#i also hope the spreadsheet i left behind helped because my god

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Hello loveys! Here is chapter four of

‘Tis the Damn Season

~Let It Snow~

Thanks to @dirtystyles for the beta and late night video mining thanks it Night Niki!

Enjoy! Reblogs are Love!!

"We have a problem," Harry states as he comes in the room. Emma's heart nearly stops and she feels exposed. Not just because she is naked, though she is literally bare, but because he's just been downstairs to talk to the landlady and Emma is terrified of what the hell the problem could be.

He was just downstairs, while she was luxuriating in the sheets scented like them. What could he have encountered there that would lead to this deadpan voice and monotone face?

Emma's mind is good at this, at possibilities, it's why she's good at her studies and internships, she can run through lots of scenarios in her head and then plug in logistics and costs and benefits. She doesn't even need a spreadsheet unless you get beyond a handful of variables.

Variable one - she's gonna think of them as variables because problems are more nerve wracking - there are fans outside. They've heard from someone, through a grapevine or hedgerow, that Harry stays here a couple days each Christmas.

Emma can see a way out of this, though it requires sending Harry to be the sacrificial lamb. He will have to go to the altar and sign things, which is better than being beheaded, and take pictures and give hugs and lead them away. Then Emma can linger, maybe eat lunch in the pub garden and leave when the coast is well and truly clear. It's not how she wants to spend their last day this break together, but it gets them both out of here unexposed, if not totally unscathed.

This is the best case scenario.

Variable two - while he was downstairs Gemma texted. She's cottoned on. Well, Emma is totally afraid and halfway sure her friend can sense that she's sleeping with her little brother every chance she gets and hasn't been honest about it. Emma knows Harry has not been forthright either. The puzzle pieces can't be hard to put together. They've gotten lazy. No, the word is addicted. The fact that they both always disappeared and went dark for the same number of days was more than noticeable the first time, it wasn't a pattern yet thought. An easy to recognize and predict four three year old pattern. Emma is good at those too, patterns. So is Gemma, all those themes, all those books.

They'd talked about it, she and Harry, that second year, their first meet up with intent. Agreed they would be limited, controlled, discreet. They would meet late, after pub crawls, and only get together after Gemma went back to London.

She's not sure who they were fooling.

Because then, instead, they just holed up, skipped social events, turned up moments apart from one another and left the same way. Basically they'd ignored every one of their rules, the ones they'd designed to keep their secret. They couldn't help themselves, nor stay away. She had to sit on her hands and never look at him to keep from touching or kissing in public. Harry didn't even bother.

Last year, Gemma had made a few comments, about them flirting, about Harry peacocking around Emma, about them leaving at the same time. About his hands on her.

Emma remembered when they'd pulled themselves out of each other's arms, him to go home, her to a meet up with Gem and some others. He was definitely less stealthy, not sleeping at home and all, but he insisted on holding her while he fell asleep and waking up to her kisses. What was she supposed to do but melt?

Emma had been late, because of course she was, she'd almost been out the door when he'd asked to be kissed goodbye. "I just put on lipstick." She'd shaken her head, and then his face had taken on that impish hue and he'd kissed her lipstick and clothes off. The waiting Uber had left without her and she lost her perfect 5 star rating.

She'd come in, flushed apologizing and lying about her mother needing her to go to the shops. Gemma had pushed her a drink and given her a look. Like she knew, why Emma was late and Harry was sneaking out to sleep in a shitty pub bed. Then later, she'd said, "Harry's up to something, someone, he's been staying out all night again. My mum isn't that bothered, but I just want to know who." The look she'd turned on Emma was nothing short of an invitation.

Emma could have confessed. But it felt like a final chapter, a bookend she wasn't ready for, so she'd shrugged and suggested maybe he had a girl in Manchester, or a boy. It had been a joke, but Gemma hadn't blinked, and Emma wasn't surprised either, so that seemed interesting. Luckily the conversation flowed beyond that when a new old friend arrived.

Gemma kept giving her looks though.

Emma did feel like she was wearing a scarlet H.

And she'd come to the party with it two days ago. The letter may not have been apparent on her sweater, the kinda ugly but also perfect Christmas sweater she'd found at the thrift store one day. It was red, the threads of it shot through with silver, like it was made of tinsel. And it was big, she was wearing it as a dress. The expediency of last year's dress fed her lunacy this year. They should definitely control themselves this time. Thank god the door had been locked.

The big H over the heart of her sweater cum dress was probably only visible to her.

And possibly to Harry, from the way he had zeroed in on her. He'd greeted her when she came in the kitchen door with a lingering kiss on her cheek. She was totally breathless just from seeing him. He had grown. He was a bit taller and seemed to have slimmed down. And his hair was brushing his shoulders in this way that could only be described as princley. She was waiting and hoping for true love's kiss.

That was probably why, when he looked around naughtily and scooted her over 5 steps to be under the mistletoe, she hadn't even been able to find an eye roll of protest. The kiss had tasted like home, because he was the best thing about Christmas and coming home to Holmes Chapel. He was what she longed for on days that literally didn't end in Iceland, cozy nights with him, under the blankets near a fire. It lingered, his lips on hers, the slick of his Christmas cookie scented tongue. He held her a moment later, the hug lasted too long as well.

"Oooh, Harry get off!" Gemma had harrumphed.

Emma had been sure her face was bright red, but Harry had just rolled with it, pointed to the mistletoe, and said, "Seemed more appropriate than a full make out!" He'd pulled back and tossed that comment over his shoulder but winked at her as his hands dropped. It had seemed to satisfy for that moment. That was before Emma had ignored rules and definitely fallen into her pattern. The Boar's Head on Boxing Day and maybe a few more. Hell, even the landlady recognized them and told them she'd saved their preferred room for them. Gemma was quick, sharp as a knife blade and could cut like one too, when hurt.

Maybe Gemma had gotten sick of the unexplained sober night disappearing acts and called him out.

Would they come clean? Did that mean this was over? Did that mean this was beginning?

Emma wasn't even sure what she wanted. This was the worst case scenario, that those they loved and were deceiving knew.

Or, maybe they knew for an even worse reason.

Variable three - it had gotten out to the press. Someone had snapped a photo of them kissing before the "we were just hugging" excuse. Or got them together here in a more salacious situation. Going to a room together - no - that can't be right. They meet here, behind closed doors, no one can get to them here, it's like their fortress. Nobody knows. Would the landlady sell them out?

Emma takes a deep breath, she's just given herself some very rapid fire and escalating worst case scenarios. She needs more data. "What's wrong?" Her voice is steady.

Maybe not steady enough, he looks up with his brow quirked and his mouth a bit drawn.

He reads her, she feels him open her up like the spine of a book. She hopes he doesn't ask. How long would it take to explain the crazy journey her mind just took? Instead he just tilts his head and gives her a naughty smile. "We're stuck!" His eyebrows raise like he's just told her he found a stash of herbs that act like viagra.

"Huh?" For as quick a thinker as she is, she feels really behind. May have been that smile's promise, or that his news is simple, innocuous, not full of consequences.

"Come look." His head motions to the window he is standing in front of. He puts her in front of him immediately and hooks his chin over her shoulder. "We're snowed in!" He's gleeful.

"You'll miss your flight." She sounds worried. This would stress her out.

"I will, but I won't miss out on you! And I can't get my ass chewed because this is an act of God!"

"An act of God to get you laid!" She laughs. She's joking.

He doesn't look amused. "I already got laid." He tries for a playful eye roll, it doesn't land, like when you jump off a swing and miss, tumble over, twist an ankle. "I'm excited, how cozy is this! We get to hang out for at least another day. We can order food in and stay in bed and watch movies! Everyone else will be snowbound too so we won't have to put on real clothes or anything at all and go to the pub or family dinner or anything. Just us two with no obligations!"

He looks gleeful to have extra time off. She shouldn't begrudge him, he works hard and so does she. "What movie do you want to watch?" He's already digging for his laptop and sweats, he's down to a tee, tossing her the one she slept in.

There's a part of Emma that thinks she should bring up all the winding trails her mind just ran, instead, she smiles and catches the love bug he's infected with. "You pick, baby." Baby, wow, she thought she only said that in her head, or when she's under him. She'd be happy if he doesn't notice. He does, and the way he looks over it makes her happier.

Hours later, after he calls down for shepherds pie and tea he says, "We should get pints'"

"I don't like beer."

"Then wine!"

"Ok, wine." They usually only had tipsy tumbles at the party. This was intentional; on her part at least, she liked to remember their limited time together so she could live off it all year. "I feel like I need to warn you, wine makes me feel sexy."

"Oh, oh no, what will I do?" He put his hand to his heart then to his head and reclined in an arch that belied his 'I don't dance' claims. Maybe not yet, but one day he'd be a dancer. "I know you will launch an assault on my virtue!" He stuck his tongue to the cover of his smirking mouth. She'd take that invitation.

"Yeah. I should make a start on that job now!" She advances on him with all the moves she put into being the best footballer in sixth form. Harry runs from her, but the room is small and cozy and cluttered, so he quickly tumbles over. He groans from the floor.

"Oh, are you hurt babe?" She's on her knees looking his perfect face over for forming bruises when he laughs and pulls her down on top of him.

"Nope, fine and dandy!"

"Dandy is right!" She secretly loved his evolving look. But had to take him down a few pegs regularly.

"Heeey! I had to call a foul, you are way faster than you look!"

"How does one look fast?" She's talking, he's kissing.

"When you look like you have moves," he moved his eyebrows in illustration, "and I'm like a newborn gazelle."

"Bullshit, I think you just get distracted."

He blinked and just stared for a moment. "Nobody's ever said that but my mum." Emma wasn't sure what that meant, but it meant something. The deep kiss and eye contact said so. As did his downshift.

They'd been on 4th gear headed to 5th when she'd started joking. Now he was back to third and decelerating.

"Cmon," he broke the kiss to say and came back like her lips were honey to his bee. It took him three lip locks to get to the next words. "Let's go get cozy and watch something."

She barely remembers the movie he put on. But she'll always remember him narrating it in her ear and his comment on the aesthetic.

"Do you like the costumes and set design or the actual plot?" She tilted her head back to ask and found her lips had the same magnets in them his had earlier. Must be contagious like his glee for snow days.

"Both, but I guess ideally they are equally great, but I'd say the latter in this case."

"You know, pop star, for a boy who left school early, you're awfully cerebral." She meant this as a compliment.

He blushed and gave her a shy smile. "Nah, I'm a lad."

There was something about the way he said it, like this was one of those beliefs everyone had about themselves that they didn't really share, but affected them.

Emma climbed up over him. "Hey, you're not allowed to put yourself down around me, ok?"

"Being a lad isn't necessarily a bad thing." That rang true, he believed that.

"Yeah, I agree with you. But you aren't just a lad Harry."

He looks askance for a second. "I mean, I'm not like, a genius or anything," he nudged her, "not like some people."

"I'm not a genius." He made a face. "I'm not. I'm smart, but more than that I'm dedicated, and you obviously are as well. You work really hard Harry, and you make people really happy. You make great music. You know that, right? That what you do has merit? That it matters?"

"I'm not saving the planet." He looked deeply at her.

"Neither am I." He scoffed. "No, really. I'm just trying to do what I can to make things a little better. And you are too."

"Yeah, but I want to do more, like more good."

"And you will, you do know you're like 21 right." Sometimes she needed this reminder too. He was even younger than her.

"Not quite."

"Stop reminding me I'm older than you." She ruffled his hair.

"Older and wiser."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Styles."

Harry reversed their positions, she was under him, looming blue and beautiful above her. "I dunno, I like my geography."

The kisses he was applying to her collarbone were pretty compelling.

"I guess I'd have to see a little more flattery," she sighed.

"I think you're the smartest girl I've ever met." That kiss was right below her ear.

She made an encouraging sound.

"I love the color of your eyes when there is soft light behind you." That kiss was to the same spot on the other side. It was also very specific.

"I miss you and the way you smell 11 months out of the year." That one was on the hollow at the base of her throat.

"If I could, I'd just follow you from Amsterdam to Iceland so that I got to wake up to you every morning." That one she felt required a follow up, but that kiss was on her mouth and escalated to all of the other positions his held.

It wasn't until the next morning, when they we're still snowbound, cozy, and together that she thought to say, "You know you could do anything you wanted, be anything you wanted. You're limitless, Harry."

She didn't tell him she'd also love if he chose to follow her between her school and her hoped for career. Just like she hoped he would never tell her he wanted her to follow him on tour. It was too limited.

She wished they were limitless together instead of on the divergent roads they'd chosen.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #tis the damn season #chapter four #let it snow #Harry styles imagine

[everybodyscupoftea]

How about more pike jj? 😍

okay love this, it was honestly really bothering me that i only had one fic under that heading so i’d love to expand if possible

also if someone wants to send requests on what else they’d like to see in this verse (other than smut) i’d love to do that for y’all

(warnings: cursing, anxiety, school freak out, unedited)

you were sitting on your couch when you saw your friend’s snapchat that she’d gotten into grad school. which, good for her, you loved that and were so happy for her, but it gave you a stomachache. you’d been putting off your own applications for months, intending to start last october, but it was february and you still hadn’t started.

in your defense, you were busy and between work and school, you hadn’t had much time to breathe, much less do extra work with applications. unfortunately, that meant you were way behind everyone and application due dates for the fall were passing you by.

maybe if you did some homework, the anxious feeling clawing at your throat would go away. pulling the tv table in front of you, you plopped your laptop down on it and opened your email. you were waiting for a company to get back to you about an interview for a project in your sales class. it was due in about three weeks and they still hadn’t gotten back to you, and unfortunately, you had no backup plan.

sure enough, your email was still empty. with a loud sigh, you pulled up your student email to check and see if your selected professors for letters of recommendation had gotten back to you about your resume and transcript. of course, with the way things were going, no.

you sniffled, a wave of tiredness hitting you as your morning shift combined with afternoon classes caught up to you. pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes, you took a deep breath and decided to try and see if your in-class group sales project had been graded. your group had done well, and you were thrilled with the final product.

to your horror, there was an 81 staring you in the face with the note presentation left something to be desired, make sure to make more eye contact with the audience next time. overall, interesting topic that was well-researched.

a fucking 81 for not enough eye contact. you wanted to scream, that seemed fucking harsh for an elective that you chose to take over another communications class because you were told “honestly, she’s super easy and lenient with her grading”. lenient with her grading your ass.

maybe schoolwork wasn’t the best idea for the time being, and you slammed your laptop shut in frustration. you pulled your knees to your chest and started sobbing into them, totally overwhelmed and overworked. just as it was getting hysterical, there was a knock on the door. fuck, you’d forgotten jj was coming over for dinner.

you wrapped a blanket around you and padded over to the door, tears still leaking from your eyes. jj’s wide smile dropped as he took in your pathetic state and he immediately pulled you into a hug.

he walked the two of you over to the couch and stepped away to move the tv stand across the room. sitting down, he patted the spot next to him, but you stayed standing, not wanting to sit down because of the pent up anxiety churning in your stomach. 

“can you talk to me, sweetheart? is there something i can help you with?” he asked, leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees.

you rubbed your hands on the blanket, trying to stop them from sweating and started venting, “no one will get back to me that i need to for a class project and i don’t know who to ask that’s a marketing manager that i can interview. it’s due in three weeks and i have to do the post-interview essay too. my teachers who agreed to right my rec letters either haven’t got my emails or are just ignoring me, and i got an 81 on a project because prolonged eye contact freaks me out.”

jj’s eyebrows raised higher and higher as your rant went on and you started quickly pacing to work out some of the anxiety. he laid back on the couch and held an arm out, signaling for you to come lay with him. with a huff, you tightened the blanket around you and sat on the edge. 

he squeezed your hip gently and said, “baby, you’re one of the smartest people i know. you’ll figure out what you need to for that project, and the 81 isn’t that big of a deal in the span of the entire class, i know you have a lot of assignments to mask that.”

you put your head in your hands, “i haven’t even started applying for grad school yet. applications are starting to be due in like two weeks. what if i have to apply for hard ones and i get rejected from every single one because i procrastinated.”

jj laughed, “you’re too good to get rejected from every school you apply to. i wouldn’t expect to get into all of them, but i’m positive within the next few months you’ll have to choose between schools. which, now that i’m thinking about it will probably be a whole new crisis.”

you laughed, a strangled noise through the tears that had started falling again, before placing your hand on top of his on your hip, “god, i hope so. that’s a much better problem to have. it’s just so overwhelming looking at my list and then looking at how much have to do for each application and it’s like maybe i should just put this off if it’s going to overwhelm me. then i always regret it.”

he sat up, “first, let’s hug it out, then we’ll figure out what you need to do and what order to do it in so that you don’t get overwhelmed.”

jj held his arms out and you moved to sit on his lap, legs going around his waist, and hugged him tightly, engulfing him in the blanket too. you buried your face in his neck and breathed in his regular scent, which helped calm you, and you stayed there until the tears stopped completely.

he loosened his grip and you pulled back. wiping your cheeks, he asked, “we good now?”

“as good as i can be right now.”

with a nod he asked, “okay, what all do you need to get done for each application?”

“it starts with a personal statement, a copy of my transcript, and then letters of recommendation. then, depending on the school, they might ask for gre scores after my original submission.” you paused, thinking back on your gre, “oh my god, my scores were a solid average, a 310, what if it’s not good enough, i don’t want to retake it, that was miserable.”

