#as well as requiring me to take more classes than my job will allow due to the schedule

[crowcryptid]

I should have been graduating but my parents fucked me over so they could take money from me lol lmao even

at least deep down I know that a degree doesn’t mean a single thing anymore and it’s just a filter for your resume to be auto rejected or have a 5% chance of being viewed by a real person

but yeah that filter hurts now. then again it seems like most jobs are fake posts now.

it’s over either way 😎

[edgeray]

Custody Battle with a Dragon

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Hi 🏹 anon! Accidentally deleted your ask when I did dragon! Arle part 3😅. Uhh… mbad. Reader just kidnapping three random human children is so funny to me, I will never not find this funny. Anyways, just wanted to say the only reason why I’m fulfilling both parts of this ask is because I already have to work on part 3. If I get an ask giving me more than 1 prompt, I will choose only 1 prompt to do. If you want me to do more, feel free to request from me, but with school starting soon, I probably won’t be able to get to many requests until I get used to the first semester.  By the way, since I’m lazy and don’t want to think of more/different worldbuilding, this will be like an alternative universe of my ‘dragon hunter mother' series and it will just be a role reversal. the lore with the hoth though is different from the series, i have a completely different backstory for arle and the hoth hehe. Sorry, this is really awkward and I didn't know how to not write it awkwardly since the reader decides to adopt them just impulsively and I doubt arlecchino would be happy about it. Naturally, they would clash but I tried to get them to get along. Not my best work... :( Content warnings / info - in arle's pov majority of the time, reader is referred as 'it' a few times, 1.6k words

Arlecchino likes to consider herself a successful and (justifiably) proud dragon hunter, among the best for the Tsaritsa. Dragon hunting has been in her veins since she was born into a well-known generation of dragon hunters. She's been trained and has performed the best out of her class in the kingdom’s most renowned dragon hunting academy, the House of the Hearth. Now, as the new head of the House of the Hearth, as ‘Father,’ she's able to change some things. 

For how rigorous and demanding the old House of the Hearth, underneath Crucabena (that despicable woman), it was also quite the precarious and perilous, though that was to be expected with what came with dragon hunting in general. It was easy to get into the House of the Hearth if you had enough money, and by then, you had basically paid for an early grave. Arlecchino remembers that the majority of her peers died, one way or another, before graduating. Families that were wealthy enough and had enough children were happy to enroll some of their children as an investment; being a dragon hunter paid immensely well given that they were paid by the kingdom themselves. 

Now, the classes were fewer due to the rigor requirements. Arlecchino has no need for people that want the job just for the money or to roleplay–with that mindset, they'll get themselves killed. For those seeking glory with none of the gore, for wealth without wear, dragon hunting is far on the list for what Arlecchino would recommend. It is daunting and never safe or relaxing. For this reason, the House of the Hearth takes very few individuals, often strays that she deems worthy and resilient enough for the task. A year is all it takes for her to train the small batch into formidable dragon hunters, about three times more valuable and efficient than the average hunter. 

This year's batch is particularly small, but that does make for more personalized lessons and unique opportunities. It's much easier to allow three children to accompany you on a dragon hunting mission than it is ten. 

Today is one of those days for the children to witness how a real dragon hunter deals with a dragon. Most hunters work in a group to hunt a singular dragon, though the best can do it alone. Today's dragon has been reported to have been killing some livestock occasionally–a few chickens here or there. At the very least, the dragon hasn't destroyed any other property besides the chicken pens, nor has there been any assaults on the people but the kill order is set in stone. Pity has no place among this job, but it is a shame to have to kill an innocuous dragon. 

“Children, maintain a good distance as we have always done. This dragon has been reported to be a two-paired dragon, so be cautious. I trust that you three will be able to handle yourselves during your observing?”

Lyney, the leader out of the three, nods. “Of course, Father.” 

The order should have been simple. It is. A two-paired-winged dragon is usually of little difficulty for Arlecchino, even with how volatile dragons are. Baiting them with fire as well as a large portion of fish is enough to draw the dragon out without waiting for it. With the help of the children, the preparations were done quickly, and all there is left to do is to ignite the fire and wait. 

Except, Arlecchino waits for quite some time. In fact, an hour has passed, and there are no signs of a dragon. Perhaps the villagers were mistaken on the dragon's whereabouts, though instances like these are rare. Nonetheless, it seems like that case, and the dragon hunter heads towards where she last left the trio. As she does, she hears a muffled outburst, recognizing it as Freminet’s, and rushes towards the direction.

Did the dragon target her children on the assumption that they were food? Did she make a mistake, bringing them here? Are their deaths on her hands once more, innocent lives lost because of her again? Her thoughts press her on as she increases her pace, fueled by fury and anxiety for her children. With each child she takes under her wing, with each soul she gently guides, with each hand she teaches how to wield a blade, a bit of her heart has parted and latched onto them. With the three, they are no different, except they are.

Lyney, the ever natural-born leader with a persistence like no other. Lynette, with a placid and rational demeanor to balance her brother's personality and fiercely loyal. Freminet, although timid, holds more potential and skill than he credits himself, and his kindness never fails to shine through even in his conscious actions. These three are endearing, as she has found all children she's taught in such a way before, but perhaps it is these children whom she'd like to call her own finally.

Drawing her sword once she spots the familiar silhouette of a giant, scaly beast, she approaches, only to halt as she takes in the sight. 

A sleeping dragon lays on their stomach in the middle of the forest, curled around Arlecchino's children, their tail hugging the children to the body. Instead of the two-paired-winged dragon that the villagers said, it instead has three-paired wings. That makes the dragon twice as dangerous. 

Against the dragon, Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet sit against the dragon's back. Once they spot the dragon hunter, they noticeably perk up.

Why the dragon is like this, the hunter is not sure, but she knows that it has taken her children. 

“Father!” They simultaneously cry for her. The dragon’s head lifts as they're awakened and turns their head towards the dragon hunter, snarling. They whip their tail upon the grass, and they stand on their legs.  

“Are you hurt in any way?” Arlecchino inquires as she prepares to lunge at the dragon. 

“Wait, Father, don't kill it!” Lyney states as he ducks underneath the dragon's tail, escaping from its vicinity quite easily. “It hasn't hurt us!”

“No? Then why did it take you three?” Arlecchino questions, her blade still pointed at the creature. Their slitted eyes glare at the swordswoman in response, also tensing for an assault. It spun its body the other way, this time standing in between Arlecchino and Lyney, and Lynette and Freminet. They maneuver their head to be beside Lyney, using their head to almost shield him from the hunter. 

“I don't know, but… it–they clearly have no intentions of hurting us. See?” Lyney hesitantly reaches out, running his hand on the underside of the dragon's mouth, and the dragon coos from the action, before opening their mouth to lick his hand. 

“I think…” Freminet states outloud, though his appearance is obstructed from Arlecchino’s view thanks to the dragon. “That we're their young. They have been offering us fish, and they're doing this right now.” 

Arlecchino contemplates the situation. The dragon had essentially adopted her children as their own, perhaps even imprinting them already, claiming them as their own. Trying to take the children away would not do any good, especially if it feels threatened, there is no saying what it would do to the nearby surroundings when enraged. But the dragon has been hostile, and given the children's defense for it… it seems that it is rather docile. The hunter narrows her eyes on the dragon, sending a nonverbal warning before sheathing her blade. The dragon relaxes. 

“Even though you three remain unharmed, you still are my children, and under my care. I cannot simply give them away to you,” Arlecchino addresses the dragon, placing a hand on Lyney's shoulder. “Do you not have any young yourself? Why take human children?” 

The creature growls, before shifting away from Lyney. Abruptly, the dragon's form is outlined with a blinding light, and when the light dies down, you stand in place of the beast. The three children gap at you, but Arlecchino remains unfazed, already aware that you have a human form. 

“I cannot bear any children without any mate,” you gruff, your tail flicking behind you in an agitated way. “Why can't I keep human children? They look so small. I can feed them better.” 

Arlecchino steps closer, her eyebrows furrowed slightly in vexation. “My children's diets are fine, and they are not in need of more.” 

“The little ones are tiny even for just hatchlings. You cannot feed your young better?” 

Never did Arlecchino think she’d have to fight a custody battle with a dragon. Should she kill you? No, the children have already rejected it. Though, she cannot deny that you are much more appealing now that you are in a human form…

“Children, what do you think of this?” Arlecchino questions, and all three, expectedly, hesitates. None of them could ever expect a predicament like this, and not surprisingly, a definite answer is hard to come from them.

“I will come with you,” you suddenly suggest, eyes gleaming with determination. “And you will feed me and not harm me. In turn, I will protect and parent the little ones, and I will not destroy another human’s building. Is that enough for you, dragon hunter?” 

“You will do that for human children you just met?” 

“I’ve been wanting children for over a decade. If they come in the form of another species, then so be it,” you assert, and your stubbornness only makes Arlecchino sigh. This is a headache. Though, it was nearly winsome of how protective you are over them, and Arlecchino can do nothing but surrender.

Arlecchino, proud dragon hunter, ‘Father’ to three, and now sharing custody with a dragon. 

[infinitejourneysinfiniteworlds]

DR Journaling: Shady Oak Lane

Better CR Life: My Careers, and My Art

I spent many years in my twenties traveling, working seasonally at resorts around the country, both inside and close to various national parks. It was my main bread and butter for a long time, though the work itself was very mundane and boring-- I did everything from housekeeping to retail. I finally settled into a comfortable position in the laundry room of the resort in the Berkshires that became my home for several years, eventually landing the Laundry Supervisor job. I lived and worked there until 2012, when I was able to make the change to working full time as a freelance artist, moving into town and getting a little apartment.

Before I had originally left Texas, I had taken classes at the Museum of Fine Art, taking their full drawing and painting program. It didn't give me a degree, but it allowed me to refine my skills to a professional level. When I started working in resorts around the country, I supplemented my income by painting landscapes of the local areas, with a theme of magic and enchantment. I would sell them in town, in consignment shops and local fairs and such, and some of the resorts I worked at also cut a deal with me to sell in their general on-site stores. At first, I rarely had prints made, due to it being impractical because of the distance I had to travel to do things like that; however, when I started working at the resort in the Berkshires, there was a lovely little town very close, Jasper, that had a printing service shop for artists. I was able to make prints and also start building an online presence and taking commissions here and there while still working at the resort. By the time 2012 rolled around I was making as much as, and sometimes more, than my resort pay with my artwork.

It was a little scary, taking that leap of faith and quitting my resort job, but it paid off so quickly. It helped that I had a pretty good-sized stash of money from wise investments that I'd built up over the years, so even though sometimes things were a bit lean work-wise, I was able to keep going. Once I did sign up for UBI (universal basic income), but I didn't need it for very long. I got my foot in the door, making the change from traditional art to mostly digital as I began creating art for big publishing houses, gaming companies, and the like.

After a little while I was able to shift my focus from commissions to creating, licensing, and selling personal work; this is now the bulk of my art income. I only take a handful of freelance gigs every year, and then only the ones I feel passionate about.

I am working on an elaborate, lavishly illustrated urban fantasy series currently. It's been my primary focus, as I'm doing very well financially, between the abundant passive incomes of my investments and print/merchandise sales, and the occasional freelance gig. I am also working on a video version of my series, with partially animated illustrations, original music, and voiceover acting/reading.

There is an absolutely fantastic program called MatrixSphere that I use for this; MatrixSphere is powered by a type of A.I. that respects intellectual property and doesn't harm artists or creatives of any kind. It doesn't do all the work for you, but it greatly streamlines the creative process while allowing for full control over the results. For instance, in the 3D modeling process, if you want to texture and animate your model, it's necessary to re-topologize to prevent warping, a process that is tedious and time-consuming. MatrixSphere's AI engine accurately calculates the best topology for a model based on your requirements (high poly, low poly, etc), runs the engine, and gives you a perfect or near-perfect output which you can then make minor edits to if necessary. This is just one example of how MatrixSphere streamlines the creative process. MatrixSphere also has animation-enhancing capabilities that take into consideration things such as natural movement, balance, center of gravity, even personality. Again, it doesn't do all the work for you but it makes things so much easier.

That being said, I still have a soft spot for traditional art with no technological tools, and I also enjoy digital painting and drawing without all the fancy enhancements.

Jasper is small, but it has a thriving artistic community, and plenty of venues for artists to showcase their work. I've got a few pieces in a gallery still from back when I was still doing local magical landscape art. I enjoy going to art functions now and again, though I don't really fit in with that crowd. I prefer to hang around fellow comic book/fantasy/roleplay geeks, and I've found my people both locally and online.

All in all, I am happy with where I am right now both artistically and career-wise. I am excited to see where my current projects will lead me in the future.

[todayimgonnaplay]

Today I'm Gonna Play: Final Fantasy III (PSP)

I've played this remake previously a long time ago, but gave up from being too underleveled and didn't have the time to grind, so I'm gonna give this a shot again, and beat it.

Strictly talking about the classics from 1-3, FF3 takes a step up from 1 and reinvents the job system by adding more jobs that you can switch freely, which changes your stats accordingly. It's a step up from what FF2 tried to do with stats, but still feels a little bare. Some classes like the Dragoon or Ninja are quite broken and thus are recommended to play as for the endgame, but I just chose 1 Dragoon in my playthrough for a little challenge (and ease).

The difficulty curve is a little strange, some parts are easy, and some parts can easily wipe out your party. None of this has to do with the bosses (whom I've managed to beat easily), but rather the actual mobs itself. I've seen that FF2 had a similar problem by implementing a hidden ''ranking'' for the enemies, making it easy to encounter mobs that are WAY more powerful than you at any point in the game. For a remake, this seems odd that there's a similar issue. I'm hoping the Pixel Remaster has fixed this.

