#i might go through my last sketchbook today and post all the stuff i’m proud of!

[eun-gealach]

Etf 2: electric boogaloo

(Also it was supposed to be *get* milk, no idea why I wrote save?)

[hateswifi]

Everything is Nothing without Her

So imma lose power soon and I wanted to post something before that so that where this came from. May or may not do a second, depends on demand. Hope you enjoy.

The Master: Master List

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

He had it all. Everything he’d ever been promised and wanted. He ruled the world, his mother helping him and keeping him on track, his grandfather was actually proud of him. He had it all, but he lost everything. He had become everything his mother had promised. He was, as his grandfather said, the perfect vessel.

That didn’t mean he doesn’t break.

Every night he falls asleep, tears threatening to be shed. Every night he wished he could hold her. 

He wished he could wake up to his annoying brothers and Alfred’s calming presence, back before he was taken back. 

Now, he’s always alone besides when he was making decisions about the fate over those around him. There is another thing he does alone, but that’s because he doesn’t want them to know, he sends out his best men to find her. He may have the world but he doesn’t have his world.

One day two years after he started his rule, he was informed that they had found her. They were under strict instruction not to intercept. He immediately made plans, packed his bag, and left it all behind. When he got to her town, he dropped his stuff off at his hotel and found her apartment. She answered the door with a smile and a child on her hip, the smile fell when she saw it was him.

“You have some nerve,” Marinette said, poking his chest. He stood, stunned she looked as beautiful as the day she walked out, her-- their child-- was beautiful. Her hair long, her face glowing, looking as strong as ever. “You made your choice! That choice didn’t include me.” She finished, turning her back on him. 

“I wanted the best life for us!”

“No, you were caught in the past, you were going down I path I couldn’t follow,” Marinette said, sniffling. He hugged her from behind, he got elbowed.

“Please Marinette, at least tell me about him, is he our child?”

“Does it matter if he is? Will that change anything?”

“I’ve wanted to change everything.”

“Well, actions speak louder than words,” Marinette said, rubbing the baby boy’s back. “I have to put him down for a nap,” Marinette said, walking down the hall. “Please, for me, leave before I’m back.”

“I want to talk! Please Marinette, Angel!” Damian pleads, following her.

“I’m doing what’s best for me and my child,” Marinette said, closing the nursery door in his face. He sighed, went back to the kitchen, he wrote a note.

Dear Angel,

I know I have no right to call you that, but damn it hurts so much to know that I can’t call you that. I want to prove myself to you and him, I don’t care if he’s not, just let me be part of his life. Marinette, I want you to know, I know how it feels to have the world, but I don’t want the world. You are my world and that’s all I need.

I never stopped loving you,

Damian.

P.S. check the news.

She still loved him, no matter how much it had hurt to be alone and to lose him, she couldn’t stop herself. That’s why she ran away, she hid, and why she sent him away. His path was one that she couldn’t bear to follow, especially with her son. She knew if he was around she may not be able to stop herself from making a rash decision, but she did let one stray tear fall as she read his letter. She did as he said and turned on the news.

“Today in international news, Damian Al Ghul stepped down as ruler. He exploded the capital, his grandfather, Ra Al Ghul, and his mother, Talia Al Ghul, found dead on the scene. He left with a preset audio message to post.” The anchor says, shuffling papers. “And now for his message.”

“People of Earth, I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused. I was misled by Talia and Ra, but I do not put the blame fully on them because I had support when this all started. She was my world, and I wasn’t able to see that she was enough. I’m stepping down as of now and forever, I apologize for the terror I’ve caused the last two years.”

“And there you have it folks, as romantic as this is. If you see the former leader call the authorities but for today, celebrate our new found freedom and the road,” The news anchor said before switching topics. 

Marinette sat in silence, until an hour later when she heard her son, Oliver, crying. She scrambled to grab him. “Hi, sweetie, Mama is here baby boy,” Marinette said, picking him up. She held him to her chest and sways back and forth.

It wasn’t until a week later she saw him again. She was in the park with her son when she noticed him entering. She tore her eyes away from his direction, hoping that he wouldn’t approach her or even notice her. But luck wasn’t with her.

Ten minutes after he entered, Oliver was getting fussy so she decided to take him home for lunch. He saw her as she walked by and stood up, putting his sketchbook away.

“I’m making spaghetti for lunch if you want to join us,” Marinette called over her shoulder, Damian stood, shocked.

“Umm I would love to,” Damian said, catching up with her. They walked in a tense silence Oliver’s babbling filled the silence.

As soon as she entered the apartment she filled a pot with water and put it on the stove.

“You haven’t told me his name or if he’s mine,” Damian says, sitting on a stool at the island.

“Nope, you have to answer my questions first,” Marinette said, walking into the living room which is an open connection to the kitchen. She grabbed a couple of toys out for Oliver. “Was any of it real?” “What do you mean?”

“What we had, was that even real or was it because I was Ladybug?” Marinette questioned, he still sat at the island, she stood on the other side, the stove behind her, and a sight still on Oliver.

“How could you even ask that?” Damian said, looking up at her, hurt visibly in his eyes.

“Because Ra put a bounty on my head, not too long after you left,” Marinette deadpanned.

“My original intent of approaching you wasn’t good, but a weel after knowing you, I couldn’t go through with the plan,” Damian said, running a hand through his hair. 

“Why’d you even do this? How’d it happen?” Marinette asked, turning her back to him to put the spaghetti boiling water.

“I was sent to live my father for a couple of months when I was younger, but during one of Talia’s attacks, I was taken back. Not too long after that, I died but was resurrected in the Lazarus pit which brought me pit madness. I was sent to Paris a couple of months later, totally forgetting about everything that had happened with my father. I was sent to Paris, and we all know how that went. When I didn’t deliver on schedule grandfather, I tried to explain to you what was happening, but as soon as you heard his plan you left.”

“Ok, you approached me, telling me that you loved me but you had to leave because of your grandfather’s crazy plan to take over the world,” Marinette pointed out. “Honestly I thought I slept with a crazy guy until you came up on the news. I kind of freaked out and left, besides you know, the only other person who knows where I am is Adrien, and maybe those men you sent to find me.” She finished before cursing under her breath. “Baby boy, come here time for numma numms.” Oliver perked up and ran over, she picked him up gave him a kiss and put him in his seat.

“Can I ask you questions now?” Damian asked, looking at the raven-haired boy, his green eye sparkling beautifully looking at his plate of food. 

“Sure shoot,” She says, placing food in front of him.

“What his name?”

“Sweetie, can you tell your dad your name?” 

“Ollie!” he said, picking up a handful of spaghetti, 

“I’m his father?” Damian said, now really looking at the boy. 

“Damian I might have been a bit pissed at you, it didn’t mean I stopped loving you,” Marinette said. “But you have to prove yourself to us before you even consider being in our lives,” she finished sternly. “You also have to get through Adrien.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever since he found out I was pregnant he’s been there helping me through everything. He took over guardian for me so I could focus on Oliver,” Marinette explained. “He thinks of Adrien as an Uncle and I won’t hesitate to choose him over you because he’s apart of Oliver’s life and because of how much helps he’s been to me. We have family dinner every Sunday, either in Paris or here depending on Oliver.”

“Marinette, I would do anything to be part of your and Oliver’s lives. Heck, I gave up the world domination,” Damian pointed out.

“Well then, tomorrow, you can join us for family dinner,” Marinette said, standing before taking the plates. 

“I would love to,” he responds as Marinette picks Oliver up. “May I hold him?”

“Sure… ummm I have to go get a washcloth and shirt for him anyways. Just watch out or you’ll have sauce everywhere by the time I get back,” Marinette said, handing him Oliver before disappearing down the hall. 

“Hi Ollie, I’m your dad,” Damian, believe it or not, cooed. Oliver put his sauce-covered hands all over Damian’s face.

“Told you so,” Marinette reappeared, holding a wet washcloth and a clean shirt. “Come here, baby boy.” She said holding out her arms. 

She stood him up on the island as she cleaned his shirt. “Arms up!” she said, him doing as she said. She blew a raspberry on his stomach, making Oliver laugh. His laugh was adorably beautiful. He loved seeing Marinette and Oliver interact with each other, it was just so pure and beautiful. She finished pulling off the dirty shirt and put on the new one. “All set Ollie, you can play for a bit.” Marinette said, placing him on the ground before turning to look back at Damian. “You have a bit of sauce here.” She said, pointing at her cheek.

“Here?” he responded, wiping his face.