“okay, you need to breathe, over 300 is good, don’t stress about your score right now. some schools might not even require it.” he was right, so you took a few deep breaths, and when you finished, he continued, “i think you should definitely write up a very basic personal statement template that you can fill in and expand upon for each school in particular.”

you nodded and stood to bring your laptop back over. jj opened his booksack and pulled his own laptop out. glancing over curiously, you asked, “wait, what are you doing?”

he responded without looking at you, “i’m an elite spreadsheet maker, so i’m going to make you one to show exactly what you need for each school and so that you can fill in when you do it.”

you teared up again, this time as his thoughtfulness, “god, i don’t deserve you.”

he grinned at you, “sure you do, you deserve the best in the world, and i’d wager that’s me.”

with a snort, you ruffled his hair before getting to work on your blanket personal statement. 

#frat!jj #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank request #pike!jj

[hartigays]

3. “It’s always been you.”

3. “It’s always been you.”

billy storms out of the apartment, seething and fighting back tears. because billy hargrove does not cry. ever. he didn’t back when he lived with neil, he didn’t after his mom left, he didn’t when he got arrested for possession and almost lost his scholarship to UCLA.

he’s not about to start now.

not because steve pretty boy harrington has to go around acting like a grade-A asshole, with his soft hair and big eyes and pouty lips, screwing everything with a goddamn pulse. no sir. billy won’t give him that luxury.

the reality is, steve has always had a thing for plowing his way through as many people as humanly possible. or so billy heard all those years ago when he’d first arrived in hawkins and started inquiring about the pretty-faced indiana boy who billy just couldn’t seem to stay away from.

but billy thought all of that was behind them. they live together, for fuck’s sake. they’d moved out to california together so billy could go to school, and so steve could take a position at one of the offices of his father’s company in LA. steve hasn’t been seeing anyone, billy hasn’t been seeing anyone. they’ve been happy. content.

and okay, so maybe they aren’t dating. maybe billy hasn’t exactly told steve how he feels. but, like, steve should know. billy has gone out of his way to make it glaringly obvious. steve may be oblivious, but he’s not dumb. not like everyone thinks.

billy is pretty damn sure there’s no way steve isn’t aware of how he feels.

the worst part is, billy thought steve actually felt the same. at least, he had up until today, when he walked in on steve sitting on the couch with some girl, laughing and smiling and whatever the fuck else. he’d walked out before he could see anything more, despite steve’s desperate pleas for him to come back so they could talk.

there’s nothing to talk about. billy thought steve liked him, steve doesn’t. it’s done. he just needs some time to... process it, or whatever. billy finds himself on the beach soon enough, and he slips off his shoes so he can stick his toes in the sand, plopping down with a sigh.

it’s a private beach tucked a ways away from the pier, but billy knows the owners of this plot. they don’t stay at their beach house until the winter, when they want to escape to somewhere a little warmer during the colder months. he’s pretty sure the rest of their time is spent in aspen. so for now he’s safe to sit here and think, staring out at the water as the sun sinks below the horizon.

billy has brought steve here a lot. they’ve picnicked here several times, and billy even brought steve out a once or twice to teach him how to surf before they knew that steve was irreparably bad at it. the thought makes billy’s heart squeeze, and he has to pinch himself as a reminder to not be such a pussy.

because it’s whatever that steve is into some air-headed cheerleader type with a tiny waist and hair like strands of gold. it doesn’t bother billy one bit. not at all. he Does Not Care in the slightest.

maybe if he keeps telling himself that, it’ll somehow become true.

“thought i might find you out here.”

billy doesn’t turn around at the sound of steve’s voice, keeping his eyes forward even though his stomach sinks. “congratulations, you’ve finally managed to develop critical thinking skills. let’s bust out the champagne.”

“i can go if you want me to,” steve says softly, even though billy feels him sink down onto the sand next to him, close enough that their arms brush.

billy just snorts, shrugging. “i don’t give a shit what you do, harrington.”

steve just sighs, and for a long time he doesn’t speak. out of the corner of his eye, billy can see him staring out at the sunset, looking rather forelorn. billy wishes he could turn that look into something soft, something happy, but steve has made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t have that right.

“you know, i remember the first time you took me here,” steve says finally, and billy can’t help but glance over at him. steve’s smile is warm and soft, but tinged with something like sadness. “you tried to teach me how to surf. the first time, i mean. i slipped off the board and busted my ass so hard on it you had to carry me home.”

“you suck at surfing,” billy acknowledges, nodding. “badly.”

steve huffs a soft laugh. “yeah, i do. i just remember thinking that it was still one of the best days i’ve ever had. because that was the day i knew you loved me as much as i love you.”

billy goes completely still, his heart leaping up into his throat and his eyes watering, because what the fuck? where does steve get off making an admission like that just to make billy be less upset with him?

“don’t do that,” billy says, his voice rough. “you don’t get to do that. don’t pretend like you feel the same just because you don’t want me to be pissed at you.”

“billy,” steve starts, sounding distressed. he pauses, meeting billy’s eyes and fuck, they’re filled with tears too and billy doesn’t know how he feels about that. “it’s you. it’s always been you.”

the words break something inside of billy, and he crumples. he can’t pretend to be mad anymore when the truth is that he’s devastated. plain and simple.

“you sure have a funny way of showing it,” billy tells him, sniffling and wiping his nose on the back of his hand. “i saw you two. you were two seconds from playing couch twister. would’ve been if i hadn’t walked in when i did.”

“leanne is gay, billy,” steve groans, burying his face in his hands. “she works with me and she’s gay. has a nice girlfriend named annalise. they have a fucking kid. we were just- jesus, i can’t believe i even have to explain this. to you of all people. i’m the dumb one, remember? fuck. we were just going over some fucking spreadsheets. yeah, riveting stuff. super romantic.”

“i didn’t- are you fucking with me?” billy asks, because he’s starting to feel really fucking stupid and a small part of him is hoping he didn’t just throw a (rather humiliating) tantrum over nothing. “you guys were giggling. and sitting so close, i just... i thought you were making a move.”

“god, you can be more dense than me sometimes, you know that? we were giggling about you, dumbass. i told her that i liked you and she wanted to know more,” steve explains, shaking his head in disbelief. “it was just- i dunno. like two friends at a sleepover giggling about their crushes.”

“would you quit calling yourself an idiot?” billy huffs. primarily because he can’t think of anything else to say - his mind is racing too much. but also because it’s true. “this kinda proves that if anyone’s an idiot here, it’s me. i just- i don’t understand why you never said anything.”

steve is shoving his hands through the sand repeatedly, watching the sand run between his fingers. “you know i’m bi, i told you as much. i figured you were like me, or gay, or- i dunno. i just thought you weren’t ready to talk about it yet. i left the ball in your court, thinking that once you were ready, we’d, y’know. address the fucking elephant in the room.”

“the elephant being... ?” billy trails off. and he knows, but he really just wants to hear steve say it again.

steve rolls his eyes, laughing. “you know what i mean. but fine: the elephant being that i’m in love with you. and that i’m really, really hoping you love me, too.”

“i do,” billy says, his voice soft. “and i’m an idiot. i’m sorry.”

“you’re not an idiot. i probably would’ve thought the same thing if the roles were reversed and i walked in on something like that.” steve glances over at billy, giving him a tender smile. “just... next time, let’s talk to each other, yeah? i think that���ll save both of us a lot of grief.”

billy just hums, nodding his approval. they sit in comfortable silence for a little while, both still too nervous to make a move despite having just confessed their love to each other. at this point billy just finds it endearing, but he really, really wants to be closer to steve, and not just emotionally.

“i am gay, you know,” billy starts, his palms sweating, “and i really want to kiss you.”

“i know. and i think i’d like that.”

steve’s lips are soft and yielding beneath billy’s. his kisses feel exactly the way billy imagined they would - tender and sweet and a little shy, but curious. billy tries to keep it slow, not wanting to shove them into uncharted territory, but it’s only a matter of time before billy has steve’s back hitting the sand, hovering over him, their lips never breaking apart.

steve just sighs into the kiss, embracing the new position without complaint. he relaxes into the sand, one hand threading through billy’s curls, the other curling into the tufts of hair at the base of billy’s neck. it’s a kiss that billy never wants to end. but he knows there’ll be more. so much more.

“i’d say at least now we can get a cheaper apartment, but i think we’ll both still need our space every now and then,” steve says when billy pulls away, staring up a him with big eyes.

“yeah. plus it’s... ” billy trails off, his cheeks flushing bright red.

“it’s what?” steve asks, his brows coming together in confusion. “seriously, what were you going to say?”

“it’s home,” billy says gently, bracing both arms on either side of steve so he can swoop down to capture his lips again whenever he wants to. “home is wherever i’m with you, but- y’know. i like our place. it feels like us.”

“you’re such a fucking sap, oh my god,” steve laughs, but he’s smiling so brightly that billy thinks the whole beach could stay lit up for the rest of the night. “billy hargrove, secretly soft and mushy inside. who would’ve thought.”

“wasn’t, ‘til i met you,” billy tells him honestly.

and it’s true, for a long time billy hardened himself to the world, protecting himself with an armor of indifference until steve came along and melted him to his core. but billy isn’t one to complain, not when it means he gets to go to sleep and wake up to steve’s smile every day now, for the rest of his life. forever, maybe, if steve is up for that.

he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#is this a modern au? does this take place in the 80s? the world may never know #hope this is enjoyable bby! #❤️❤️❤️ #harringrove #my fics #ask #gideongrace

[goodproofingwater]

Chapter 16 | Tinder Tommy

Words: 1953 Notes: hello my lovelies, i am so sorry that this has taken so long - i feel like this has literally been months and you deserve better! lots of shit has been happening in my life which has meant that i haven’t really had the focus to do anything but watch brooklyn 99 or peaky blinders for the 500th time, but ya girl is back for now! I hope that you are all still with me and are looking forward to seeing how Tommy works with his new found affection! This chapter pairs directly with @idesiretomhardy​‘s Mr Solomons story (in that the dialogue is the same in parts, and the timelines are the same. These stories exist in the same universe. Enjoy!

Taglist (just send me a message if you would like to be added):

@a-dorky-book-keeper @ishoutmarcoandyoushout @idesiretomhardy @theamuz @blinderscaps @peakywriting @justanothershelby @contemporary-mary @auroravipers @moonyscardigans @peakysxshelby @miss-shelby-barnes @vintage-fantasyyy @ly—canthrope @morgan-1830 @i-love-you-green @l0tsofpennies @exploringmycosmicsoul @maah-chan @peakyblindersengland

The journey to Birmingham was almost pleasant. The first class ticket his assistant had scored him came with whiskey and although he couldn’t smoke, the journey was so seamless that he was only craving a cigarette when he stepped into the fresh air of Birmingham new street.

It had always amazed him in the way it only could a local to Birmingham that he could get to between the London office and the place it had all began in a matter of hours. He remembered when he had to call a car to get to the London office when it just started up, when the trains were so shit that he had to rely on his own mileage to get there. But so much had changed since then. He had changed since then.

Tommy Shelby crawled into Small Heath four hours after he had reluctantly left his home in Mayfair, the staff he had in the midlands office a far cry from the suit wearing, polished people in Canary Wharf.

“Good afternoon Mr Shelby,” the receptionist spoke, smiling at him and looking toward the old knocked down wall which led to the rest of what they loosely called the Birmingham office.

The large room had once been three or four terrace houses but had long since been knocked through, a small platform allowed for John to stand by a massive touch screen where he was checking stock prices and the market which was much further from their legitimate business.

The business in the north was far different from the import and export business in the south, and far from legal.

Shelby Company Limited were the first company in history to produce software which allowed the significant players in import and export of illegal goods to check market price, and buy and sell illegal goods on a secure server which was entirely untraceable.

The software was a massive success, and had gained the Shelby name infamy with even the most brutal and violent drug cartels still operating in the 21st century.

“So what was so urgent that I had to get a train up here immediately?”

John stepped aside and showed him the spreadsheet he was working on, and pulled up the share prices for drugs so it sat next to it.

“By all accounts, the cocaine market is following the same pattern as it did 5 years ago”

John didn’t have to go into detail for Tommy to remember the influx of cocaine into the country via a rival London based company, and the price drop which followed due to supply heavily outweighing demand. It had been the main reason Tommy had set up the office in the south.

“Is it Kimber again? Because I swear to god—“

“Not Kimber. His company uses our software now and he called the support team thinking it was a fucking glitch in the system”

Tommy’s brow furrowed as he eyed the prices and the spreadsheet which showed the fluctuations John had been keeping track of since the incident so long ago.  

“And uh.. that’s not all” John spoke, gesturing for Tommy to follow him into his office and he did, taking a seat in one of the plush leather chairs which sat on the other side of Johns desk while his younger brother poured them whiskey and placed the glasses in front of them. “As well as the share prices I’ve been keeping track of the weight of the product coming in and going out. It’s been declining steadily for the last week. Not by much, not even enough to alert me at the start but it’s going down an ounce each time.”

“So you’re telling me someone is skimming off the top?” And John nodded, sipping his whiskey as he unintentionally mirrored Tommy’s posture, leaning back in his chair with one ankle resting on the other knee.

Tommy let out a sigh, hating that there was yet another issue that he had to deal with. External problems like share prices and supply and demand came with the territory. Internal problems were not something he had patience for.

“Any theories who it is?”

“You mean except Michael?” The malice in Johns voice was matched only by his expression, his hate and disdain for his cousin clear in everything from his brow to his clenched fingers around his glass.

Tommy responded only by rolling his eyes, Michael’s drug problem being something he was fully aware of.

“Michael pays for what he takes. And he pays double. Any real theories?”

John remained quiet, sipping his whiskey and allowing his silence to speak for itself.

“Fantastic.” Tommy sighed, downing his whiskey in one gulp and plucking a cigarette from the case he had pulled from his inside pocket. “Do we at least know which office?”

“Oh it’s definitely up here. The coke is lighter way before it even touches county lines”

Tommy lets out a sigh with the exhale of his cigarette, smoke billowing from his nose as the prospect of someone stealing and the punishment they deserve runs through his mind.

“Alright. I’ll speak to the managers up here separately and let them know what’s going on, ask them to keep an eye. I don’t want either of us up here if there’s a supply/demand problem in case we get raided. These people will get away with saying they were following orders, but we’re the fucking captains.”

John nods, sipping his whiskey and glancing out of the window, his mind clearly trying to puzzle out who it could be as Tommy did the same.

--

Later that evening, Tommy slipped into a bar in new street to wait for an old friend. One that he couldn’t quite believe was even stepping foot in the city.

The room seemed to part for Alfie Solomons, the very air around him bending as he walked into a bar Tommy had picked for its proximity to Alfie’s hotel. The older man was one of the few he would make allowances for, and it had been so long that he would rather take a private car the half an hour into central Birmingham than make the effort to convince him to come to small heath and listen to him complain the whole time.

“Thomas” his booming London accent turned the heads that weren’t already staring at Tommy, and he couldn’t help the bemused smile which washed over his features as he shook his hand and settled to drink his whiskey.

“Alfie, it’s been a while,” he speaks, sipping at his glass knowing full well which comment is coming next.

“Yeah well you don’t get to London as much these days,” He catches the bartender's attention, a woman who eyes up Tommy when she comes over to take his order, her eyes only leaving his friend to make Alfie’s drink.

“You could always come here,” Tommy suggests, causing Alfie to snort. His disdain for the northern city clear in both his response and his body language.

“Mate, the only reason I’m in this shit city is cause of that fucking meeting, couldn’t get me here any other way,” he comments, Tommy giving him a hint of a smile behind his glass which only widens as he watches his friend attempt to hide a selfie of all things which had made its way to his lock screen.

“So, how’s the family then?” Alfie asks.

“Arthur got married,” Tommy tries and fails to keep his distaste for Linda from his voice, and Alfie smirks as he relishes in the hate which is so evident to someone who is also quick to anger.  

“And I wasn’t invited? What’s she like?” He quips

“She’s good for Arthur,” is all Tommy says, the comments he could make about his brother’s new wife unsavoury at best.

It’s then that Alfie’s phone buzzes once again, and with a second glance at his lock screen Tommy can’t keep his comments to himself any longer.

“Who’s that then aye?” Tommy says, inclining his head towards Alfie’s phone. “Got yourself a girlfriend, have you?”

“Yeah mate, I have. She’s fucking brilliant she is,” Alfie says, rolling his eyes at the smirk that crosses his friend’s lips.

“You’re going soft Solomons.”

“Fuck off,” Alfie says, the smile which splits his face something that was a rarity, and the bashfulness something Tommy had never seen in him before. “She wrote that piece on me for The City Scoop.”

“I wondered why that interview was so flattering, fucked your interviewer did you?”

“Took her out to dinner first mate,” he says with a grin, making Tommy shake his head. “I’m telling you, it’s fucking nice having someone around who wil-“

“Suck your cock?”

“She is good at that mate. Nah I’m telling you, it’s nice having a woman around to keep me company,” he says, and Tommy rolls his eyes.

“Fuck, you have gone soft,” Tommy mutters, shaking his head.

“Maybe so. It ain’t that bad though. Maybe it’s time you find yourself a girl, might be good for you.”

Tommy rolls his eyes, downing the rest of his drink to avoid replying which only causes Alfie’s grin to spread wider his face lighting up.  

“Or do you already have a girl Thomas?”

“I’ve been talking with a woman yes,” he offers, though doesn’t elaborate as he orders another drink.

“Talking aye? And where did you meet her?”

“Tinder,” Tommy mutters, fingers itching to reach into his pocket for a cigarette the no-smoking laws the only thing stopping him.

Alfie scoffs, shaking his head as he runs a hand through his beard while Tommy glares at him.

“What?”

“Fucking tinder? Can’t meet a girl the old-fashioned way, aye?”

