguous and can be seen here.

The entire Metric Universe is available on my AO3 page.

November 14, 2015

Village Underground, Shoreditch, London, England

"Are ye gonna bid on something?" Geillis asked as they made their way through a Tube car converted into an art installation space.

The friends stopped in front of a nine foot pastiche of rubber hoses, protrusions of oil paint and copper plating that seemed to be the artist's interpretation of what it might look like if a factory puked.

"I made my donation when I paid for my ticket," Claire replied. "Intriguing as these pieces are, if I don't mind every penny I'll end up homeless myself."

"Like I'd ever let that happen tae ye," her friend scoffed. "Let's head back tae the main buildin' then and make certain ye get yer money's worth in free food, at least."

Crisis UK's semi-annual fundraiser was a charity auction. Despite her jest, Claire was a regular contributor, having seen the physical and social toll of homelessness first-hand through her work at the hospital. The venue was a converted coal storage warehouse, renovated to the height of Functional Industrial Disrepair, and it echoed with the voices of patrons from all walks of life. Signature cocktails in hand, the two women stood to one side of the room and gossiped between morsels of finger food lifted from passing servers.

"Weeeel, if it isn't the wee fox cub," Geillis remarked with evil glee.

Muddled by several drinks downed in quick succession, Claire looked about for a stray forest animal. What she saw was nearly as unexpected. Standing out amongst the crowd of black dresses and expensive distressed jeans, Jamie Fraser's defiantly chaotic curls and trim navy blue uniform drew her eyes like a magnet. He was leaning down, listening in apparent rapt attention to a petite blonde woman with eyes take took up half her face and a crop top that started its life as a handkerchief.

"Thas' Leery Mackenzie," Geillis noted. "A more persistent flirt ye ne'er did meet, an' thas' comin' from me. Puir lad is in need of rescue."

In truth she barely knew the young fireman, besides having once been the only obstacle standing between his mangled body and the afterlife, but she found herself vaguely disappointed in his choice of company. But who was she to judge? Even heroes were entitled to an easy piece of tail now and then. After all, hadn't he dated Geillis once?

"Don't let me stop you, Duncan. I'll just stand here and hold up this derelict wall."

"Och, nah. Been there, done that. I think ye're the right woman fer the job, Beauchamp."

"Me?" she began to protest, but just then the background music ceased and a well-dressed man called for everyone to take their seats so that the auction could begin.

In addition to the art on display, a number of companies had donated services and experiences to be bid upon. Claire found herself wishing she could afford to indulge in the spa getaway package or a weekend for two in Margate. But then again, who would she take? Instead, she sipped on her drink and observed the crowd as item after item went on the block. Jamie was nowhere to be seen, but his blond friend sat in the front row, her bare shoulders glimmering under the bright lights. Who wore glitter to a charity auction, even in Shoreditch, she wondered uncharitably.

"Our next item on offer is sure to bring a smile to some lucky lady's face," the announcer intoned. "Lot 23 is an all-expenses paid night on the town with one of London Fire Brigade's bright young stars, Mister April himself, James Fraser. And here he is now. I'll start the bidding at fifty pounds."

Claire didn't know where to look first. Next to her, Geillis let out an abbreviated cry, sounding like a strangled goat. On the stage, Jamie had sauntered into the limelight, copperplate curls alight and tall, broad form neatly sheathed in navy blue. And in the front row, a glitter-strewn arm shot skyward before the auctioneer even named his starting price.

"Excellent, I have fifty pounds from the enthusiastic young lady in the front row. Do I hear sixty pounds?"

Hands were raised from elsewhere in the audience, but each time Leery answered with a higher bid.   Soon it was only the blonde tart and a slim dark-haired man with astonishingly long eyelashes who were bidding against each other.  

Claire watched to see if Jamie appeared uneasy with the idea of going on a date with another man, but he smiled easily any time the rivals outbid each other.  He wasn’t a vain man, in her estimation, but he wore his striking looks with an easy confidence that was undeniably sexy.  If you were into that sort of thing, that is.

“I have one hundred and sixty pounds from the young lady in front.  Do I hear one hundred and seventy pounds?”

The dark haired man shook his head, looking sincerely disappointed.  Claire felt a pang of sympathetic compassion.

“...once. Going twice. Final call.  I have one hundred and seventy pounds from a new bidder in the back!”

Every head swiveled around to where Claire sat, her arm raised on high.  Leery narrowed her eyes as though Claire had just cursed her lineage.  From the stage, Jamie made eye contact, instantly recognizing her. Perhaps she was deluding herself, but she felt he looked relieved.

“What happened tae livin’ on the streets?” Geillis snickered as the auctioneer recommenced the bidding.

“I’m banking on the fact that you took me in as a stray once before,” Claire retorted as she lifted her hand a second time.

When all was said and done, she ended up paying two hundred and ten pounds to go out on a date with a man she barely knew.  For reasons she couldn’t fathom, saving Jamie from Leery’s avid clutches was more important than her own ambivalence and enforced frugality.

“Ye never cease tae amaze me, Claire,” Geillis laughed after the auction concluded.  “Never in a million years would I have predicted ye had a crush on yon fox cub.”