“No, let me,” Marinette said, picking back up the washcloth. She approached him and wiped the sauce (and totally not cliche) it felt like time slowed down for a minute it was just the two of them looking into each other’s eyes. Marinette goes up onto her tiptoes he leans down and as they were about to kiss. They were interrupted.

“Mama! Play cars?” Oliver asked, snapping them back to reality, oblivious to what was happening.

“Oh.. umm.. Of course, let’s go Ollie,” Marinette stuttered, a blush present on her cheeks.

“I should be going,” Damian said quickly, still flustered. “Just let me know what time dinner will be.”

“Um ok. Bye Damian!” Marinette said, looking at the, now closed, door. “Damn there I go, falling all over again.”

“Damn,” Oliver mimics.

“Heck.”

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

my sister was roleplaying in roblox earlier with a friend and she kept saying “just pretend” “Imma do this but you don’t know that” “imma be sitting on top of the pizzeria”. Idk, but quarantine is getting to me.

Permanent Tag:

@ash-amg @bee-wrecker @damianette-is-life @mjisntme

[tokendisastergay]

Quarantine Diary, lovingly referred to as quarantime: (this is 100% for me to look back on and remember how i spend my time when left to my own devices, also hopefully so i am slightly productive in a day)

DAY ONE: I think I might lose my mind. This morning I got a new game for myself and spent a good portion of the day playing that. I also taught myself the beginning of Halloween from Rent on piano. At night I really started to lose it and watched a full lengtg documentary on foreign surrogacy. As of now I go back to school on the 31st

DAY TWO: I’m not sure I’ll survive for two weeks, but much less a whole month. School got pushed back to April 15th. Help me. I once again spelt an embarrassing amount of my day playing two separate games I’ve just started. I also taught myself most of Johnny Can’t Decide from Tick Tick Boom on piano, however since my wrist is broken and Jonathan Larson has abnormally long fingers some of the chords posed a minor challenge. It was also Saint Patrick’s day, so my dad put on Irish punk music for my baby brother (and us) and we made cabbage, fake corn beef because we’re vegetarian, and french fries because the store didn’t have potatoes in any other form.

DAY THREE: Having a sense of time is only a distant memory. I’m running low on lucky charms. My herbs did sprout this morning though so that was pretty thrilling. I taught the baby what noise the cow makes. Spoiler: it was moo. Me and my dad made veggie burgers, and then had our first tabletop game night in months. (We used to do it every thursday, but we’ve been way too busy for that recently).

DAY FOUR: I wasn’t sure if this belonged in yesterday’s or not but technically it was this morning because it was so late at night, but I officially got the first scene of the screenplay I’m currently writing done! I’m writing it specifically for a film festival for short films, and I only really have one *very long* scene left!! I woke up, and immediately took a nap because it was like 6. I cooked me and the baby breakfast and then composed a whole two measures for the score. Currently playing the “sit on the kitchen floor and fake sip unopened gatorade, and then say “ahhhh”” game. (after i wrote this I also went for a run, i ran a sub thirty minute three miles!)

DAY FIVE: animalcrossinganimalcrossinganimalcrossinganimalcrossing also I drew Cthulhu (I end every one of my sketchbooks with a Cthulhu, perhaps I will post my first Cthulhu vs most recent Cthulhu) I also ran way too aggressively yesterday because I am Sore.

DAY SIX:

very little change. Piano, animal crossing, etc. I did listen to A Chorus Line today; I got really into A Class Act, which is a show about Edward Kleban, the dude who wrote A Chous Line’s life. I remember listening to that in the car with my dad when I was really little, but then again I remember listening to Book of Mormon with him around then as well, so it probably wasn’t the best way to judge what the show was going to be like. (Fun fact my dad also took me to see Book of Mormon when I was 11!) But I also know my grandmother really likes it and so I just thought it’d be a little more Watch With Your Grandma Friendly. It was not. Not like,, super inappropriate just not what I was expecting

DAY SEVEN:

Again, I’ve learned I only have so many activities. I’m trying really hard to think of another idea for my screenplay, since there is absolutely no way for me to get enough middle aged people to film the one I was planning. I was also on call with my bf for four hours straight today so that was fun

DAY EIGHT:

Worst day by far. I didn’t do much of anything, and I feel really guilty about how little I got accomplished. That’s about it.

DAY NINE:

Got a lot accomplished!!! I organized my whole desk (which, for context towards the end I was getting to things from 2014, that’s how big of a job this was) I also started my vocab for one of my classes, and I set up my journal for next month! I thought I’d start using it a little more since I have nothing else to do, plus updating this every day has hopefully gotten me back into the habit of actually using something daily.

DAY TEN

Okay honestly it’s been a minute since I updated this so I don’t really remember what I did,, but I’ll use this day to define what I’ve been doing daily. I’m pretty sure I haven’t say yet, but I’ve been stretching every day. I used to be a very serious gymnast, but I got to the point where essentially I had to choose between attending public school, or continuing with gymnastics, and like the average parent of a twelve year old, my dad was not about to let me stop going to school for something I physically couldn’t keep doing past my mid twenties. But I really miss having any control over my body, so I’ve decided I’m commiting to trying to gain back a little flexibility. It drives me crazy, I do theater obviously and the fact I’m such a mediocre dancer now is not doing good things for my ego

DAY ELEVEN

DAY TWELVE

DAY THIRTEEN

DAY FOURTEEN

I ran pretty well today. Sub nine minute miles, not super speedy, but fast for me at least. I mean I ran two miles in close to 15 minutes, so if I can do that for another mile I’d PR my 5k time for sure. Other than that, I procrastinated my speech, but I did get a bit of it done tonight on call with my boyfriend

DAY FIFTEEN

The speech was really eating me up. In an effort to ignore it I blew through 200 pages worth of a book today. I had a call for my acting class from 5:30-8:30, and I’m kinda looking forward to some of the stuff we’re doing in there. I start school again tomorrow and I have never been so excited for school to start back up in my life (and I’m never particularly unhappy; I quite enjoy the first week of a new school year)

DAY SIXTEEN

So school was kinda a dud. The website couldn’t support every kid in the county trying to get on it at once so it just,,, didn’t work. I spent most of the day filming my speech and I’m superrrr proud of it (I love giving speeches with all my heart, I go so overboard when we get assigned them for school though, no one else put as much effort into theirs as I did)

DAY SEVENTEEN

I got all of my class work for the week done, except for one class that isn’t doing it the way the rest of mine are. Don’t really remember what else happened today

DAY ???: I got my last two lab reports done. Also it was easter, so we hid eggs for the baby and looked longingly at the Easter egg bread we made (half jewish half italian, an unfortunate combination during Passover) Got my three hour mandates boyfriend call in and we looked at early humans and what we evolved from. Turns out I hate looking at that shit and I think Lucy will never leave the realm of my mind

DAY ???: Not a super interesting one but a good one. I filmed a monologue for my long form improv class, and did it on my Fancy Filmmaking Camera, which was completely unnecessary but very fun. We did have to deal with some legal stuff that I both don’t feel comfortable sharing and don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable with. I had acting class, and that was absolutely it. Today my boyfriend and I talked about how shitty cops are, and his adventures in growing vegetables

[cuteandtwisted]

this prompt from awful-aus “You hired me to photograph your sister’s wedding and you need to leave me alone now so I can do my job. Just because you technically literally invited me does not make me “”ipso facto’” your date and I can’t take pictures when you’re using my tripod to help yourself stand upright.” AU 💛

(i’m gonna add rich!Isak to this one, which is VERY AU, I realize)

The first time Even touches him is by accident.

Even is a good person. He does his best to be kind to everyone he meets and to never judge a soul, and he’s mostly good at it. Well, except maybe when it comes to uptight, prickly, and arrogant Isak Valtersen. But Even has his reasons. He really does.

Many have tried to get to the bottom of Even’s dislike for the ‘cute rich boy’, some thinking that it’s a longterm rivalry or that perhaps Isak accidentally killed his puppy—anything extreme enough to warrant such strong negative feelings from the ‘chillest person on campus’. And they’re mostly right. It is out of character for him. Even has no reason to dislike ‘rich people’.

But Isak is more than that. Isak holds some pretty bigoted and insensitive opinions on the refugee crisis, too blinded by his own privilege. And while most people would let it slide, Even refuses to turn a blind eye, especially after Isak literally got into a fight with Mikael (that he had to physically break) and implied he wasn’t 100% Norwegian—and no, the fact that he actually had a tiny crush on Isak his first week at uni before any of this went down won’t change that.