Two features that I found interesting was that the game had more than 1 world map, which would've been quite impressive for its time and is a nice addition as a (back then) new entry from 1 and 2. The other feature I liked was the different modes of transportation, from canoes and a ship to 3 airships and a hybrid. However, having 3 different airships (although they somewhat upgrade) felt very redundant, especially when backtracking is prevalent in this game and requires you to use different airships just to access a particular obstacle.

Graphics are neat, the sprites look cute, especially with the main cast. I can see that the DS graphics have aged, which give the PSP an advantage for having more crisp edges. Character designs for their base clothing are also neat, with Ingus and Luneth standing out the most to me in my opinion due to their colour palette and unique hair shapes. Some job class designs are odd, like the Devout with the cat ears. But the chibi-style makes them all look fun.

Music is great, some tunes I still remember to this day, namely the Jinn's Curse. And the final boss theme actually slaps. It also has a stellar opening!

Story is more interesting than 1, but less than stellar compared to 2 (which I think deserves a remake). It has its lighthearted moments, as well as a few emotional ones, but nothing that fully fleshes out characters. But since this remake is their first attempt at actually giving some form of characterization, I think it's alright.

FF3 is a great landmark for augmenting the job system in the series, (allowing FF5 to run), and feels like a nice upgrade from 1 with its similarities. Out of the first 3 games, this one does great in terms of gameplay, but lacks in other areas.

Terms exclusive to this game: Job system - A mechanic that allows your characters to choose different roles or classes present in the role playing genre

[psychicfoxpainter]

when I needed my school's help for a diagnosis of autism, they actually said out loud that 'if I got diagnosed, I would have to go to the special school next door, and what would happen to your exam results? We need them too, you know, you have to consider other people'

jokes on them because due to four undiagnosed disabilities and the rampant bullying and sexual abuse they refused to do nothing about, I never got a single one of those A*s they thought I'd get

(I've been called, and tried to fit in with. the 'highly-sensitive' lot, because I just wasn't allowed to be disabled. even when I wasn't directly being punished for it, I was never allowed to need help, to get it wrong, to be impaired. I was/am so obviously strange that it couldn't be ignored, but I was a HSP, an old soul, just ~*different*~ just mature for my age, better than this, honestly, what's wrong with you? Even when my diagnosis keep coming through, I have to fight to be recognised as disabled. I maintain that one of my disabilities I wouldn't have if they others were actually treated/found/worked with earlier, if I wasn't put through the wringer to try to change me into the person people thought I was - and its this shit, the shit they do to people they supposedly like and feel like they have a use for, which should beg ex gifted kids to realise how much worse it was for people considered not to have a use.)

the reason they thought I'd get these?

In the UK, you have to do a really big test as you go into secondary school (age 11). At the time, your scores on this test dictated your 'predicted grade' for the GCSEs in four years time. (It may be different now) You are consistently held against this fairly arbitrary number for the rest of your compulsory schooling.

if, for example, you are fairly sharp, enjoy school and are lucky enough to be in the first wave of primary schools that teach a significant amount of algebra, you might score a predicted grade of an A* on this test

It does not matter that, due to your disabilities and natural human variation, your understanding of mathematics hovers around a C for the rest of your schooling, your predicted grade will NEVER be changed to more accurately reflect what you are actually capable of. And you will receive all the punishments for not hitting a grade, both formally at school and whatever your parents will dish out.

this test is an addition to the 11+ where your worthiness to attend grammar school hangs on whether or not you can accurately rearrange an unfolded cardboard box

the UK school system really does sort and grade people at ELEVEN and even though it's considered gauche in most of the UK to discuss academic achievement, this kind of sorting and exceptionalism does happen between the lines.

it's a class thing, but it's also a disability thing

the amount of times I've had family, coworkers, bosses, friends, random strangers think it's okay to yell 'you're so clever but you're so stupid!' at me, well, I'd have enough to take that autism assessment privately

'giftedness' is a cage that people try to put you in, but things like this discussion help me see that it's a cage where the bars are so comically thin that you can walk on out of there if only you haven't let yourself become so fat-headed by the whole situation

when I did my BSc Psych, at a uni with no entrance requirements, the very first textbook is 'Investigating Intelligence'. wherein it's just page after page about how the whole concept of intelligence is horsehit, and racist, classist horseshit at that. don't recall it specifically calling it sexist horseshit, but its that, too. In fact, my whole degree was essentially 'why all these different types of psychology are bullshit' which was enlightening, but also really shortens the list of potential jobs you can do with a psych degree that feel at all ethical

I agree with the other points about how the whole giftedness programs teach people to perceive the world as smart people vs ordinary people, but my father took it one step further - people where either geniuses, or idiots, and idiots were to be sterilized and culled. Also, women could only either be idiots, or do a really good impression of a genius whilst still being sex object.

and that is exactly what's at the heart of anyone who actually believes this shit, and THAT's why it's annoying and scary when ex-gifted kids don't fully examine the structures of what they went through, and the behaviours it leaves with them, because it does

no-one is raised believing they are special without the occulted belief that other people are not special. nobody in your* life maybe said that part out loud, but if you go digging in your psyche, it'll be there

if some people are born special, some people are born not special, and therefore wrong. And somebody always decides who gets to be special.

There is no solidarity, no acceptance, no joy in the common people if there is anyone deliberately set above it

certainly not when this class is picked at 11, based on the priviledges they enjoyed at birth

*general you

(sorry if this comes across weird or wrong, I'm jetlagged and the pregabalin just kicked in. I just think the final scale fell from my eyes reading the discussion)

Thanks for posting that anon ask about giftedness. Really made clear to me why some are so proud of their status as being 'gifted'. For me it represents nothing but pain and trauma, and was so confused why anyone would use it as a badge of exceptionalism. Maybe it's because I was threatened so often with being sent to special ed, but I figured out really early what a crock of shit it all is. People outside of the norm are faced with different types of educational-institutional violence (above the general violence that schooling is), but a stick is a stick, and being beaten never stops being fucked up, and that shared experience is something that indeed gets lost.

There's something that occurred to me with chilling clarity: it's Asperger and Am Spielgrund all over again. They get to be the useful ones, this time to capitalism instead of the war (same difference really capitalism being a war on anyone not in the bourgeoisie), while the ones that can't be made to fit the mold get cast away. (I wonder what the overlap between aspie supremacists and the 'gifted' crowd is, the vibes are extremely similarly rank.)

yep, and yeah most of the gifted ed trauma crowd are basically "highly sensitive people"/ aspie supremacists by another name. or often all of those names, the communities overlap a lot.

[chichiscloset]

Hobbies A Feminine Lady Needs To Add To her life! Part: 2

Doing things that you are passionate about & requires the use of creative energy, is an excellent way for you to divine feminine energy. In this blog entry, I'll be talking about four more passions of mine that have helped me as a young woman, to re-connect with my creative energy and made me feel more feminine; and I'm sure can help you as well!

This post is a continuation from my posts on:

*Feminine Hobbies you need to incorporate into your life: Part 1

* self care tips for high-maintance lady.

**Please read both articles for context**

5. Learn a new Language 🇫🇷

Women are great at connecting with other human beings – but sometimes, when there’s a language barrier, this can be hard. So if you plan to visit any new country long-term, or just want to become bilingual or multilingual, why not learn a new language? 

6. Jewellery Making  

Sparkly, colourful, glittery and shiny things are always a delight! What a great hobby for women. It’s a way to create and share your art as a feminine soul.

Doing something like this with passion and with your touch of uniqueness also makes people more attracted and drawn to you.

Not only that, but you can give away the jewellery you make as gifts for others! It’s a very personal gift since it would be made by you. It’s a great way to give memorable gifts.

Or…why not make jewellery just for yourself? You can also take classes on jewellery making, and you may find that jewellery making can earn you money whilst expressing your feminine creativity.

7. Painting & Drawing

You know that feeling where you are free to just “create” and “be” whatever you want?

Painting, perhaps like you see a small child would do could simply be your way to get your feelings out.

Due to our demanding jobs and this often masculine world we live in, we all have to numb ourselves to our feelings somehow.

if we felt every little feeling at every moment in time, that would be inappropriate in some contexts, and it may also be far too painful, especially if you are a sensitive soul.

Painting Allows You To Express Unfelt Feelings…

Painting purely for yourself can be a way to put those feelings out on paper even if no-one else ever sees it  you get to connect with who you are; and that is priceless, true?

Painting can give you a lot of self-satisfaction, and paintings will last a lifetime.

Drawing as a hobby will cost a lot less than painting will. You can get yourself some art pencils and a notebook and draw or even doodle in your free time.

Art stores, hobby stores, and even private tutors can provide art and painting classes.

8.Writing 🌸

Writing is a great passion for women who love words, have a way with words and enjoy being creative. Writing is a good way to channel your thoughts and can make you a better communicator.If you were good at writing in school, this may be a good option for you.

Perhaps you can even just keep a diary and write down random ideas that come to you throughout the day for stories, books, poems or letters.

Even though computers have taken over our lives, writing hand-written letters can show it comes from your heart, and people appreciate hand-written letters more than ever!

Want to see more posts like these? Follow @miss-femme-fatale for more!

source @miss-femme-fatale

Chichi xo.

[arunikas]

ーolgami

That one time Hinata let herself act impulsively, she never thought it would cost her a bombardment of constant, overwhelming desires she never allowed herself to think of dwelling into. 

Being a college student is hard enough. But being a broke college student is on another level of headache, not to mention that her college life is basically hanging on the thin thread of her scholarship. It's always so packed with endless assignments, nonstop pulling all nighters, and part time jobs at one place after another. 

And when her body betrayed her into refusing to work due to the excessive amount of labor hours and then the stress level hit its peak; Ino had successfully convinced her to do that one thing she always cringed out whenever Ino brought it up during their pillow talk session in their bedroom dorm. 

"Aw, c'mon Hina~ being a sugar baby doesn't always require you to use your body! There are some daddies out there just wanting a companion in a fancy dinner or just a casual date or basically just wanting somebody to spoil their money on." Ino had said.

"There are some, Ino. Not all." I rolled my eyes, "And we never know which type I'll end up meeting."

"No no no! Didn't I tell you? This one guy is a friend of Sai. You remember him, right? The sugar daddy I met last Friday?"

"That one whitey?"

"Hey don't mock him!"

"I just said exactly as one of the things you described him to me."

Ino only grinned sheepishly when she remembered, "Hehe I kno–no no! That's not the point!"

It was my cue to pull up my fluffy blanket, ready to wrap my sore muscles into a warm cocoon after a long, tiring day at class and work. I knew there's no ending when Ino started this topic. Not until the lack of response I give her when I already fall asleep.

I tucked my head lower to nest on the warmth I’d yearned the whole day while half-mindedly listening to Ino’s a to z explanation as to why I should try meeting this one guy she’d been pestering my hearing at least for the past week. My mind was already half-drifted to sleep as I catched a few key words about said guy: blond, blue-eyed, and ultra rich. The kind of those old-money bastards.

“Sai said he just wants a companion for a dinner, no more than–”

“What’s this? You’re still in touch with this Sai guy?” I narrowed my eyes, demanding an explanation.

Ino only stared at me as she twirled her hair, pink dusted her cheeks, and a shy smile plastered on her lips–things that don't belong to an Ino.

“Oh c’mon, No. You’re kidding right?”

“Huh why? Is there a problem with that?”

“There definitely is. Where’s that one absolute rule you kept telling me about?” Now I sat up to look at her more closely, “The holy ‘one day rule’?” I pushed. “‘Which is to only meet a sugar daddy for a day and become a complete stranger after’,” I recited that line like a verse from the bible, reminding her just in case she forgot. 

“Well, we never know, Hina.” She ended her excuse with a naughty wink.

“Wow, what a great excuse for the one who is always so adamant about rules.”

“Is that a note of sarcasm I just heard?” she narrowed her eyes.

Hearing that response, I folded my arms across my chest and looked at her deadpanned, “A note? It was a whole-ass melody.”

“Hey!” she threw her Elmo plushie at my face but I blocked right before it hit my head. We laughed.

“But really, be careful, No.”

“I am.”

Hearing her replying with such confidence gave me a waft of relief somehow. I gave her a curt smile before standing up to take my glass of water–

Huh?

Thud! 

“Oh My Gosh! Are you alright?!” 

My vision went blurry for a few seconds as I landed on the floor, feeling the world spinning below me. I felt Ino grabbing my arms to help me stand but I squeezed her hand instead. Not that I want to stay in that position. 

I can’t.

I closed my eyes, and opened, and closed again. Trying to grasp back my focus before trying to process what exactly just happened.

“You okay?!”

“Yes,” I said simply. 

“See? Your body can’t even make it to stand. You’ve forced yourself too far, Hina.” She was genuinely concerned. I was aware. But I didn’t know how to reply to that because first, it was true. And second, if I admit it she’d continue pushing her agenda to make me meet that blond daddy she kept telling me about.

“I told you, it’s a good opportunity. He has the money you need. And you only need your presence to accompany him for a day. Then you can rest for days without worrying about part-time-shits for a while.”

See? She always brings this up. 

Ino waited for me though I still didn’t reply. But this time, I–surprisingly–just found another reason not to; which is, third, it finally just hit me of how tempting that offer is.

“You need your deserved rest, Hina. Mid-term exam is coming up and you definitely can’t fail this, right?”

I stared at her and she knew that she was so so right. 

She sighed, “That’s why you need to recover. And study. You can get all those at once just by ‘sacrificing’ a day.”

I fiddled with the hem of my sweater, brain working extra careful in contemplating this offer. I bit my lower lip it became white by the pressure, saying, “You sure he doesn’t want anything else?”