“That’s because I don’t have a crush on him,” she denied.  “I just find the whole idea of a man, or a woman, mind you, selling himself like a piece of meat incredibly distasteful.”

“Oh, aye,” her friend grinned.  “Tis a noble deed ye’ve done, tae be sure.  An’ now that ye’ve saved him from the butcher’s block, whatever are ye tae do wit’ him?”

“I haven’t the faintest...”

“Good evenin’ tae ye, Nurse Beauchamp.  Geillis.”

The piece of meat in question stood before them, even more impressive at close range.  Just over his left shoulder she could see Leery looking on in disgust, a moue of despair painted on her ample lips.

After a few casual pleasantries, Jamie said, “Sae, Ms. Beauchamp, shall I give ye my number so we can arrange a time fer our wee outing?  I was thinking dinner an’ a show, but if ye prefer live music we could...”

“There won’t be any need to exchange numbers, Mr. Fraser.  Save your money, or better yet, donate it to the fundraiser.”

The look Leery gave her as she and a hysterical Geillis left to grab their coats was worth every penny.

[eideticmemory]

EVER SINCE NEW YORK IV | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

Description: I was messaged saying: “If you don’t write a young Matthew enemies to lovers fic featuring an obsession with sucking on boobs then what’s the point 😔.” So, here it is, folks! The ultimate College!Matthew fic. Cover by @timey-wimey-lovi​!

PART 4! Read Part 3 here!

SOUNDTRACK:

Let Me Know - Clear Eyes.

Friends - Ed Sheeran.

Perfect Places - Lorde.

Word Count: 4,551.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Sexual intercourse, drinking, recreational drug use, a bit of angst.

Fall, Junior Year.

Tisch School of the Arts, 

New York University.

New York City. 

“We’re going out tonight,” Claire said, plopping down on your bed. 

“Oh? We are?” You replied, a notebook in your lap, and your back resting against the pillows.

“Yes. There is a welcome back party on campus tonight and we’re going.”

“I don’t feel like partying,” you sighed. “We just moved back in. There’s still so much left to do, to unpack.”

“Guess what? It’ll be here when we get back. And we’ll have all of tomorrow to decorate. But right now, we’re juniors, we’re thriving, and we’re gonna party!” She did a little dance, her red hair bouncing on her head. 

You giggled, “Fine. Only until midnight! Then, we’re coming right back.”

“Geez, grandma? Midnight? Make it one!”

“Fine, one-thirty.”

“I’ll take it,” she smiled. She hopped out of bed, and turned on her heels, finger guns pointing at you. “Wear that red tube top. Step all the way out, kid. I mean it!”

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

You wore the top. It looked good. Abnormally good. Insanely good. It hugged your body, and accented your breasts, little ruffles handing on the hem. You paired it with a loose pair of jeans, leather boots, and sparkly jewelry. Your hair was pulled out of your face and you applied light makeup. 

“Yes, ma’am!” Claire cheered when she saw you. “For someone who didn’t wanna party, you sure snapped.” 

“Hush,” you blushed. “I just wanna be prepared, y’know, in case we take pictures or run into people.”

Person. Singular. 

You anticipated a high chance of seeing Matthew tonight, and if it was true, it would be your first time seeing each other in person in two months. After week upon week of late night phone calls — full of dirty words, quiet moans, and soft goodnight wishes. With his timezone being three hours behind yours, the two of you set alarms on your phone to talk in the early hours of the morning. Until you fell into this routine of talking every night. First, helping each other get off — sometimes more than once. And then having a sleepy, giggle-filled conversation about anything under the sun. It regularly lasted until one of you fell asleep.

So, yeah. You were eager to see him. Even more eager to get back to his place. Get back underneath him. It’d been a week since you last spoke, both of you being too busy moving back to New York. You ached for him dearly. And you wanted his first reaction to seeing you again to be lustful, intense. The outfit was perfect.

Claire and you walked across campus, arm in arm, skin glowing under the lights, hair blowing in the breeze. The music was palpable, and you could hear it from miles away. The two of you stepped into the dorming building, giggling at the sight of familiar faces, the smell of alcohol and weed, the sound of bass. 

For most of the night it was easy to mingle. You carried a solo cup of alcohol from each room — vodka. Everytime you drank rum, you got horny. It was weird. You couldn’t turn a corner without bumping into someone you knew, be it a dancer, an actor, film student. Being a double major, and active on campus, you knew way too many people. And everyone seemed to be there that night. It took you a good hour to rotate amongst groups. 

“[y/n]?”

You turned around, a smile instantly appearing on your face. “Alex! Oh, my goodness! How are you?”

The dashing boy smiled at you, his hand on your shoulder. “Hey! I’m great, how are you?”

“I’m good, I’m good. I’m currently trying to have a good time despite being tired as hell.”

He laughed, “Well, I see you’ve got some good time juice there, so you’re halfway to freedom. Hey, I forgot to tell you — your performance in the nutcracker last Christmas was incredible. I, uh, I actually went to the spring ballet after that because I was so impressed.”

“Thank you,” you grinned. “I like to inspire people to experience ballet. It’s cool.”

“I was very inspired,” he nodded. “Hopefully we’ll have some more classes together this semester.” 