.

“Dude, that was like two years ago,” Mikael sighs when he catches Even glaring at Isak in the cafeteria again. “Get over it.”

“It was last year,” Even corrects him, still holding Isak’s gaze across the large room. He feels ridiculous and mean, but Isak—in his dress shirts and cashmere sweaters—has been doing this a lot lately, provoking him and randomly stealing glances before looking down. Is he trying to start shit again or what.

“Give him a break. He’s a chill guy,” Mikael yawns before stuffing fries into his face again. “I know he looks like his mom dresses him every day, but he even apologized to me and stuff. He didn’t mean it like that.”

“You shouldn’t internalize micro-aggressions, Mikael. If he hurt you, then you should face it and confront him!”

“I can’t stand you, bro. Are you listening to yourself? He’s harmless!”

“How do you explain him glaring at me all the time then?”

“It’s called staring, Even. He’s like in love with you!” Mikael rolls his eyes.

“I’m leaving.”

.

Even is doodling in his sketchbook when Isak Valtersen materializes in front of him in the library, making him instantly draw his brows together.

“Uh hello,” Isak clears his throat and Even loses his resolve for a second because the younger boy sounds nervous and looks incredibly uncomfortable in his v-neck cashmere sweater.

“Uhm hi.”

“So, uh. I heard you do photography, and I was wondering if you want to work on my sister’s wedding.”

Even blinks at him, his mouth gaping a bit. He doesn’t mean to but he stares hard enough to notice a delicate flush spread along Isak’s cheeks all the way to the tip of his ears. His eyelashes are ridiculously long and he’s rambling. It’s almost adorable.

“Uh, I mean I know it’s last minute. But I messed up booking a photographer and it was the only thing she tasked me with. And now she doesn’t have one and she’ll kill me, and obviously I’ll pay you a lot of money to make up for the short notice, and—”

“I don’t need your money,” Even says and he sounds mean. He regrets it immediately because Isak is blushing furiously now and he looks like he’s about to combust from humiliation, like it’s taken all of his courage to come ask Even. “I mean you don’t need to offer me a lot of money,” Even sits up and speaks softly. “I don’t care about money.”

fuck.

Now Even is nervous and he doesn’t even know why. He doesn’t even like the guy, but some nonsensical instinct to just take care of him takes over. And Even hates how he has no resolve whatsoever, how all it takes is a pretty boy with long eyelashes to move him.

“Are you available this Sunday?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Promise?” Isak asks with big round eyes, and Even is both puzzled and endeared by the word and by how earnest he sounds uttering it, like he holds promises sacred.

“Promise.”

.

“What the hell?” Mikael laughs. “That was fast.”

“Shit. I don’t know. He looked like he really needed me, okay?”

.

The second time Even touches him is not that much of an accident.

It’s a mess, really. Even has no idea why he said yes or how Isak got his phone number. But he’s been texting him nonstop about equipment and tripods and camera models for a week now. And while Even has his own gear, he can’t turn down the opportunity to shoot with the real expensive stuff. Isak’s family can afford it after all, so he doesn’t feel too bad.

Even is overwhelmed by just how much money Isak ends up spending on the rather simple job. He’s almost bouncing with excitement as he shows him what he got, and Even secretly hopes Isak has rented and not bought all of this.

.

Even is enjoying the wedding reception and the job itself despite the collar of his shirt digging into his skin and his hair refusing to stick to one direction. But he thinks he would enjoy the job more if Isak Valtersen actually gave him some space. No, really, the kid has barely left his side, only walking away to grab himself yet another drink from the bar then almost running to glue himself back to Even’s hip. He also insists on looking at every shot right after Even takes it, and he’s even directing him now.

“Can you go closer? Can you take a picture of her side profile? I think the light is better over there. No, not the groom, fuck that guy. Can you focus on her hair? She’s proud of her updo. Can you do effects or something? Oh, that’s post-processing? What’s post-processing? Photoshop? Oh, is that expensive? Do you want me to pay for it? Oh you have an illegal copy? Can you get arrested for that? Can you get a picture of all her friends? Can I see? Wait, go back three pictures.”

Even’s skin is crawling an hour in because not only is Isak not letting him do his job, but he’s currently leaning on the very expensive tripod to keep himself from falling over, not to mention that his cheeks are flushed and his curls are a mess and he’s giggling and Even wants to touch.

Shit. Control yourself.

.

“Do you want a drink?” Isak asks and Even has to let go of the camera to hold him because Isak is tripping over his own feet and slurring his words and why is this kid so drunk on his sister’s wedding and why is he here with me instead of with his family.

“I don’t drink on the job,” says Even as he hooks an arm around Isak’s waist to support him and tries to will away the excitement building up at the pit of his stomach.

“I don’t mind,” says Isak, turning his face to him until all Even can see are his long eyelashes and his incredibly sad and heartbreaking eyes. “I can pay you now if you want. You took enough pictures. I don’t mind.”

.

Isak might look small but he isn’t, and Even is learning it the hard way right now with Isak leaning almost fully against him as he drags him away and tries to find someone to take over. A man in a fancy suit and a strong build finds him before he loses it—thank god—and sighs heavily.

“Always an embarrassment, this one,” the man breathes in disapproval, and for some reason, Even frowns and tightens his hold around Isak’s passed out body. “A friend of Isak’s?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Even lies.

“How surprising. Didn’t think anyone actually liked him.” Even is glaring at the man now and before he can bark, he hears. “I’m Terje, his father.” The man then hands him keys and shrugs, “Here, take my car before anyone sees him like this. The address to the house is in the GPS. Make sure he doesn’t throw up on my seats.”

And with that he’s gone.

.

Isak falls asleep against the window and Even has to bite down his own lower lip to bear the sound of Isak’s head bumping against the glass. He can’t stand it, however, and he eventually slows down and makes sure to drive as gently as possible.

It gets even worse because when they stop at a red light, Even reaches for Isak’s head and pulls it towards his own shoulder and eventually his chest. It’s extremely uncomfortable, but at least Isak is no longer hurting himself. Though when the younger boy curls into his side and purrs in his sleep, Even has to take a deep breath because the stirring in his chest almost makes him drive into the sidewalk.

.

“Where are we? What are you doing?” Isak blinks in confusion when they cross the threshold. The house is enormous, and a warm woman greets them at the door and takes Isak’s coat and Even’s as well. She then guides him to Isak’s room which is upstairs.

“You’re home. It’s fine,” Even reassures him as he pulls him up the steps. He drops Isak into what he assumes is his bed and sits beside him to catch his breath.

“I ruined the wedding. I’m such a disappointment,” Isak sighs in defeat, an arm crossed over his face to cover his eyes. “I ruin everything.”

Even knows he should leave. He’s done more than enough and he doesn’t owe this boy anything, really. But the words resonate with him. The shame, the disappointment, the loneliness. It all sounds like something straight out of Even’s mouth.

So he lies back down next to Isak.

“You did great today, Isak. You didn’t ruin anything.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying. You were wonderful today. Your sister was very happy.”

Isak removes his arm from where it’s lying on his face and looks at Even through wet eyelashes with something like gratitude in his eyes.

“I’m not racist, Even. I swear,” Isak mumbles in a small voice while Even stares at him, all limbs and curls on his massive bed. “I thought your friend was being homophobic to me last year and I said the dumbest thing. I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to. Please don’t hate me. Everybody hates me.”

Even must be the weakest person in the world because he’s undeniably moved by the plea in this boy’s voice. He’s so moved that he reaches over and lets his right hand thumb Isak’s cheek as gently as possible. He can’t help it, providing comfort when he can. And the way Isak’s eyes flutter shut almost instantly at the contact, nuzzling against his palm like he can’t help it, like he needs it, like he’s never been touched quite like this, makes Even’s protective instincts nearly soar in his chest, his heart filling with something resembling tenderness.

“I don’t hate you,” Even says and it’s true.

“Promise?”

And there it is, the ever slight fluttering in his heart.

“Promise,” says Even.

“Can you stay tonight?”

Even stays the night. Then when he wakes up in Isak’s massive bed with his chest pressed against the boy’s back and his arms locked around his stomach like they belong in the other’s embrace, he jumps in absolute panic and shows himself out in his clothes from the previous day.

Isak texts him ‘thank you’ and ‘I’m sorry’ in the afternoon and Even isn’t sure what to do, so he doesn’t reply.

Later at night, he gets a few more texts. ‘I’m sorry I was so weird last night. Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’d like to be friends if you want.’