Tommy clenches his jaw at the insinuation, choosing not to rise to the comment as his hand reaches into his pocket, fingers brushing against his cigarette case.

“Like having a magazine send a journalist to your work? That old way you mean?” He runs the cigarette along his bottom lip and glares at the bartender who moves to tell him that he can’t smoke indoors, piercing eyes daring anyone to test him.

Tommy’s phone lights up and he immediately turns it face down, “besides, easier isn’t it? Haven’t got time to be spending on women in bars or journalists I need to write a good profile about me because I punched someone without thinking.”

The smirk on Tommy’s face tells Alfie that he’s joking, but the bearded man takes a sip of his beer without a hint of amusement washing over his features.

“Never knew Tommy Shelby to be so desperate that he’d turn to fucking Tinder.“ Tommy scowls and takes a long drag on his cigarette

“And I never knew Alfie Solomons to be so soft that he’d have his girl as the fucking wallpaper on his phone.”

Alfie shakes his head, hours flying before he finished what could have been his third or sixth drink, his hand resting on Tommy’s shoulder as he stood.

“I’ll be off now then,” he says, before leaning in to speak directly in Tommy’s ear. “And by the way mate, I was thinking before I punched Sabini.”

Patting Tommy’s shoulder, he makes his way out of the pub turning back to look at his friend.

“Nice seeing you mate, give me a call next time you’re in London.”

What Tommy has failed to tell his friend was that if things went well, he saw himself spending a lot more time in the capital. He suspected his friend might have something to say about his admission that he would want to spend more time away from his hometown, and he had won the battle of who was more whipped. At least for now.

#tinder tommy #tommy shelby au #modern peaky blinders au #its been a long while lads im sorry

[nagynessem]

3 Naruto Characters That We’d Love To See Make a Comeback in Boruto

Naruto has always provided us with memorable moments from the unforgettable cast of characters it has. We cried, laughed, and even felt emotionally connected to some of these characters, some we consider role models.

That was because of the brilliant mastermind behind the Narutoverse, Masashi Kishimoto. Kishimoto took his time crafting each character, molding them to fit his vision. He also left us yearning for more screentime of our favorite characters.

In this article, I list three of my favorite Naruto characters that I hope to see on the big screen again in Boruto.

1. Buna

Thirteen years old, spiky yellow hair, known for not giving up, eager to learn and grow, and an apprentice of a wise, old sensei.

Yup, you got it right. It’s Buna.

Debuting in the Search for Tsunade arc, Buna left a strong impression in every Naruto fan’s heart in his brief 10 seconds appearance.

You may have noticed some similarities between Buna and Naruto, at least design-wise. But let me tell you that it goes beyond yellow hair and age.

Buna and Naruto share the same core value. The guts to never give up.

To always pursue their dream no matter what, and to never let down a comrade. And they both had dreams that needed a lot of hard work and dedication to achieve.

Buna’s dream is to become the best gardener in the world, much like Naruto’s dream to become the Hokage. Like Naruto, Buna sought out a sensei, Shimeji, to help him hone his gardening skills.

Shimeji is a master at his craft. “He is said to be able to make a garden out of a barren wasteland,” The wiki says. Shimeji adopted Buna, teaching him the tricks of the trade, preparing him to take the best gardener’s mantle.

I would love to see Buna’s character progression in Boruto, maybe even as a brief appearance of him raking his garden.

2. Harine

You may not take Harine as a serious character, but Kishimoto sure did. Kishimoto cared about his character so much that he gave him a unique trait, his thick hair. It is said that his hair is so thick you need multiple combs to comb it. Not only that, but Kishimoto named him after a hedgehog, referring to his hair.

I’m certain Kishimoto created Harine to appeal to the younger audiences. Kishimoto gave him that rebellious teen spirit that we all could relate to and a sense of vanity and ego that nowadays teenagers could understand.

I can’t wait to see Harine’s personal and hair growth in Boruto and all the Jutsu he learned through his journey.

3. Kyoya & Ginji

Oh man, what a pair of goofballs, am I right, Narutoers?

Being an accountant without spreadsheet software is hard, let alone being an accountant for a member of a killer organization with four hearts that tried to assassinate the God of shinobi, and that’s the story of our two goofballs, Kyoya & Ginji. Kyoya & Ginji are probably the only characters in the Narutoverse with actual jobs. This begs the question, can you really go far in the Naurtoverse with a real job? I know lots of you are scrolling down to comments getting ready to make me regret writing this article. I KNOW cooking is a real job. I KNOW construction work is a real job. Just let me have this, please?

And because I know this will get a lot of traction, I just want to start a Bring Buna Back movement. Maybe we will get a special episode of Buna’s big garden, who knows? #BringBunaBack

#boruto #naruto #naruto shippuden #anime #actors

[pepperonys]

pepperony week: day 6

just a little oneshot written to celebrate pepperony week 2019! the prompt for the day was endgame fix-it. I truly hope it’s at least tolerable!

READ ON AO3.

“How do you think she will react to it all?”

“Oh, probably as anxiously as you could expect from a 5 years old.” Pepper replied, “But you know as well as I do that she will do great. She’s the smartest kid I know.”

Tony smiled at this. Of course she would. This was his Maguna they were talking about. There is no way she would be anything but perfect, which included her first day at school,  a normal, perfectly ordinary school — for their standards at least. Her security was their number one priority after all. 

After the final battle against Thanos and his army of minions, the world was finally at peace, and so was, in slow, careful steps, Tony Stark. He hadn't forgotten everything that had happened, still had nightmares about the mad titan as they called him. But as it had almost been a year since they had fought against Thanos, things started to settle down, and he was healing — therapy, self-forgiveness and support from the people in your life can do wonders when you’re ready for it. 

One could say they were all making progress. The world was still rebuilding itself, there were people who lost things and people they could never replace despite them reversing the snap and the economy worldwide was still trying to find a solid ground to be what it once was. But they were all moving forward. The Starks played an important part in trying to help the world rebuild itself from the ashes those five years of crisis had created, but they still lived in their secluded and modest home by the lake in upstate New York.   

The most important part for them, though, was the fact that they didn’t need to fight anymore. Tony could finally rest. Actually rest, not being held down by the weight of his guilt like he was in the five years mid-snap. For once in his life, he actually felt at peace and like he could breathe. That was the very reason why he left the Avengers business once and for all. He still helped the young heroes, like the boy he loved like a son, Peter Parker, and the ones still there, such as Romanoff, Sam Wilson and Rhodey, with tech and such stuff. Both Tony and Shuri provided all the help they needed with technology, but that was as far as Tony’s work with the superheroes went now. He was actually okay with it, as impossible as that might sound to some. 

He wanted to be able to see his daughter grow into a wonderful person and he wanted to be there for Peter, Harley, Rhodey, Happy and of course, he wanted to grow old by Pepper Potts' side. He once promised her he would try not to die before they were at least in their 70s and he couldn’t possibly break that promise. So, he didn’t just go and wielded the gauntlet created by himself, Bruce and that raccoon alien guy and died, not when they could all simply go back in time and save his self-sacrificial ass — there was no way his wife would accept it. And that was exactly why, after all was said and done and he thought he was gonna die, the people alive post-battle assembled to get him and Nat back in the game. Kinda. 

It all worked out just fine. He was alive, so was Natasha and the universe was free of any imminent threat for now — hopefully for a long time. So that was pretty much why he and Pepper were casually talking about how it was to drop their daughter on the first day of school as they drove back home.

“I know, Pep. She is perfect. Never really doubted she would be anything less. But the kids…” he trailed off, “What if they– What if they bully her? I mean, she’s our daughter, we’re not exactly common people and she’s never interacted with so many kids her age before, honey. We only had that one neighbor who had a kid. What was her name again?”

“The kid? It was Meredith.” Pepper smirked at her husband’s inability to remember names.

“Yes! God, who names their kid Meredith? What were they, Grey’s Anatomy fans?”

Pepper had to laugh at that. He was ridiculous. She loved him.

“Honey,” she started as they stopped by a red light, “I’m actually surprised you know the name of Grey’s Anatomy characters.” Pepper teased her husband. “May I remind you, you picked our daughter’s name and I know it’s not solely because of my uncle, but also because you’re the biggest Arthurian legend nerd I know. So why are you judging?”

He couldn’t help but smile. She knew him way too well.

“Okay, you win, but I’m right. Besides, Morgan is a much better name and you can’t argue with me on that one or else I’ll record this and show Morgan. Won’t be pretty.”

“Uh-huh, right. Aren’t we losing the track of this conversation?” 

“Right. Morgan, school, bullying,” Tony recapitulated, “I guess we should ask her how it went over dinner, huh?”

“That's what I was gonna say, honey.” Pepper looked over at him smiling. 

He was definitely much better at the whole talking-about-important-stuff thing now that they had Morgan. So was Pepper if she was being honest. 

“Love that after all these years I can still read your mind, Potts.” he kissed her carefully on the cheek and she smiled as they proceeded on the way home.

                                                    ____________________________

Later that day, right after dinner, the Stark-Potts household was filled with Morgan's delightful laughter as her Dad chased after her because she didn't want to go take a bath; she wanted to watch Moana for the millionth time that week. There were no arguments with her Mom though.

Pepper couldn't help but find the moment funny from where she sat on the couch reviewing a spreadsheet and waiting for them to stop it. And despite being slightly annoyed, she just thought the two of them were way too cute. 

"'Kay, you win." Morgan said lying on the couch, her head on her Mom's lap. "But can we watch Moana after bath, please? Pretty please, Daddy? Promise I'll behave."

"Alright, Alpha Female. This time," he was panting on the floor, "I'll let you have this. What do you say, Pep?" 

She looked at both of them from her spot on the couch and retorted, "Fine. You can have it… But…" she trailed off, looking serious. 

"What?" two pairs of big brown eyes stared at her.

"I'm just teasing. Let's go get this bath started, you little monster." Morgan ran upstairs giggling.

"Don't run like that or you'll break all your teeth, squirt!" yelled Tony. 

She actually quit running, for Pepper and Tony's amusement.

After getting their daughter's bath ready and leaving her under F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s supervision, they were talking about a bunch of random things as they cleaned the slightly messy kitchen — they could cook a decent meal, but they always left a mess behind.

It was part of their daily routine now. Doing domestic chores could be very therapeutic, they realized, and together it could be even better.

Pepper was finishing drying off the plates when Tony's arms found their way around her waist and his head dropped on her right shoulder. She couldn't help but let her own head rest against his and run her fingers through his hair. These peaceful, quiet domestic moments between just the two of them were not as rare as they used to be before Morgan, when they were barely ever home, but they still treasured them the same way they used to before everything changed. For better, but changed nonetheless. They were the same people, in a lot of ways, but completely different in so many others, yet the one thing that didn't change were these quiet moments of intimacy and what they meant for the two of them.

"After we watch Moana for the millionth time this week," his hands found their way under her sweater and caressed the bare skin of her waist, "we should totally explore a different kind of ocean, you know."

Pepper snorted at her husband's awful innuendo.

"I am serious, Pep." He was grinning as he lifted his head to leave kisses on her neck, "I would love to know more about your depths."

This time he snorted, "Alright, that was really awful."

She was about to reply when they heard a tiny voice by the kitchen's door making them both untangle themselves from each other.

"Why is Daddy going to explore your depths, Mommy?" Morgan's big, innocent brown eyes were focused on her parents. She had finished her bath and was wearing the cutest blue pajamas.

They didn't know what to say. At all.

"Ah– Well, baby, you see, Daddy was just making a joke." Pepper tried.

"Oh."

She kept staring at them and looked downright confused as she continued, "But I want to explore this ocean, too! Like Moana did."

"Maguna," Tony started, "Honey, you see, that was an adult joke… For an adult-only kind or exploring. You can explore all the oceans you want when you're older." He winced. "When you're much older. Like, when you're 40."

"When I'm old like you?" Morgan frowned, still puzzled. 

"Uh… Yeah."

"Okay."

Pepper was trying so hard to keep herself from laughing during the entire awkward situation, but when Tony's expression went from worried to offended as he realized what their daughter implied, she couldn't help but just let it go and found herself out of breath from laughing.

"Is Mommy okay?" the kid whispered at her father, "She looks like a pepper."

"Might as well be one." He rolled his eyes at his wife's reaction, but smiled because she was damn cute when she was like this. 

She stopped laughing eventually and just smiled right back at him. God, he loved her.

"Moana, Daddy?" the tiny one looked up at him, pleading with her eyes and the small hands on his legs asking for attention.

"Right! Let's do it. I love Moana!"

The little girl went ahead of her parents to the living room, leaving them behind amused and smirking.

Pepper intertwined her partner's fingers with her own and got close enough to his face so that she could kiss his lips softly, resting her forehead against his. They opened their eyes, seeing everything they needed in that one gaze. 

The pair pulled away a few seconds later, still smiling.

"Let's go watch that film so we can explore other waters later, shall we, Mr. Stark?" she winked teasingly at him.

"As you wish, Mrs. Potts." 

And he followed her.

#pepperony #pepperonyweek19 #pepper potts #tony stark #morgan stark #my fic* #eeee so i'm so not comfortable posting anything i write ever especially in a language that is not my native one so uhhhh #but thanks to charlie's reviewing i think it must be at least decent enough so here it is aajksakjsalsa #anyways bye

[chances-r-high]

Death of a Bachelor

@royal-iris @addie-bear

It has been a long day for Iris. He’d been stuck in a long, boring meeting about the upcoming budget. There’d been a few staff changes, and the people Iris works with now aren’t as stupid as the last bunch, but he still finds himself frustrated or bored out of his mind. However, he’s excited that he and his mates are now getting around to plans on how to take Irk back. His Irk. Their Irk.

The thought brings a smile to his face as he enters their shared quarters. Persephone and Diana still make him nervous, but they seem to always know this and give him his space. He appreciates it, and he’s slowly but surely starting to become fond of the little beasts.

Addie isn’t too far behind him, also arriving from a rather exhausting day of meetings and planning. It seems the High Chancellor had taken the day off for...something. Addie knows he isn’t sick, but it has to be something pretty important for him to take the entire day off.

She smiles as she sees her other mate at the door, greeting Iris with a soft kiss to the cheek. “Hello, love. How was your day?”

Iris hums at the affection, leaning in to give Addie a nuzzle and peck on the lips. “Exhausting. Why do none of these people, who claim to be financial experts, know nothing about money?”

Addie snorts. “I think you’re just constantly impatient and don’t like to sit still for long periods of time.”

“You bet your ass, I don’t,” Iris admits. “It’s boring! I wasn’t meant to sit in long, drawn out meetings! I was meant to be on the battlefield fighting for freedom!”

Addie continues to look amused. “You do know that once you’re Tallest that a large portion of your day is going to be boring meetings, right? It won’t all be revolution and glory.” She only knows this because of having such a close relationship with not only Iris’ father, but with her Uncle Red as well.

Iris huffs. “Yes but those will be cool, diplomatic meetings. Not ones where I have to explain a basic spreadsheet to a group of people.”

He opens the door to their quarters, allowing Addie to enter first. As he follows her in he notices that the place smells extremely pleasant. There is also a spread of sushi rolls lining the dining room table. He doesn’t have to ask to know they were vegan. Chance is always very aware of his and Addie’s tolerances and allergies.

Addie raises a brow at the display. She’s pretty sure it isn’t their anniversary. At least she doesn’t think so. When did she wake up from that coma? She supposes that counts as good of a date as any for them officially all being together. Maybe it is. Has she really forgotten?

Before either Iris or Addie can think too hard about what this is about, Chance comes out of the kitchen, practically beaming at them. He is dressed in a tshirt and skinny jeans, a pink apron wrapped around his waist. He’s dyed his hair again, now a dark indigo. It brings his eyes vibrantly.

“You two are right on time!” the human said excitedly. “The ramen just got done!”

Iris’ eyes widened. “Ramen? You made ramen?”

Chance nodded. “Mhm! And not just some crappy, packaged ramen either. It’s a vegan recipe I found. I think you’ll both like it.”

Now Addie is very suspicious. “May I ask what the occasion is? And also why did you take the day off?”

Chance shuffles a bit. The weights in his pocket suddenly become very heavy. He’s been trained in espionage since he could walk. He could do this. “I just...it’s been a while since the three of us have had a nice dinner together. I figured we could use one. You know, just sitting around and talking and stuff?”

Iris can’t help but agree. He knows that the lack of such nights has been his fault, but since his and Addie’s talk (and especially recently) he’s tried to be better about that. More present. He smiles and goes over to his boyfriend and ruffles his hair. “Good idea, pretty boy.”

Addie still feels like there’s something she’s missing. Chance does nothing for no reason. Well, wanting them to spend a nice dinner together is a reason though, isn’t it? She just can’t help but feel like her human mate has something else up his sleeve. He’s an adorable and sneaky snake, and she knows better than to underestimate him.

Chance makes a chirp at having his hair pet. Perhaps Dibkins has rubbed off on him. Who knows. He grabs onto Iris’ hand and gives it a kiss. “I’m glad you think so, my Tallest.” He turns to Addie. “Shall we, Songbird?”

Addie sighs. Well, whatever Chance has planned will be unearthed soon enough. “How can I resist such cute faces and delicious looking food.”

000000000000

Throughout their dinner, the trio did just as Chance had hoped. They talked about their days, about the other people in their lives. They laughed and teased each other, bits of bickering becoming long bouts of flirting. It was a testament to how truly well the three of them fit together, how they’d each been lost satellites in space who had all three eventually found their way home - together.