“Yeah! If not, you know how to reach me.” You bit down on your lip to keep from smiling too wide. He gave you a quick wink, and walked away. 

You instantly began looking for Claire, rushing around the dorm for anyone resembling your friend. You noticed her in the threshold of a room, shoulder leaned against the wall, her arms crossed. You walked up to her, “Claire! Claire, you’re not gonna believe who I just ran into. It was definitely not the reunion I was expecting tonight.” 

Claire was dazed, staring in front of her with a face solid as stone. You very rarely saw her like this, and it freaked you out right away. “Claire? Claire, dude, what’s wrong?” You turned your head to follow her gaze, and your eyes landed on the couch. 

People lined the cushions, and dead in the center was Matthew. His hair had grown out a lot, and he dressed differently. All button down shirts and khaki shorts. With that damn chain tucked in his collar. And beside him was a girl. Hair jet black, a matching black mini dress, paired with sandals. They were kissing. Hot. Heavy. His hand gripping her hair, the other on his thigh. When they seperated, she touched his lips and you felt yourself having a stroke. The giggled at each other and Matthew kissed her cheek. 

“It’s about one-thirty, right?” Claire asked you, her sight not moving. 

You gulped. There was an ache in your chest that made it hard to speak. But you took a deep breath, and release the words, “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

Claire walked around you, heading towards the exit, and you followed. The two of you walked home, silent, arms over each other’s shoulders. In the room, Claire dropped her stuff to the floor,  kicked her shoes off and sat on her bed. You rushed into the space, approached your nightstand and rummaged through it. 

“What are you doing, [y/n]?”

“I’m packing a bowl,” you replied, grabbing your herbs, a lighter and the bowl. 

“Right now? In here?” She gasped.

“Is that okay?”

She sighed, “Yeah. Come share.”

The two of you sat on her bed, thirty minutes later, laying against the wall with your heads staring at the ceiling. Your eyelids were lowered, red, and your breathing was slow. 

“I’m hungry,” Claire said, texting on her phone. “Do we have gummy bears? I want gummy bears. But haribo gummy bears. Not those knocks off we used to buy. And some soda. Soda would be so good right now. My mouth is so dry.”

You stayed quiet, eyes focused on the lights overhead. You couldn’t get the image out of your mind. Matthew. And that girl. Kissing. Touching. 

“Her name is Veronica,” Claire said. 

You turned your hear to her, “Huh?”

“Her name is Veronica,” she repeated. “Or Roni for short.” She rolled her eyes. “She, uh, she’s from Vegas. She went to school with...Gube, actually. They dated.”

“Oh...” you nodded. “Are you...are you okay?”

“I — I, yeah, I’m fine,” she shrugged. “It’s just...really inconvenient of him to go back to her right now.”

“Back to her?”

“They’re together. They’re dating. Apparently they got back together this summer.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows together, a thousand thoughts running through your mind at once. “What do you think about that?” Claire asked. 

“Uh...” You shrugged. “I’m surprised anyone actually touches that boy,” you laughed, the sound coming out broken and sad. 

“Yeah...well...Misty says Roni is a big one for Gube. That, um, necklace he wears? She gave it to him years ago. He never took it off.” 

You nodded, “Yeah,” your voice cracked. “Well, that’s...that’s some heavy fixation there.” 

“[y/n]...”

“I should shower. I’m gonna shower.” You went to get off the bed, but Claire grabbed your wrist. You turned to her, and she pushed your hair out of your face. 

“I’m really upset about this, kid,” she said. “Can you...can you just lay with me for a bit?” 

You sighed, gave her a small smile and leaned in to hug her. She held you close, placing one hand on your head and the other on your rest. And she let you rest your head on her chest, as you let silent tears roll down your cheeks. 

Monday morning, you got up at 5 in the morning. You spent 2 hours in the ballet studio, twirling and dancing until your feet went numb. When you returned home, Claire was still asleep and you took a quick shower. You tried on ten different outfits, applied makeup, spent a long time on your hair. You made breakfast, checked for any assignments, surfed social media. And still had an hour before class. 

You chose to walk around campus, locate all your classes, grab some coffee, and then you headed to your first class. Walking through the building, you sipped on your drink, moving absentmindedly roaming the halls. Suddenly, a hand reached out and pulled you into a storage closet. Your scream was cut short, and you jumped as the door closed behind you.

You looked up at see Matthew staring at you, a soft smile on his face. “Hey.”

“I’m going to class,” you muttered, turning to exit the room. But Matthew put his hand on the door knob to stop you.

“Wait, wait,” he pleaded. “Um, do I see you at the party —“

“Yep,” you nodded, not making eye contact with him. 

“So...then, you saw me at the party with—“

“Yep.”

“Okay...[y/n]...”

“I really have to go to class, so, thanks for the detour, but I’m leaving now.” You removed his hand from the knob and left the closet, not looking back. 

You walked into your classroom, swallowing to get rid of the weird feeling in your throat. You set your bag down and took a seat. You attempted to shake Matthew out of your mind, the smell of him, the sight of him, the tension of being so close to him. But it was hard. It may have been the hardest thing ever. 