‘It’s also okay if you don’t. I understand.’

.

Isak finds him at the school cafeteria with the boys on Tuesday and hands him a sealed envelope without looking him in the eye.

“For Sunday. Thanks a lot Even, I owe you one,” he says with a brave but distant smile then nods in Mikael’s direction. “Hello guys,” he adds politely before turning on his heel.

It’s money, the ‘lots of money’ that Isak promised him. And Even feels terrible.

.

Even sees him everywhere and it scares him how much he wants to go to him, talk to him, touch him, hold him, ask him if he’s okay, double-check if he still asks ‘promise?’ when Even says something nice. 

It scares him how much he cares for this boy he knows so little about. It terrifies him.

Maybe it’s my brain playing tricks on me again. Maybe.

Even pines from afar.

.

“I heard Isak got a second job at the coffee shop where we hang out,” says Elias while they’re working on a ‘Hei Briskeby’ edit. “Apparently he’s in bad terms with his dad and he has to work for his own money. I had no idea it was bad between them. Did you know?”

Even groans into a pillow and spends the rest of his day thinking about appropriate ways to text Isak.

.

“Hey,” Even clears his throat then has to stop himself from gasping when Isak looks up from his book in the library.

“Uh hi,” says Isak and he’s blushing again and Even suddenly remembers how it felt like to hold him in that bed. “Even. Oh, hi!”

He’s adorable and Even just smiles because he can’t help it and because he’s been nothing but mean to this boy, yet he’s glowing and smiling and blushing right now like he’s happy to see him.

Even takes a deep breath then slides the envelope along the desk. Isak blinks, confused.

“I told you I don’t need your money,” Even smiles this time around then watches him squirm.

“But—“ Isak pauses, bites his lip. “You worked for hours.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“But it was. And you even did the post-processing stuff and you listened to me whine about everything, and you drove me home, and you took me to my room, and—” he pauses again.

“And I cuddled you until morning,” Even continues for him, letting himself fall on the chair opposite of Isak.

Their eyes meet and he can see how embarrassed but hopeful Isak is, how scared but willing to take a leap of faith. He can see it, how badly he wants this, needs this, aches for this, whatever this is. And who is he to crush this boy’s hopes? Who is he to turn Isak down when everything in him is urging him to just show him how loved he can be, how precious he can feel?

“Let’s consider the cuddles payment for my services,” Even adds.

“But— you left.”

“Because I’m an idiot.”

There’s a pregnant pause after that. Isak takes a deep breath then finally speaks. “I thought you didn’t want me.”

Oh babe.

“I want you,” says Even, almost immediately too. Because he feels like Isak needs to hear it, because he feels like he’s not the kind of person to thrive on subtle actions and assume and wish for the best. Because he feels like Isak needs that validation, that undeniable and unwavering confirmation that he is in fact wanted. Isak who insists on double-checking every nice thing that’s ever said to him by seriously asking ‘promise?’ like he’s used to people deceiving him and not doing good by him. Isak who seems like he doesn’t get to hear these three words nearly enough. Isak who stole his heart on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Isak. So Even says it, again and again. “I want you.”

Isak smiles and it’s precious, like a treasure. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

The third time Even touches him, it’s because he’s aching to.

[dragon-temeraire]

Hot Docent

Summary: Stiles usually doesn’t have any trouble concentrating on drawing when he’s at the museum, but lately he’s been very distracted by someone with a wonderful voice and a perfect jawline.

Notes: Written for the museum AU on this post. (On AO3)

The Beacon Hills Art Museum isn’t the greatest, no. But it’s free for college students and always peaceful and quiet, so Stiles shows up pretty often anyway.

The museum has recently put several new pieces on display, which is great for Stiles because it gives him new things to sketch, but it also sucks, because now there’s a bunch of other people showing up to look at them. Noisy, distracting people.

Usually the tours only happen every few hours, because visitors so rarely want to go on one, but today it feels like they’re happening every twenty minutes. Often enough to keep him from concentrating on his drawing, anyway.

He’s been pointedly trying to tune out the tour guides’ rote speeches every time they come through the wing he’s in, but this time he can’t quite do it. There’s something about this docent’s voice—it’s warm and pleasant, and unlike some of the other docents, he doesn’t sound bored.

Stiles lifts his pencil from the paper, intrigued. He’s facing away from the group, so his mind has already conjured up an image of what the lovely-voice docent looks like. But when he casually turns around to have a look, he finds that he’s very wrong.

He’s wildly torn between the descriptors handsome and beautiful, and he can’t help but stare as the docent explains the significance of the painting hanging behind him. The entire tour group is giving him their full attention, and Stiles completely understands why.

He finds himself longing to draw Ridiculously Hot Docent, even though his usual subject matter is stuff like robots and mythical creatures.

He knows he’d never be able to capture that handsome-beauty on paper, anyway.

He’s more than a little disappointed when RHD leads his group away, and Stiles tries to listen to him as long as he can.

 *

 When Stiles visits the museum the next week, he’s delighted to see that Hot Docent is there again. He’s is tempted to join his tour group, just for kicks, but he has his sketchbook and an assignment that’s due in a couple of days, so he has to get to work.

He does take a little break when Hot Docent leads a tour through, passionately describing different eras of art history, and after he’s gone, Stiles finds himself idly sketching his perfect jawline and stubble. When he realizes what he’s doing, he rolls his eyes at himself and scribbles over it.

 *

 The popularity of the new exhibit must be waning, because there’s no tour group to disturb him the next week. He gets to spend hours drawing the bronze tiger statue in the east wing with absolutely no distractions.

He tries to pretend he’s not disappointed.

 *

 When there’s no appearance of Hot Docent the next week, Stiles goes looking for him. He roams through both main wings, and even goes out to the small relaxation garden, with its fancifully shaped topiaries. He makes a couple of quick sketches while he’s there, but then he continues his search.

He swings by the entry desk, and even checks the children’s arts and crafts room. There’s a lot of tiny masterpieces on the wall, but no docents at all. Stiles sits down in one of the tiny chairs and doodles a happy little robot on a scrap of paper, and he sticks it to the cup of pencils and markers before he goes.

 *

 Stiles is considering changing his usual museum day. Sure, he’s been super productive these last few weeks, but he at least wanted a chance to talk to (and probably get shot down by) Hot Docent.

Or, at the very least, find out his actual name.

Stiles can only guess that he either moved on from his museum job, or he got a shift on a different day. He’s really hoping it’s the latter, because otherwise he’ll probably never see him again.

He considers asking at the front desk, but going up and saying “do you know when the hot guy with the perfect stubble and the amazing voice works?” would be pretty weird. He has a couple of friends that work non-docent jobs at the museum, and he considers asking them too, but they’d know right away that it was another one of his hopeless crushes.

Stiles tries to push the Hot Docent issue to the back of his mind, and focus on the tree he’s sketching instead. It has a smooth, flowing texture in the painting, and Stiles can’t quite capture it, no matter how hard he tries.

He’s putting in some light shading, hoping that helps, when he hears footsteps approaching. “Hey, that’s really good,” says a very familiar voice.

Stiles turns, and there, taking a seat on the bench next to him, is Hot Docent. Or maybe just Hot Guy, because he’s in his regular clothes, not the museum uniform. He somehow looks even better than he did a few weeks ago, which is completely unfair.

Stiles swallows, trying to find his voice. “Not as good as that,” he says, nodding toward the painting. It’s better than staring awkwardly.

“You’re trying to get that movement, huh?” he says perceptively. “I’ve always found this work very soothing because of that implied motion.”

“Do you talk about it on your tours, then?” Stiles says, glancing at him curiously.

“Sometimes. Depends on how well we’re moving along. Our guided tours aren’t supposed to be longer than an hour, so sometimes you have to skip things,” he explains.

Stiles nods. “But no tours from you today, I’m guessing?”

“No,” he says, smiling. “I had to cover some shifts on Wednesday because of how well-received the exhibit was, but I’m back to my usual Tuesdays.”

“The number of people that showed up surprised me, too,” Stiles says. “And I’m Stiles, by the way,” he says, because he feels like they’re more than due for an introduction.

“Stiles Stilinski, right?” he says, nodding, and Stiles’ raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“Um, yeah?” he confirms, wondering if he should be worried.

“Some of my co-workers kind of consider you a fixture here,” he explains. “So I’ve heard about you. And I’m Derek Hale,” he adds with a smile.