“I’m positive.”

“No s–sleeping together?” my voice was small and uncertain. Explicitly saying it was kinda embarrassing.

“No. Just a date, or a dinner. You name it.”

I held my breath. “Okay.”

And that is the root for all the mess I’ve been going through after that…date? Dinner? I don’t know.

Then here I am–after a whole week has passed since that first and (should be) the last time we met–standing with my super ordinary outfit, hair as plain as how my clothes look–without even a small arrangement whatsoever. Student ID on my hand, a canvas tote bag slings over my left shoulder; I try to catch my breath as I make a sudden halt from my jog to the library and freeze completely when my eyes land on him.

That one guy I met last Saturday night. Blond hair shines golden under the sun and blue eyes beam the brightest light I have never seen on anything else before. 

He looks simple in his denim jeans and black shirt. Both sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, the veins around his forearms protrude and flex as he folds his arms across his chest. 

He looks simple, leaning without a care in the world on his black Bugatti La Voiture Noire–as if it is a common car anyone could afford– and the very car we drove together exactly a week ago. Also, the only car name, or type, or whatever, I ever manage to remember after I read its name last week.

He looks simple, even when he lifts his left hand checking the time at his Rolex circling his wrist.

He looks…simple? 

Really…? Is that the right word?

Then I check again, to all the things surrounding him. 

“Haha..ha..ha..” I breathe, “Simple my ass.”

I stare at him again and ‘simple’ is such a vulgar insult.

He is so fucking not normal. So crazy gorgeous yet intimidating. Extremely attractive yet so mysterious.

Everything about him makes me shrink like a tiny feeble drowning to the endless ocean. 

When chills run down my spine, I snap myself out of it, deciding to hurriedly run away before those eagle blue eyes catch a glimpse of my presence. 

Huh? What makes me think that he, the almighty Uzumaki Naruto, is looking for me? Here? Right now? He might be looking for his friend…? Or another girl…? I’m sure he has thousands of reasons to be standing leisurely there and me, the nobody Hinata Hyuuga, is definitely not upon that list.

My feet have already gathered all their strength to walk away until–holy shit–those blue eyes clash with mine.

Then a smirk makes itself seen on his lips.

Then they mouth ‘found you’ that I somehow manage to make out.

Then that God-carved body moves, walking, leaving his million dollar sport car to me, a mere nobody like me. 

I look around, just in case there’s somebody else around me he is actually walking toward, but nope. There’s only me in his line of sight.

Then our eyes engage in such intense staring as I feel everything around me stands still, the time seems to stop to stare at us.

“You are not even going to say hi?” he speaks. He speaks.

I snap. 

W-When did he…?

“Or are you too stunned to even speak?” he smirks, satisfaction brimming from his voice. 

I stare at him. There's lump in my throat, rendering me unable to utter even a single word. My brain seems to crash as I grip on the sling of my tote bag seeking for an anchor.

Tik.

Tik.

Tik.

Few seconds pass by and he still stands there solemnly while eyeing me with such an intense, overwhelming gaze.

“Say somethin’, Nata.” He talks like silk, yet there’s this weird, implicit dominance emitting from his husky voice–which is so scandalously inviting–that makes me helplessly obey whatever he says. 

“Y-Yes?”

Damn the power he holds over me.

Damn that nickname he gave specially for me.

Dammit. This man is so fucking dangerous.

Goddamit. 

He chuckles. 

Oh fuck. 

He dips his hand into his back pocket and takes something there. Oh fuck that flexing forearm. If I grow a kink for a fucking arm, this bastard right here is solely the one to blame. 

Another step forward is taken, his shiny shoes land on either side of mine, caging my feet within his presence. He towers over me as I try so hard not to choke myself due to my almost-snapping self-restraint to breathe this man in. His pheromone definitely does something to me. It’s so intoxicating.

Suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, he traces his back fingers down my right, slender forearm. A familiar warmth settles upon my hand as he grasps it, sending me a wild surge of awakenings from his mere touch–of how he touched me the other time.

“Here,” he whispers, his breath feels nice on top of my head.

My brain still can’t process what he does, or whatever the thing he hands me until I feel something slip through my fingers and he moves in reflex to catch it.

“Woops, careful babe.” 

His affectionate voice lands upon my ears and I’m so so so doomed.

“Phone?” I ask, confused.

“Yours.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t you break your phone? You didn’t pick up my calls at all.”

Are you serious?! Dude?!!

“It’s the only reasonable explanation, isn’t it?”

 I snort–mentally, of course. 

“I could have gone to you the first time I made my–unfortunately–failed call but I was aboard that day. Sorry, I couldn’t make it anytime sooner than this.”

He suddenly takes the phone from my grip and leans closer, hand finding its way to tuck it inside my jeans’ back pocket until he finishes it with a gentle pat that stays a second too long there. “Can’t afford you breaking this one too, can we?” his whispers feel ticklish on my ears. A sudden rush of heat come surging to the tips of my ears, or my face in general, or my whole body–whatever, but I swear to God, I can bet that they look so red red right at this fucking moment. 

“W-What–”

“I also have a lot of things to talk about. Let’s meet tonight?” he smiles and I know it wasn’t an offer. It was an order. Woah, such confidence should be a crime, no?

I focus my sight on the black shirt only a few inches away from my nose tip, trying as hard as I can to not imagine any unnecessary things, such as what lies beneath that mere fabric–oh fuck. I really need to stop thinking at all.

I can’t see it but it feels so obvious that he roots his gaze at me until his hand comes to tuck my hair behind my ear with such delicacy. Yet I can’t control the goosebumps standing on edge all over my body as his hand brushes slightly on my cheek.

“And the sweet marks I made down there are almost vanished completely. We might as well renew it later,” he says as his eyes glancing on my exposed neck.

I haven’t even made up my mind to utter a single reply when another attack–which is a quick peck on my temple and a simple ‘see you’–made their way to me. Then I see him walking backward with both his hands tucked inside his pockets and a smirk on his lips as if emphasizing his absolute glory in making my whole being a complete bust with his brief presence.

He tops this goodbye with a wink then swiftly turns around, walking toward his car and driving to the main road. The humming of its machine booms inside my whole world until it finally vanishes in the distance.

I don’t even realize how long I stand like a statue there until my watch beeps, reminding me of my original destination to get the anatomy book I’ve been queuing for two weeks to borrow.

What makes him so confident that I would come to see him again? I wonder. Even though Ino–the one who made the ‘one day rule’–has broken it herself, but I’d made myself clear to hold onto it ‘til the very end before I decided to jump right into this whirlpool of rich people shit.

“Huh? Where’s my student ID?” I rummage through my tote bag as the librarian waits to scan my ID. “I was sure I held it before I jogged here, but then–” oh shit. Holy fucking shit.

It’s only then I got the answer.  

Damn that sly fox.

[human-still-developing]

Constructive Criticism: A Guide

Hey everyone :)) Here's a quick guide that I've created for giving others constructive criticism. This is by no means 'all inclusive' and you should of course use your own judgment before sending anyone feedback of any kind, but here a few general rules that I use when writing con crit (as a professional editor) <3

For those wondering, don't worry, I'm still working on another SoC rant and some more poetry but this is just an interesting aside I thought I might post :DD

So without any further ado, the concrit rules:

Firstly and most importantly, don't provide constructive criticism unless the writer has explicitly asked for feedback. If you're asked by a friend to 'let me know what you think' -- this is generally an opening for support, rather than concrit

Be sure to read the text as an objective piece of work, with a clear frame of mind. These may seem like obvious stipulations, but avoid reading anything for the couple of hours before you read the work to prevent your mind being swayed to a particular judgment (e.g. reading a famous poet's work might make you more critical of a novice writer's first poetry). On that point, remember:

You are not here to give judgement! Avoid stating any terms like "Overall, this piece of work is good enough for ...." or "I think that I would rate this work a ../10". Your job is to provide an analysis of the text in front of you, not its value or worth

Okay, so now to the actual concrit. Lets say you've read this person's work and you're ready to give your feedback:

Always open up with your interpretation of the work so that the writer can see what exactly you are thinking as you are analysing. This statement could be something as simple as "The poem that you've sent me was an evocative teenage love story intersected with romantic poetry to show the everlasting nature of love". In the case that you have mis-interpreted the text, this allows the writer to take your further evaluations with a grain of salt and also gives them a subtle nudge to perhaps improve the clarity of their message :)

List your points in size order. What I mean by that is start with the easiest thing that the writer can fix (e.g. your basic line edit including spelling, punctation, grammar, word choice, etc.) and then slowly work down your edit as you reach the bigger ideas (e.g. major themes, overarching concepts, etc). There are a few benefits for doing it this way. Firstly, as a reader, it makes logical sense to evaluate the themes of a text after you have finished reading the entire work; this way you have a greater appreciation for the text as a whole (which is required for a concept) rather than the text as a collection of small parts. Secondly, for a writer who may be using your edit like a checklist, they can quickly 'tick-off' the easy fixes and then work the bones of their text more thoroughly (also its often hard to start editing your work and simple fixes are a good early motivator).

Afterwards, I always like to go for the 'one for one' rule. For every one feature you 'criticise', give one place where the writer as done well. These should generally be linked if possible. I'll give an example, say my friend who is writing the teenage love story has a really compelling plot that falls short due to flat characters....you'd state something like "You create a touching story that could be enhanced through better characterisation." So this way, you acknowledge the work the writer has done and also introduce your feedback. Notice how instead of criticising, I posed the above statement like an improvement. Give the person something concrete to work on!

Expand! Apart from the judgemental trope, the other trap that editors often fall into is writing wishy-washy statements that don't really have a solution. I'm sure we've all been in that english class with that one teacher who circles entire paragraphs with the overly descriptive term 'vague' and not had a clue about what to fix. Don't be that teacher! Try and list as many clear examples of what the author could touch up on and fix (without sounding too domineering of course). For example: "The characterisation of your protagonist Sue falls a little flat because it's hard to have empathy for her. You portray her as an extremely beautiful young woman who is bullied for her good looks but is still really popular....I'd suggest reconsidering how realistic this may be. You have an amazing connection built up between Sue and Alex however, perhaps a greater focus on that rather than so much description about Sue might be more effective :)"

Finally, wrap everything up with a nice (generally uplifting) conclusion. My advice is that no matter how terrible the text you have just read, the writer has taken the steps to go out and send you their work! This is much more difficult that it seems! Congratulate them for their effort, perhaps point out some of the nicest parts of their work. I like to add short quotes from the work that I found particularly interesting at the end. This not only leaves them on a happier note but also makes them feel comfortable and safe about sharing their work and moving to improve it! Remember, you have had plenty of time to talk about the flaws, this is the time to build up their morale and let them work through everything.

Okay, so now you've written out your concrit. Here are a few things you should do before sending it to the person:

Give the text another read! I cannot emphasise how important this point is!!! Often themes or concepts that might not have made too much sense the first time become a lot clearer now that you are in the world of the text. Also you can make sure that your critiques actually match the work :)

Give your concrit a read. Try and avoid basic spelling and grammar mistakes and make sure you don't sound too patronising or rude. Perhaps sprinkle some other nice things in there too :)

Remember, a piece of writing is often someone's baby! It can be personal and vulnerable for someone to hear its criticism. Be kind and supportive in your work!

If everything is good, send through your concrit to the person. Generally I like to wait a few days or until the person themselves reaches out to me again before talking about the text anymore. Give them some time to process; allow them the space to decide what they want to do with their work.

Sometimes, your writer might not take all of your edits on board. That is perfectly okay! You, like any other human being, can be flawed and have opinions that don't align with someone else. At the end of the day, it is not your work that you are giving concrit to and it is entirely the writer's decision of how they want to shape their work. Try not to take ignored concrit too personally :)

So there you have it; a relatively comprehensive guide to giving concrit. Whether it be for the next literary journal you edit or for that fanfiction you've read (with a writer specifically asking for concrit ofc), I hope some of these tips and tricks help you in your editing work :) If you have any questions, feel free to ask me (I love asks, comments and DMs) :))) I might consider doing beta reading here in the future and if you have requests you can also contact me as above!

Concrit is welcome for this article (ironic, isn't it?) cos I've literally written it all in one sitting and not even had a glance over it before posting (terrible writing advice...don't do that) :) Reblogs and likes are also extremely appreciated!!! Anyways, happy editing out there folks :)

Until next time,

Hics <3

[duckprintspress]

Ten Things We Hate About Trad Pub

Often when I say “I’ve started a small press; we publish the works of those who have trouble breaking into traditional publishing!” what people seem to hear is “me and a bunch of sad saps couldn’t sell our books in the Real World so we’ve made our own place with lower standards.” For those with minimal understanding of traditional publishing (trad pub), this reaction is perhaps understandable? But, truly, there are many things to hate about traditional publishing (and, don’t get me wrong - there are things to love about trad pub, too, but that’s not what this list is about) and it’s entirely reasonable for even highly accomplished authors to have no interest in running the gauntlet of genre restrictions, editorial control, hazing, long waits, and more, that make trad pub at best, um, challenging, and at worst, utterly inaccessible to many authors - even excellent ones.

Written in collaboration with @jhoomwrites, with input from @ramblingandpie, here is a list of ten things that we at Duck Prints Press detest about trad pub, why we hate it, and why/how we think things should be different!

(Needless to say, part of why we created Duck Prints Press was to...not do any of these things... so if you’re a writer looking for a publishing home, and you hate these things, too, and want to write with a Press that doesn’t do them...maybe come say hi?)

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1. Work lengths dictated by genre and/or author experience.

Romance novels can’t be longer than 90,000 words or they won’t sell! New authors shouldn’t try to market a novel longer than 100,000 words!