“Well, well, well,” a voice called to you. “Guess I got lucky, huh?”

You looked up to see Alex, giving you a toothy grin and a look of pure joy. “Alex,” you breathed. “Hi. This is awesome, you’re in here?”

“Yeah,” he took a seat beside you. “Haven’t seen you much since freshman year. This is nice.”

“It sure is.”

So. 

Remember number eight on your list of atrocities against Matthew Gubler? 

Fucked his friend. While said friend was supposed to help Matthew with his project. 

Alex would be the friend. He was gorgeous and kind and so good in bed. You first met in a cinematography class freshman year, where he very boldly asked if you wanted to hang out some time. You smiled, said yes, and that led to the aforementioned sexual encounter. It only happened a handful of times, until the semester was over. Then you didn’t see each other as often.

But he was here now. He was here and he was flirting with you. You were flirting back. You were hurt and upset and confused and so fucking horny, you could burst. So, after classes, you reached out to him and asked if he could help you with a pre class assignment. He told you to come over. You did. 

You didn’t work on the assignment though. 

Starting off pretty hot and heavy, it was a few weeks of meaningless sex until he asked you out. Claire cheered when she heard the news, causing you to give her a confused look. “Why are you so happy that I have a date?” You giggled. 

“Oh...I just — Alex is cute! He’s great, I always wondered what happened to him. You said he was good in the sack and he was always sweet to you. I’m just, so glad you’re happy.”

You gave her a faux smile, “Yeah. I’m happy.” 

Alex’s friend was having a birthday party at his apartment, and Alex insisted you come. Said it was the only way he’d be able to have any fun when everyone got too drunk. You agreed, and when he picked you up that night, you were dressed in a purple romper and diamond earrings. 

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss you. 

“Thank you,” you smiled. “You look beautiful, too.” 

He held your hand as he drove to the apartment, as you got out the car, walked up the stairs, entered the living space. He introduced you to everyone you met, his arm around you proudly and your head nuzzled into his chest. 

Watching you across the room was a very irritated Matthew Gubler, who sat with Veronica on his lap and a beer in his hand. You didn’t notice Matthew’s presence for a long time, considering the fact that he was avoiding you, and you were more focused on Alex. 

While talking to Alex’s friends, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom. You strolled down the hallway, searching for the restroom. 

“[y/n]!”

You turned around, confused. Matthew marched up to you, his hands in his pocket, his face determined. 

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you told him, and continued to walk. 

He followed you. “So, you dating Alex now?”

“That’s not really your business, now is it?”

He grabbed onto your arm and pulled your body into his, hiding you two behind a corner. “No, but it bugs me.”

“It bugs you?”

“It bugs me. I don’t want you with Alex. Alex is a dick.” 

“Well, not to me—“

Matthew leaned down and kissed you, his hands tightened on your waist. He kissed you like he was starving, mouth open, breath heavy. 

You pushed him away, your eyes closed in shock and ecstasy. No, no, you thought. “Matthew—“

“Let’s leave,” he interjected.

“Huh?”

“Let’s leave. Me and you. Let’s go.”

“No,” you snapped.

“Why not?”

“Because, I’m here with Alex! And you’re here with...her, so, no. I’m staying here, with the guy I came with.”

“C’mon—“

“Matthew, no! No! Are you deaf? Are you dumb? Leave me alone, and go back to your girlfriend.” You suddenly didn’t have to pee anymore, so you returned to Alex and his group of friends. Matthew watched as you took a seat in Alex’s lap, and you pretended not to notice. 

There was radio silence for months. Matthew even removed you on snapchat, and for your sanity, you ignored it. You continued a casual relationship with Alex, and he continued to worship the ground you walked on. A vast change in pace from Matthew. Claire pushed for the Alex relationship hardcore, saying hi to him when came over, giving you guys time alone, tagging alone with you two to parties. 

But every once in a while, you thought about Matthew. When you saw a particular movie, or heard one of his favorite bands, right after you would have sex. And especially on Halloween. Over the summer, he told you all about his costume plans, party plans, and movie marathons he was going to have. And for some reason, like a clown, you just assumed you’d be with him when it happened.

By the time final exams were over, you and Alex considered yourselves exclusive. You strolled into the end of the year party, holding hands and laughing. You’d fallen into a good groove with his friends. They all liked you, you liked them, and you enjoyed their company. While sitting with them, one pulled out a joint, lit it and began to pass it around.

“Want a hit?” Alex asked.

“She’s pretty tiny. Can she handle it?” A friend said. 

You glared at her and took the paper between your lips, inhaling and holding a large amount of smoke. She watched in amazement as you exhaled through your nose, “Well...I stand corrected, princess.”

You took in a sharp breath of air.

And that was just the beginning of the spiral. 

You stayed in rotation of the weed for a long time, until your thoughts were nothing but a mess of words racing everywhere. Your eyes felt heavy, so did your body. And you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

You were wondering was there ever really a connection or were you just highly sexually compatible? Did Matthew ever have feelings for you or did he just want one thing? Why does kissing him and fucking him and just talking to him feel so different? How come when everything falls apart, you want Matthew? How come when everything is going well, you want Matthew? Need to talk to Matthew. Where’s Matthew? Where’s Matthew? 