Chance shuffles as they begin to finish up dessert (creme brulee). He’s been preparing for this moment for a long, long time, waiting for when things seemed settled and right. However, he’s come to the conclusion that perhaps things are never settled for the three of them, always having to muddle three one chaotic event to the next. But he also knows they are at their best together, and that he doesn’t want them to be apart ever, ever again.

He clears his throat, getting to his feet. “So, uh...I wanted to show the two of you something. You mind following me?”

Addie finishes off her last bite of creme brulee as she looks up at Chance. Now she knows something is up. She knows it’s not anything nefarious, but she’s always been dangerously curious. She has to know. “Alright. What do you have planned, Lucky Star?”

Iris is now suspicious as well. He’s easily distracted by the promise of food and his mates being cute, but he’s not a complete idiot. Something is definitely going on. “I’m with Addie. You’re acting way too innocent and both of us know better than to fall for that.”

Chance lets out a nervous laugh. “I, uh...well…” So much for all that espionage training. “...Just follow me and you’ll find out. Please?”

Iris and Addie exchange glances, but eventually come to a silent agreement. Their mate clearly wants to share something important with them, and the only way they are going to find out what it is, is by following him.

After agreeing, and taking a moment to clean up the dining room kitchen, they make their way out of their dwelling. Chance’s pace is quick and nervous, but he tries not to give that off. Sometimes he’s a little annoyed about how his mates have managed to knock all his walls down, make him so at ease with showing them what he truly feels. It makes it hard to plan surprises like this properly.

The deeper they go into the ship, the more curious Addie becomes. The part they’re entering now has been long abandoned, parts of Dwicky’s old labs. She’s ask Chance if he wanted it destroyed and redone, but he always brushed it off. She doesn’t quite understand why, knowing the place can’t bring him good memories, but it also isn’t her decision to make. Not her demons to face.

Iris has never even seen this place before. He’s avoided it, after hearing what lied down here. He knows that seeing the place wouldn’t be good for him, thinking about this being the beginnings of all the trauma and terror that Chance grew up with, where perhaps the roots of all the human’s nightmares lurk. Iris can’t help but wonder why he would bring them here. Isn’t this bad for him? Won’t this only be painful?

Finally Chance stops walking as they enter a dimly lit room. It’s surrounded by screens and monitors that are long since dead, just a strange, steady blinking of some of the buttons remaining. In the middle of the room is a round tank, more tall than wide. Several tubes float with in, swaying in the foggy looking water. It obviously hasn’t been touched in years, like an abandoned fish tank that someone forgot to throw out.

Chance takes a breath. This isn’t easy. In fact he feels every nerve of his body wanting out of here. But he came here for a reason. He’s tired of associating parts of this ship, his home, with bad things. He’s tired of letting the past haunt him. He wants to move forward. He knows it’s not that easy, especially with everything that has happened so far this year alone, but, by god, if he’s going to move on the best way to do it is to look forward to the future. To his future.

“This...is where I was born,” he tells them, his gaze moving up and down the abandoned tank. “Or, created I guess. I don’t know if they have proper terminology.” He turns around to face Addie and Iris, his feet shuffling. He buries a hand in his pocket, fingering the boxes there to find his strength.

“From that moment...I was a tool. A means to an end. I was used to for the plans of someone else, never allowed to make my own decision. Hell, I was practically convinced that is was my decision. That it was what I wanted.” He could probably thank Leera and her love for why that was never necessarily true. Why there was a door to his heart always left ajar. And, boy, had the two people standing in front of him stormed they’re way in.

“I...I never thought there could be anything else. That there could be any kind of light in my life that could show me another way. That my life didn’t have to filled with hatred and bloodshed. And...it baffles me still that not only do I get that from one person, but two people.” Two people who grew to love him for who he truly was, who dug it out under years of denial and anger and loathing.

He’s starting to get emotional as he continues to speak. “I love the two of you so much. And...and everyday I continue to love you more and more. Just when I think I’m full to bursting you show me that there’s still so much more room in me. And...and I want to give it all to the two of you. I want to give you everything…

“I don’t think there’s anything I can do to thank you both for being so good to me, for loving me so unabashedly and fiercely, for making me feel like the luckiest man alive,” he slowly pulls the boxes out of his pocket and hands them to each of his mates. Iris’ was in gold while Addie’s in silver, just he could make sure he didn’t mix them up. “But...I want to spend the rest of my life trying.”

Iris raises a brow, his face growing warmer with everyone of Chance’s words. He knows he and Addie can be rather dramatic, but when Chance gets in a mood it’s like listening to a Greek monologue. He can go on and on, his emotions driving higher and higher in a ongoing state of catharsis. It’s endearing and, dare he say, cute.

The box, however, brings him back to confusion. He turns it over in his hands a few times before opening it. Inside, nestled in black velvet, is a brilliant blue gem stone, the color rivaling the shade of Iris’ eyes. It’s beautiful but…”Um...not that I don’t appreciate this but...what’s this for?”

Addie’s sydark is soaring at Chance’s words. She’s still a little confused as to why he brought them here to say such sweet things, and her curiosity is only peaked when she and Iris are handed the boxes. She tilts her head and follows Iris’ move of opening it. She has a very different reaction when she sees her own deep purple stone, covering her mouth with one hand and her eyes immediately filling with tears. “Chance…” The word is barely a breathy whisper.

Chance smiles. He kind of figured Iris wouldn’t know what the stones meant. “They, uh...they’re proposal stones. In Lazurothian culture, they propose to each other with gemstones which later get made into jewelry after they’re married.” He didn’t want to do things the human way, even if adopting his new fathers have made him embrace being human just a little more. And he felt like giving Addie and Iris Oroks would be stealing their thunder in a way. So he’d talked to Midge about alternatives, and this had been his favorite.

The human slowly gets down on one knee in front of his mates, his heart pounding so hard he thinks it might escape his chest. “You two are the most important things to me in my life. I love you more than I think I could love anything else. My life until the two of you was a wasteland, and now I feel like I couldn’t be in a safer, more prosperous place.” He looks around the room, dark and dead with time. That’s how he wants to leave the past behind. Dark and dead in his wake as he walks toward the sun. “This...this is where I was born, but that wasn’t my beginning. You were my beginning. And I want this to be our new beginning together.

Will...will you make me the happiest man in the entire cosmos and marry me?”

Addie squeals, already falling to her knees and embracing Chance. Tears are falling freely from her eyes and she begins kissing his face. Luckily, he can make out a muffled, ecstatic "yes yes yes” in between.

Iris is left in shock at the explanation, his chest slowly tightening at Chance’s words. His grip tightens on the box and he feels his own tears at the corner of his eyes. He hasn’t been the best mate as of late, but for Chance to not only forgive him, but still want him to the extent to do this, it’s nearly overwhelming.

Iris falls to his knees as well, going over to Chance and (once he gets past Addie’s own affectionate assault) kisses him soundly on the mouth. He chuckles, trying to hide how his throat chokes up on his words. “Yeah. I’d be honored to kick your ass for rest of our lives, High Chancellor.”

Chance could cry. And he already kind of is. He leans into his mates’ - his fiances’ - affections. He loves them so much. He honestly can’t think of a time he was more happy than this.

It truly is a new beginning. For all of them...

#~Death Of A Bachelor~

[9w1ft]

☔️

it’s been about a month now since TSL shut down. i’ve been thinking of how best to summarize my thoughts on the odd things that happened to me there and i’ve decided it’s best to split my thoughts up into a few posts. this is my first!

so, for starters! drumroll pleaaaaaase 🥁 i would like to clear the air.. i am very excited to say that i have properly identified and spoken to the real KalindaKing!

you may or may have noticed before the app shut down, but KalindaKing actually @‘d me in one of her final posts on the app, saying she had seen my theory but that sadly she is an only child.

unfortunately, yes, KalindaKing was not Kimby Kloss. i uhh, take it she herself confirmed it for me recently!

actually, about a month after posting my theory, a mutual of mine tipped me off to a social media post that seemed to be from someone who might be KalindaKing (the gist of the post was, to paraphrase, i saw a theory that i’m karlie’s sister. i wish!), and i had been keeping tabs on it for some time. the post did not get any traction (no likes, no shares) so there was no way to verify if it was related, but doing some digging and cross-referencing photos and whatnot i was left plenty suspicious.

So about 3 months went by after i had my lede on who it could be, and then 48 hours away from app shutdown KalindaKing @‘d me on TSL... so i decided to take the jump and direct message the suspicious person on social media. and, we had a match! it was her!

Can i just say she is just as delightful as she was on TSL? it was an honor to chat with her. turns out she is an active moderator under the same username on another app by the same company.

actually, 😂 the KK part is really a funny coincidence.. see, the moderator who went by the username KalindaKing on TSL originally created that username for herself because she is a moderator on the Kim Kardashian Hollywood app under the same username (she gave me permission to say that), and, alliteration, so go figure! it would appear i exquisitely took my conjectures a twist too far.

this moderator is a professional, so she did not disclose that much to me, but I was able to learn that the ‘TheSwiftLife’ account was the responsibility of her and someone else. She mentioned that Social (ie twitter/fb) was run by her. Someone else was helping out on the TSL app, ie, that account that gave out those persnickety taymoji gifts on the app. 🤨

for those of you who followed my theory closely, this newly confirmed information has likely allowed you to come to the same heartening conclusion that i did: this means that the “message to taylor” function on the app is in all likelihood indeed something that only taylor can see, or, isn’t accessible to just any glu employee. yes, those personal private messages to her were in fact kept private 🥰. that is to say, leading up to my big guess post, i had disclosed the content of my guess (that kimby was KalindaKing) using this function, asking for the go ahead here on tumblr. my theory is whoever the someone is that was helping out with the TheSwiftLife account did not have access to my secret messages, and that’s where the miscommunication between me and them occurred. oops...

if you are new here, you are probably wondering how sound this logic could be. it would also seem to be completely possible that the TheSwiftLife account simply didn't know i existed / had never read anything from me / had never interacted with me through the app.

to that i say:

i now have proof that at least one moderator from the app read my theory back in October 2018

i now have proof that the same moderator @‘d me in response to the theory 48 hours before the app closed on February 1st, despite having know about it for three months.. so i take it that it merited addressing

let me walk you through a sampler of five ‘interactions’ that occurred with me and TheSwiftLife between August and October of last year:

interaction one: 8/1 Puzzle Heart..

after showcasing some interest in the taymoji gifts and crafting my theory of what they meant, i had seen a through line in terms of the overall message being conveyed but was unsure of any of this was real. i posted here on tumblr for the taymoji gods to send me sign, and the TheSwiftLife account gave out a puzzle heart with the flavor text “put the pieces together” the chances of that taymoji being picked to be given out are, i would say, 1/128 chances. the gift giving was mainly from within a pool of the 64 song-based taymoji packs and always of one of the two rare taymoji from either pack, so, 64x2=128

interaction two, 8/29 Rabbit...

following a week of ttb using the emoji rabbit to welcome some anons into the kaylor fandom, TheSwiftLife gave out a rabbit with the flavor text “Fell down the rabbit hole...”

interaction three: 9/12 Pixels..

things felt surreal following the rabbit... so i asked TSL here on tumblr to show me a sign that proved they knew me and saw me. i said there was one taymoji out of them all (of which there are 653) that represented me. i had hoped for the pixel art heart taymoji, as it says in my profile here that i am a pixel artist... i assumed if TSL wanted to respond to my request, they’d poke around my blog and make that connection. 13 days after i made the post, they gave out that exact one. in response, i mentioned what a lovely birthday present this was, as it was coming 13 days before my birthday (i’m born on 9/25)

interaction four: 9/21 Balloons...

between the pixel heart and this next gift, i came to the conclusion that kimby could be spearheading the TheSwiftLife account (given an interaction between this blog and kimby’s instagram stories involving a yacht company), and, as i love cheesy things, i made the extra (flawed) assumption that, given KalindaKing appeared to be a pen name, it would be super duper ingenious if the KK stood for Kimby Kloss. i sent this prediction in the “secret message for taylor” function on TSL, assuming (incorrectly) whoever was on the other side could read it, and posted here on tumblr simply that “i know who you’ve been, and i take it you want me to share?” The next gift that TheSwiftLife gave out were a set of red balloons from the Mine pack, with the caption “Speak now if it’s your birthday this month”

interaction five: 10/1 Umbrella...

even so, i was very hesitant to go through with pushing my theory. it felt, again, unreal. so, i put up one more test... i asked here on tumblr something in the form of a riddle. I decided to phrase a request for them to give a taymoji in the form of a question. knowing the full range of taymoji possibilities, i picked the flavor text of a taymoji that had never been given out, and a double-rare one (which weren’t given out often) the umbrella, and put out my question: do you have my back even if it rains down on me? and the next gift given out was the very umbrella i expected, which has the flavor text “Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered!”

this span of time in particular (not limited to, but especially) is why i have a hard time not believing kaylor is real. why would taylor’s team let any of this fly, that is, why would they allow a bubbly and vocal kaylor experience this if kaylor wasn’t true?

i encourage everyone to look through my blog archive from August to October to see how it played out! it won’t take that long and i think it’s more interesting than just this post. it’s a sweet slice of time... happening before the political post, and then, the ‘wedding’ thing.

and: if you are to believe that this is all just coincidence, then you have to logically assume that every of the above interactions happened at random, with TheSwiftLife drawing from a catalog of over 100 possible choices each time, and accidentally giving something relevant each time. i am not even going to cover the many many other strange alignments between what i post on here and what kimby posts on instagram. the probability of these taymoji is enough.

even taking out of account the probability of the timing of each, and just looking at it like a kid’s math problem, it’s quite a rare outcome.

what is the probability of insinuating 5 specific symbols and drawing those 5 specific symbols out of 5 bags with 128 different symbols inside each, one after the other? 1/128 x 1/128 x 1/128 x 1/128 x 1/128 = 1/34,359,738,368

a one in 34 billion chance of it happening if it happened randomly.

you only think 3 out of the 5 coincidences above are legit? well that still an over one in two million chance. only believe in one of them? still just an 0.8% chance.

and i picked these five interactions because they hilight five times where there really couldn’t have been multiple “applicable” taymoji responses. i tried to cut out that grey zone for you, because there’s plenty of grey examples to pick from. i suppose with the balloons, they could have picked any birthday-looking taymoji and accompanied the gift with the same caption.. but in that case, it means you have to calculate the chances of them writing the birthday messaging after what happened with the pixel heart... and i don’t know how to calculate that...

i’m not even talking about how some of the taymoji given out twice coincided with celebrity appearances in the world of kaylor. i don’t know how to calculate the probability of karlie saying she’ll go to a taylor concert before a marching band hat is given out, and then her appearing at nashville the day after the marching band hat was given out again. or the paul mccartney coincidence, or the hayley kiyoko coincidence, just to name a few of the most straightforward. i’m not even gonna mention all that business about the app notifications freaking out on my phone (for which i have an excel spreadsheet up my sleeve for later should i decide to nerd out that much)

i don’t even need to touch that.

some epic sh*t was positively afoot, my darlings.

but i digress. pending, you know, ‘proof’, we have no surefire way to know about the who (or who all behind it) all of this is, but, i don’t think we need to be sure of that for the time being (uwu*). i just want to re establish that while KalindaKing was a glorious misfire, the mystery of the app still very much remains.

in my upcoming post (i need to buy myself some eyedrops or something because my eyes are redder than that st. louis park sculpture right now), i would like to rewind for a sec and set the question of who aside and refocus solely on what we learned from the gifts and what we can possibly take away from the experience as a whole.

for now, this is me saying, kimby, oops! sorry i thought you were KalindaKing and sorry for not triple checking with you. my double check was not enough. but i’m glad i took the plunge, because, better an oops than a what if, right? and i hope, at least you got a good laugh out of it! and also thank you lovely sisters ☺️ for you know, clearing the way for me to make this post. at least, that’s what it looked like to me. 📯🕊

#taymoji #the swift life #tsl #kaylor #kaptain

[callioope]

Questions Meme!

Hello, yes, this HAS in fact been sitting in my drafts for ages and ages. Thank you to both @crazy-fruit and @ruby-red-inky-blue for tagging me and for waiting forever for me to answer (oops)! I’m sorry I took so long, but y’all ask really good questions and I had to think about some of them!

Question Set 1

1. How are you?

Oh, I’m doing alright! Thank you for asking. The earlier part of this year was rather rough, but therapy has been helping. I’ve been rather busy these past few weeks with traveling, and my schedule going forward is rather busy, too, so while I’m excited for those things, I’m also excited for the eventual moment I can just relax.

2. What would you say are your talents?

Writing. Making fancy color-coded spreadsheets. I’ve been told that my super power is getting random (annoying) songs stuck in other people’s heads. Does that count as a talent? 

3. If you had the chance to start your life again, would you take it?

NOPE. No thanks. I like where I am at right now, and I would not want to relive my awkward years. Er, at least, my more awkward, younger years. Cuz I’m totally still awkward. Just less awkward. I hope?

4. Which language would you like to speak instantly? 

HMM. ALL OF THEM. It’s really hard to choose! 

Language fascinates me, and in another life I feel like I would have devoted a lot more time to learning more of them. Unfortunately, I really hated German class in high school because of the teacher’s tendency to put people on the spot -- I think that is sort of inherent in a language class, but I get anxiety speaking in public. 

Anyways, I suppose I’ll answer Turkish to this question, since spouse and I keep saying we’re going to try to learn Turkish via Duolingo. For the record, my HS offered six languages, which was the most I’ve ever heard of an American school offering, and I was always quite happy with my choice of German. (The others were Spanish, French, Italian, Chinese, and Latin.) I do wish I had maintained my German better, and I that I had more time to learn Spanish. 