A good story is a good story is a good story. Longer genre works give authors the chance to explore their themes and develop their plots. How often an author has been published shouldn’t put a cap on the length of their work.

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2. Editors assert control of story events...except when they don’t.

If you don’t change this plot point, the book won’t market well. Oh, you’re a ten-time bestseller? Write whatever you want, even if it doesn’t make sense we know people will buy it.

Sometimes, a beta or an editor will point out that an aspect of a story doesn’t work - because it’s nonsensical, illogical, Deus ex Machina, etc. - and in those cases it’s of course reasonable for an editor to say, “This doesn’t work and we recommend changing it, for these reasons…” However, when that list of reasons begins and ends with, “...because it won’t sell…” that’s a problem, especially because this is so often applied as a double standard. We’ve all read bestsellers with major plot issues, but those authors get a “bye” because editors don’t want to exert to heavy a hand and risk a proven seller, but with a new, less experienced, or worse-selling author, the gloves come off (even though evidence suggests time and again that publishers’ ability to predict what will sell well is at best low and at worst nonexistent.)

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3. A billion rejection letters as a required rite of passage (especially when the letters aren't helpful in pinpointing why a work has been rejected or how the author can improve).

Well, my first book was rejected by a hundred Presses before it was accepted! How many rejection letters did you get before you got a bite? What, only one or two? Oh…

How often one succeeds or fails to get published shouldn’t be treated as a form of hazing, and we all know that how often someone gets rejected or accepted has essentially no bearing on how good a writer they are. Plenty of schlock goes out into the world after being accepted on the first or second try...and so does plenty of good stuff! Likewise, plenty of schlock will get rejected 100 times but due to persistence, luck, circumstances, whatever, finally find a home, and plenty of good stuff will also get rejected 100 times before being publishing. Rejections (or lack there of) as a point of pride or as a means of judging others needs to die as a rite of passage among authors.

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4. Query letters, for so many reasons.

Summarize all your hard work in a single page! Tell us who you’re like as an author and what books your story is like, so we can gauge how well it’ll sell based on two sentences about it! Format it exactly the way we say or we won’t even consider you!

For publishers, agents, and editors who have slush piles as tall as Mount Everest...we get it. There has to be a way to differentiate. We don’t blame you. Every creative writing class, NaNoWriMo pep talk, and college lit department combine to send out hundreds of thousands of people who think all they need to do to become the next Ernest Hemingway is string a sentence together. There has to be some way to sort through that pile...but God, can’t there be a better way than query letters? Especially since even with query letters being used it often takes months or years to hear back, and...

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5. "Simultaneous submissions prohibited.”

No, we don’t know when we’ll get to your query, but we’ll throw it out instantly if you have the audacity to shop around while you wait for us.

The combination of “no simultaneous submissions” with the query letter bottleneck makes success slow and arduous. It disadvantages everyone who aims to write full-time but doesn’t have another income source (their own, or a parents’, or a spouse’s, or, or or). The result is that entire classes of people are edged out of publishing solely because the process, especially for writers early in their career, moves so glacially that people have to earn a living while they wait, and it’s so hard to, for example, work two jobs and raise a family and also somehow find the time to write. Especially considering that the standard advice for dealing with “no simultaneous submissions” is “just write something else while you wait!” ...the whole system screams privilege.

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6. Genres are boxes that must be fit into and adhered to.

Your protagonist is 18? Then obviously your book is Young Adult. It doesn’t matter how smutty your book is, erotica books must have sex within the first three chapters, ideally in the first chapter. Sorry, we’re a fantasy publisher, if you have a technological element you don’t belong here…

While some genre boxes have been becoming more like mesh cages of late, with some flow of content allowed in and out, many remain stiff prisons that constrict the kinds of stories people can tell. Even basic cross-genre works often struggle to find a place, and there’s no reason for it beyond “if we can’t pigeon-hole a story, it’s harder to sell.” This edges out many innovative, creative works. It also disadvantages people who aren’t as familiar with genre rules. And don’t get me wrong - this isn’t an argument that, for example, the romance genre would be improved by opening up to stories that don’t have “happily ever afters.” Instead, it’s pointing out - there should also be a home for, say, a space opera with a side romance, an erotica scene, and a happily-for-now ending. Occasionally, works breakthrough, but for the most part stories that don’t conform never see the light of day (or, they do, but only after Point 2 - trad pub editors insist that the elements most “outside” the box be removed or revised).

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7. The lines between romance and erotica are arbitrary, random, and hetero- and cis-normative.

This modern romance novel won’t sell if it doesn’t have an explicit sex scene, but God forbid you call a penis a penis. Oh, no, this is far too explicit, even though the book only has one mlm sex scene, this is erotica.

The difference between “romance” and “erotica” might not matter so much if not for the stigmas attached to erotica and the huge difference in marketability and audience. The difference between “romance” and “erotica” also might not matter so much if not for the fact that, so often, even incredibly raunchy stories that feature cis straight male/cis straight female sex scenes are shelved as romance, but the moment the sex is between people of the same gender, and/or a trans or genderqueer person is involved, and/or the relationship is polyamorous, and/or the characters involved are literally anything other than a cis straight male pleasuring a cis straight female in a “standard” way (cunnilingus welcome, pegging need not apply)...then the story is erotica. Two identical stories will get assigned different genres based on who the people having sex are, and also based on the “skill” of the author to use ludicrous euphemisms (instead of just...calling body parts what they’re called…), and it’s insane. Non-con can be a “romance” novel, even if it’s graphically described. “50 Shades of Gray” can sell millions of copies, even containing BDSM. But the word “vagina” gets used once...bam, erotica. (Seriously, the only standard that should matter is the Envelope Analogy).

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8. Authors are expected to do a lot of their own legwork (eg advertising) but then don't reap the benefits.

Okay, so, you’re going to get an advance of $2,500 on this, your first novel, and a royalty rate of 5% if and only if your advance sells out...so you’d better get out there and market! Wait, what do you mean you don’t have a following? Guess you’re never selling out your advance…

Trad pub can generally be relied on to do some marketing - so this item is perhaps better seen as an indictment of more mid-sized Presses - but, basically, if an author has to do the majority of the work themselves, then why aren’t they getting paid more? What’s the actual benefit to going the large press/trad pub route if it’s not going to get the book into more hands? It’s especially strange that this continues to be a major issue when self-publishing (which also requires doing one’s own marketing) garners 60%+ royalty rates. Yes, the author doesn’t get an advance, and they don’t get the cache of ~well I was published by…~, but considering some Presses require parts of advances to get paid back if the initial run doesn’t sell out, and cache doesn’t put food on the table...pay models have really, really got to change.

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9. Fanfiction writing doesn't count as writing experience

Hey there Basic White Dude, we see you’ve graduated summa cum laude from A Big Fancy Expensive School. Of course we’ll set you up to publish your first novel you haven’t actually quite finished writing yet. Oh, Fanperson, you’ve written 15 novels for your favorite fandom in the last 4 years? Get to the back of the line!

Do I really need to explain this? The only way to get better at writing is to write. Placing fanfiction on official trad pub “do not interact” lists is idiotic, especially considering many of the other items on this list. (They know how to engage readers! They have existing followings! They understand genre and tropes!) Being a fanfiction writer should absolutely be a marketable “I am a writer” skill. Nuff said. (To be clear, I’m not saying publishers should publish fanfiction, I’m saying that being a fanfiction writer is relevant and important experience that should be given weight when considering an author’s qualifications, similar to, say, publishing in a university’s quarterly.)

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10. Tagging conventions (read: lack thereof).

Oh, did I trigger you? Hahahaha. Good luck with that.

We rate movies so that people can avoid content they don’t like. Same with TV shows and video games. Increasingly, those ratings aren’t just “R - adult audiences,” either; they contain information about the nature of the story elements that have led to the rating (“blood and gore,” “alcohol reference,” “cartoon violence,” “drug reference,” “sexual violence,” “use of tobacco,” and many, many more). So why is it that I can read a book and, without warning, be surprised by incest, rape, graphic violence, explicit language, glorification of drug and alcohol use, and so so much more? That it’s left to readers to look up spoilers to ensure that they’re not exposed to content that could be upsetting or inappropriate for their children or, or, or, is insane. So often, too, authors cling to “but we don’t want to give away our story,” as if video game makes and other media makers do want to give away their stories. This shouldn’t be about author egos or ~originality~ (as if that’s even a thing)...it should be about helping readers make informed purchasing decisions. It’s way, way past time that major market books include content warnings.

Thank you for joining us, this has been our extended rant about how frustrated we are with traditional publishing. Helpful? No. Cathartic? Most definitely yes. 🤣

*

Have a question about writing? Drop us an ask!

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[lokiskitten]

Tom Hiddleston | Mister Hiddleston

Teacher!Tom Hiddleston x fem!reader

plot : your professor, mister Hiddleston, asks you to stay after class in order to talk to you about one of your recent works. However, it easily takes an unexpected turn.

Warnings : teacher x student relationship, kissing.

The bell finally rang, allowing the entire class to take off for the cafeteria as the sounds of hungry stomachs echoed silently throughout the place. It was noon, and you had just spent a painful hour sitting in English literature class- having to listen to your handsome teacher brag about Romeo and Juliette, which in your opinion was quite a boring play. However, Mr. Hiddleston seemed to be absolutely hypnotized by the love he carried for Shakespeare’s work, which held you back from speaking your thoughts.

Right as you were about to get up from your chair, the older man called after you from where he sat at his desk, requesting for you to stay a little bit longer without even giving you a valuable explanation as to why. Of course, you felt absolutely scattered about not being able to join your friends in order to fill up your empty belly which was seriously beginning to behave out of your control. However, as a student, you simply couldn’t go against any of the adults’ demands.

Though, Mr. Hiddleston was never the typical type of teacher. He was interesting, chatty when it came to sharing with his students, and above all good looking- which was rare for a professor. Yet, all of those fantasies regarding him had to stay secret due to the obvious age gap between the two of you, as well as the profession he practiced. As a teacher, he wasn’t allowed to have a personal link with any of his students, which you were both aware of. However, this unexpected extra class was soon going to take a tragic turn.

It didn’t take long for the classroom to fully empty itself, you and your teacher being the only remaining beings in the room which offered the two of you some privacy to speak about whatever subject your professor wished to refer to. Taking his glasses off his nose as you stepped closer to his desk, Tom then laid them down in front of his muscular forearms before rubbing his palms against one another. He seemed to be peculiarly frustrated, as if something was bothering his experienced soul. Yet you remained quiet, showing respect for this man as his lips parted calmly.

“I wanted to talk to you about your last essay. It’s brillant, really, but.. quite dark, I’m afraid.” The older man revealed, taking ahold of the piece of paper on which was written your perfectly creepy work. You often tended to get your inspiration out of the worst- which was something Tom simply couldn’t be aware of and which easily led him to worry. The teacher looked up at you as he handed you the paper, ocean blue eyes seeking for an explanation which didn’t want to show up. In the end, you felt forced to speak up in order to defend your case.

“It’s just a stupid piece of paper. It’s not like I’m telling you about my life or anything.” You responded on an upset tone, feeling defensive face to your professor’s intrusive questions. However, this wasn’t enough to reassure Tom’s worries. Standing up from his chair, he then allowed his bum to collide with the end of the desk as his arms crossed against his strong chest. He was now towering over you, still waiting for his mind to elaborate a proper diagnostic of its own regarding your mental state. “Y/n...” the older man started, earning a clueless stare coming from your shorter silhouette.

Now, this innocent gaze had cut your professor right through his sentence. He seemed absolutely destabilized face to this sight, lips parting without any words ever escaping his mouth. His eyes easily diverted to your lips, admiring the way they were composed and how they perfectly fitted your other facial features. Even if he would never willingly admit it, Tom had developed a crush on you throughout the classes you spent with him, listening to him, even if it all remained pretty much hidden away in his subconscious.

The grown man worried for your mental health, for your well being. He assumed that it was his role as a tutor to make sure that all of his students were doing well, which he had progressively began to doubt you were. Seeing how you weren’t moving, the professor decided to take the risk to move the back of his hand up to your cheek, ocean blue eyes still staring into yours as he caressed your skin. It was a risky move to make, which easily justified his light shakiness. Tom knew that he would only get one chance, and that if you ever turned out not to share the same feelings as he did, he could say goodbye to his job as a teacher.

Meanwhile, you couldn’t help but unexpectedly loose your capacity to move as you felt your teacher’s veiny hand brush against your cheekbone. However, you didn’t freeze out of fear, but out of pure enhancement and excitement. You were glad that he had proceeded to make the first move, as yourself wouldn’t ever had the required guts to attempt anything with a man who was twice your age, and most importantly your own teacher.

His hand now cupped your entire cheek, causing you to drop the irrelevant paper to the ground as Tom’s face began to dangerously near yours. He leant in, head slightly tilting to the side before his lips finally decided to collide against yours. It felt like an explosion of fireworks in your lower stomach, feeling as his second hand decided to take ahold of your face as he stood up from the desk. This kiss was soft yet genuine, as if Tom had decided to make sure the territory wasn’t hostile before he could fully explore it.

When he pulled away, his thumbs simply began to brush against your cheekbones as your eyes locked, the two of you sharing unspoken words through your respective orbs only. The two of you wanted one another, desperately, and you were now irrevocably in love with him. This kiss had been the tilt which made you fall on the other edge, the tilt which allowed you to be set free from all the held backs you had forced down onto yourself regarding your professor. On another hand, your lack of hostility had managed to ease Tom’s anxious heart.