“[y/n]!” Alex called. “You’re high as fuck,” he laughed. “What are you thinking about?”

Matthew. 

“Come here,” and he pulled you into a kiss. And when you pulled away, feeling nothing, nothing at all, you realized you needed Matthew. You needed to feel something. But Matthew wasn’t here. And you wish he was here. Where’s Matthew? 

Tears were springing to your eyes, but you quickly began to cough, distracting yourself with a new sensation. You rose to your feet, and exited the room, much to Alex’s disapproval. He watched you rush past him, his face laced with confusion.

Everyone you passed by looked like Matthew. Why did everyone look like Matthew? You missed Matthew. And this was unfair. You wiped at the tears in your eyes, but they were already gliding down your cheeks. They burned your skin and it made you cry more. You were blinded. And way too high to notice Matthew - the real Matthew - entering the hallway. 

His eyes were redder than red, a lot like yours. His movements were slow. But something told him to reach out for you. Like a magnet. And you fell into his arms. It took him a whole second to realize it was you, but he did. 

“[y/n]?” he whispered. “Oh, my God, [y/n]. What’s wrong? What happened?” His hands moved to cup your face, his thumbs wiping the tears on your cheek. 

“[y/n]!” Oh, no. Alex. “What are you doing? Where are you going?” 

At that point, you looked up at Matthew. Focused in on him. Said his name. But his attention had turned to Alex. And he was pissed. You could tell. 

“Wait, wait, Matthew, wait,” you pleaded. 

“What the hell did you do to her?” He shouted, holding you close. 

“Wait, Matthew, he didn’t—“

“Gube, let her go, dude!.” Alex snapped, reaching for your arm. 

And that sent Matthew through the roof. He released you from his arms and moved towards Alex, delivering a swift punch to his face. You’d never seen Matthew so much as cuss someone out, so this. This. This was hard to register. Nonetheless, you screamed his name, attempting to push both of them away from the brawl. But it was useless. 

Two guys had to step in and separate Alex and Matthew, pulling them to opposing sides of the hallway. And you had to decide who to follow. It wasn’t a hard decision to make. 

You kept a good 100 feet behind Matthew the whole time, watching him stomp his way to his residence hall. You knew exactly how to get into the building, but weren’t sure you should. You’d never seen him so angry. So red. So primal. 

But, Matthew. 

Oh, God, Matthew. What would you say? What would you do? Did he want to see you? Did he want to be alone? Was his roommate there? You paced for 20 minutes, freezing your ass off outside the dormitory. Your mind was made up when you found the side entrance and let yourself in, marching up the steps. Now or never. Now or never. And you needed to see Matthew now. 

You perched yourself in front of his door, paused, and proceeded to knock with full force. “Be home, be home, be home,” you whispered. 

He was home.

He came to the door, shirtless, his face bruised, his hair tasseled, and that stupid, ridiculous gold chain around his neck. And you’d never wanted to suck a dick so badly in your entire life. You instantly imagined grabbing him, kissing him, pulling him close. But you didn’t do that. You stood there, looking like an idiot, until he spoke. 

“What are you doing here, [y/n]?”

You hadn’t even thought about it. It just felt right to follow him. “I—I wanted...I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

He shrugged, “I’m alright.” His face was stern. Stoic. No emotion showed on his features and it made you sick.

“Oh,” you said. “Okay.” 

You stared at each other for a long time. You just wanted him to say it. Ask you to stay. Ask you to come in. To admit it. But he wouldn’t. So you had to walk away. 

“Okay,” you nodded, sadly, and ducked your head as you headed towards the exit. “Okay.” You sniffled, patting at your eyes as they watered. 

Matthew watched you go. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, his shoulders relaxing as he exhaled. “[y/n],” he called. 

You’d stopped in your tracks.

“You...you were pretty stoned at the party,” he told you. “Are you sober?” 

You turned your body to face him. You thought about his eyes. How red they were. How slow he moved. How you had both been utterly and totally high as hell. “I’m sober,” you said. Honestly. After all of tonight’s events, and the sheer shock of seeing Matthew, being so close to him again, you had sobered up. “Believe me, I’m sober. Are you?”

Matthew licked him lips, nodding as he sighed. He stepped out into the hallway, and pushed the door to his dorm open. He signaled for you to enter. 

You gave him a quick and sad smile, and you avoided eye contact with him as you stepped into the empty room. He led the way to his private room, and let you in, closing the door behind you. You kept your back to him, arms crossed over your chest. 

He sighed, “I’m—Veronica and I broke up. Actually, she broke up with me...again. So, y’know, it wasn’t much of a surprise, but—“

“Matthew,” you cut him off, turning to him. “I need a favor.”

He hesitated, then his voice was strong, “Anything.”

“I leave for home next week for Christmas break. And since, I can’t seem to figure out what the hell about you is driving me insane, Matthew Gubler, I’m going to need time. Space. If you need time and space. So, you need to make that decision.”

“Okay.”

“But right now, take your clothes off,” you ordered. 

“Okay.”