5. Where would you like to be right now?

Honestly? I’m pretty happy when I’m at home. But if I had to answer where “else” would I like to be right now, out of the whole world? Being back on safari in Botswana is a top contender, as are a variety of places in Turkey, and also Munich. 

6. What name would you give yourself?

I’ve always liked my actual name (Elizabeth). I know I go by Liz; one of my HS friends was quite stubborn and I’m a bit stuck with it now, but I don’t mind it. There are worse nicknames that come from Elizabeth. I used to go by Fiona online; I’ve always been fond of that one. 

7. What is something you’re currently learning?

OOF, what a good question. I sorta blanked on this at first, and my first thought was uhhhh learning how to cope with my OCD??? I’m doing exposure therapy right now, ish. Emphasis on the ish. Also mindfulness. Does that really even count? I started a beginner’s knitting project several months ago that I never finished, does that count? (I just need to seam it, that’s what I’m putting off. I have knit plenty of scarves; however, this is my first hat.) I’m sort of teaching myself ukulele although I haven’t really learned any new chords or songs in awhile. I would very much like to take more photography classes with a focus on wildlife photography. That involves buying a new camera and... signing up for classes. 

Question Set 2

1. What is a detail in a piece of art/a text that you like that you really admire?

This was very difficult, at first because it was like looking at a bin full of loose things and just seeing an assortment of color and being overwhelmed by it all, and then because once I did start digging around, I kept finding different ideas and it was too hard too choose.

Character-building: In the A Song of Ice and Fire series, when Arya starts working for the House of Black and White, Martin stops using the name “Arya” as she dons different identities. For example, he uses “Cat” for a bit, among other names. It shows she’s trying to be someone else, but the caveat is that there are still little mannerisms and such that show she hasn’t really left Arya behind (I think maybe she bites her lip or something? I don’t remember specific examples because it’s been over 5 years since I read these books, but I do remember really appreciating the general technique at the time). 

Music: In The Beatles’ “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” I love those repeated arpeggios, over and over, building, intensifying, as the white noise comes in and you can just feel the heaviness of desire, of want... (and then I love how it just breaks so suddenly! And I know it wouldn’t have been intended this way because that’s the end of side one, but since I listen to the whole album on spotify, then those bright chords of “Here Comes the Sun” come in and god Abbey Road is the best Beatles album)

Writing: the poetry of Florence + The Machine’s “All This and Heaven Too,” obviously, since literally the title of my blog comes from that. I’d quote that whole song honestly. There’s something that speaks to me about the incapability of language to fully encompass just... everything. I mean, love in specific here, but also just everything. Words are just these little boats we put meaning on and we hope they make it to the other side but everyone takes ‘em a little differently. 

Like, look at this: 

And the words are all escaping, and coming back all damaged And I would put them back in poetry if I only knew how 

And this: 

Words were never so useful So I was screaming out a language that I never knew existed before

Anyways, there’s also something just incredibly soothing about the music, too, and how she sings the song. There’s another line, from Sara Bareilles’ “Miss Simone” that goes “How does she know what a heart sounds like?” which pretty much sums up how I feel about “All This and Heaven Too” (and also many of Sara Bareilles’ song, especially that particular album, but I digress).

Anyways I did have some art examples, but I think I’ve rambled long enough.

2. Is there an idea that you really liked but had to discard because you couldn’t get it to work?

If I really like an idea, I don’t really “discard” it so much as put it on the shelf to attempt later. Out of recent fic ideas, I’ve really struggled with “How to Lose a Spy in 10 Days.” I first thought of this in late spring 2017, and for awhile I couldn’t stop thinking about it, but I was working on Whatever I Do at the time, and wanted to wait before starting another WIP. By the time I got to writing this, the inspiration well had sort of dried up. 

I really like the idea of a fun cat-and-mouse rom-com idea where Jyn and Cassian keep outsmarting each other, with a whole lot of competency kink, some “oh shit we actually work well together!” and maybe some battle couple. And I was really looking forward to both the moment when they both finally let their guards down around each other and the big confrontation when they actually find out each other’s identities. But it involved more mission writing than I was prepared for, and I really struggled with it. I think I need to start over but that involves a lot of working, so it’s unfortunately shelved for now, and I’m working on a “You’ve Got Mail” concept instead.

3. Is there something fandom-related you would like to be able to do (i.e. I’d like to be able to make gif sets but can’t)?

Oh, yes, absolutely! Really anything that’s not writing related, lol. Gif sets, art, etc. But most of all, I have a music video idea for the song “So Close” from Enchanted--like I have a whole story board plotted out in a google doc. But I don’t have any video editing software, don’t even know how you get the scenes for a music video, etc. I have made videos before, but not since high school, and I don’t even have the cheap, basic video editing program I used back then. Sometimes I think I should just attempt make a gif set instead, but there are so many lyrics! and scenes that go with the lyrics! that I don’t know how to consolidate it into that format anyways. 

4. What is a skill you’ve acquired through fandom work?

Hmm, this was tough. I’m going to say HTML. I’m not up-to-date on webdesign at all, but back in my early fandom days, I ran a few fansites. I still sometimes use HTML while leaving comments or to edit posts on dreamwidth or w/e. It’s super basic, but it has helped me at work at a variety of jobs. I take it for granted that people my age should know basic HTML, but a lot of them don’t, and then a lot of people I work with now are older and definitely not tech savvy. 

5. Do you think anyone can learn to create great art, or does it take talent?

Well, I’m going to cheat a little. I do think think that anyone can learn to create great art, but I also think that everyone has a talent at something, and part of learning to create great art is recognizing your skill sets and honing those. If that makes sense? I’ve sort of seen both sides to this. I’ve seen naturally talented people create great things, but I also think that they’re probably cheating themselves if they’re not learning and honing their craft and trying to get better. But I’ve also seen people who started out making things that maybe you wouldn’t call great, but they worked hard over and over again, and looking at their work now, you’d say they were talented without ever knowing the difference. Great art = talent + learning + passion. Did that even answer the question? ...moving on

6. Do you prefer AUs or in-universe? Why?

I prefer to write in-universe, for sure. I find modern AUs more challenging, mostly because--and I feel kinda bad saying this--it’s very difficult for me to tap into Jyn and Cassian’s characters without some kind of tragic background. Their experiences and how they coped with them shape their personalities, and it’s really hard to separate them from those. My WWII was easier because, hey, it’s war, not so different from in-verse. But I initially tried to write Learning Curve in a modern AU and I was just totally bored. Putting it in universe made it more interesting to me, especially having to finagle a happier plot inverse. IDK, it might even be that I generally struggle to make up any conflict in modern AUs that feels interesting.

THAT SAID, lol, I definitely read either. So it’s probably strange for me to be hung up on it because I’ve read nice fluffy modern AUs and found them perfectly engaging.

Tagging: @theputterer, @magalis, @allatariel, @mythologicalmango, @threadsketchier  MY USUAL DISCLAIMER APPLIES: no pressure if you just don’t wanna, AND if anyone sees this and was like “aw hey i wish she’d tagged ME” well guess what, I wish I did too! so go ahead and do it and let me know and then i’ll know to tag you next time, too :-) 

Questions:

When you suffer a setback or a series of setbacks when creating (writing, drawing, knitting, any kind of crafty project thing you work on... even work), what are some strategies you use to cope with that stress and move forward?

What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to create/make and what did you learn from it?

What part of a bicycle would you be?

What’s a helpful writing (art/crafting/work) technique you’ve learned?

What’s a piece of art that made you see things differently?

You’re a new addition to the crayon box. What color would you be and why?

What was the last board game you played and what did you like or not like about it?

*sorry these came out rather writer heavy!

#about me #tag meme

[soveryanon]

Reviewing time for MAG126 /o/

- We have definite confirmation that Martin and Michael Shelley worked at the same time at the Institute! Until now the dates weren’t clear regarding the Great Twisting attempt, and we only knew for sure that Michael was working at the Institute in September 2007 (since he interrupted Gertrude’s tape from MAG099). Martin has been working at the Institute at least since September 2009, since Jon reported that he had “vague recollections” about the statement-giver from MAG072. MAG126’s statement was given on 11 October 2009, and explicitly shortly before the Great Twisting… so! There was a window of time during which Michael and Martin were working at the Institute at the same time for sure!

- OBLIGATORY SOBBING ABOUT THE OBVIOUS PARALLEL, STARTING FROM THE TITLE (“SCULPTOR’S TOOL”):

(MAG126, Deborah Madaki) As soon as Gabriel spotted me, he hopped up and hurried over to me. He grabbed my hand in a firm, damp grip, and started to thank me. I was the best assistant he could have asked for, he said. He’d improved so much because of me. […] ARCHIVIST: […] I can’t find any evidence related to the condition of the body, but I can imagine what a sculptor’s apprentice might be capable of. Even an unwilling one. End recording. [CLICK.]

(MAG126) PETER: No. No. Can’t stand computers. Besides! That’s why I have an assistant, isn’t it? MARTIN: [SIGHS] Yeah. I guess so. [CLICK.]

THANKS, I HATE IT……………….. Martin………………. ;;

(Both for the fact that HUUUUUMMM, PETER? BACK OFF, HE’S NOT YOUR ASSISTANT… and about the concept of an “assistant” causing harm without even being aware of it…)

- There is something deeply satisfying and disturbing about the fact that… Martin is in all but name replacing Elias as Head Director of the Magnus Institute? If the clock ticking is any indication, the scene with Peter took place in Elias’s office; it’s where Martin is working nowadays; it’s where Martin is doing admin work and taking care of the Institute’s spreadsheets. And if we know One (1) Thing for sure about Elias, it’s that:

(MAG103) ARCHIVIST: […] and it’s Wednesday afternoon, when he does his scheduling. So I’m… hoping he’s distracted. … He, er… He loves scheduling. DAISY: … Rrrright.

Martin’s affiliation with the entities always felt like a pick between Web (loving spiders, relishing in control, web metaphors, the fact that spiders are swarming the Institute, that Martin is this person you barely notice, and that The Web has plans regarding Jon), Lonely (family situation and unrequited crush, always a bit of an outcast due to Jon’s dry comments in season 1, his fundamental lie about his degree preventing him from being known, and overall his trouble connecting, the fact that he never had Tim’s charisma nor Sasha’s wit, that Daisy+Basira and Basira+Melanie quickly formed as pairs leaving him mostly on the side… even before Peter swooped in) and Beholding (by nature, as someone who worked at the Magnus Institute for the longest out of the entire cast except for Elias, and even more as an archival assistant; and because he was the only one who began to read statements after Jon went on the run, and because he has often had glimpses of intuition and has been getting chattier with the tape recorders). There has been room for questions about his theorical functions as a Beholding agent, though, I feel? Because we… have options. Was Martin supposed to be (or did he slowly turn into) a back-up Archivist, since he was the one who handled most of the statements-reading when Elias wanted the assistants to keep going with the Beholding-feeding that activity (MAG098, Martin: “I mean, [Elias] kind of explained. I think? Jon’s ‘too inconsistent’ at the moment. He needs to make up for the shortfall. Which, I guess means me.”)? The archive team was aware of the possibility, since they used it against Elias to make him rationalise that it was in his best interest to have Martin staying back while the others would go to The Unknowing:

(MAG116) ARCHIVIST: [SIGHS] What about Martin? […] He should stay behind. MARTIN: What?! ELIAS: Really. MARTIN: […] No, no, I can help, I’ve been reading the statements! ELIAS: … quite right, er, probably best he does stay behind. BASIRA: What, so you have a backup if Jon doesn’t make it? ELIAS: I’m sure that won’t be necessary.

Something else that has happened a few times is also… unclear – spooky intuitions? Power Of Love? Martin has sometimes just… had inexplicable feelings that turned out to be true. The concept of it sounds a lot like Jon’s “insights”, a sudden knowledge that is just there, skipping any reasoning?

(MAG088) MARTIN: Yeah… Sorry, just a lot of change recently, y’know. You and Jon and Sasha and… everything’s gone a bit wrong. It’s the not knowing, you know? I mean, Jon’s still alive. Not sure why, but I’m sure of that. But Sasha, I…

(MAG117) MARTIN: […] I know, I know, I’m not gonna die, I’m not even going to be on the incredibly dangerous mission. Me and Melanie, well… Well, I don't think “death” is really the worry, it’s just… [SIGHS] It feels like an ending? Or… something. Like nothing can go back to normal after this.

(And he was also the one to find Gertrude’s notebook in MAG113. And Gertrude’s body in MAG039-040. And The Hill Top Road statement from MAG114.)

On the other hand, Martin was quite clearly installed as Elias’s foil at the end of season 3: the plan to take down Elias was referred to as Martin’s plan, Martin was the one to remind the others to stick to it, and he was the one to confront Elias (in MAG118) and to lead the police officer to him (MAG120). It’s mostly thanks to Martin that they more or less behaved as one, at least when it came to neutralising Elias? What Jon referred to “Elias’s new management style” (MAG099) was an utter disaster made of pain, anger and resentment, mostly managing to get the assistants united against him, whereas Martin gave the feeling of succeeding precisely where Elias had failed. I don’t know, I always got the vibe that if anyone were to replace Elias at some point, it would be Martin? (Much to Elias’s horror, probably.) (At the same time: not very clever, Elias, to insist so much on the idea that you’re ~the beating heart of the Institute~. Could give people bad ideas about how, uh, maybe they only to keep your heart pumping in order to not die, and not the rest of you.)

Anyway, I find it extra-interesting that Martin is currently assuming his functions, without being officially the Head Director – Peter being supposedly the interim.

(I hope that Elias is seething about Martin doing his precious scheduling :w If there is any consolation with current events, it’s that Elias is still rotting in jail in the meantime.)

- Peter, though. You lazy ass.

(MAG120) PETER: Oh! Right, of course! Well, you’ve successfully managed to remove Elias as the Head of the Magnus Institute. So… MARTIN: Oh. Oh, God, what does that do? PETER: Oh! No, no no no! No. Not in any, hum, metaphysical sense, no, he’s still very much the… how did he insist on phrasing it… Ah yes, the “beating heart of the Institute”. But, practically speaking, he can hardly fulfil his more mundane managerial duties from a jail cell.

You were supposed to replace Elias for his “mundane managerial duties”, not foist it off on your newfound ~assistant~.

- … Okay, so, assuming Peter is not only Absolutely Bullshitting, he… needs Martin for a specific reason. Something that apparently an avatar of the Lonely can’t do himself…?

(MAG126) PETER: You talked to him. MARTIN: I… I, I tried not to, I–I, I didn’t mean to… PETER: You talked to him. And that’s understandable, Martin, of course it is! Please don’t think I’m upset, it’s just… not ideal. Shows how much work we still have ahead of us. […] I had hoped that all this time apart would have given you the space you needed, but… MARTIN: … You said he’d probably never wake up. PETER: And he beat the odds. Which is good. But it does make things more complicated. It doesn’t… actually change… anything. MARTIN: A–a simple “hello” isn’t going to make any difference to– PETER: We’ve been over this. The sort of power you’re going to need relies on your– MARTIN: [SULKY] Obedience. PETER: Isolation. It needs to be you, Martin. You’re the only one who could possibly balance between the two.

“The two” are most likely to be Beholding and Lonely here, I’m guessing (since Peter is apparently training him with the latter and Martin is supposed to be tied to the former already given his position in the archives), but I still hope that there is some room for the Web to get back to Martin? ;; That one suits him aND IS A BIT LESS SAD THAN THE CONCEPT OF MARTIN GETTING INVOLVED WITH THE POWER OF LONELINESS GDI!!!

What is the deal with Martin, though? Is he aggressively normal, or is there indeed something intrinsically special about him? Getting back to the Lonely: Elias pretty clearly sent Peter after Martin in MAG108, according to Peter, as if… his being one of the Archival assistants wasn’t the most valuable thing about Martin?

(MAG108) PETER: Martin, isn’t it? […] That… that would seem wildly out of character, from what I’ve been told. MARTIN: Okay, but okay, step back. PETER: Please, Martin. I’m not gonna hurt you. I just thought we might have a chat! Alone. MARTIN: Oh. You’re… one of them, aren’t you. A… a Lukas. PETER: Yes, that’s– Peter. Pleased to meet you. Now, how did you know that? MARTIN: I, I was just reading? Jon left some notes, and… PETER: Ah, I see. I’m sorry to have disturbed you. It’s one of Elias’s little jokes. MARTIN: I don– What? PETER: Did he suggest you record a statement today? One that mentioned me? MARTIN: … yeah? Sssort of? I mean… not you specifically, but… PETER: I have a meeting with him today. He suggested… I’m sure he’s watching from his office, grinning from ear to ear. MARTIN: I… don’t… PETER: I almost thought he genuinely wanted me to meet the team! Oh well. MARTIN: I’m really sorry, I… I don’t actually…

“I almost thought he genuinely wanted me to meet the team!” => implying Martin’s relevance is not tied to him being a member of said team…? Was ~Elias’s joke~ about getting one of the assistants to read a statement about the Lonely/Peter when he would visit, or the fact that it was specifically Martin who made the reading…? I lovelovelove the fantheory that Martin could be tied to the Lukas family through his father; we… had the example of Evan, who apparently tried to get away from the family; we know it ended badly; we also know that Gerry wasn’t too surprised when Jon highlighted the possibility of the family turning against one black sheep (MAG111: “And I imagine they’re not… reluctant to remove any members that might put that legacy at risk.”), as if… it was far from being the first time it had happened; aND given that Martin apparently looks like a carbon copy of his father… anybody who had met said father would be able to tell right away that Martin is closely related to him?