Leaning in again, he this once pressed a more intense kiss to your lips, body moving closer to yours until the two gently collided against one another. It felt heavenly, his touch and scent easily intoxicating and taking over your organism. Meanwhile, lust was progressively taking over your professor’s mind and body, his breaths becoming rougher as he pressed sloppy kisses against your mouth. Your lips parted, allowing his tongue to slide inside of your wet cave as the two of you continued to share a passionate kiss. His hands were soon to move down from your cheeks to your waist, feeling your curves with those large hands of his.

Unexpectedly, Tom ended up pulling away in order to focus onto the flesh of your neck, sending chills down your spine as his warm breath heated up your once chilly skin. He was getting more and more eager as seconds passed, anxiety still managing to hold your own desires back as your teacher seemed to be in charge of the situation for now. Progressively sneaking down, he began to lay kisses against your clothed chest and stomach, visibly looking forward to lift your shirt once he would’ve arrived all the way down to your crotch, aka his final destination.

You allowed shaky breaths to escape your lips, head tilting back before your face decided to divert down towards the sight of your literature teacher’s gorgeous curly hair. Hesitantly, your hand moved from his shoulder to his mane, caressing the smooth strands and curls which Tom interpreted as the green flag to lift your upper piece of clothing. However, upon feeling him now press kisses against your lower abdomen, you couldn’t help but grow fearful regarding your environment and surroundings.

“Wait-..” you suddenly stopped him in his track, his face looking up at you as his ocean blue eyes were filled with confusion yet understanding. He was ready to listen to whatever complain or worry you felt like laying on the table. Gasping softly, you bit onto the skin of your inner cheek before finally finding the strength to speak up. “Not here.” You begged, not being comfortable with having your first sexual intercourse in a classroom in which anyone could unexpectedly walk in. It wasn’t Tom’s fault, but simply the surroundings’.

Standing back up on his feet, your professor nodded in agreement before attempting to press another kiss to your lips. However, this once you decided to back away, denying his lustful proposal which left the teacher in shock. But above all, he seemed confused. “You’re driving me crazy.” He affirmed lowly, referring to how infatuated he was with your being; and the fact that you now stepped away from him felt just like a dagger digging into his heart. You found yourself biting down onto the skin of your inner cheek again, suddenly feeling nervous face to the man and his many propositions.

“Please. I need to see you again. Tonight.” After speaking those desperate words, the literature teacher reached down for your worksheet before taking ahold of a pencil, writing his address down on the back of the paper before handing it to you. His lips were parted, silent pants coming out of his mouth as anxiety and nervousness sent his emotions over the roof. In fact, he was simply scared that you would deny his proposition. Yet you took ahold of the worksheet and looked down at the words he had written onto the back of the copy, admiring how nice his handwriting was.

“Promise me you’ll come.” He begged, visibly looking forward to receive an oral confirmation in order to ease his worries. No words exited your body but a simple nod accompanied by a fainted smile, leading your teacher to return the same discreet gesture your face currently adorned. And just like that, you walked out of his classroom with your heart beating faster than it ever had before at the thought of seeing him again later tonight.

I hope you guys enjoyed this😏 might do a part two soon enough. I’m open to suggestions and crunchy details y’all would be looking forward to read about💥💳 Requested tags : @fa-me @delightfulheartdream

[alluringjae]

until dawn - ljn

part I | part II

⤑ summary: basic number one rule of the museum is not to touch the art. but no one told jeno that falling for one of them isn’t allowed either.

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 14k

⤑ genre: fluff, humor, angst | broke architecture major!jeno, historical figure!reader, college!au

⤑ warnings: jaemin mentions onlyfans as a joke, references to actual historical figures (some try to flirt with jeno lol) and literature, explicit language

⤑ author’s note: wow, i’ve had this idea for almost two years! this one was inspired by one of my favorite childhood movies, night at the museum. it definitely required a lot of research and brainstorming, and finally i brought it to life! it was so fun to play around with the characters, and even if majority of them are real people, this is all still fiction.

i also wanna mention one of my moots, marge for enlightening me about her life as an architecture major.

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome​ (dm me if you want to be added) 

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Dormitory rent was another thing to worry about aside from the inflated university tuition per semester. Although he’s lucky to have his parents backing him up already on it, paying the monthly rent for his dorm was the remaining objective on Jeno’s list.

Plus, money for food. The man was a heavy eater, following the whole “gym is life” mantra.

Splitting it already with two of his dorm mates turned best friends, Renjun and Jaemin, his plate felt lighter. But the question still lies: where on earth was he going to get the money?

He’s practically checked out every available part-timing job in university and anywhere near campus. Barista at the same café Jaemin works at, teaching assistant for an art school for kids, convenience store cashier, library assistant, all taken in a heartbeat. The burden of his friends paying his debt these past months took a toll on him, almost to the point he almost considered making an Onlyfans.

“Yah, just find something else! Part-timers are in demand right now!” Renjun intensely closed his laptop before his older friend gets any suggestive thoughts.

“I mean, you didn’t work out your body to look the way it is for nothing.” Jaemin pitched otherwise, lifting the front back up. “When do you want to start filming? Loads of chicks would dig a piece of you!”

The contradicting opinions of his friends were like the devil and angel debating on his shoulders. Useless, he gave this worry a rest and returned to drawing new plates. A common thing when you’re an architecture major. Those deadlines were nearing. Looks like he’ll pull another all-nighter again.

Good thing most of his classes were late in the morning until 6 pm.

As if someone from above heard his petition, Jeno saw a help wanted sign posted on the bulletin board outside of the university museum. He initially went there to document some artwork and architecture models from Greek and Roman times, further analyzing how they’re still apparent in modern buildings.

The sign explained the need for one part-timer from any college to cover the night shift of the museum due to the current night guard’s full semester absence. He only had to come in 3x a week, choosing his days since he was still a student. Even the pay was above average, considering that most part-timers never go beyond midnight. Jeno would, on the other hand, always staying for his projects or gaming with the boys. Drinking sometimes during late-night Fridays with his entire college crew.

The pay would leave him a load of extra cash for himself, thus he sent an application to the museum office right before he left. A week later, while he was out with the boys, he got a text from the office that they wanted to meet him again for a final interview first thing on Monday.

Perhaps it was having architecture as his course and a healthy physique that landed him the part-timer position. Mainly, the latter because guards required strong endurance and fighting skills when worse comes to worst. It would start at 9 pm until 6 am the following day, and there was a designated uniform of it too. Blue blazer with matching trousers, white dress top, and loafers.

Aside from the typical museum etiquette the head director instructed him about, there was an unofficial list of tips written on paper given from the night guard on leave when the director handed you over his box of office-related things.

Only read at the night guard office once you’re the remaining staff left.

He did as he was told like an obedient son, flipping the succeeding page.

 To my temporary replacement,

This part-timing job is nothing regular than the other jobs. You’ll witness things as you’ve never imagined them to be, almost like witchcraft. You’ll be lost and maybe frightened, or that’s how I felt the first time because no one led me through it all those years ago. Lucky for you, I made this small guide on how to properly take care of the place that the other staff doesn’t know about.

Before you proceed, I request you take a 5-minute stroll around the lobby first to understand what I’m talking about. After such, go back to the office or somewhere quiet then browse through the guide as quickly as you could.

Art is timeless here, so they need to be taken care of.

Good luck!

 Park Sanghoon

Night Guard on Leave

 Nothing could’ve prepared Jeno for what’s to come once he unlocked the office door. They say that art brings so much color to our life, allowing us to feel all sorts of emotions in a glimpse. But no one ever interpreted art to be literally alive and walking in the halls.

Behold, random wax figures and marble sculptures that he’s seen in the past roamed the hallways, as well as the paintings were interacting with each other side by side. Even the standee of a puppy from the entrance played fetch with one of those sculptures. He swore he looked like Hermes the messenger god from his arrow headpiece and sandals.

It made more sense why the guard on leave explained his feelings during the first day because it resembled Jeno’s. But unlike that guard, Jeno sucked it up. No one ever does well on the first day, even if others say otherwise. The first day was a learning experience, so he collected his thoughts even though the goosebumps triggered his body during that one rotation.

There was an indoor garden, already locked by the day guard earlier. The only room without any art piece, where students lounge to study the plants or relax in nature.

The sculptures section ahead, showcasing various fictional figures specifically from Greek mythology, chattered away about family drama and beliefs. The sculptures of Hades and Zeus, according to their title plate, argued relentlessly about power while Athena always intervened by shouting or even throwing arrows or daggers to any of the lightbulbs there.

That was one rule in the guide, but Jeno didn’t know yet until he came inside the room and swerved the attention of the arguing duo.

“Well, what do we have here?” Zeus, in the center, straightened his posture on his throne to present himself in a more regal way. “Are you perhaps the temporary replacement of Sir Sanghoon?”

“Sir Sanghoon’s stand-in is rather good looking, don’t you think?” Hera mused, stepping down from her throne beside Zeus to take a closer look at the taller male. Her cold fingers trailed his jaw until his chest, where his heart was beating intensely. She even pinched his toned bicep, mouthing wow.

“Truly handsome you are, my dear. So full of life, please introduce yourself to us.”

While Jeno introduced himself to everyone in that room, he answered any sorts of questions they had for him too. From his age, educational background, hobbies, Aphrodite just had to ask him if he had a girlfriend because he was that handsome.

“Nope, I’m single. With my degree in architecture, the requirements are so heavy I can’t even try dating.”

Mentioning his degree excited the gods, telling him how their people created and designed all these temples to house them and perform rituals. They loved it so much. This was a copy-paste of what Jeno learned from his history classes, and for a first, he’s hearing the perspective of the Greek gods.

Mind-boggling that he hasn’t fully freaked out yet. That’s what Athena anticipated when Sanghoon told her about his short leave, putting her in charge of everyone for the meantime while the replacement settled down.

The college museum was built during the late 70s as a gift from one of the alumni. It was for the purpose to preserve history and educate college students outside the classroom. The Greek mythology exhibit was the oldest one, making Athena have more seniority. Over her stay, she’s seen every new guard lose their senses during the first night. Some not even returning for a second night. She got used to every outcome, and so far, only 8 people lasted after the first night. A couple of students in the 70s and 80s, Sanghoon in the 90s, and now Jeno was one of them.

“Jeno, aren’t you terrified by us? You just got a job in a museum that comes to life every night, and it’s not a normal thing.”

“Well, I’m still shaken up about it. But it’s my first night, and it’s when I learn everything about the place from head to toe. Plus, I really need the money.”

“Money for what? But you’re young, a student even!”

“Yes, I am. However, I do pay for the rent in my dorm. So, this job is like my first big responsibility, and I want to perform well.”

Athena commended his sense of authority, capable of leading himself. She noticed how well-spoken and poised he is, respecting and listening to everything the gods and goddesses said even if they were nonsense. She never liked to compromise with her power, taking a while to like Sanghoon back in the day. Though Jeno looked like a natural leader on his first night. If he could take care of himself well, he’s skilled to take care of the rest in the museum as well.

Plus she had full control on the nights he won’t be there, especially the weekend.

With his potential, Athena mentored him the entire night about the gist of the entire museum. Every upcoming leader needs an intelligent mentor, right? She was naturally gifted with worthy leadership skills, managing Jeno like her own child.

Athena explained how the museum came to life, which was through a royal golden plate from the Oriental room. It was a gift from a popular sorceress in China to an affluent family from the Han dynasty, who wished them a long life after she was saved from invaders due to them. The plate preserved over time, becoming an artifact. Its power remained immortal, mutating to bring life wherever it goes. In this case, the museum since its arrival in the late 70s as well.

“That’s why the Oriental room must be locked always so no one could touch or break the plate.”

After she ordered Jeno to lock the mentioned room, alongside the Foreign Art Exhibit Room which he checked out for his class, she led him to the best view of the entire museum. Center of the second floor, where stairs were on both sides. Jeno marveled at the vivacious atmosphere, witnessing actual art living, breathing, and enjoying themselves.

“Unreal, right?” She leaned in the railing, scanning through the chatty paintings.

Jeno also leaned down, deep in thought and wonder. “Absolutely, Athena. How come no one knows about this? Art coming to life? It’ll invite more students to the museum.”

“That goes against a golden rule as a night guard in this museum.” She replied bluntly. “The life that goes on inside this museum at night must remain a secret to the public.”

Jeno predicted this kind of response, having watched too many films where anything supernatural mustn’t be revealed. Although he liked the advantage of knowing something this powerful, he’d never abuse it.

Athena’s intellect was beyond the world, seamlessly reading Jeno’s expression and what he was thinking. He had good intentions even if he’s a bit mischievous. She needed to keep a keen eye on him, but for now, he needed to explore on his own.

“Anyways, Sanghoon still left out some other details. So if you have any questions, I’ll be at my exhibit trying to shut my father and my uncle up again.”

“Can you not use any weapons to do so?”

“Can’t make any promises, Jeno.” She slyly cracked her knuckles and neck as if she was fighting another battle.

Jeno was silently left with himself, finally browsing through Sanghoon’s guide while seated in one of the museum benches.

It consisted of 25 rules, wherein the first two rules consisted of locking up. One, for the doors and gates of the museum, so no art piece could escape. If they do, they will turn into dust when the sun is out according to Athena. Two, locking the Oriental and Foreign Art Rooms, which was already done.

Rule #5: Let Mochi the puppy from the lobby tag along with you; feed him treats if you have any.

On cue, the little guy barked from the corridor and raced to his side. Jeno carried him, babying him for a little and letting him lick his face a few times before putting him back down. He’s surely going to the pet store first thing in the morning with the museum allowance the director gave him.

Since he was on the second floor, he read and followed the rules that fit in before returning downstairs. On the other side of the floor were the wax figures exhibitions: one for prominent men in history while the other for prominent women. Well, more people to get acquainted with.