He stared at you lustfully, just like you wanted, his body moving on autopilot to remove his shorts and boxers. You mirrored his movements, and took off your dress, subsequently tossing your bra and panties onto the floor. He grabbed onto your body and kissed you, one hand tangled in your hair and the other gripping your waist. He pushed you back onto his bed, falling on top of you and kissing your neck. You held onto his torso as he made way to your collarbone, nibbling on it lightly. He pulled away and gropped your breasts, massaging them with his fingers. 

He was practically drooling over them, his eyes focused solely on your boobs. He leaned down and sucked on your nipple, while his hand slid down between your legs. He felt around your core, and slowly slid two fingers into you. You threw your head back, and moaned. 

Matthew kissed a trail from your breast to your hips. He began to kiss your inner thighs, kneeling down in front of you and pulling you up to his face. He pressed his tongue against  your clit, working his muscle in an up and down motion. You moved your hips against his face and his fingers, gasping weakly. You forgot how good his mouth felt, but this was huge, huge reminder. You gripped onto his hair and swore under your breath. 

He noticed your thighs tightening around his face, and increased his intensity and speed. Your back arched off of the mattress, you whimpered into your mouth, and your chest was heaving. You let out a long groan as you came on his face, your entire body tensing up. He withdrew his fingers from you, and licked up from your core to your navel to your breasts. He kissed your neck, then your lips. And he sucked his fingers clean, holding eye contact with you.

Overwhelmed, you pulled him in by his face and kissed him passionately. He grunted against your lips, rubbing his cock on your core. He pushed into you, his jaw dropping and his forehead against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and this encouraged him to thrust into you. Matthew held you in his arms, moaning into your ear as he moved his hips. 

You kissed his jaw, sucking on the skin until you felt it pulse between your lips. You could feel his muscles moving under your palms, and his cock striking a sensitive spot inside of you. It felt like you were crumbling, getting weaker by the second. But when you felt the chain hitting your chin, you wired back to life. You gripped onto the necklace and twisted it around your fingers, angrily biting your lip. 

As he slammed into you, you muttered a soft “fuck!” and yanked on the chain. It popped off of his neck, and it was cathartic. You moaned and threw it to a far corner of the room. You reached down and rubbed your clit quickly, panting as Matthew’s body began to tremble. He kept his gaze focused on you as you let him fuck you into another orgasm, and your hips rolled against his in an eager rhythm. 

“Oh, fuck!” Matthew exclaimed, pulling out of you just in time. He released himself onto your stomach, moaning and gasping for air. 

The mattress creaked as he laid down beside you, collapsing with a thud. The two of you stared at the ceiling, naked and breathy and covered in sweat. You rested your hand on Matthew’s chest, and he intertwined your fingers. 

The next week, you were headed to the train station to get home for Christmas. Not knowing what to say to each, Matthew and you hadn’t talked since last week. You sat in the back of an uber, your suitcase at your side, when your phone vibrated in your lap. You picked it up and recognized Matthew’s name flashing on your screen. 

You sighed, swiped to answer, and held the phone to your ear, “Hello?”

“I don’t want space.”

“I—“ You stuttered. 

“I want as little space as possible.”

You were stunned, quiet, “Okay.”

The line went dead, and you set your phone down. You bit down on your lip. But the smile was still clear.

[PART 5.]

[sapphoslibrary]

Play Me A Song

“Play me a song.”

They’re twelve, hiding from Filch in an old, unused storage room. There’s a dusty, chipping grand piano sitting in the back.

Sirius is sitting on the bench, tapping carefully at the keys. The middle pedal is on the floor, cut clean like someone deliberately removed it. Sirius looks up at Remus’s request.

“Huh?” He says, surprised.

“Play for me,” Remus repeats, sitting on the corner of the bench.

A bit of a smile pulls on Sirius’s lips. “Alright. Any requests, your highness?” He jokes lightly, leaning against Remus’s shoulder.

“Anything, bard,” Remus smiles back.

“Hmm… alright. You know Clair De Lune?” Asks Sirius, hands hovering over the keys.

Remus shakes his head. “Nope. Play it anyway.”

Sirius smiles, and plays for Remus. At home, he always fears missing a note and getting punished. The anxiety is still there, but he knows Remus would never hurt him.

~

“Play me a song.”

They’re fourteen, sitting together in the Shrieking Shack, waiting for the moon to rise. Remus’s teeth are gritted, his whole body shaking, the fear and pain taking over his mind completely.

Sirius is holding his hand, stroking the inside of his palm. “You need to relax, Remus. Your heart’s gonna explode,” he says softly.

Remus tips his head back against the wall. “God. I can’t, Sirius, I’m fucking burning,” he hisses.

Sirius hushes him softly. “I’m sorry, Re. What can I— what do I do?”

“Play something for me. Please? It’ll help me relax,” Remus whispers tightly. Sirius bites his lip.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you—“

“Please?” Remus repeats, and Sirius relents.

“Alright. Okay, fine. What do you wanna hear?” Sirius asks, letting go of Remus’s hand to stand and cross the room to the piano.

“Fucking anything.”

Sirius glances back at Remus, then at the clock, and starts to play. Für Elise, a classic, one of his favorite pieces. He keeps playing until it’s too dangerous to stay, and James drags him out to the tunnel.