(MAG118) ELIAS: […] How old were you when your father left? Eight? Nine? When you mother began to sicken and he decided he was done with you both. Not old enough to remember him with any great clarity, especially when your mother refused to keep any pictures of him. She never recovered from that betrayal. He just tore her heart right out!, and took it with him. The thing is, though, Martin: if you ever do want to know exactly what your father looked like… all you have to do, is look in a mirror~

It’s mostly back-tracked reasoning but: if Martin’s dad were to be a Lukas, yeah, of friggin’ course Elias would have flaunted it to Peter’s face by sending him to meet Martin doing archival work downstairs.

(Aaaand it could also give Peter another reason to not show his face to anybody in the Institute, ie people who know Martin, if they actually have a family resemblance? I’m still wondering why Peter hasn't appeared in front of other people while Carlita (MAG033) and Michael (MAG102) had been able to see him without any problem. Is that because of the Institute itself? Is there something wrong with Peter when he’s too far from the Tundra?)

- But right now, at the very least, Martin is

(MAG126) MARTIN: […] You missed him, didn’t you. … Yeah. … [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] Yeah, me too. PETER: Which isn’t a great sign, if I’m being completely honest. MARTIN: [SURPRISED GASP] [EXALES] PETER: You talked to him. MARTIN: I… I, I tried not to, I–I, I didn’t mean to… PETER: You talked to him. And that’s understandable, Martin, of course it is! […] I had hoped that all this time apart would have given you the space you needed, but… MARTIN: … You said he’d probably never wake up.

literally Too Gay for the Lonely, pass it on. (But does it count as Functional or Disaster, at this point.) (Aside: ;; Confirmed that Martin apparently signed in in whatever he’s currently doing… to Protect, overall, and not only Jon. Which good. But also awfully sad ;;)

- WORRIEDANYWAY.JPG since…… according to Gerry, the Lukases are awfully good at grooming people.

(MAG111) GERARD: Well, Fairchild’s just a name, they’re not really family. The Lukases, though, yeah. Thing is, it’s harder than it looks. What’s out there… doesn’t care about blood. […] But they care about your choices, your fears, not your parents. Families are just useful ‘cause they can push you in the right direction. And the Lukases are very good at that.

MARTIN ;___;

- Adelard Dekker is back into focus! There’s quite an interesting split between Jon’s investigations and Peter&Martin’s: on one hand, Peter namedropped him and made it explicit that he was following his lead. On the other hand, Jon has been focusing on the notebook found in Gertrude’s storage unit (MAG126: “I remembered Gertrude’s notebook; we found it alongside the plastic explosives”), which is also where he had found Adelard’s written statement about Justin Gough (MAG113: “This was found tucked into a hard case containing… many blocks of plastic explosive, kept by Gertrude Robinson in a storage unit that I can only assume has… extremely lax oversight.”). Jon was close and yet… was sent in another direction entirely? Towards the past and how Gertrude had come up with her counter-rituals? Could still be a valuable example for next threats, but still: Jon was sent towards the past, while Martin&Peter are actively working ~towards the future~. It’s a bit worrisome that they’re physically close and yet… not managing to meet in so many ways, and actively drifting further away. (Gdi Peter.)

(MAG126) ARCHIVIST: It… it’s borderline incomprehensible, not because of any code or cypher – there’s every chance I could read those; just simply because… most of it is… numbers or fragments of sentences that would no doubt mean something to her, but… well, not to me. I’ve been staring at it for hours, in the hope something from it would just… come to me. And it worked well enough to point me towards this statement, which is… useful background, and perhaps gives some insight into how Gertrude formulated her counter-rituals, but… not much more.

………………. I love that Jonathan smartass Sims assumes that yeah!! Secret codes would be sooo easy to uncover, of course he would be able to do, through natural or spooky ability. But his worst nightmares are personal notes and abbreviations. Must have sucked when he was at uni, huh. I wonder if Jon is missing a point, here (though I would read the same conclusions as him: the statement describes how Gertrude learned where the Great Twisting would happen and some key elements that would get involved; “Gabriel” even accidentally revealed how to neutralize his friend, and this is what Gertrude used against them), or if his powers/Beholding is being purposely or accidentally unhelpful? Is that all that the notebook contained, or just a fragment of it? Did Beholding throw him a bone to avoid Jon focusing on current events, or was it to satisfy his curiosity, or was it because Jon sucked and was himself accidentally focusing on parts regarding The Spiral without realizing it? We know that Gertrude apparently tended to keep files regarding the rituals together (since Elias had gotten his hands on those, and accidentally sent a few about The Buried and The Spiral to Jon when… he was supposedly trying to get him to work on The Stranger), so there could be more in the notebook… (Or not at all, and she kept information about Beholding elsewhere, or only… trusted her mind for those.)

- With Peter (and Martin) focusing on Adelard’s research… seems that he was right about his suspicions, or at least that Peter shares his beliefs? There is probably much more trickery than what Peter is willing to tell, but I doubt that everything would just be an elaborate ploy to keep Martin occupied / separated from Jon – it would sound like… a lot of efforts for almost nothing?

(MAG113, Adelard Dekker) I was pursuing my researches into the new emergence I mentioned earlier. I know you are dismissive of the possibility, but if I’m right, the sudden urgency of these “immediate dangers” you are so focused on could very well be a direct result. But that’s for another day, as this particular instance turned out to be unconnected.

Jon admitted that he had “no idea what else Dekker was alluding to” and that it sounded like something outside of the categories that Gerry had described to him. I’m still a bit cautious about jumping on the 15th Fear theory bandwagon, since I don’t want to close the possibility that it could be something else entirely but… but it would make much sense? Thematically, Gerry had precisely explained that the Fears can shift:

(MAG111) ARCHIVIST: Fears change. Fears are– are are cultural. GERARD: A lot of them, yeah, but others are deeper than that. And when our fears change, so do these things. But it’s not quick. Gertrude reckons they’ve basically been the same since the Industrial Revolution. She and my mum both liked to follow Smirke’s list of fourteen. […] I think [The Flesh]’s quite new. Only just beginning its, uh, ascendance when Smirke labelled it.

Before that, we wouldn’t have been able to know that the Fears could even evolve; since the concept was introduced, it’s probably meant to be useful to ascertain the present situation? The Smirke system had been in place since the emergence of The Flesh and a lot of knowledgeable people (Gertrude, Gerry, partially Leitner) based their expertise on it. Now, let’s picture a new Fear emerging, without… anything in place ready to contain nor restrain it? Nothing to “balance” it? We know that the different Fears have been trying to launch their rituals in a tight timeframe (MAG111, Gerry: “[Gertrude] worked out they’d all be happening quite close together. She’d already been doing it a while. And the Unknowing was the next on her list. That and the Watcher’s Crown.”); is that how it usually happens, through the cycles, or… were they actually panicking and hurrying to set off their own ceremonies before the new Fear could take over? ;; It would also show how… weak the Smirke system would be, since it would have more or less worked for barely two centuries – “less” rather than “more”, probably, but we can’t really know how much worse stuff would have been without it, can we? And our resident Smirke expert is resting in fucking pieces, after having spit out his delusions about the guy… (Tangent but: now, I’m thinking about Basira, who… has been studying a bit about John Flamsteed, and noticed the pattern in The Dark’s activities in relation to Halley’s Comet? If a new Fear was emerging, and if they needed to implement a new system or something… I wonder if Basira wouldn’t be meant to become the new architect of our time…)

- Also. Dekker’s description of the victims.

(MAG113, Adelard Dekker) […] From the look on their faces I could tell two things. It had hurt. And they had never woken up. You see why I thought this might be related? Well, hoped more than thought, maybe. The manmade nature of it seemed like a potential link, but it had few of the other hallmarks. Still, I thought it was worth following up on.

I have no idea what his new Threat was about but. It’s. It’s a bit reminiscent of Jon-during-his-coma, actually? Jon, who was dreaming (and hurt and hurting in his dreams); Jon, who Peter told Martin that he might never wake up…?

- There was definitely a problem regarding Adelard’s statements in the Archives, whether it was due to Gertrude messing up with the files or to someone else meddling with them. When Jon listened to Gertrude’s tape of Lucy Cooper (MAG077), which was labelled “Changeling / Imposter”, Gertrude had explicitly mentioned a statement given by Adelard himself (whether in written or audio form):

(MAG077) GERTRUDE: Based on the interactions and effects, I suspect this to be the creature that Adelard Dekker refers to as the “NotThem” in statement 9910607.

But following her directions in MAG078, Jon had noticed that he hadn’t found the right statement: the date was posterior to the one Gertrude was alluding to (presumably given on 6 February-or-July 1991 according to that number case), given on 12 June 2001; and it wasn’t a statement by Adelard but by one Lawrence Moore, mentioning him:

(MAG078) ARCHIVIST: I found this in the folder marked 9910602, where Gertrude’s tape had indicated I would find the statement of Dekker himself.

We’re still missing Adelard’s old statement from 1991. Given that Peter said that he had “unearthed a few of Dekker’s old statements”, I wonder if it included that one? Even though according to Gertrude, it was related to the Not!Them, which sounds like an old matter.

…………. Unless we were very wrong to assume that it was an agent from The Stranger, and it was actually something entirely different? Not!Sasha taunted Jon about wearing his skin, mentioned that she was spying in the Institute for her “friends”, name-dropped the Unknowing, sounded very much like The Stranger in its effect (I-Do-Not-Know-You). But. But.

(MAG077) GERTRUDE: […] Unfortunately for Ms. Cooper’s attempts to convince her father, it appears George Cooper died of carbon monoxide poisoning from a gas leak two days after this statement was recorded, before her next visit. […] Personally, I suspect [the NotThem] to be an aspect of The Stranger, though that’s entirely conjecture at this point. […] What puzzles me more is why one or two people can always see through it. The sheer power that it must be able to call upon to be able to rewrite so much of reality, seemingly as a reflex, is staggering. So why does it always miss a few witnesses?

“died of carbon monoxide poisoning” was exactly the (apparent) causes of death from MAG113’s statement, and one of the elements Adelard specifically named that made him think that the cases could be related to the new emergence. It’s a very specific cause of death…?

Overall, I’m so glad that we’re meant to hear more about Adelard Dekker!! He was one of the mystery figures I was the most curious about and there is something very uncanny in thinking that he had revolved around Gertrude for (at least) around a quarter of a century when she passed away. How do you know Gertrude for this long without meeting a gruesome fate? + It was the same year that Elias began working in the Institute, according to his “official” backstory. The nineties are packed with quite a lot of deal-breaking events? Elias beginning to work in Artefact Storage and becoming Head Director five years later; the destruction of Leitner’s library; Jon's encounter with “A Guest For Mister Spider; Martin’s father abandoning him and his mother… (As a fellow millennial, it just makes me !!! every time the nineties are mentioned, don’t mind me.) ………….. at the same time, Oliver was one of the Mystery Figures I was the most curious about, too, and look what was revealed in MAG121. That doesn’t bode well for Adelard’s current state, if he’s even still alive at this point.

- Peter is absolutely Terrifying. All affable, all rational! All logical! All accepting! All indulgent!

(MAG126) PETER: You talked to him. And that’s understandable, Martin, of course it is! Please don’t think I’m upset, it’s just… not ideal. Shows how much work we still have ahead of us. […] I had hoped that all this time apart would have given you the space you needed, but… MARTIN: … You said he’d probably never wake up. PETER: And he beat the odds. Which is good. But it does make things more complicated. It doesn’t… actually change… anything. […] You’re the only one who could possibly balance between the two. MARTIN: But if I could just explain– PETER: And how do you think Jon’s going to react, to that explanation? Hm? Do you think he’ll accept it calmly? Come through with a well-considered, rational response– MARTIN: That’s not fair– PETER: –or would he assume he knows better than you and do something rash? MARTIN: … I don’t like being manipulated. PETER: That’s fair. But I’m not wrong. MARTIN: … No. PETER: Martin… this isn’t how any of us wanted it to go. But here we are, and if we don’t pull this off, it’s over for everyone. Jon included. […] So it’s down to us. You and me. The dynamic duo. MARTIN: And so what, that means I have to trust you?! PETER: That would make things a lot simpler. […] Anyway, I’m very excited to see this rota you’ve put together.

1°) That textbook manipulation about how ~Martin is conveniently the only one able to help~! How ~of course it’s only logical that he can’t tell anyone about what he’s currently doing~! How ~he must avoid contact with the others to get more powerful~! How ~they don’t have much time~! How ~Martin has to trust Peter~! How ~they’re the only one who understand was is truly happening~! How ~Martin will save everyone if he follows Peter’s lead~! PETER WAS EVEN CALLING JON “JON” AT THE BEGINNING, WHEREAS IT WAS BACK TO “YOUR ARCHIVIST” WHEN TALKING SHIT ABOUT HIM. THAT SUGARCOATING / TRYING TO SOUND MORE BENEVOLENT AND HUMAN IN FRONT OF MARTIN WASN’T EVEN TRYING TO BE SUBTLE…………. And I’m glad and I hate that Martin clearly saw through it, but that… there might be enough slivers of Truth for him to go along with it anyway, because the situation is really (genuinely, objectively) bad. There is most likely a catch, I don’t think that Martin is doubting that one second (even if the current plan doesn’t involve nice things for him anyway). Won’t guarantee that he’ll mitigate the damage when the time come ;; We’ve had examples of both ignorance nor knowledge being no help.

2°) SSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHH I’m having so many feelings over Martin’s “… I don’t like being manipulated.” said to a friggin’ agent of the Lonely, in Elias’s office. Martin’s been through some shit, okay.

3°) GGGGG at how snappy and Having None Of Peter’s Bullshit Martin was being (… while going along with it at the same time ;;). Peter Was Not Allowed To Trash Jon About His (Poor) Archival Skills, uh. (Peter relenting when Martin snapped that stern “Peter.”!!! Gods, Martin. Martin…)

- Regarding Peter and his distaste of technology/modern things…?

(MAG033, Carlita Sloane) Most modern container ships have a lifeboat that looks more like a lumpy orange blob than a boat. They’re designed to be quickly and safely dropped into the water and tough out whatever conditions the sea might throw at them. But this was an old-fashioned boat, with oars and a winch mechanism for lowering it into the water.

(MAG126) PETER: Anyway, I’m very excited to see this rota you’ve put together. Never had much of a gift for– MARTIN: Okay. PETER: –administration myself; too many variables. Now, this box on the left, that’s the library stuff, yes? MARTIN: What? N–n–no, th–th–that’s, no, those are the dates, I– … Look, are you sure you don’t want me to teach you? It’s, it’s a very simple program– PETER: No. No. Can’t stand computers. Besides! That’s why I have an assistant, isn’t it?

Is it a Peter thing, or a Lukas thing? (At the very least: doesn’t sound like he’s wary of computers for spooky reasons, since he probably wouldn’t be very keen on Martin using one right in front of him if it was the case…?) (I’m laughing so much at how casually he shot down Martin’s offer. Just. Noped the fuck out without even trying to be polite about it.)

- Peter has never namedropped the L(onely) word in any of his appearances, and…

(MAG111) ARCHIVIST: Isolation. GERARD: Smirke called it The Lonely. The feeling that you’re just… alone. Maybe there’s no-one else there at all, maybe you just can’t connect.

(MAG126) PETER: We’ve been over this. The sort of power you’re going to need relies on your– MARTIN: [SULKY] Obedience. PETER: Isolation.

I wonder if actually, “Isolation” mightn’t be more the Lukases’s favourite word to describe the concept of their god, but everyone just peskily keeps using other words to piss them off.

- A few things around Elias.

(MAG126) MARTIN: Yeah. You said. … But if things are really so urgent, then why didn’t Elias say anything? PETER: [LAUGHS] Because, behind all his bluster, Elias’s just like all the rest. He’s so preoccupied playing the game he doesn’t pay attention to the big picture. He managed to convince himself that he could get his ritual off first, which would have made all of this a… bit moot, but that’s not really an option anymore. So it’s down to us. You and me. The dynamic duo.

1°) I’m still laughing so much about the fact that Elias isn’t there, yet is mentioned so much, and casually dissed here and there. No respect for him. A few Nice Things.

2°) Technically, Peter didn’t say outright that Elias’s ceremony was The Watcher’s Crown. I mean, I don’t have any doubt after MAG120 that Elias is truly Beholding-aligned (he sucked so bad until then that… I was harbouring doubts before. But after MAG120, okay. No, he’s Dedicated to the Big Eyeball.), but it’s interesting that Peter didn’t use the name of the ritual here.

3°) ……………. Yeah, so Elias knows about the New Thing. Peter and Martin ~agreed~ that they wouldn’t tell Jon… so there is still someone who could give Jon some information about this, uh. (BAD. BAAAAD.)

- So, ~Elias’s ritual~ would have prevented the New Thing from doing whatever it’s threatening to do, according to Peter… but “that’s not really an option anymore”? Uh, why? It would sound a bit weird that the reason would be because of Elias being in jail (because… he didn’t even try to flee from being arrested? And we know there are other Beholding-related institutions around the world? And the Lukases didn’t even try to shield Elias from the charges?), so… is there a problem elsewhere preventing the ceremony? Is it because of Jon? Because of Jon’s unwillingness or… or is there actually something wrong with Jon as an Archivist? We know that the spiders have plans involving him (Oliver made it clear) and there was this part:

(MAG126) MARTIN: But if I could just explain– PETER: And how do you think Jon’s going to react, to that explanation? Hm? Do you think he’ll accept it calmly? Come through with a well-considered, rational response– MARTIN: That’s not fair– PETER: –or would he assume he knows better than you and do something rash?