It’s the exchange of gasps and profanities he received when he chose the latter room. Seeing their faces, these were women he’s learned in school and online. Now in the (fake) flesh. Except for one girl he’s never heard of, unbothered in her corner sketching her life away in a sketchpad. But before he could check who she was, a suggestive touch on his arm distracted him.

“My, oh my, Hera wasn’t lying when she said that the new night guard was a fine specimen.” By her dark blue eyeshadow and eyeliner with the snake-like crown, Cleopatra studied him like he was one of the most renowned art pieces. Even patting his chest, abdomen, and arms with both her hand, Jeno caught a suggestive glint in her eyes and a smirk across her red lips.

Rule #13: Reject Cleopatra’s seductive advances at all costs.

“Goodness, Cleopatra. It’s only his first night, and you’re scaring him.” With her accent, round eyes, and a chic formal outfit, she carried a posh aura while unhesitatingly scolding the Queen of the Nile.

“Come on now, Diana. He’s stunning, who wouldn’t go after him?” If no one knew her, you’re not reading up on your world history. She’s said to have been a lovely and intelligent woman, gone so soon. Jeno definitely understood why after she detached Cleopatra’s raging hands off him.

Rule #14: Treat Princess Diana and Hera like your own parent.

“Your highness.” Jeno nodded at her out of respect, only making her chuckle uncontrollably.

“No need to address me like that, love. Now, come here.” She widened her arms for Jeno, hugging him amiably. He sensed her motherly warmth, accepting such a gesture. “You remind me so much of my youngest son, Harry. Welcome to the night shift of the museum, love.”

Similar to the Greek mythology exhibit, he introduced himself and responded to any questions that the women wax figures may have. Good for him, they weren’t crossing any borders and kept him at ease.

“A student like you working at night to pay rent?” Katherine Johnson, an African-American NASA mathematician whose calculations led to the success of a lot of famous spaceflights, cannot believe her ears. Students must only focus on school, nothing else. “What about your studies, boy?”

Rule #15: Engage in academic discussions with Katherine Johnson whenever you can.

“Most of my classes are in the afternoon, Miss Katherine. So I’ll sleep in the entire morning later and study during my breaks.”

“Mr. Jeno, what do you like to do outside of work?” Anne Frank, a German-Dutch teenager whose revolutionary diary that documented her life in hiding from the Nazis gained popularity worldwide after publication dreamily asked from her section of the exhibit. Her life was robbed of greatness merely because of her religion and war.

Rule #16: Bring delicious food or gifts to Anne Frank.

“Well, I like to bike with my friends, exercise, and draw whatever comes into mind!”

Everyone he’s met so far acquired pleasure in knowing about who he was and his passion for architecture, ridding the “freaking out” phase Athena assumed he had. Yet not everyone in this exhibit bothered to give him a shot.

Jeno’s attention from Anne talking about her crush towards Peter van Daan, a teenage boy who lived with her, switched to the section beside her, where an unacquainted figure was zealously sketching as if something was due to the following day. It reflected how he’d look when he’s cramming one of his plates due to first thing in the morning. While he properly excused himself, he quietly gazed at the way this woman scrunched her eyebrows when she erased something then drew it again. She was someone he’s never seen or heard before, reading the information plate in front of him about her.

 (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Explorer and Author. (1854-1900)

 Wealthy women in the Victorian Era only served one purpose in society: marry a man from a prestigious family, have his children and join whatever interests they have. However, for (Y/N), she wasn’t going to conform to those standards.

Born into the affluent house of (Y/L/N), she was the youngest of 8 children. She was said to be the kindest and sweetest sibling out of everyone, not capable of hurting anyone or anything. She said it herself that she can’t throw away a dying flower because it’s too painful. While 5 of her older brothers were sent to school, she stayed at home with her 2 older sisters Cecilia and Amelia where she learned how to play the piano and take voice lessons from impressive teachers. Due to the huge age gaps between them (12 and 8 respectively), she never felt close with them. She was only closest to the 6th and 7th siblings, her twin brothers Benjamin and Liam whom she only had a 2-year gap. She was also best friends with one of the scullery maids her age, Lily, because she found her amusing that than the boring rich girls her mother forced to interact with.

The moment it bothered her that she wanted to live a more meaningful life was when Amelia got married. She was 12 years old at the time, and it left her as the last unwed daughter in the family. Badly did she want to revolt, which she gradually did. Instead of practicing piano, she’d sneak in to read every book in her father’s office. She secretly studied the notes of her older brothers from school and even dressed as a boy numerously thanks to Benjamin and Liam to join their classes or field trips.

This was her routine up until the age of 18 when she stomped her foot down and expressed to her parents that she wasn’t going to let Victorian society dictate her. The night before her parents were bound to send her to her great aunt’s home down South to sort her out, she successfully snuck out her house thanks to Lily, Benjamin, and Liam. It’s another good thing that she saved a lot of money for that moment.

Off she went across Europe first, then sailed to America and even parts of Asia. Initially under the name Lilibe, coined from picking the first two letters of her brothers and best friend, she documented her days and nights through her journals and sketches. Over time, she sent them to her brothers for publication. It started the franchise, “The Adventures of the Young and Free Lilibe”. There are 10 books under it.

She learned French, Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, and Korean by herself as she made friends from those places. It was rare of someone like her to be fluent in Oriental languages, surprising locals every time she spoke to them. She was the only explorer to vividly describe life in different Asian lands in English, talking about their history and culture. With her accurate drawings of diverse citizens and their daily lives, it educated a lot of those living back home in Europe about them rather than speaking lowly of them.

In Seoul did she stayed the longest until her death from pneumonia at the young age of 46.

In her posthumous work, Finding Me, did she reveal her real identity, dedicating it to her parents whom she apologized and expressed her love for them despite everything that occurred between them. She talked about the last years of her life in Seoul, how locals were so nice and inviting to her, and how she adopted kids instead of having her own through the years.

“It’s not because I never found love in men. It’s more like I found love in doing things I’m passionate about. Traveling, learning new cultures, it outweighed the human need of romance.”

Due to her thrill in taking risks and embarking on wondrous adventures, it brought inspiration to a lot of young girls pressured to marry at that time to pursue what they really want.

 A remarkable background you had, Jeno contemplated. How come no one discussed her in his classes?

You kept brushing the bangs of your hair back as it fell repeatedly. But you got irritated instantly because it sabotaged your drive, you brought out a hairpin from her desk and attached it on both sides. But when you shifted your angle of focus, the corner of your eye locked with Jeno’s attentive gaze.

He didn’t flinch, even he should’ve. He wasn’t one to linger his look on anyone’s physical appearances, but your story and the passion on your face as you sketched mesmerized him. He was charmed, to say the least.

“Uhm, hello there?” You broke the silence due to your uneasiness about it. What’s his deal?

Jeno bowed, reintroducing himself to you. As soon as his presence settled in the room when Cleopatra attempted to hit on him, you could’ve cared less. Though this man was a first for you, a first in a long time as all guards would feel intimidated by you during the first night. Even your sharp tongue didn’t faze him. “Staring is rude, sir. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“She did,” He wandered through the exterior of your section, by the fence that separated you and him. Not breaking eye contact, his eyes turned into moon crescents as he smirked with trouble. “Though she also told me to appreciate the art too.”

Snorts noisily exhaled from Cleopatra, who took the center section of the exhibit, succeeded by Princess Diana’s whispered gasps and Katherine’s side-eyeing Anne beside her while she taught her math. That was an odd way a guard conversed with you, but Jeno was merely doing what the rules stated. Partly, he was impressed with his cheesy pick-up line, partly embarrassed because he’s never spoken like this to anyone.

Rule #17: Act playfully around (Y/N) (Y/L/N) to break the tension; she’s a harsh one.

There was irony between the information he read about your life versus the wax model. Even when you faced sexism and ran away according to your history, never were you impolite to anyone in your life. You couldn’t even kill a lurking fly when it roams around your food! It showed Jeno a possibility that as much as you’re just a wax version of someone famous in the past, maybe the external environment around you had a heavy influence too.

“You fool!” His confidence exasperated you, urging you to persistently throw balls of paper with your failed sketches at him. No one dared to talk to you like that, most especially a night guard. “Take that for your comment!”

If you thought he’d scram away and act repentant, you were proven wrong. His reflexes were parallel to a spider, capturing every single paper ball without fail. Up and down his body went, one arm held on to them and no more were left on your part. Never a single defeat during the first meeting in years, but that seemed to alter now.

“Give up already, Ms. (Y/L/N)?” Jeno remarked vibrantly as he discarded your mess in the trash bin behind him. If he managed to get everyone to like him tonight, he wanted to make sure to have you onboard too.

Whatever agenda he had, you weren’t up for it. You’d treat him the same way you usually treated Sanghoon for the past 20 something years: cold and ignorant. From your stool, you left your comfortable position to come face to face with this man. He better be grateful for that barrier in between you, or else you would’ve caused mayhem.

“Never in your wildest dreams, Mr. Lee.” Your mouth gave a half-smile, clenching on the bars to liberate your annoyance. Before you could fend back, that’s when Princess Diana intervened between your heated dialogue.

“Oh heavens, children!” She stood by the barrier, mostly to protect the newbie Jeno with her body. “(Y/N), he just wanted to know you. Must you be so cross?”

This Princess Diana embodied all the traits the real one had: soft-spoken, intelligent, and protective. She’s gotten so used to your gradual temper, staying on standby whenever anyone tried to mess with you. Even if it was harmless, you could get so mean!

“Diana, he was mocking me! Saying such a sleazy phrase as if to amuse me, ha! Not a chance, I hate people like that.”

“Not us women though; you just despise men in general.”

“And you’re absolutely right!” With a smug smile, you greedily rejoiced. “Anyways, escort this disgrace out. I’m not in the mood to get angry when I have a lot of inspiration on mind right now.”

While you resumed your sketching to let go of that extra steam, Jeno was left with Diana who apologized on your behalf. Your pride was too high to do that, and as the motherly figure among them, she always took care of things in your exhibit.

“I’m so sorry for that, Jeno. She’s not really like this, but I know how much you tried your best. It was quite a fresh spectacle honestly.”

Whatever was responsible for your abrasiveness, Jeno yearned to know. He couldn’t understand who you were yet even knowing your life story. All he wanted was to get along with everyone. It was the key to successfully maintain his job for the next 6 months.

“How can I make her come around then?”

A demanding question that no one had a solid answer to. Diana recalled how much Sanghoon didn’t let your dislike for him get to him, maintaining a respectful boundary in between each other after his past attempts. Though with Jeno, observing how he riled you up and your focus entirely on him, she hasn’t seen anything like it since the 80s.

There was something in Jeno that may just get you to warm up and return to your kind nature.

“Aside from acting playful, as Sanghoon recommended, I can think of two ways, love.” By the doors of her exhibit, where Jeno was already waltzing the corridor to visit other rooms, she suggested smartly. “One, argue back to her opinions. She hates whenever anyone tries to get her way, but boy, you’re just as wise as her. No one was brave enough to peeve on her until you came.”

“How about the second way?”

“Do your research, love. Aside from libraries, you have those small technology devices that allow you to search up anything.” She tousled Jeno’s brown locks as if it were her actual son’s. Some habits just don’t die when you do.

“Brush up on your history, Jeno. Not only will it help you with (Y/N), but it’ll serve purposefully with the other art pieces here.”

Boy, he was ready to crash in his bed for a few hours after all those interactions. His introverted nature required to be revitalized.

Towards the last hours of his shift, the art pieces who’ve strolled in the first floor lessened his plate by not leaving any major clutter behind. As if she listened to him, Athena didn’t break any lightbulbs too.

His main highlight would be meeting the men of the historical male section, who flaunted a more humorous ambiance. Freddie Mercury from Queen insisted he drink a glass of his wine and to bring more wine next time, which he denied since it would against Sanghoon’s rules. King Sejong the Great and Martin Luther King Jr. argued back and forth over the most random things (pineapple on pizza specifically), while Steve Jobs mediated whenever one crossed the line. Meanwhile, William Shakespeare was too preoccupied in his writing and speaking to himself about his books, wondering how to improve them.

During one of his breaks today, he multitasked drawing a new plate with his research on every art piece to know them better. He started with the exhibit of sculptures of the Greek gods and goddesses, which were Zeus, Hera, Hades, Athena, Hermes, Aphrodite, Poseidon, Artemis, Dionysus, and Circe. They weren’t the complete roster because the rest were in other museums across the globe, as said by Athena before sunrise. The majority of them he knew what they were in charge of, but the rest were foggy to his knowledge. Typing away and jotting notes down, he started downloading his favorite jazz songs too.

Rule # 4: Play jazz music to the paintings on the first floor so they can relax and dance within their frames.

Circe is a minor goddess, the daughter of the sun god Helios. She’s recognized for her versatility in incantations and herbs, capable of transforming people into animals. From Jeno’s perspective, she’s mostly within her space with her journals and magic wand, trying new spells or combinations of herbs. For the latter, he had to keep a closer eye on.

Rule #9: Don’t let Circe, god of potions, into the Oriental Room to get plants and herbs.

He discovered that Dionysus is the god of wine, happiness, and theatre. That’s why every god in the exhibit had full wine glasses during their gathering. It also added up why Freddie Mercury always comes to him when his bottles run empty, though he mustn’t go overboard.

Rule #18: Make sure Freddie Mercury doesn’t get too drunk from the wine of Dionysus; he might make numerous scenes if he does.

After his lone studying session, he took a short trip to the pet and convenience stores to buy food. He got a dumbfounded look from Jaemin back in the dorm room, who was studying for one of his quizzes in Biology in a couple of hours.

“Woah what’s with this stash? Is it for yourself or something?”