Stiles grins. “I’m guessing one of the people who told you about me was Allison.” He’s been friends with her for years, after they met in French Art History class, and they stayed in contact even after she graduated from college.

“Yeah. I asked her about the cute little robot drawing in the craft room, and she immediately knew it was yours,” Derek says.

“Well, of course. She’s always been a fan of my art, she has very discerning taste,” Stiles jokes.

“She does,” Derek says, completely genuine. “She says you come here to draw every week.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Stiles says, shrugging. “Who better to learn from than the people good enough to show up in a museum?”

“I suppose that’s true,” Derek says. “If showing up in a museum is your end goal.”

Stiles laughs. “Ah, I’m still trying to figure that out. Here, have a look at this,” he says, flipping to the drawing of the tiger statue he did last week.

“Wow, that’s amazing,” Derek says, gently taking the sketchbook out of Stiles’ hands and peering at it closely. “You made it look better than it actually does.”

“Nah, I just gave it better lighting,” Stiles says, shrugging. “Thanks, though. I was proud of the way it turned out.”

Derek nods. “You should consider submitting something for the Local Artists Exhibit that’s coming up.”

“Oh, I have just the thing,” Stiles snorts, flipping to a different page. He’d spent hours sketching one of the gallery’s layouts, because he’d been so taken with it—it had featured a series of paintings of the ocean, and they’d been arranged on the wall in a flowing wave pattern, drawing the eye smoothly from start to finish.

Derek’s eyes widen when he sees it. “You liked that, huh?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says excitedly, because no one ever seems to appreciate the artistic ways some exhibits are displayed. “It was really captivating, and it gave extra power to the ocean imagery, making all the works feel connected even though they were from different artists. And it caught the eye way more than the usual row of paintings hung at the same height.”

Derek smiles then. “It was my idea to arrange them like that, so it’s good to know someone appreciated it.”

“It was awesome,” Stiles says, and doesn’t miss the pink on Derek’s cheeks. “I went in there all the time while that exhibit was up.”

“I helped display paintings at The Gallery on Fifth before I came here, so I’ve had some practice,” Derek says, still looking a little embarrassed. “Well, Allison told me not to bother you too much, so I better get going.”

“Wait, you’re not bothering me—” Stiles tries, but Derek is already gone. He sighs and flips the sketchbook closed.

He’s done for the day anyway.

There’s no way he can concentrate on his art now, not after seeing Derek smile and blush like that.

 *

 Stiles definitely considers showing up on Tuesday instead, since Derek mentioned that was the day he worked, but decides that might be too weird. Besides, Lydia has told him numerous times that people don’t usually want to be hit on while they’re working, so.

He ends up going on his usual Wednesday. It’s pretty much completely empty, and Stiles figures that’s because most of the other college students who come here are holed up in the library, studying for their midterms. Stiles has managed to stay on top of things this semester, so he doesn’t feel the need to cram.

Instead he begins to sketch a painting of a dove, marveling at the way the artist managed to make it look kind and gentle. It’s in the eye, Stiles is pretty sure.

He’s drawing the curve of a wing when he hears, “Hey,” and Derek sits down next to him, giving him a shy smile.

“I lost my nerve last time, so I’m just going to do it now,” he says determinedly, and Stiles sets his pencil down, giving Derek his full attention. “Would you—” he tries, then shakes his head. “Do you want to go to dinner with me? Or a movie? Or maybe—”

“Derek,” Stiles cuts in, halting his nervous ramble. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Really? I mean, okay,” Derek gets out, blushing a little. It’s adorable. “Yes, good. Tonight?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says easily, giving Derek a smile. “Dinner tonight sounds great.”

Derek smiles back, and Stiles feels his heart flutter pleasantly.

He has a feeling that Derek is going to end up in his sketchbook after all. There’s no way Stiles can resist drawing something as beautiful as that smile.  

[ofnifflersandkings]

Title: Pain of Parting Character: Jonathan Byers A/n: I loved jonathan so much during the first season, his character was really interesting so I decided to write somethin’ for him. I guess we could call this angst so there’s your warning if that’s not your jam.

•

“Do you have to go?” Jonathan asked as he sat cross-legged on your bed, chin in his hands as he watched you move clothes from your closet to a large suitcases that laid open at the foot of your mattress.

“You know I have to,” You told him as you met his gaze with a smile. “My family always insists that we go up to the lakehouse every odd summer. We haven’t been up there in over three years. So yes, I do.”

Jonathan got quiet, his hands were busy pulling at loose peices of string that had been caught on one of your blankets.

You looked up from your folding and noticed the sad expression on his face. You’d known him for a handful of years, and you knew he wasn’t very much of a people person. Apart from you, he didn’t have many close friends.

You set aside your clothes and sat down beside him. “You shouldn’t be sad, I’m only going to be gone until August,” You told him, reaching up and running your hands through his hair. “You can phone me whenever you’d like, and I’ll write to you. Two months and I’ll be right back

Jonathan moved his head to your shoulder, his eyes closing whenever you continued to play with his hair. “Really?”

You looked down at him. “Have I ever let you down before?”

•~•

Jonathan stopped over by your house the day you were supposed to leave, he wanted a chance to say goodbye.

You were already out in the drive away, helping your dad figure out a way to put all the suitcases into the trunk of the car.

“Here, I’m gonna get a few more things from the house. Maybe your mother will be better at this.” Your dad said, giving you a small tap on the nose before jogging inside.

You brushed off your hands on your overalls before you looked over and saw Jonathan awkwardly standing to the side with his hands in his pockets.

“Jonathan!” You called, waving him over. “Come to say bye?”

Jonathan nodded, shifting his weight back and forth as he tried to think of what to say. “I already said it, but I’m gonna miss you.”

You smiled at him. “Don’t be like that, when I come back you talk my ear off about all the stuff you did and we’ll still have all of August to hang out.”

Jonathan met your gaze and he reached out to pull you into a hug.

You laughed and returned his embrace, pulling away as you gave him a big kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon.” You told him, taking a step back towards your car.

“Y-Yeah, I’ll see you.” He told you with a wave.

You waved back before turning on your heel.

You walked about five paces before Jonathan called you back.

You went to turn around but Jonathan was already there, and before you could even process anything he bent down and gave you a quick kiss.

“Bye.” Jonathan said once he pulled away and quickly made a run for it down the street while you watched him with wide eyes.

•~•

“Jonathan!” Joyce called as she entered the house, her hands busy shuffling through the mail she collected. “You have something from (Y/n)!”

Jonathan came quickly out of his room, only coming to a halt whenever he was in front of his mother. “Yes?”

Joyce looked up at her son and smiled, she handed him a letter and a cardboard box. “These are for you.”

Jonathan took them and a bright smile showed up on his face as he looked down at them. “Thanks.”

He hurried back into his room, setting the box aside on his nightstand before he tore apart the envelope.

You wrote about how nice the lakehouse was, how pretty the scenery was and about all the little adventures you and your family had so far on your trip.

Jonathan noticed you had drawn small doodles of rabbits and frogs all over the paper, they were even painted with the set of watercolors he had given you on your birthday.

He saved up for them for months, and it showed by how proud he was when he gave it to you and saw that you loved it.

“I sent along a box as well,” Jonathan read as he looked over and grabbed it, taking a minute to tear off the tape, he looked inside to find a small collection of things.

“The pencils are for Will, he had given me some of his drawings to keep and I thought he might like these. The earrings are for your mum, and be sure to tell her that I insist she accept them, she deserves it.

I’ve got you a gift as well, but I plan to give it to you in person.

Lots of love,”

•~•

Everyday after that, Jonathan had made it a habit to ask his mother if there was a letter from you.

“Anything from (Y/n)?”

“Did (Y/n) send a letter today?”

You would send at least one every week, but he still felt the need to ask just in case.

Until one day he noticed about two weeks had passed without word from you. Joyce would come home and gently let him know there was nothing, but reasoned the post was just being slow or you were busy with your family.

And at first Jonathan understood, he thought it was a reasonable explanation, so he stopped worrying about it.

Jonathan was driving home from picking a few things up from the grocery store for his mom, but he drove by your house and noticed that your family car was parked in the driveway.

You would have called to let him know you were coming home early, you probably would’ve gone to his house yourself if wasn’t late.

His curiosity was peaked, and he parked his car across the street before ringing your doorbell.

“Hello?” Your sister answered the door, and Jonathan was slightly taken back by her appearance.

Her eyes were puffy and red, she looked like she’d been crying for hours.

“Oh Jonathan, it’s you.” She said as she sniffed, wiping at her eyes with her shirt sleeve.