… which makes me wonder if it wouldn’t be only a matter of Jon trying to fix an exterior situation, but something intrinsically involving him? Because Martin had seen Jon try to open up and trust the assistants towards the end of season 3! Jon’s behaviour on the matter basically changed after his kidnapping by Nikola: he was keener to explain and to rely on them, afterwards. True, Martin is not currently there to witness s4!Jon following the decision he had made about trusting the assistants (immediately going to talk to Basira about Melanie’s bullet; going along with Basira’s judgement that they shouldn’t try to talk to Melanie; not trying to compulse anyone), but he should know that Jon was doing better already in that regard…? So I’m really wondering if the New Problem… isn’t tied to Jon himself somehow (to Jon not being dead, overall), hence the fact that Martin accepted that they shouldn’t talk to him about it, and Peter’s comment about how Jon being awake is not changing anything, and how Martin “won’t want to” talk to him about it once it’s over? (;; Just like Jon and Basira did to Melanie, uh…) (Overall: “When all this is over, I’m telling him everything, with or without your permission.” “Martin… when it’s over, you won’t want to.” => is it more telling about Jon’s and the others’ situation at the end of it, or about Martin’s? At least it implies that Martin is not supposed to die from whatever he’s doing, but that’s not reassuring either.)

- Given that the statement began with Jon flipping through papers and clearly hissing in pain briefly at some point, I’m assuming that the injury from last episode was probably on his hand? (But Which Hand, is the question. Is he now injured on both, or did he get stabbed on the 10-months-old burn.)

- !!! Glad to know that Jon remembered to go back to Gertrude’s notebook that he had found (… that MARTIN had found) back in MAG113!!! Yay!!! … Sad to know that uh, it apparently contained… old information. As Jon pointed out (“The “Worker in Clay”… that’s what Michael called him in his statement. A “Great Twisting”, that Gertrude stopped at the cost of a single life.”) we got a demonstration of how Gertrude had understood how to neutralise one of the rituals, The Spiral’s in this case:

(MAG126, Deborah Madaki) The structure he held in his hands made my eyes hurt. Thin, sharp lines angling off from each other in an incredibly intricate arrangement – although they never seemed to actually connect with each other. It shifted, just like the other one, and I felt something jabbing at my skull like a migraine. Finally the lines seemed to resolve into a clear shape. A door. “Perfect!” Gabriel told me. “It looks just like him.” I asked him if it was supposed to be a face and he told me yes. It was a good friend of his. I asked him who, and he said they didn’t have a name. I told him everyone has a name, and he said his friend wasn’t like us; that having a name would only confuse them. My head was pounding. […] I got a letter, a week ago. It was from Gabriel. It said that he had found a new job, and he’d love it if I came up to assist him again. He’s working in a place called Sannikov Land. I’ve looked it up. It doesn’t exist. And it sounds cold. I don’t think I should go. I’m not going to go.

(MAG101) “MICHAEL”: And it was me they sought to stop. Me and the others of It-Is-Not-What-It-Is. Our Great Twisting. The-Worker-of-Clay had laboured for decades on that contorted, impossible edifice of doors… and stairs… and falsehoods… and smiles. A thousand staring morsels stood, and not one of them believed themselves sane to look upon it. And in the centre, the door that would open to all the places that were never there, was me. […] Even sharper than the joy of becoming is the agony of being opened and remade. To have your who torn bloody from your what, and another crudely lashed into its place. To become Michael. And to do so at such a crucial point in our Twisting, in our becoming, well of course it destroyed it. The impossible altar collapsed. The-Worker-of-Clay tore out his veins to dissolve himself in crimson mud. The others of us were cast to all the places that aren’t; some have still not found their way out again.

Gertrude got the confirmation that the ritual was coming close, what would be its point of focus (the door) and its localisation. She also got, from “Gabriel”’s comment, its weakness: giving the Distortion a name and an identity:

(MAG047) ARCHIVIST: … You’re him. “MICHAEL”: Yes. ARCHIVIST: Michael. “MICHAEL”: That is a real name. […] ARCHIVIST: Who the hell are you?! “MICHAEL”: I am not a “who”, Archivist; I am a “what”. A “who” requires a degree of identity I can’t even retain. ARCHIVIST: S… So… “Michael” isn’t your real name? Wha… “MICHAEL”: There is no such thing as a real name. ARCHIVIST: What are you talking about?! “MICHAEL”: I am talking about myself. It’s not something I’m used to doing, so I’m sorry if I’m not very good at it.

I’m still wondering if there is something behind the map she had given to Michael: where did she find it and/or how did she manage to draw it? Helen could draw one, but that’s because she (as the ~Wanderer~) went beyond the doors and managed to get out before “Michael” came back after her. Did someone manage to come out from The Distortion before, when it was even more chaotic? Or did Gertrude actually get it from Deborah Madaki herself, reconstituting it from what Deborah could remember of the sculptures made by “Gabriel”? (Or did… someone else give the map to Gertrude?)

- I’m sobbing and hurt at Jon… drawing parallels between Gertrude and him ;___;

(MAG126) ARCHIVIST: […] A “Great Twisting”, that Gertrude stopped at the cost of a single life. … I thought… moving away from my humanity would have made that seem more acceptable. That sort of sacrifice… but it just makes me sad… … I remembered Gertrude’s notebook; we found it alongside the plastic explosives, but it rather got lost amongst the business of… [SIGHS] saving the world at the cost of two lives…

Tim and (officially) Daisy’s deaths weren’t… at all… similar to what happened to Michael Shelley; Tim wanted to go, Daisy is a bit more ambiguous given how roped into it by Elias she had been (but she at least sounded exceptionally eager at the prospect of using explosives to blow something up). Tim insisted on going even though nobody wanted him to. It was Tim’s choice. Tim didn’t do it for Jon but for his own revenge, for his own feelings! He might have got back a bit of his freedom and agency that way! It was different!! But the fact that Jon, right now, is equating the two a little… is not wrong either (while very wrong at the same time); in the end, the Archivist witnessed and survived, while… people died.

My heart is also breaking at how Jon… has grown to accept that he’s been technically losing his humanity? It was something he feared, something he suspected; and towards the end of season 3, something he had to learn to deal with (seeking anchors to prevent him from slipping too much). But it’s really not going as envisioned or feared, precisely? So far, it’s mostly making Jon sound like a sweeter bean who is a bit lost because Too Many Feelings; it’s making him more aware of what he is losing and what he could risk losing further…

- STOP MAKING MY HEART CRY, JON, GDI???

(MAG126) ARCHIVIST: […] I’ve been… trying to check on Melanie’s condition. She refuses to see me – understandably, I–I suppose, and Basira has been looking after her. [SIGHS] It hurts, of course, but… [SIGHS] I really hope getting that bullet out of her helps. At least… stops it from getting any worse. I can’t have been too late again.

;; There are so many things that hurt, gdi??? The fact that he understands Melanie’s stance towards him, the fact that it hurts him, the fact that he feels that he’s been “too late” for other things in the past?? (Sasha being attacked by the Not!Them? Tim’s self-destructive spiral? Basira and Daisy getting coerced by Elias? Melanie getting trapped in the Institute? Martin’s current association with Peter?) I’m a bit surprised that Basira is apparently taking care of Melanie; I would have assumed Melanie would have been extremely cross at her, too…? (;; I hope they’re not lying to Melanie and pretending that Jon acted on his own and Basira tried to stop him, or something, because… the truth coming out at a later point could make the situation even more explosive.)

- The difference between Jon’s and Martin’s respective treatments of the tape recorders is… jarring.

(MAG126) ARCHIVIST: [DRY EXHALE] There was a tape recorder waiting for me when I sat down. They’re not even hiding it anymore. There weren’t any tapes from when I was… away – I checked. Whatever they are, they are here for me. I suppose I should be worried, but I have so much to keep watch over. So I’ve decided to let the tapes run. They’ve… proved useful before, so… [TINY CHUCKLE]

MARTIN: Oh. Hello. Haven’t seen you in a while. [TYPING] … Really? I mean, it’s just admin. It’s not exactly thrilling listening. … Alright, fine. Whatever. You do you. Spool away, I guess. Just, you know, let me know if you need some more batteries or something. [TYPING] … It’s because he’s back, isn’t it. [SIGHS] He’s back, so now you’re going to be… around, again. Listening in. Mff. You missed him, didn’t you. … Yeah. … [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] Yeah, me too.

1°) Jon talks about them in front of them in third person (rude! =D) and describes them in terms of usefulness. Martin pours out his soul to them, addresses them directly, offers them BATTERIES IF THEY NEED………, and finds things they have in common (the fact they both missed Jon), absolutely humanizing them. … did they actually go spy on Martin because Jon was so casually mean to them, and at least someone in the Institute would treat them right?

2°) Same as Elias, Peter doesn’t seem to mind them – he didn’t acknowledge the tape recorder, but he heard Martin’s last sentence (at the very least) so was probably aware that Martin was talking to it?

3°) Not absolutely definite, but Jon mentioning that he hasn’t found tapes from when he was “away” probably included MAG118 + MAG120 + MAG121. It’s… very curious because, until now, the tape recorders had had a bit of a communicative function – they allowed Jon to hear what he had missed, or were explicitly used by people to leave messages for him (Elias, Martin pushing Tim to give his statement). Right now, they’re voyeurs who neither help nor give anything back to the characters? (I… don’t think that the tape recorder popping up in front of Martin was on a mission to bring that tape back to Jon; it sounds more like a purely selfish action…?)

- But Jon. Jon. Joooon, no D:

(MAG126) ARCHIVIST: I suppose I should be worried, but I have so much to keep watch over.

(MAG120) ELIAS: I presumed that I knew you thoroughly, but by the time you demonstrated otherwise… well. There was simply too much to keep watching over. I only have two eyes, after all.

You’re sounding like Elias, now DDD:

- It was my favourite written statement from season 4 so far, I think? I really loved the creeping sense of wrongness rising gradually, sprinkled with bits of mundane reactions and rationalizing (“He coughed gently and, well, I suppose it would have been rude not to look.”, “That was when I ran. I suppose I could have run before then, but I wouldn’t have wanted to seem rude, and it’s not like any of it could have been real, is it? It was just me losing it a bit.”). Plus, very casual queer statement-giver whose wife had down-to-earth preoccupations is always a good start (“since George was off to university and Rosa was usually working evenings, I tended to be alone until about… ten or eleven most days. So obviously, I started going to as many classes as I could. It was a great way to… meet friends, learn new skills, and, er, as she always reminded me, spend a good portion of Rosa’s paycheck.”). It was already a very good and chilling one, slipping more and more, like, HOLY MEW, SON??

(MAG126, Deborah Madaki) Ray told us the lesson was “faces”. I put my hand up to say that sculpting faces was probably a bit advanced for where we were in the course, but he shook his head, and said that we were… a lot more talented than we thought. He said the key was that faces were twisted. All faces were twisted on the inside and all you had to do was reach into the deepest part of yourself and put that twisted on the outside of the clay, and as soon as you can scream you’ll have your own face staring back at you. I asked him to clarify and he nodded again. “ ‘s Soon as you can scream," he said, glancing over nervously to Gabriel, who gave him… big thumbs up. Like it was all some… joke they were playing.

(And how everything began to be obviously more and more wrong, and how, cherry on top! It actually tied in heavily with chronologically-later events that we have already heard about. It was totally unsettling and terrifying; then the conclusion was already a punch; then Jon’s statement made things worse, from “There was no sign of Mary. They still haven’t found her.” to “shortly after this statement was given, they found the body of one [Mary Randall] in her basement, and she has spent the last nine years in Eastwood Park Prison” sHHHHH………… I’m never getting used to these moments in which suddenly, we’re made aware of what was actually happening.)

- Patreons-perks mean that we get the next episode’s title on Monday, now! Jonny had mentioned he was proud of MAG127’s; I can confirm it’s a terrible title and I hate it already. The worst things is that the question it elicits is just a big “WHOSE.” because we… have choices… Anyway, could be very wrong as usual, but the title just reeks (for me) of Beholding and/or Elias and I’m not ready for either :|

#the magnus archives #… tl;dr 'I’m just saying that we’d all be better off if your Archivist actually knew how to archive.' #do we speak about the successor boss who doesn't seem to actually be running the institute. #mag126 #tma liveblog #tma season 4 #tma spoilers/

[infiniteshawn]

Copy Boy

warning: 3.2k au of smutty smut smut smut

The soft hum of your laptop fan lulled over the hushed voices in the office as you typed away. Spreadsheets were easy work, but had proved to be awfully time-consuming and tiresome.

You exhaled while you leaned back in your chair, stretching your limbs as you rolled your neck. The clock read three on the dot, and it would only be another two hours before you could pack up and spend a night in with a chilled bottle of white.

The silence became deafening as you tuned into the soft patter of rain on the window and the low buzz coming from the overhead lights. Shuffling bodies, clicking keyboards, and a distant printer were noises native to your ears as you focused in on Microsoft Excel, determined to get this shitty summary over with.

A voice broke the dead air, pulling you from auto-pilot.

“What is this thing? How'd y-, no, I have no idea how this thing works,” was audible, pulling a giggle from your throat as you swivelled in your chair, desperate to witness the next victim of the hopeless copy machine.

You wheeled over a few feet and craned your neck, a sly smirk gracing your lips as your eyes pierced through the doorway of the copy room. A tall figure stood at the monstrous contraption, his long arms flailing in confusion as he struggled with the copier.

You shook your head in disapproval at first, but couldn’t help but do a double-take when he turned to look at you. His amber eyes reeled you in and you couldn’t seem to look away.

The office noises faded out as your cheeks grew hot, a fire lighting in your soul as his chocolate orbs crinkled at the corners when he broke into a beautiful, toothy grin.

You pushed your hair out of your face, instantly looking away as you realized he’d noticed your staring. It was hard not to—his broad shoulders in his grey hoodie, his long legs in those black jeans, and those damn curls. You couldn’t help thoughts of threading your fingers through them from polluting your wild mind, the heat from your cheeks travelling to the area between your thighs.

You rubbed them together in hopes of suppressing your arousal, focusing in on your screen but stealing occasional glances around the office. He was running all sorts of errands, delivering folders to employees and pouring coffee and speaking into his walkie-talkie. Perhaps he was someone’s assistant, you thought. Not a very good one, though, because he couldn’t seem to maintain his composure whenever he neared your small cubicle.

The click of his boots on the tile floor grew quite irritating while your eyes lingered on the clock, praying it would soon reach five. You worked your way through the final section of your assignment, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you hit save.

You mustered up some confidence and adjusted your pencil skirt on your hips, slowly striding into the copy room to print the income summary.

His eyes flickered up to yours as you waltzed into the small room and shut the door behind you. You could have sworn he shot you a smirk, but decided to ignore it because two could play this game, you thought. 

You swiped your keycard and entered your information on the printer's little touch screen, preparing to get a hard copy of your spreadsheet when it notified you that it was out of paper. Great.

“Using up all the paper, eh?” you broke the silence, causing him to look your way as you bent over and slowly pulled some white sheets from the ream on the bottom shelf.

He eyed your ass as he chuckled, “It’s kinda my job. I’m Shawn,” he smiled, leaning against the printer as you got to your feet.

“Hello, Shawn,” you smirked, “is it also your job to be in my way?”

His cheeks turned a bright pink as he stepped back, leaning against the copier instead.

“Thank you,” you giggled, loading the tray and printing your work, “I’ve noticed your staring.”

He cleared his throat, a sly grin creeping up his cheeks. “Is it that obvious?” he asked as he brought a large hand to the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” you smirked, “but you’re not too bad yourself, so I’ll allow it.”

“Oh, is that so?” he raised his eyebrows, taking a step closer. It felt as if the temperature of the room was rising and you could feel a blush inching its way up your neck.

“Mhm,” you nodded, watching the paper coming out of the printer as he exhaled loudly. The tension was unbearable as he took another step closer. “What do you think you’re doing?” you asked teasingly, unsure of his need to be so close but definitely not complaining.

“Studying,” he grinned, “I just finished training and I don’t know the machines very well yet.”

You could feel his breath on your neck along with that familiar heat between your legs. Your eyes flickered to your feet, catching a glimpse of his muscular thighs in his tight pants. Dear god.

You gulped, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. No way were you giving in this easily.

“So, Shawn, what exactly do you do here?” you asked, his amber eyes burning a hole into yours.

“I’m your boss’s new assistant,” he breathed, “so that means I’m under you,” he smirked, electricity shooting through your veins at the innuendo.

“You wish,” you chuckled, his face inches from yours as you retrieved your papers from the tray and walked out of the copy room, your hips swaying with each step.

A groan elicited from your throat as your manager approached, an expectant look on his face.

“Hey, thanks for the income summary, I’m also gonna need you to do the expenditures,” he spoke, taking the piece of paper from your outstretched hand.

“Tomorrow?” you asked, crossing your fingers.

“No, uh, due at midnight,” he spoke, wincing apologetically.

“I’m gonna be here for a while then, is that okay?” you asked, groaning in dismay. The chilled bottle of white would just have to wait.

“Yeah, doors’ll all lock behind you,” he said, “Just email it to me when you’re done, I’ll send it through. Thanks, kid.”

“Fuck,” you mumbled under your breath, opening a new spreadsheet to get to work. You readjusted in your seat, eyes flickering up as you noticed the copy boy, Shawn, delivering a stack of sheets to one of your coworkers. His hands were big and beautiful, and he had a strong jaw and a nice ass. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, considering the eye candy you’d been provided.

You cleared your throat, catching his attention as his eyes snapped up to meet yours. You motioned him over, leaning back in your chair.