“The museum surprisingly has a lot of tasks needed to be done at night. And no, not from my wallet but the allowance they gave me before you get a heart attack.” Jeno plopped on his solo bed, covering his face with a pillow.

“Thank God.” A relaxed sigh escaped Jaemin’s lips, taking back his balled-up fists meant for his roommate. “I think I would’ve stormed that boring museum if they made your broke ass spend a cent.”

“Boring?” Jeno removed the cushion hastily, eyeing his busy and coffee-high roommate. The scent of black coffee from his mug spread in the room, assuming that this upcoming test was testing his roommate’s patience again.

Not even trying to look at Jeno while reviewing his handwritten notes, Jaemin continued giving his opinion. “Museum culture is dead, Jeno. Not everyone has the time to roam around one, plus people can always look up the artifacts online these days.”

People were entitled to their own opinions on numerous things, though Jeno begged to differ with his roommate’s. Especially after witnessing the magic of the night shift, you shouldn’t merely judge a book by its cover. In this case, you shouldn’t judge an artwork or art piece merely on its history and legacy.

Maybe because his roommate was in the science department, he thought this way. A lot of art students regularly visit the museum both for fun and for their classes, and Jeno was one of them. Though he was too sleepy to explain his side, he let it slide for now and snoozed throughout the late afternoon.

An hour before the start of his shift, Jeno promenaded the emptying museum to inspect anything else he might’ve missed out on from last night. There were two areas according to his rotation, both in the first floor.

One was the Diorama Room. Divided into 4 sections, highlighting some of the well-known ancient civilizations in world history. Ancient Egypt and Ancient China to your left, Ancient Rome and Ancient Maya to your right. They acted as if they were the actual people during those times, giving Jeno a laugh when they cracked jokes in between. Such tiny figures, yet the rule for them said otherwise.

Rule # 7: The small figurines in the Diorama Room are feisty, so make sure they don’t fight with one another again.

The remaining room left was the Theater Room. He’s never been here, though his art friends have for film festivals held by the university.

The interior of it was set to look like an actual cinema place you’d see in a mall. There was a mini lobby with a few posters of iconic films over the years. Singin’ in the Rain, Back to the Future, Titanic, those were some framed and hung on the wall. There were two other doors there: one leading to the chairs and the other where the movie projector was. The latter room was pretty riveting, wherein you can choose to watch old short films through an 88mm film projector or switch to a cd player for the newer releases.

Back to those posters, they weren’t an exception to the magic and a simple rule was left for Jeno to do.

Rule # 10: Chatter with the movie posters in the lobby of the Theater Room; they love meeting new faces.

Since there wasn’t anyone checking out the Art Rooms on the second floor, he closed them. Though as he was about to lock the Oriental Room, the ravishing plants around the royal plant appealed his interest. Said to hold magical properties from his research, Jeno was reminded of another rule to keep in mind for later.

Rule # 3: The fake flowers in the Oriental Room come to life too at night, so when no one is lurking, water it diligently.

Instead of lounging at Sanghoon’s office first, he brought his important items to the front desk of the lobby and continued sketching his plate. He wanted to watch the art come back alive with his two eyes. Usually, he’d have coffee when he does his work, but due to another crucial rule in the guide, he’d rather not take the risk.

Rule # 6: The lobby room can get rowdy, so keep any drinks away from important items.

On the dot, the cries and yawns from the art pieces around him reverberated. Closing his sketchpad, his night guard mode was on. Connecting his laptop on the aux cord of the museum speakers, he tapped play on his playlist of jazz music that’ll last for the entire shift duration. As the first notes flooded the entire vicinity, sounds of joy left the lips of each painting. Some were humming, dancing, and even singing along.

“You can never go wrong with Frank Sinatra!”

“This Jeno lad really did the heavens’ work quick!”

Having the sense of accomplishment on his sleeve, the small barks of his fluffy pal reached closer to him. As he kneeled to find him, he was only taken by surprise as Mochi excitedly jumped on him. Tumbling over, Jeno chuckled innocently as Mochi licked his face numerously. This puppy was friendly, easily liking everyone at first sight. He wasn’t as choosy like Daegal, the puppy of his friend Chenle studying Business Management.

Once he composed himself and cradling the dog like his own, he fed him a dog treat from the desk.

“Good boy, Mochi!” He rubbed his fur while the puppy happily munched on it, ready to fulfill more of his duties.

He skipped the Greek mythology exhibit since Athena was doing a good job not letting anyone go overboard with their powers, though he’ll check in again in a few hours. He met the posters of the theater room, who were celebrities he grew up watching on tv. Sanghoon was right; they were the kinder group in the entire museum because they were more laidback.

On to the second floor, all the female wax figures lounged by the male section due to another lecture from Shakespeare. Although the guide informed him that most of the time it could get boring, this lecture was more stimulating. On his platform, he elaborated with conviction the lines of one of his famous books, Romeo and Juliet. A must-read book back in his high school days, there’s no way Jeno could’ve missed that out.

From the looks of it, Jeno perceived that Shakespeare was performing spoken word poetry due to him reading only Romeo’s lines while Cleopatra read Juliet’s beside him. This kind of show was one of the sources of entertainment to these figures, so Jeno leaned by the side of the door to listen. After all, the famous author of it was a few feet away. Cleopatra channeled such a naïve character to her ability, absentmindedly saying as she clutched her chest.

“O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?”

“'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose-”

The flow of an engaged Cleopatra was abrupted by the loud yell from Shakespeare in front, specifically to an amused Jeno. “Jeno, my boy! Welcome back!”

Such an announcement diverted everyone’s attention to the back, some running to Jeno to give their respective greetings. It’s rare for everyone to feel at ease with a new guard, taking them weeks to approach them due to the intimidation. Though Jeno’s bright presence felt welcoming, so they accepted it. Perhaps it’s because of his youth, it reminded them of theirs too.

Shakespeare highly requested (or forced) Jeno to take his part as Romeo, intrigued to watch someone younger read his lines. Since most of the male wax figures were aged, it never satisfied Shakespeare so he jumped on this opportunity as quickly as he could. With the roaring cheers from the other figures, Jeno might as well give it a try. It wasn’t like his friends were here to clown him like they usually would if he did something humiliating.

Jeno shockingly liked this activity as he wasn’t much of a performer on stage, but someone who does the behind-the-scenes of it. He realized as he read the lines from the book Shakespeare asked him to follow along with why people held university-wide spoken word shows a few times per semester. He was no actor, but it’s delightful to have tried it at least once in his life.

“O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” As if the edge of the platform was the balcony of Juliet (or Cleopatra rather), he knelt as he ardently spoke his lines. He’s emphasizing this rush of uncontrollable desire for her, rambling whatever he would do to get the girl.

“What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?” Cleopatra questioned from her chair, inching closer to the young boy. Even outside character will she attempt to charm Jeno, but Jeno was quick to catch it and kept his distance.

“The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.”

“I gave thee mine before thou didst request it, and yet I would it were to give again.”

“Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?”

“But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

Everyone was condensed by their top-notch acting, as if this was the actual play unfolding before them. Jeno wasn’t so sure how he got himself in character without preparation, yet he felt what his character felt. He comprehended the material a lot better now than when he was still in high school.

However, there was always that one killjoy to ruin the heartfelt mood.

“How dumb is it to say that you’re in love after the first glance?” You opposed, putting the spotlight on you. This book was said to be a classic in literature, but as you matured physically and mentally, you could no longer agree with it. “Isn’t love the same thing that killed Romeo and Juliet in the end?”

Remembering what Princess Diana told him, he wasn’t going to let this pass. He wanted to give a piece of his mind too, caring less if the show must be paused. “Love is an emotion we don’t ask to feel. It’ll come to us when we least expect it, even when the timing of it can be crucial.”

“Of all the people Juliet could’ve gone for, it just had to be the enemy.” In all the years you’ve been brought to life, no one dared to test your opinions because they were aware of your intelligence, from the streets to the books. When someone bark, you’d bite back. Hard. “With all due respect, I love your works, Shakespeare. Yet the fate you’ve given these two at a young age was grave, could’ve you given them a better outcome or another character to love instead?”

“Giving them extra characters to love won’t address the horrific life fact that love can be dangerous. Regardless of what status you’re in, you can’t stop the attraction towards someone. The heart wants what it wants.” Jeno pressed his hand to his chest, pumping it a bit. Unknown to you and him, the audience found more entertainment in your argument. Anne, who was munching on the popcorn Jeno gave her earlier, passed the snack to Katherine who just couldn’t stop watching.

If this man wanted a challenge, you’re all ears. Who was he to compete with you? Was he not intelligent to know who you are?

“So are you insinuating that we just go with the flow? Be a slave to our emotions too and let them dictate our next motives?”

“Slave is such a strong word to use, (Y/N). But it’s not like we can’t choose who want to love because we actually can. In this case, Romeo chose Juliet and vice versa.”

“But what happens if the person you choose doesn’t choose you in return?”

“At least you tried your best, right? It’ll hurt like hell though, but it won’t last forever.” From his kneeling position, Jeno strutted his way with confidence. Trying not to let it mess with you, your extreme stare at him as if they’ll shoot lasers. Inches away from you, Jeno declared. “Love always has risks, that’s a given. Romeo and Juliet still tried and followed their hearts despite the downfall. But it was a needed downfall to get the message across.”

“No one would be that foolish to risk their lives for love though, right? Life is so precious, why would they do such a thing?”

“Even if they knew what their lives were without each other, they still preferred living a life where they were both in the picture. Therefore, they tried all they could that time because the regret of not doing anything at all carries a heavier burden.”

Whenever anyone argued with you, their debating points they spat back would further piss you off because most of the time, it never made sense. Back when this rude man told you to go home and be a wife in your earlier years of exploring, you civilly told him to fuck off, kicking his balls because he cornered you in an alley. For the first time, a man who tried to challenge you actually made sense. Was it because he lived in a modern time, where minds were more open? Because of the amount of sexism you faced in the past, you’ve turned a blind eye to the current period.

But your high pride maintained, not submitting into anything he said. “I still think it’s stupid to risk your life for love. There’s no such thing as having only one true love anyways, and you have to be alive to see it.”

“Fair point, but again, the feeling of regret and carrying it your entire life doesn’t fade easily. It’ll make you reflect on the what-ifs, and it’s heart-wrenching.” Jeno digressed, walking around you in circles. He’s intentionally trying to drive you mad, but he could care less. He wanted someone to put you in your place and open your mindset. “The question stands: would you rather try and go for it even knowing its risks or regret not even trying for the rest of your existence? Quite ironic for me to ask you that, don’t you think?”

Past the information board, Jeno researched more of your life history online. Your whole life was grounded on risks, from breaking the standards of your society, leaving your family and home country, to fending yourself from disrespectful men. Rather than living the original life expected from you, you chose not to because it didn’t make you happy. Such a risktaker he knew you are, but with the topic of love, he wondered why you were on a fence with it. Though some records stated you’ve had rendezvouses with a few men in your journeys, love was never in the equation. The single life was what you chose and you were more than satisfied, plus your adopted kids filled that supposed void anyways.

This man may have studied your history, but so much he still doesn’t know. Information that never made the books because you chose not to write or tell anyone about it. Aside from the discomfort growing in your chest, everyone else felt the awkward tension when you were lost for words.

Never been defeated in an argument, until tonight. Your mind lost its drive and willpower.

“Touché, Lee Jeno.” Indeed, his name you’re acquainted with. Numerously passed around in your exhibit, mostly from the lips of Cleopatra, who’d fantasize all the graphic things she would do to him. Too much information, least of your interest. “Please excuse me. I’d like to work on my sketches to ease my mind.”

As you quietly exited the room, an all too familiar sculpture leaned against the railings overseeing one side of the museum. Just like you, she hated accepting defeat or compromises. She always rooted for you to win. With a faint chuckle, “Facing a loss for the first time, I see.”

“Don’t even lecture me about it, Athena. I’m still fired up, and I need to relax.”

“Jeno is a different breed, isn’t he?” She stuck to your side, strolling wherever your feet led you.

“Different as in he’s a man? Yes. What else is there to it?”

“Men these days aren’t as trashy as those back in the day though. Shouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“Last time I did, it destroyed my heart. I’m not allowing myself to let men in even as a friend, Athena.”

She knew exactly what you were referring to, not touching on it further. No way will you let heartbreak or disappointment from men bother you. Even Sanghoon’s sweet company took a while to tolerate. You really needed to sketch this out on your pad right now, excusing yourself from Athena’s presence. Isolation wasn’t new to you; it’s what’s protecting your entire being. Immortal as you are, you had to recover from the past pain so the next decades won’t feel as brash.

You hoped to return to your old self when you were a fresh new figure in the 70s. So naïve, only proud of your accomplishments, and purely happy.

While Jeno continued to finish his scene in respect to Shakespeare, he received a standing ovation for his mini-show. Cleopatra didn’t expect such talent from him, growing fonder of the younger male. Whether she seduces him or not, he was never afraid to try new things and she liked that about him.

“Bravo, love!” Princess Diana praised, clapping at him.

Although Jeno appreciated all this positive attention, his thoughts bounced back to your and your stance on love. The debate earlier was just out of being playful, interested to hear your opinions. Though, he’s worried that he might’ve offended you. It may have been time to finally witness something like that, but then again, he was sure he touched something personal to you. No matter how you tried to fight it off, your eyes can’t lie. Staring down at him, there was pain beneath it. Your eyebrows scrunched to the center, thinking deeply yet remained utterly speechless.

A win he didn’t feel good about.

“It’s time she encountered something new in the years she’s been here. Give her some space tonight, then try again to reach out to her. Kindly this time; I’m not in the mood for another brawl that could end up like the Greek gods’ past fights downstairs.”