“Yeah uh, is (Y/n) here?” He asked, slightly alarmed by how distressed she looked.

If possible, her face got even more somber. “I guess it’s best to just tell you, but…” She broke off into a small series of sobs before continuing. “We were up at the lakehouse, and her and dad went out on the boat. No one knows what’s happened to them but they’ve been missing for a couple days.”

It took Jonathan a few moments to register what she was saying, and he was surprised by his lack of reaction.

“Of course, we don’t want to assume the worst, but no one can find them and it’s been days.” She said with a vacant laugh before shaking her head. “Wait here for a moment.”

Jonathan watched her disappear into the house, trying to understand why his mind was going blank at a time when he should feel sad or angry even.

But he didn’t.

“She mentioned that this was for you,” Your sister said once she returned. “She seemed pretty proud of it.” There was that sad laugh again as she held a wrapped package out to him.

“I’m so sorry,” Jonathan said, taking it from her.

Your sister nodded, her hand was now covering her mouth as tears piled up at the edges of her eyes. “She was very fond of you, talked about you a great deal.”

Jonathan looked up at her. “I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

•~•

Jonathan drove home in silence.

He didn’t even turn the radio on.

When he stepped through his front door he was met with more silence, Joyce must have been working late again.

Jonathan closed his door whenever he went inside, his eyes remaining fixated on your present to him.

He didn’t want to open it.

You told him you wanted to give it to him in person.

You told him you were going to come back.

Why didn’t you come back?

Jonathan's hands were tearing away at the wrapping before he registered what he was doing. He then pulled out a leather sketchbook, he could vaguely remember times whenever you’d come over to his house and you’d be doodling around in it, refusing to show him the end results.

He undid the leather straps that kept it closed, and flipped through the first couple of pages.

He wasn’t surprised to find several pencil sketches of various animals, rabits and little mice in particular. Some of them were life-like while others were dressed in little jackets and hats, having tea parties by a river.

Jonathan moved to sit on the edge of his bed, despite the whirl of emotions going through his head, he found himself smiling.

To his surprise, the next pages were filled with portraits. Some were of him, others were of Will or even Joyce, they were all smiling in each of them.

He spent the next couple of minutes going through the rest of it, and he found himself growing disappointed whenever he was reaching the end.

On the very last page, there was a small handwritten note instead.

“I’ve been working on this one for awhile, but I thought you’d like to have it once it was finished.

I know you’re not a fan of pictures of yourself, but I hope you won’t mind a few sketches.

All my love xx (Y/n)”

You always had nice handwriting, it was always in cursive.

Suddenly, a wet spot appeared onto the page, Jonathan didn’t even realize it until it started smudging your signiture.

Another one showed up on the corner of the page, and he brought his hand up to realize tears were falling freely from his eyes.

A few tears slowly turned into sobs, then he was laying on the side of his bed, holding your sketchbook tightly against his chest while he cried.

Why didn’t you come back?

[brshxots]

Worries

Wednesday, 31st of January 2018, 6:11pm

Hi. Right now I am still at work tipping away but I will leave soon and probably continue this post at home- if I have time for it today, might only have it tomorrow. So, I already wrote in my diary today -btw I recommend everyone to keep a diary, even tho I don't always want to write it is somewhat therapeutic- but I am worried.

Worried for a friend to be specific. Well, for two to be honest but I want to talk about only one for now. Since I made her get Tumblr as well, she might be reading this but anyways I wanna call her "icebreaker"- if she ever reads my post, she will know that I am talking about her. 

So, with this friend, I have to admit, I never did a lot together. I mean sure, she is my friend and has been for a while but now that I think about it, last Saturday was only the third time I did sth alone with her... Oh btw, I didn't mention it yet it`s been hours since I started this post, I'm home now, very tired and sick off all my stress and it is 11:32 pm now and I have work tomorrow yeaaaaaiy. Anyways, #icebreaker that we are talking about always was this loud, funny, silly soccer girl that loved making everyone laugh and kinda got dissed by many, but in a joking way. Idk- she kinda always put herself in a situation where it is easy for others to pick on her, and I think I did that too without realizing.  So, last Saturday she and I went shopping a bit since I needed stuff (I bought two huge sketchbooks, I love them sm!) and she was owing me money and wanted me to show her how Tumblr works. It really has been a long time since I properly talked to her. She has grown up so freaking much (says me, the one that is two years younger but let's ignore that for now), she has become more mature and a fucking lot more insecure. 

I don't know how to describe it but you were just able to see it in her eyes, that hatred, and depression. I feel really bad for never noticing. every second sentence was something like “Okay but let's be honest, who even fucking needs me??” and seeing her like that really shocked me. She told me about how much she hated herself and didn't see the reason that she was alive. She told me about her fears and trusted me with something that I am very glad she trusted me with. For the longest time I spurned egoistical people but I only now noticed that I myself was egoistic. I didn't even notice that one of my only friends was slipping into depression.

All I cared about was only myself and how bad I was doing... 

If you ever read this, I am sorry about that. Also for the nickname, we gave you that you never liked and the way that I always bullied you. I didn't notice how bad you were feeling because of that. 

Watching her gaze losing focus and liveliness I realized that I had to change something. Like I mentioned before I want to organize myself more, make more time for doing stuff in a day and learn a lot until my apprenticeship is over since I have big plans afterward. 

Another thought that just occurred me; I won't be explaining or talking more about myself or my past in any way in these daily diary entries. If someone stumbles upon these and starts reading, I hope you will enjoy the piece if my mind that I am sharing here. 

My little naive fucked up swearing mind. 

I lost my track, I wanted to add that after I started managing myself more I also plan on focusing a lot on my friends as well. It`s been a long time that I really sincerely talked to any of them, my best friend is probably the only one tbh and I haven't seen her in more than two weeks now too. Gosh, I am only now realizing how antisocial I have become because of my own depression and because of work. 

...

I wanted to apologize just now but I'm not going to. The time of me apologizing for everything is over. 

I am growing up, managing my stuff and organizing myself more, creating a plan for my future- I wouldn't be here with this mindset if I had changed anything before. So I am glad that I noticed all my wrongdoings now and I am glad to finally be proud of myself.

I wrote that in my diary earlier- that I am finally proud of myself and really meant it. Funny, isn`t it? 

Anyways (don't have another transition word yet lol), I am very tired now, I probably rambled a lot (but I'm going to read through it again- it`s okay lol)  and I originally planned to edit a video too but I don't know if I will do it today.. I wanna go to sleep v bad.

Let us see, i`ll update you tomorrow on what I did.

lol, #cliffhanger, did she go to sleep or did she stay up even later making herself dead tired the next day at work tomorrow?”

-C Ya xD,  11:52 pm

[titmasjack]

Weekly Summary

I found that this week I ended up having a downfall in my productivity, beginning to feel the stress as I head towards hand in, I became a bit overwhelmed with the amount of work that I have to submit and have been spending the majority of the week attempting to not only sort out what I have left to do but manage my time best to achieve the work to the best standard possible. 

Whilst I don’t see myself in a horrendous state of affairs, riding on a productivity high through the course of the project so far has left me in a deep trough over the course of the previous couple of weeks.

Spending the time most effectively by attempting to manage my time for the upcoming hand in, spending the additional time on the essay was definitely the key reason for throwing me off track, but I don’t regret choosing to do this. I don’t believe I would have gotten the ‘Research Essay’ done this far in advance if I hadn't solely worked on the project to produce an outcome I'm proud of. And I would 100% prefer to lose track of a few weeks now than rather further down the line within the last few weeks of the project itself. 

With the intentions of starting off next week completely fresh, the introduction of a new project will allow me to get to a point of conclusion where I can begin to reflect and explore the original intentions of my ideas versus their final outcomes. With the bulk majority of my research done in regards to the projects I have to hand in, I want to start the week focusing on this primary new focus balancing the evaluation of my old projects and the new research and blog posts in response to my upcoming ‘Mystery Box’ briefing. 

Knowing full well that I’m not always expected to work at full working capacity all the time, I have to take into regard how I can get myself out of this trough, and begin to move forward to ensure I start the new project with a bang. Sparking new creativity that will push me along towards the deadline for my previous work. 

Research Narrative

With the build-up of my essay over the previous week, I had an opportunity to sit down with both Lynsey and peers to get some initial feedback to how I could begin to improve and rectify my work. Looking at ways to expand upon my essay further, Lynsey provided me with an array of points that could be developed into a second draft. 