~

“Play me a song.”

They’re sixteen, sitting in the Potters’ living room. Sirius has just been kicked out of his home two weeks ago, and now he’s living here.

Sirius is still littered in bruises and half-healed lacerations. His current state is progress, but still fucked. Remus just wants to make him feel better.

“Wh— what?” Sirius startles.

“Play something? You don’t have to, but it’s quiet— it would be nice,” Remus says gently.

“Oh, okay.” Sirius doesn’t sound too sure, but Remus doesn’t want to push. “Help?” He reaches out, and Remus picks him up carefully, holding his too-thin boyfriend against his chest.

He sets Sirius down lightly on the pristine white stool, sitting beside him and wrapping an arm around his waist.

Sirius bites his lip, settling his hands on the keys. They’re shaking, Remus notices. Was this a mistake?

Sirius starts to play a simple scale. Suddenly, his hands jerk back like he just touched fire, and a choked sob jumps out of him.

Remus brings the piano cover down in an instant and holds Sirius close.

“Pads, hey, hey, what’s wrong? Did that hurt you? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know— are you okay?” He rambles, increasingly concerned with every violent sob coming out of Sirius.

Sirius shakes his head, fear glistening in his eyes. “Remus, I can’t, they— you don’t—“ he closes his eyes, overwhelmed by unwelcome, unpleasant thoughts.

Remus hushes him lightly, rubbing his arm. “Hey, it’s okay, no one’s gonna hurt you here. What’s scaring you? I’m sorry,“ he says gently, taking Sirius’s hand.

“‘S okay, not your fault. They… they’d always punish me if I played the wrong note. Usually slam the cover down on my hands. If they were mad, I got the belt, one lash for every wrong note. I’m so scared, Remus, I can’t—“ Sirius turns his head, crying softly into the couch.

Remus carefully pulls him into his lap. Scarred fingers card through wavy hair, gentle and loving. “I’m so sorry, love…”

“‘S okay. I just… can’t right now. Sorry,” Sirius sniffles, his voice muffled by Remus’s shirt. Remus hushes him gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“It’s okay. I love you,” Remus whispers against his hair.

Sirius just nuzzles closer to Remus, replying in actions instead of words.

~

“Play me a song.”

They’re seventeen, sitting in the room of requirement two hours past curfew. It’s Remus’s birthday, and Sirius wanted to do something special for him.

It’s a beautiful scene. Little potted plants litter the room, patches of grass in some spots. The ceiling is covered in shining stars, constellations connected by faint lines. There’s a little blanket in the middle with a massive chocolate cake.

After a while, Remus only has eyes for the piano in the back corner.

“C’mon, Remus, you can have the whole world in here and that’s all you want?” Sirius asks lightly, pushing gently against Remus’s shoulder.

Remus smiles. “Of course it is. What else is there?”

“Literally anything, Re. I thought you’d have gotten tired of hearing me whack keys by now,” Sirius jokes.

Remus shakes his head, leaning against Sirius. “How could I get tired of hearing the most beautiful sounds ever? Come on, just one song,” he practically pleads.

Sirius sighs lightly. “Alright, alright, don’t gotta hold a gun to my head.”

Sirius goes over to the piano, sits on the velvet bench, leaving room for Remus to sit beside him.

“What do you wanna hear?”

“What’s that one you always played in first year?”

Sirius smiles, and starts playing.

Halfway through, Remus wraps an arm around Sirius’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Sirius turns to look at him, and Remus takes the opportunity to pull Sirius into a passionate kiss.

~

“Play me a song.”

They’re eighteen, lying on the floor of the common room. It’s nearly three in the morning, and they’re graduating today.

Graduating. Seven years, sixty three full moons, so many memories. And it’s ending now, just like that. They’ll be thrown out into the real world tomorrow, no one to guide them anymore, just their dumb, inexperienced selves.

It should be a bittersweet day, but really, it’s just bitter. They’re being thrown out into a fucking war, just eighteen year old kids. It’s scary to think about.

“Are you okay, Re?” Sirius asks gently, taking Remus’s hand.

Remus nods slightly, his hands trembling lightly. “I’m fine. Just, uh, sentimental? I don’t know. Emotions,” he mutters.

Sirius hums softly. “Me too. It’s okay,” he assures.

Remus turns to duck his head down onto Sirius’s shoulder, stubbornly holding the tears back. Sirius kisses him gently on the forehead. “We’ll be okay, Re.”

“Yeah…” Remus sits up, wiping at his eyes and pulling himself together. “C’mon, serenade me,” he says playfully after a minute.

Sirius grins, standing and walking over to the grand piano he’s become so familiar with.

“Last time tickling these ivories,” he says quietly, playing a couple scales to warm up.

“I really hate that sentence,” Remus laughs lightly.

“Sorry,” Sirius chuckles. “What do you wanna hear?” He pats the seat, motioning for Remus to sit beside him.

“What about that one you and Peter obnoxiously sing way too much? With the opera bullshit?”

Sirius rolls his eyes, pushing Remus’s shoulder lightly. “God, you have no appreciation for art. And it’s called Bohemian Rhapsody,” he corrects.