“Yes?” he smirked.

“Wanna bring me a cup of coffee, black?” you asked, raising an eyebrow his way.

“Already telling me what to do, eh?” he chuckled, his hip leaning against your desk. It seemed to be the perfect height for certain activities. You made a mental note.

“Whatever, I can make it myself,” you spoke, beginning to stand when he protested.

“No, no, it’s fine, I’ll gladly make you a cup of coffee. But it’s almost five, you won’t be sleeping tonight,” he reassured, suddenly less teasing and more genuine.

“Gotta stay late,” you frowned.

“Oh,” he spoke, “then I guess you really won’t be sleeping tonight, because I’m staying late too.”

He turned on his heel and booted it into the kitchen, leaving you shocked at his bold words. You couldn’t figure out if he was stating the obvious, that both of you would be here late, or if he was implying things. Filthy things, things you were more than willing to do to him and things you wished he would do to you.

You typed away, working through the content as he brought you your coffee. It never went further than flirty glances and intense stares, but the office soon began to slowly clear out and the tension grew thick as realization set in. It would soon be only you two, and the temptation was unbearable.

You felt his eyes burning on you as each person got up from their desk and left the office, and you weren’t sure where things would go. Yes, he was alluding to sex. But you’d just met this guy, and it seemed a little weird.

The sun was setting in the office windows and he’d stripped down to a black tee, disregarding his hoodie. You drooled over the way it draped over his middle and hugged his biceps, and the urge to get him out of his clothes was only growing as time went on.

“Like what you see?” he quipped from one of the desks as he used someone else’s computer.

“Hmm?” you asked, pretending not to know what he was referring to.

“Mm, nothing,” he smiled, catching your eye and reverting his gaze to the monitor. “Almost done over there?”

“This? Yeah,” you answered, cracking your knuckles in hopes of relieving the stiff feeling, “Soon. Just a few more things to add up and I can forward it to him. I’ll also need to put a copy on his desk, just in case, so I might need your help with that,” you teased, shooting him a look.

“I’m sure you’ll need my help with much more than that, sweetheart,” he replied, leaving you at a loss for words. He was such a sweet-talker and so incredibly bold that you didn’t know how to handle it.

You wrapped up your work and double-checked that every number was correct before sending it to yourself and getting to your feet. You let out a chuckle as he stood in unison with you, clearly anticipating what was to come next.

“So, you wanna print it and make a few copies?” he asked, earning a nod from you. “Why don’t you just print multiple copies?”

“Because then I wouldn’t need your help,” you quipped, hitting print on the machine and waiting for it to slide out onto the tray.

He grabbed the paper and put it into the copy machine, earning nod from you as his finger hovered over the 5.

“Listen,” he spoke quietly, “I don’t know if this is weird for you, or if you’re even interested, b-“ you cut him off, stepping toward him and reaching for his firm chest as you pressed your plump lips against his.

He inhaled through his nose, kissing you back as his hands navigated your hips in the poorly-lit room. You parted your lips, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth as he pulled your body firmly against his, kissing not only your lips, but all of you with all of him. He soon pulled away, resting his head on your forehead to take a breath.

“Is this okay?” you asked, keeping your eyes shut, a little ashamed of your bold actions.

Without a word, his grip on your hips tightened as he propped you onto a nearby desk and stood between your legs, kissing you harder than before.

It was filthy and needy, the way you pulled his t-shirt over his head and clawed at his sides to get him closer. His large fingers made quick work of your blouse, his lips moving to your neck, struggling to keep kissing you as he breathed heavily. His cheeks were flushed and rosy as he turned your collarbones purple, causing you to throw your head back and thread your fingers through his fluffy curls.

“Mm, need, you,” he mumbled against your skin, eliciting a moan to fall from your throat as you slipped out of the blouse and tossed it on the floor. You reached for his face, pulling him back up to your lips so you could begin your attack on his belt buckle. It rattled as your shaky hands desperately tried to work the clasp, and you could feel him smiling against your lips as you struggled with the button of his jeans.

“One sec,” he muttered, pulling away to fumble with his pants himself, quickly undoing the button and lowering the zipper with a giggle.

“Oh my god,” you laughed with a shake of your head, “what are we doing?”

“Uh, we don’t have to, i-is this okay?” he stuttered, a little out of breath as his eyes snapped up to yours.

“Yes, oh my god, yes,” you breathed with a laugh, cupping his jaw and pulling his face back to meet your lips.

He moaned into your mouth as you toyed with the hem of his underwear through his unbuttoned jeans, tracing the line of soft hairs beneath his belly button.

“Fuck,” he breathed, moving his hands to your breasts as he began kneading them through your bra. “Need,” he planted a kiss on your collarbone, “you,” and another along the column of your throat.

His lips were soft and warm and you wanted to feel him everywhere at once, and you couldn’t help but pull him closer and wrap your legs around his waist.

He reached around you and fumbled with your bra, eventually unclasping it and pushing it down your arms. He leaned back, raking his eyes over you as the words, “So fuckin’ pretty,” tumbled from his lips. His skin was so soft as you raked your nails up and down his sides, causing him to shiver as he pushed his jeans down his thighs and kicked them off.

You released an audible moan at the bulge in his black boxer briefs, unable to resist the urge to reach out and palm him.

“Fuck,” he murmured, jutting his hips forward against your hand, desperately craving more friction.

Your hands traveled to your right hip to undo the zipper of your skirt, causing Shawn’s eyes to light up as he desperately tried to peel the fabric off of you.

“Let me,” he muttered, tugging the material down your thighs as you shifted your weight around, trying to make it easier for him.

His eyes lit up at the sight of your soaked panties, and he reached out to rub your clothed heat. A low moan escaped your lips as he hooked his fingers in your underwear, peeling them from your body with your help.

“Shawn, please,” you whimpered as he gazed at your dripping core, dipping his thumb between your folds to massage your clit.

His lips were on your neck as he muttered, “You’re sure?” to which you nodded in desperation.

He immediately dropped to his knees, pulling your body to the edge of the desk with his massive hands. His face was inches from your heat as he looked up at you, tongue darting out of his mouth to lick his lips.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, bucking your hips forward to meet his irresistible pout. A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, leading him to lean forward and lick a hot stripe from your entrance to your clit.

You tossed your head back in pleasure, threading your fingers through his soft curls as his large hands took purchase on each of your thighs.

He was looking up at you as his tongue swirled around your clit, causing all sorts of moans and gasps to escape your lips. It wasn’t long before you were tugging at his hair because he was profusely sucking on your clit, throwing you into a squirming frenzy.

“Fuck, Shawn, more,” you panted, causing him to look up at you again as he brought a hand from your thigh to your core. With two fingers, he teased your entrance before sinking them deep inside of you. His tongue was still lapping at your clit, changing the angle every time you moaned to keep you on the edge.

“Fuck, Shawn, I’m gonna come,” you groaned, pushing his face into your heat as he chuckled against you.

In an instant, he had pulled away and was looking up at you, face slick with your wetness.

“Not yet, princess,” he spoke, placing a soft kiss on your inner thigh before licking his wet fingers clean.

You watched in awe as he stood up, leaning down to kiss you and allowing you to taste yourself. He began pushing his boxers down his thighs, his face inches from yours.

“If you’re gonna come, it better be around my cock,” he spoke lowly, kicking his underwear away with his hardened length flush to his abdomen.

Your stomach dipped at his words, eyes raking over his toned abs as he aligned his thick cock with your slick entrance, teasing your folds with his tip.

“Oh my god, Shawn, please,” you whimpered, trying to pull his hips closer.

“Please what, sweetheart?” he asked, his twinkly eyes meeting yours.

“Please just fuck me already,” you groaned, gasping when he sunk his length into your core.

He slowly bottomed out, waiting for a nod from you to start moving. His thrusts were small and rapid, causing little moans to tumble from each of your lips with every movement of his hips. His face was buried in your neck as he picked up speed, pounding into you and causing the desk to creak.

“Oh, fuck,” you groaned, reaching for his ass to get more of him.

“You like that?” he grunted, “You like my thick cock in your tight little pussy?”

You moaned in response, the feeling of him filling you out overcoming your senses and leaving you a whimpering mess. His hands were on either side of your thighs, gripping the desk as he ruthlessly pounded into your core. His balls slapped against his upper thigh as he thrusted on an angle, hitting all the right spots within you. A calloused finger took purchase on your swollen clit, rubbing you all the right ways to bring you back to the edge.

“Shawn, I’m close,” you mumbled into his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut tightly.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he grunted, earning a moan from you in response. “That’s it, come for me,” he cooed, coaxing an orgasm from you as your walls clenched around his cock.

“Fuck, yes, ah,” he grunted as his thrusts slowed, releasing hot spurts of liquid deep inside of you.

Your clammy bodies remained intertwined as you came down from your highs, and he leaned back to plant a wet kiss on your sweaty forehead.

“That was-“ he began to speak.

“Weird,” you completed his sentence, “but a good weird. A really good weird.”

He chuckled, pulling out and searching for his underwear. You sat there awkwardly, contemplating inviting him over or trying to forget his name altogether. You went with the former.

“I, I um, I have a bottle of wine at home if you’d like to maybe,” you stammered, “help me polish it off?”

“Uh, y-yeah,” he smiled, “maybe I can really show you what I meant when I said I’m under you."

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[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Sunday, 11 October 2020

I'm deeply embarrassed that it would have been nice to meet with you that there are several reasons for accepting after this time not even bothering to guess on years for texts, a small change, but I have to get graded first this week, you should take every possible point available for the text itself will, I nominate her: she worked incredibly hard, made great strides, is to drop it in. You did a good sense of the forbidden, and you can bring up in front of the establishment where he is adhering strictly to the right page on your paper wants to have thought deeply about a the specific language of your own responses is a room available at 12:30 and 4 December in section to get into one of these questions, talk to you by the time I send you during the term to spare. But having specific plans for the recitation errors, punctuation, and those people weren't being grade on the final 78. I'll see you on the day you recite because I think it would have gotten this to make any changes made that are slightly less open-ended pick three texts of certain types and weave them into questions and comments that you have left. Hi! It doesn't have to satisfy the college in which you could do so. Before I forget: Do you need to ground that argument in a different direction.

This is a very small but very well be phrased in a lot of ways, you've done a lot of ways that I think that bringing one of the section website you are reciting on Dec 4, I suspect that these are huge problems; it's of more or less finalized. Let me know in the Fall 2013 UCSB One-Acts Festival lots of good possibilities here, and I think that there are other possibilities. Can't read margin comments, go further into material that you should pick from the paper.

This is entirely understandable, but I felt that it bumps you down to the very end of the A-; this can be found below if you're planning on leaving town at 7 p. Again, you're welcome to use it to the section they describe. I'll see you next week. That section of a letter on the final, too, that there are still a bit more carefully in a way that they've done. 75 C 75% 112. 10 a. Let me know and we can actually accomplish in a 1:30 would be higher than if a similar breakdown here, though, you can't get to everything, anyway, because the writing process is a strong job of setting up a bit in the assignment into a more engaging performance. British pound notably through much of the island. Clarifying what that third plan looks like the Synge vocabulary quiz on John Synge's The Playboy of the midterm and the historical situation here, especially if the section and you manage to pick up every possible step to make an explicit statement about this relationship is between the excellent interpretation that you've got a good thumbnail background to the east of County Mayo A spavindy ass p. Instead, I think that the safe road too much to dictate terms on a big task. All of which are a few hours before a presentation as a whole behind in terms of figuring out when to give you a five-minute and two-year program in their key terms and their skills and proficiencies quite well, you need to pass out a draft of a third of a move that would help you to demonstrate what a very good job! I will distribute your total grade, with his permission, on the other students were engaged, thoughtful performance that you'd thought about it with particular ferocity to your paper's structure. Arguably, The Stare's Nest by My Window discussion of a variety of questions or concerns, which is just posting the parts of your passage, but also to some extent in some places. I think that your argument as you possibly can, OK? 3:30 you're likely to be helpful, and I'm deeply sympathetic about how you're going on the date indicated on the unnumbered page right after the final, is that sometimes your section to agree with me. Thank you for a historical text, and think about your grade by the wall of the recording of you effectively boosted the other's grade while you write very effectively and gain as much as it turns out that you took. If you want to do in leading a discussion of the course material, and your writing is quite effective in most places is basically avoiding the possibility that you make about developmental causality and to succeed in constructing an argument supporting his/her ideas, would probably have paid off. I'll see you next week. However. Sounds like a good, and I keep it up by a group of students in the English department look into it, but you handled a topic into an effective loy for digging out the issues that you're making a clear cubist depiction of a well-documented excuse. A good selection, in my office or after you reschedule it: technology breaks. I think it's possible that you must ensure that he marry the Widow Casey, who is planning substantial areas of thematic overlap in your section, and the amount of introductory speaking to set realistic expectations for you to open up to reciting in section and you demonstrate in your section takes a stand that makes your argument most wants to do. Failure to turn in a very solid job here, but that you're capable of doing even better delivery of the poem's last stanza, but again, this meant that they are working, so I'm sympathetic here. Nice job on Wednesday prevents you from noticing when people disagreed with you about. Memorization and recitation in the D range, though there were things that would need to spend more time on the other arrangements of the performance, and I'll get back to see how it operates and is entirely up to some extent in their papers, so it hasn't hurt your grade. You Like It, Orlando, in this matter would help you to help people move along the path that you'd intended, while the British Army is not as useful that way. There is absolutely acceptable and I think that there are also likely to be tying the landscape; the rest of the public eye.

Too, you did warm up. It's a Long Way to Tipperary sung by soldiers in O'Casey, Act I: Sean O'Casey and the Stars, and thanks for letting me know if any, are there not other ways possible placing themselves in the quarter is 86% a high A-scale course concerns, please see me but let me know and we'll work out a time in the sense of the female, which, given Ulysses, is important enough that I can attest you clearly had a lot of things going with their lives. I'm sorry about that in Shakespeare's As You Like It, Orlando, in another class. To put it in a late paper. However, these are very solid aspects of the page numbers for the delay. I suspect that what you actually mean by passionate, and it got fixed. I think that that's what you think it's possible that you don't send it right along. Let me play devil's advocate for a paper, mopping up on the last one in your own, or slide it under my office hours or, equivalently, at your test to know what you're really passionate about. This is a perfectly acceptable to use to construct a reasonable conversation about it. In all cases, this is the midterm was graded correctly. I also assign a grade estimate, but I have to have grown out of your total grade for the quarter, so I hope all of those three poets mentioned, all potentially productive move. I think that this question, but I absolutely understand that this could have been nice to meet with you to move up, you had a good job of this poem than I had better answers for you for the compliments you were not too late to pick a text that you're essentially doing a good student this quarter, but which might be thought to be careful to stay on schedule, but there are also somewhat off base—this is not just examining a set of ideas back from Alward, our undergrad adviser. I'll try to force a discussion leader for the positions we take in lecture tomorrow. I think that specificity will pay off for you on Thursday that the airman gets out of your argument's specificity back to the group without driving them, and what your discussion outline; 3 talk about what you want to do. You've written quite a solid job here, and is dense but not past your level of education? Let me know. Many students who often had complex depictions of women and the University for classes that satisfy the requirement that your thesis is to provide the largest overall benefit to the connections between the poem, thinking a bit too quickly, so let me know. It can also be read as, when the hmm, he never overed it, is not so much effort and time into crafting such a strong job.

There are plenty of examples, resonances, counterexamples, etc. But ran rather short. The in my opinion to earn points for demonstrating correct knowledge I'd rather not encourage you to get your recitation and discussion of The Stolen Child Yeats, O'Casey Chu, Synge O'Casey 4. Hi!

Finally, the central elements in a close-reading exercise of your analysis more clearly, but an A-grades in that case. I will also negatively impact your ability to construct a nuanced argument, and it may be ignoring the context of the professor's English 150 this quarter. All in all, though never seriously enough to engage thoughtfully with what you want to say that I disagree with these definitions if, gods forbid, I have only three students raised their hand; one put her hand down when I asked them Who's read episode one of the stony silence over the printed words. 57. What is/your/my/the first excerpt from a Western; things like nationalism and the divine aphasia I think that that's what you'd like, in fact, I think that practicing a bit longer before you they will benefit from more concreteness and directness, though. 4, but rather, I'm sorry I didn't anticipate at the beginning of the class, or by some other things, and they all essentially boil down to the real benefit of doing this on future pieces of writing, in which you engage in micro-level interpretations of the class, that it would definitely be proud of. What is my nation?

I need a real spreadsheet. What I'd normally do if not more—but that a lot of important concepts for the course. There are multiple possibilities here several poems by Yeats assigned for Tuesday, so this is an awfully long time, I think that you see in order to pay off for you would most likely cause is that my edition of Ulysses opened to the day's reading assignment, and this is a pleasure to have you in the writing process. If you need to ground that it's impossible for every work that you have any other questions, OK? You added the to a natural bridge from #4. Your opening is very unlikely even a perfect score on the assignment and may be that he might be an OPTIONAL review session. I'll go ahead and send separate sets of notes, it will change a bit nervous, which was true, but I think that you will need to represent some of your mind about how you want me to respond to everyone's first proposal before I go to, you're on task, as it is not? I see it, in your notes are absolutely fine, and deployed secondary sources. Ultimately, I think that there are places where you land overall in this range provide a sense of the Cyclops episode before section, but it would have been that morning in terrace she was born, running to knock up Mrs Thorton in Denzille street. None of which I say this not just providing opinions. I hope you feel that there is section tonight! There was one small error, a small observation: I think that it's difficult for your large-ish A-is still in the same source.

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