Working alongside her notes, I was able to keep in contact with Lynsey having the chance to send her an updated copy for a potential look. Whilst I didn't have the chance to get a reply this week, the level of communication between Lynsey and I has given me confidence that spending the time to work on a first draft before having my reflection was the best choice. As it gave me a head start on how to approach my essay and tackle it before the deadline begun to creep up on me.

Knowing formal writing has never been a strong point, I was happy with the feedback I recived, knowing that to refine my work to a point of submission I would most likely be creating a second, third and fourth draft as I get closer to the deadline. Although I won’t need to be making drastic changes to my essay, having the chance to have peers read my work through a fresh set of eyes not only discusses larger issues with my writing but small and alternative tweaks that I can explore to fix my grammatical errors.

What I’ve found so exciting about this task is the confidence of being able to find someone to communicate my ideas with. Whether its Lynsey or a fellow peer, the clarity to discuss my work with indifference helps me establish how I can best develop it for submission. Helping my final draft in the long run.

Digital Morphs

N/a Whilst focusing on other tasks, I didn’t find the time to make any significant developments on this individual project. Although I haven’t been focusing on this project specifically, I’m at a stage of production where I aim to return to the fun stuff and get back to animating. 

With the hopes of producing and refining my final digital animation over the course of Reading Week, this gives me the time to specifically work on my introductory projects to use the additional time that was granted to go beyond the expectations of the brief and present a complete and finalised outcome. 

Animated Sketchbook

N/a Whilst focusing on other tasks, I didn’t find the time to make any significant developments on this individual project. The most concerning in terms of development, I believe that my best course of action would be to bring up my issues in my upcoming Mid Term review to have the opportunity to discuss and explore alternative avenues for me to develop this project in the hopes of producing an outcome that supports the standard of the resent of my work. 

Intro to Stop-Motion

The final week of our introduction to this physical medium, we amalgamated what we have learnt over the previous weeks to showcase a change of expression within a character. Revealed to be a build up to our upcoming project where we get to choose our specialism, these introductions have given up an open look at the style and software we’ll be using alongside the ‘Mystery Box’ brief.

Although I only produced a single outcome, I was happy with the number of iterations I was able to create. Reacting and responding to feedback from Helen and peers throughout the lesson. With a strong sense of staging and posing, I feel that I was able to well establish a narrative through posing alone through engaging a great use of posture and gesture to emphasise the actions of my character. 

Really emoting and challenging myself to push the posing and timing of my work, this is easily my most favourite character piece that I had the opportunity to animate over the course of this short project and is a definite contender to the specialism that I might pursue over the course of the new project that will be introduced next week. 

Intro to Digital 3D

Learning another function of Maya, this week we established the use of texture mapping and applying textures to our work. Considering how we could emphasise the illusion of life. This weeks lesson supported the modelling aspects of our work rather than the animation side of things. Adam made sure to address and whilst its good to have all these skills under your belt, necessarily in the industry you would pursue one of these techniques to explore and expand upon. 

This was a sign of relief as I definitely had the most difficulty with this portion of the three-week introduction to Maya. I would be excited to return to Maya for the progression of our next project but would want to solely rely on the animation aspects of the software. To develop a range of skills in 3D animation, its application in today's industry is one I want to get under my belt and develop as soon as possible in the hopes of producing work more confidently in a digital setting.

Choosing a specialism is something I’ll have to begin to consider for the upcoming weeks as we are introduced to the new project that will kickstart the second half of BA1b’s production. In the hopes of starting fresh, I want to start the week of high by focusing on the new project at hand and using my blog to my benefit to building a solid foundation of the new concepts and ideas that are introduced.

To summarise;

With the introduction of a new project next week, I need to establish the work I have left to do for the previous projects. 

Based on my feedback I need to begin to rectify the second draft of my essay in the hopes of more review and reflections.

Focus on managing my time to incorporate set time to work on and develop my outcomes for my digital morph and sketchbook.

Contemplate a possible specialism I could pursue in regards to the ‘Mystery Box’ brief.

[seven-oomen]

So today’s moments of random thoughts (and attempts at including links) are brought to you by the fact that today they replaced the back office computer at work that controls the store’s music, so it was uncomfortably silent for several hours, meaning that my brain suddenly had to provide the soundtrack again, and that’s always a total craps shoot.  Will it be 48 hours straight of “Toss A Coin To Your Witcher”?  Will it be some surreal all day medley of AC/DC, Rihanna, and the South Park version of “Pokerface”?  Will it be a non-stop Disney sing-a-long?  Who knows?  Everyday is an adventure with an ADD brain jukebox. 

One of today’s tracks of choice was “Little Red Riding Hood” by Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs, a favorite since long before I was old enough to understand the implications or subtext.  And since you enjoyed the last terrible porn scenario so much, why not throw out another classic?  Because there is NO WAY they haven’t done this one.  Like.  Just no way.  Oh no, will the brave and daring young hunter woodsman manage to subdue the wily Alpha wolf, or will poor innocent Omega Riding Hood be devoured by the lustful lupine?  (I think the only correct answer here is yes to both.)  And because part of me wondered if such a thing even existed (I just had to know if I could bring in the plaid), I searched Google and found this (for a more casual approach) or this (for if they’re feeling fancy) for Noah, preferably paired with some tall black combat boots, perhaps (also, just saying, both would be a great option for a chase night).  For “Grandma”, I was thinking something along these lines (theoretically demure, yet also highlighting the collar bones, especially if unbuttoned slightly and allowed to slide off one shoulder.  Perhaps in the blue to bring out his eyes. XD ) because it comes across innocent in all the ways Peter would very much not be at that point.  All Chris would really need is his tightest jeans, deepest v’d henley, and maybe a nice denim or suede trucker jacket.  (Have I spent WAY too much time thinking about this?  Probably, but in my defense it kept me from snapping at all the idiots out without masks who refused to properly distance.  So.)  And because why the hell, not, I haven’t confused my Google search enough yet, here’s a couple of options for Chris that are a little more classy, as far as such a thing can apply to an outfit like this.  I mean if the other two are getting nice, quality outfits in that scenario, dammit he deserves the same.

Oh, and to briefly segue it back towards the more serious (and god, I really hope this comes out the way I mean it to, I am legit terrible at trying to word stuff like this), I would just like to say that frankly this version of how the physical/biological/however you want to phrase it aspects of the male/female vs alpha/omega spectrums play out makes so much more sense than a majority of the a/b/o I’ve seen.  I may not read it often, but I’ve been in fandom too long (and in a few too many small ones) not to have read a fair amount.  There have been a number of times where I just end up going “…his body has/did what now?…"  Whereas with yours it’s just like "oh, cool, that makes total sense”.  It’s natural, logical, and easy to understand, unlike my first few experiences back in the day when I kept having to Google the whole Omegaverse concept (a TERRIBLE idea, btw) to try and figure out how things worked.  So, yeah, I, at least, am a fan of this variation/interpretation/whatever.

Anyway…having hopefully managed to avoid cramming my whole entire foot into my mouth, would you care for some more assorted headcanons?  Maybe one day Stiles and Noah are in the attic working on sorting and organizing some things (Stiles is about 14 or 15 at this point), and after going through a couple boxes of Claudia’s sketchbooks, he finds one that contains a few mangled pairs of fishnets, a mesh shirt or two, maybe a pair of extremely short black cutoffs, some studded bracelets and collars, and he’s just like “man, Mom was a little more hardcore than I would have guessed."  After a couple moments of pointed silence, Noah finally offers ”…that’s not your Mom’s stuff, Stiles" while very determinedly not looking his son’s direction.  Cue a hysterical sequence of microexpressions of shock and horror contorting Stiles’ face, culminating in a brief full body flail and ending with him shaking his head with all the intense desperation of someone trying to clear an Etch-A-Sketch, before he just quietly goes back to sorting through the other boxes and they just never speak of it again.  Alternately, I would accept this same scenario for Chris and Allison (thinking the box had belonged to Kate), because I feel she would have the next best reaction faces to Stiles (less grimacing, but more internal screaming), with basically the same end result.  Or perhaps both had an incident like this, and they use it as some sort of bonding moment.  They’re an odd family after all.

 Don’t think I didn’t notice that the preview changed again.  Just going straight for the feels this time, huh?  God, poor Peter.  I feel so bad that he’s missing out on all the cuddles (familial and romantic), but I’m sure they’ll all be more than willing to make it up to him later.  Really hope he was doing that super speed thing on the way back to the hospital, or the Sheriff’s station might get some strange reports of a naked man running through neighborhoods.  