“Whatever. Play it, since you’re so artsy.”

Remus watches as Sirius plays, so mesmerized by the beautiful sounds Sirius is creating with just his finger tips. He tilts his head onto Sirius’s shoulder, eyes following the deep-red painted nails.

For the hundredth time, Remus thinks, I am so in love with this boy.

~

They’re twenty, curled up together on Remus’s couch, dry tear tracks on their cheeks. There’s a letter from Dumbledore on the coffee table that’s bee crumpled up and burnt at the corner from Sirius’s rage.

The letter detailed the mission Remus would be on for god knows how long— living underground with the werewolves. Spying.

“I can’t fucking believe he would do that to you,” Sirius sobs into Remus’s chest. Remus holds him close, hushing him gently.

“Me neither. I’m gonna be okay, though. You’re gonna see me again, I promise,” Remus murmurs softly.

Sirius lets out another choked sob. “You don’t know that! He’s sending you on a fucking suicide mission, Remus, how can you make a promise like that?”

Remus bites his lip, tucking Sirius’s head against his shoulder. “I do know, because I need to see you again, and no one will stop me. ‘M gonna be fine, Siri. Please believe that,” he assures carefully.

Sirius shakes his head. “I can’t, how am I s-supposed to… to—“ he cuts himself off when Remus hushes him again.

“Babe, you’re gonna make yourself sick, please calm down for me. I know you’re scared, I- I am too. But it’s gonna be fine,” Remus reassures again.

“But—“

“Come on, Pads, lets just enjoy tonight, okay? We can talk about it more in the morning, let’s just relax for now. Please?” Remus tries.

There’s a moment of relative silence, Sirius taking deep, shaky breaths to steady himself.

“Okay. Yeah, okay. What do you wanna do?” Sirius pulls back, shifting to straddle Remus.

A light, playful smile pulls on Remus’s lips. “Wanna play me a song?”

Sirius grins, wiping the tears from his cheeks and standing up. He offers a hand to Remus and tugs him over to the keyboard in the corner.

“What do you wanna hear?” He asks, as always, settling down on the wooden stool.

“Clair De Lune? For old times’ sake,” he says, sitting in the small space beside Sirius, leaning against him.

Sirius smiles softly at Remus. “I love you,” he whispers, leaning over to kiss him.

“I love you too.” They pull apart, and Sirius begins playing.

It was the last time Remus heard Sirius play for thirteen years.

~

They’re thirty-three, finally reunited, living together in Remus’s tiny cottage.

They’re okay now, or something like it. Sirius falls asleep in Remus’s arms most nights. They smile, laugh, and cook together, almost like a normal family. They’re happy, Remus thinks.

Something’s missing, though.

Remus knew Sirius would be different, he just didn’t think he’d be this different. He should’ve expected it, really— but it’s still devastating. There’s nothing left of the Sirius he fell in love with all those years ago. Remus wants to bring back some part of him, no matter how small

“Hey, Sirius?” Remus says softly, sitting beside him on the couch.

Sirius looks up, eyebrows raised slightly, and hums in response.

“Do you think… think you can still play?” Remus asks carefully— he still doesn’t know what the twelve years in Azkaban has done to Sirius’s mind, doesn’t want him to be upset by the question.

“Piano?” Sirius rasps, barely audible. He clears his throat and tries again.

“Yeah. It’s okay if not, I don’t want to—“ Remus starts, but Sirius cuts him off.

“I can try.”

Remus grins, leaning forward. “Really? You would?”

Sirius shrugs. “Sure, why not? Not like I have anything better to do,” he says sarcastically, but Remus can hear the bite of bitterness in the words.

There’s a dusty upright piano in the corner of the room, pressed flush against the wall. There’s no stool, only a little black folding chair, but it works.

Sirius shuffles slowly over to it, settling down and looking at the keys, re-familiarizing his mind with the order of the notes and semitones. It’s mildly confusing and frustrating at first.

“Woah. This is… I didn’t think I’d get to see one of these again…” Sirius mutters, hands hovering over the keys.

Remus crouches behind Sirius, pulling him close for a light kiss on the cheek. “I’m so glad you get to,” he whispers.

Sirius looks at him, smiling shakily. “Thank you,” he says lightly, emotional.

“Of course. It’s… a little out of tune, but it’s still a piano, right?”

Sirius laughs lightly. “Obviously. I’ll see what I can do,” he says.

Scarred fingers practically float over the keys, slow, unsure movements gradually growing faster as muscle memory sets in. Sirius smiles as he watches his own hands moving as if they’re going on their own, his thoughts melting into pure joy.

Remus is amazed, watching the man he loves so much do what he loves for the first time in 12 years. It’s a bittersweet moment for him, thinking about all that’s changed about this beautiful man, and all that’s stayed the same. It’s exhilarating to watch him find himself again.

“Sirius,” he whispers when Sirius’s hands stop. “That was beautiful.”

Sirius smiles, eyes glassy. “You think so?”

“I know so.” Remus wraps his arm around Sirius, leaning his head onto his shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re back,” he mutters, closing his eyes.

Sirius presses a kiss to Remus’s hair, pulling him close and just holding him for a minute. “Me too.”