On the subject of the kids and education, I would vote BioChem for Allison.  It would be useful in learning about all the stuff hunters use, and figuring out ways to combat them, as well as potentially offering some overlap with Lydia’s degree.

I’d vote Criminal Law for Jackson.  It would be both a nod to his adoptive dad in the show having been the D.A. and offer a connection to the traditions of the family he’s just now learning about.  And I suspect that it’s entirely possible that if Stiles went after a Criminal Justice degree (or similar, I’m not entirely sure what it would be called), they’d likely have some overlapping classes, which would just piss Stiles all the hell off.  So win-win, really.

I think Malia could do really well with either type of Engineering.  I want to lean more towards Mechanical, particularly for the auto repair aspect, but part of me really wants Electrical for the Ant-Man connection (speaking of high Intelligence, low Wisdom…)  I think she would hate it while she was getting the degree (WHY DID NO ONE WARN ME THERE’D BE SO MUCH MATH???!!!), she’d be so proud once she’d graduated.  I feel like I could see Derek partnering with her on the shop (he’s working on a Master’s in Business.  Anything Law just felt too close to what he’d lost, but he also couldn’t bear to stray too far.  So, business.  Eventually I think he’d join in with the artsy side of the family and go after a degree in Design, so he could help build up the shop that way, as well.)

Totally agree on the other two.  I can also totally see Kira and Malia coaching some sort of intramural sport for kids one day.  Soccer (football), Little League, Lacrosse, doesn’t matter which.  They absolutely love it, and the kids love them (they totally get the smaller Pack kids involved, too).  Eventually they talk Isaac into creating a team for some of his kids that are looking to socialize more (they make sure that the experience is 100% positive for any of them that play.  They refuse to tolerate any bullying or poor sportsmanship of any kind.)

Hmm…not sure about the others, either, but I like the idea of Boyd ending up as a professor of Mythology and Folklore.  He was the one that actually thought about whether he wanted the bite, and whether it would be worth it in the long run.  He seemed the most interested in the reality of being a werewolf.  I can see him learning as much as he can about the supernatural from Peter and Noah (and some of the other side of things from Chris), and utilizing that in getting his degree (and eventual Doctorate).  And let’s face it, after dealing with the Pack’s shenanigans over the years, college kids aren’t intimidating in the slightest.

And before I forget, may I just say that “People buy it because it’s Tumblr, why wouldn’t two gay dads run a wolf rescue?” had me laughing so hard I started snorting.  Moving on; I know you recently shared a post that featured shots from the episode where Stiles gets his dad drunk to distract him from reopening the Hale case (I have Opinions about that black shirt, and how disappointed I was that it Never Showed Up Again, so I notice when it pops up in Tumblrs I check, okay?  Don’t judge me.), and some of the other blogs I try to keep up with have shared some pics of J.R. in glasses, and now I can’t help but wonder if that becomes like a Thing for Peter at some point.  Like, once they start to get a little older (once Chris has grown out his beard again, and maybe Noah has retired [my uncle was a cop and retired in like his mid-forties, I think] and started letting his hair get just a bit shaggy again) and his husbands start occasionally wearing glasses for reading, or fine detail work, etc.  (I would not judge him if it did, because, uh…, hard same.  I blame too many years of anime.)  Like, they slip them on and his brain just immediately starts going to more terrible porn scenarios.  Stern librarian, called to the principal/headmaster’s office, courtroom shenanigans.  Actually, if Peter is supposed to have been a lawyer they probably do that one anyway.  The Prosecution and the Defense take turns attempting to sway the Judge/Jury Foreman in their favor.  Who is who just depends on their mood at the time, and who feels willing to put on a suit (god help Peter if he gets both his mates in well cut suits and at their persuasive best.  He can barely keep it together long enough to stay halfway in character.  They are fully aware of their power, and file the information away for use in anniversary/graduation/other celebratory settings.)  Wow…that kinda got away from me.  Again.

Anyway, I tried to do the reader poll thing, hope my responses went through/made sense.  Hope the assorted links I’ve attempted work, I’ve never tried adding them to something before.  I probably still have the tabs open if I need to try again, unless my computer randomly decides to close them, which I have had it occasionally do.  Glad that you are feeling somewhat better, and that it doesn’t appear to be anything serious (and possibly even somewhat positive, in the long run, at least?  If it’s a sign of things trying to heal?)  Sorry in advance if some of this makes assisting customers difficult tomorrow.  XD  I feel like it should just be implicit, like my brain just compels it’s own warning in general.

I think I’ve read through this at least ten times because it’s just so good. I don’t really have the energy to reply to everything, but I do want to leave you with some headcanons of my own. 

Mainly Hogwarts houses:

Ravenclaw: Lydia, Melissa, Natalie, Julio, Stiles

Gryffindor:  Noah, Derek, Kira, Allison, Boyd

Hufflepuff: Scott, Chris, Jordan, Ben, Isaac

Slytherin: Malia, Jackson, Peter, Danny, Erica

Ben’s super cute playfulness as a wolf pup

Peter definitely wears a pair of wolf ears during sex, although he’s a little sad that he can’t mark up Chris and Noah as he used to. He liked to bite hard and draw blood, but with him as an Alpha, that’s just not an option anymore. Although there are plenty of other ways he can mark them up and he enjoys finding new ways. Even if they’re not as visual and permanent.

Peter also makes time for each of his kids and enjoys being a father. He revels in the role and loves reading bedtime stories to his younger kids, PTA meetings (he rises to the top of the rank really quickly, starts a turf war with a Karen but gets backed up by Mack’s mom. So it’s all cool.) And With his older kids he finds new ways to guide them through life as young adults. He’s there for every homework assignment, every break-up, every report card, and all the little moments he’s had to miss out on.

Also when Noah is pregnant, he’s closely monitored by Melissa and his licensed midwife. (He’s given birth to Malia and Stiles at home, he’s planning to do it again. Chris too, only has had homebirths, although Ben had to be rushed to the hospital because the doofus swallowed amniotic fluid during birth and turned blue after ten minutes. (Which is based on a true story, my brother had that complication after homebirth. Homebirths are very common in my country which is why I put them in my fics.)) And Peter and Chris go into protective overdrive. He keeps working for as long as he can but at four months pregnant with twins, he has to take a step back and only work desk duty until he’s 7.5 months along. He takes some time off after that and gets time to recuperate and rest. 

Chris for his last pregnancy also chooses to have a homebirth, Julio comes to work for him to do his arms deals and meetups while Chris takes a step back and works from his office until the day he goes into labor. And even then he’s still trying to get this deal done while breathing through contractions.

Also, imagine Peter getting to experience both of his mates being pregnant again. I like to imagine the smile on his face when he hears the heartbeats for the first time, how he just knows when his mates are pregnant, he recognizes the scent change now. He knows Chris is pregnant before Chris does. With Noah it’s a bit more of a tie since Noah can pick up the twins’ energy signatures and heartbeat at 4-5 weeks. Which is when the scent change happens.

I imagine the three of them curled up together after the youngest has been born, all tuckered out and completely passed out. The new baby curled up in the cosleeper next to the bed. Malia sneaks in without waking her dad and starts snapping pictures for the family album. And at one point during the night, Ben and the youngest twins end up sleeping in their parents’ bed as well. It becomes a routine until Ben is ten and generally likes to sleep alone. (Unless he’s upset, then he comes running.)

Also, the mere image of Chris wearing glasses and Noah wearing his police sunglasses (or regular glasses), like yes, sign me up. Also, Peter shows solidarity and starts wearing glasses later in life too. Which doesn’t only do wonders for their sex life (though that was never bad, to begin with) but also every single parent at Ben’s high school and the twins’ elementary school suddenly have the hots for the three extremely hot dilfs.

It also helps with getting justice for Ben when his son is being bullied at school and Chris has to convince Peter not to kill anyone, Noah shows off the sheriff’s  badge and starts suggesting a few things, and Chris likes to remind people that his son (Jackson) is now the youngest DA in the country and works from Beacon Hills and his other son (Stiles) is now an FBI agent who certainly wouldn’t mind digging into the past of whoever is bullying his little brother. (Not that he ever has to get that far, usually he smiles warmly and charms the principal or the teacher with his trademark smile and within a day Ben’s bullies are disciplined by the school.)

I have no idea where I’m going anymore as I’m pretty tired at this point. But these were stuck in my head and I had to share.

(Once again, I adore every single headcanon you’ve send me. <3)