These clever words shared by Katherine loitered his mind for the rest of the night, eventually going back to finishing his current plate since everyone was behaving well. As great it is to get the approval of the majority, he tried brainstorming ways to make you like him too.

He understood the whole “men are trash” concept in today’s modern society, but if he could prove it wrong to at least one person, it would be you. Whatever is holding you back, he only hoped that you’d let it go. Questionably unsure as to why he was so persevering, he concluded that it was so he could perform his job better as the night guard. Set higher standards than Sanghoon even.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Weeks passed, and his attempts continued to be unsuccessful.

The capability for you to ignore his efforts remained strong, whether he was pestering you over small things or debating with you again about anything. Life, books, morals, the two of you always head butt each other. Anything good he did, you searched for a flaw in it. Whatever acts he’s tried and continued trying, not one flinch from you ever.

Even if that’s his state with you, his job no longer felt stressful nor strenuous. He’d try to sleep more on days he was off-duty. Although the fatigue of staying beyond his usual sleeping time was inevitable, he compromised to take a nap lasting an hour or two when the art pieces weren’t acting frisky.

Plus, there have been multiple times they adapted to any alterations so his physical well-being wouldn’t fall sick. Per order of Princess Diana and Hera, who by instinct became his motherly figures here, only wanting what’s best for the kids.

He became accustomed to everything that went on at night, discovering things on his own without Sanghoon’s guide. Anne talked about how much she missed biking in her neighborhood, so one night, Jeno snuck his bike inside and let her use it around the first floor. With proper monitoring so none of the paintings would be unbothered or pieces wouldn’t tumble.

Hermes the messenger god was fluent in every language possible, so every so often, Jeno would freely speak to him in Korean because sometimes he felt he could explode by the amount of English he used every night. Bilingual things, you know. He knew you were multilingual too, but for obvious reasons, he couldn’t converse with you.

Because Jeno was heavily favored, that should’ve been enough to push through his night shifts before the end of the semester. In addition to that, the hourly rate was above the average of whatever Jaemin or Renjun was earning. For the past 2 months, Jeno paid upfront first, even paying back all his debts. It almost made Renjun want to switch jobs with him.

“Trust me, Renjun. You don’t want it, being the lowkey scaredy cat you are.”

Work no longer felt like work, and that’s what everyone aspired to feel. Nevertheless, he tended to worry over you mid-shift, glancing at you from his side view. Sketching, reading, and writing were your default actions. No matter how many times he said to himself not to let your dislike for him affect him, it’d always backfire.

Why were you so cold?

What made you lose your fire from all the research he did about your lively personality?

When morning arrived and he gathered his stuff, you’d be the last thing he’ll check on. Frozen in your standing pose, smiling as you held a book and a pencil, he detected how fake it was. Bystanders would only assume your happiness was from your achievements, though Jeno’s gut firmly pried that something grand overpowered that happiness. And definitely, not in a good way.

Out of all the art pieces, he investigated on you the most. Skimming through every material in the library, endless searching on the net, even asking professors from the History department thanks to Renjun, he did whatever he could. People may already think he was obsessed with who you are, but only little did they know.

Another plate was done and submitted, and he promised himself to look you up one last time before surrendering. For someone who’s rarely given up on a challenge, this one was really out of his control. Maybe he should follow Sanghoon’s footsteps now.

You lived centuries before him, and there’s limited material of you left. Rather than learning of your adventures again, he dug through what things you liked over your life. Maybe by giving one of them, it’ll lessen the tension from a 100 to 99. Maybe you preferred gifts over words, he’ll never know until he tried.

Boom.

According to one of your journal entries, there’s a fond liking you’ve acquired for lavender roses from Benjamin and Liam when they visited you in Paris in secret because of how much you missed them. It went both ways, praying your family ties could be recovered.

It’s a good thing he needed to refill his stock of items for the art pieces so he could pass by the flower store a few blocks away from his dorm. That night, without further words, he graciously offered you a fresh lavender rose in between your new sketching session.

“I may not know exactly why you’re spiritless around me, but with this rose, I hope we could work something out.”

Your frigid face of disdain, keeping your chin high and squinting your eyes with judgment, began to crumble down.  Of all things as a peace offering, he gave you that? Then again, it’s not like he knew that an item you liked so much became something you’ve grown to hate and why so. No history books could teach him that.

Vulnerability was a normal thing, yet feared by many. Once one uncovered your weak spot, they could harm you. You still couldn’t trust Jeno fully, not willing to show your helplessness nor were you ever going to tell him. Hidden from his knowledge, everyone else including Sanghoon were familiarized as to why this kind of flower tormented you.

You sprinted like thunder out the exhibit room to wherever it’s private to control your senses. You may not have a physical heart, but your emotions were just as actual as a human’s. You needed to regulate your panting breath. In the past decades, you’ve not shed a singular tear but the cycle broke when they streamed out your miserable eyes like a flowing river. Quiet sobs, an empty corner near the fire exit was where your wobbly legs faltered, the painful memories of the past replayed in your head. Once beautiful, but now an agonizing reminder of what could’ve been.

Katherine, Cleopatra, and Anne were swift on their feet to hunt you down, anxious of what you may do next. Seeing or the mention of these flowers still affected you despairingly. Sanghoon must’ve forgotten to write them down, or perhaps he didn’t know either about this fact during all the years he’s worked there.

It’s one of the biggest secrets of his museum. By the clueless face Jeno had with his eyebrows raised, mouth, and small eyes slightly open, he repeatedly asked what he did wrong and adding that he never meant to harm you. Indeed, they knew that yet what occurred involved a secret in the list of museum secrets. Confidential only between art pieces according to Athena, none of the male wax figures spoke a word, only pitying the boy.

“I wasn’t here yet that time, but they said that it was once beautiful, but now it’s a rough period.” With hesitation, Princess Diana chose to reveal it to rid Jeno’s misery. She didn’t mind having to argue about it with Athena later on, as this may further affect the two of you later on.

“A long time ago in the early ‘80s, there was a night guard around your age named Junmyeon. Also, a college student, trying to make ends meet. He did it for 3 years until he graduated. Though within his stay, not only was he such a delight to everyone, he broke a golden rule in the guide. I believe you do know the guide much more now, Jeno?”

“Yes, I do, Princess Diana. Memorized it even, but which one specifically?” Jeno’s desperate eyes pleaded, only hoping for the best and to fix what he messed up.

“You can form friendships with the art pieces, but nothing more.” Princess Diana replied bitterly. “Junmyeon was an aspiring painter, a different path from his business-oriented family. He was seen as the black sheep. She resonated with him, sharing the burden and lifting it by doing whatever fun they could in the museum. In time, they both fell in love with each other; they were each other’s first loves.”

“Why must something beautiful like love be broken? It’s not like you can control it. That golden rule makes no sense.”

“It does, unfortunately. Wax figures like me cannot age, while humans like you can. None of them could accept the reality, always pushing it away. Until Junmyeon’s last week in university, he broke it off with her unexpectedly. From there, (Y/N) was heartbroken for decades. With heartbreak, giving the cold shoulder and bitterness followed. Then with the lavender rose you gave that she used to love became a flower that she associated with Junmyeon too because he gave her one almost every night for those past 3 years.”

Things finally added up, and the guilt in Jeno’s gut expanded. His major lightbulb moment was a major failure.

“Has Junmyeon ever returned to try and win her back?”

“Well, there was one time he did come back for an art exhibition for his paintings in the 2000s. I was already here, then he had a woman around his shoulder with an adolescent boy holding his hand. He roamed around our exhibit and kept gawking at (Y/N). We may be asleep, but we remember the conversations exchanged in the room. So, his son then asked him if he knew who she was.”

“What did he respond?” Jeno attentively listened, on the edge of such a hurtful tale.

“He knew her name, praising her for historical achievements. However, nothing as a former friend or lover. From what I predict, he ingested one of Circe’s potions.”

“But I thought Circe isn’t allowed to make potions for actual consumption. She’s not even allowed to enter the Oriental Art Room.” Jeno pointed out, overwhelmed at the puzzling past. Princess Diana was mindful that she had to stop spreading too much information, so she had to end her discussion with the lost boy.

“There are a lot of secrets about this museum, Jeno. Unfortunately, I cannot reveal to you to protect our peace.”

With due respect, Jeno quit his follow-up questions and concerns. The only thing he wished to do was mend his relationship with you. As vague as to where you even stood in the first place, he unintentionally crossed a line due to his selfish intention to befriend you.

“What can I do now, Princess Diana? You know I’d never push her buttons like that, even if I’m a whimsical person.”

“Oh, my boy.” Princess Diana soothed, holding both her hand on his sweaty palm and cupping his cheek. “For the meantime, give her space. No taunting for a while, and just observe her from a distance. Though do not fret the slightest; I’m sure she’ll be okay again.”

During that interval, you were hunched on the wall, bawling and weeping like the wound was brand new again. While Katherine and Anne stood by your side, on the lookout for anyone who’d be spying on you, Cleopatra knelt in front of you as your infinite tears gushed down.

“My dear,” She tried to wipe some of them while holding your hand. “It’s been years, and Jeno didn’t know a single thing. He didn’t mean to do it.”

“I don’t care, Cleopatra! He should’ve stopped trying to socialize with me because I won’t ever live down my experience with Junmyeon.”

“As if crying like this will bring Junmyeon back to your life,” Cleopatra exclaimed, holding in her temper. Acquainted with heartbreak, it’s awful that it changed you entirely, but you should’ve found a way to heal. Throughout your attitude change, it’s mostly you in pain, not those you inflict it to. “My dear, I love you a lot. But this Jeno boy is different, and you know it.”

“He’s still a nightguard, for Christ’s sake, Cleopatra.”

“You shouldn’t generalize that all night guards are bad just because of one encounter that occurred at the wrong time.” Brushing some strands stuck by your wet visage, she professed to you bluntly. “You’re never going to know how good Jeno is unless you slowly open up again, (Y/N). Not forcing you the slightest, but healing started once you’ve acknowledged the past and move on from it.”

“But I’m scared, Cleopatra.” You restlessly admitted, hunching even more against the wall. Your poor, metaphorical heart could only take so much. You barely expressed sorrow towards others as you always held a strong exterior, only letting it out alone. Not holding back anymore, Cleopatra brought you in for a hug. The last time she did that was the first night after Junmyeon left, calming your intensified emotions so you wouldn’t do anything dumb that night. No violence, just pure sorrow.

“My dear, it’s alright.” She whispered while stroking your back upwards. “But you’re a risktaker; that’s how people remember you. Now, you must challenge yourself to move on from things that didn’t work out. Because once you do, it’ll put your heart and mind at ease.”

“Do you think I’ll be okay again?”

“Yes, you will be, my dear. You are not alone, and never will be.”

Acting like the dutiful son he always was, Jeno distanced from you.

He still cracked jokes, chatted with the art pieces, and followed the rules, yet never did he utter anything to you. You’ve proudly anticipated it since day one, not wanting him up in your business or teasing you ever. But this time, it felt odd.

On nights he didn’t report, you’ve unconsciously wondered what he may have been up to. A job like this at his age was just as Sanghoon once said: nothing in the regular.

Was he with his friends?

Was he resting well?

From the moment you chose to let go of your limitations and old thoughts, it included your grudge against past guards. Asking for forgiveness to Sanghoon when he returns was on the top of your list, however, that’ll take a while to happen. In the start, you’re baffled as to why he no longer picked on you like every night he’s been present. Somehow, it became a habit you’ve gotten used to, having so many comebacks planned to fend yourself. But you didn’t want to concede to it, maintaining what was left of your pride since that breakdown.

While on the subject, you suspected if anyone told him anything that night because that also indicated the last time he reached out to you. By anything, it would be your unwritten past with Junmyeon. A part of yourself in the museum that you didn’t want to disperse like rapid-fire again. It would be the last thing you wanted Jeno to know.

To your misfortune, Princess Diana came clean due to your growing concern over it. Although your attitude changed and people got used to it, you could only blame yourself that you were responsible for Jeno’s change.

“All he wanted was to understand and enlighten us with his likable presence. Then with you, you were his challenge because of your high walls. Out of everyone, he tried to learn everything about you. From my observation, whenever he has a goal, he’s determined to achieve it.”

“But I’m trying to be better now, Diana. Why did he stop?”

“He may have determination, but he knows where the boundaries lie.” Princess Diana patted the side of your arm, giving you a half-grin. “It hurt him when he hurt you, even if it was accidental. So he opted to give you space; that way, you could catch a breather and he wouldn’t harm you anymore. It was what you wanted from the start anyways, right?”

A hard pill to swallow, though it was a fact. It’s just that now, you’re slowly willing to release yourself from the dark. It’s been decades, and more to come. Nothing can move on unless you do.

“Where is he, Princess Diana?”

Just as she predicted right on the edge, Diana completed the grin on her face and led you to the entrance of your exhibit. She may be younger than you, but you’re reverted in your twenties while she remained in her mid-thirties. Gaping the wide museum from the railing, starting from the painting exhibit in the lobby to across the other side of the museum, Diana spotted the black hair of the boy in the Foreign Art Room.

“Over there.”

Observing where her eyes focused, you caught a glimpse of a recognizable side profile. The owner’s eyes were completely taken by whatever he was drawing on the fold-up desk he brought out from the storage room. By the tedious action of his right hand going up and down, you’ve gotten so used to his part-time identity as the night guard to entirely dismiss his current status as a university student.

Architecture specifically as he first introduced himself to you. The same path your oldest brother, Christopher, worked in. The look of tenacity Jeno presented as his eyebrows continuously scrunched, his crescent orbs hastily spied his work for any unnecessary details and his veiny hands brushed his already messy hair, you were profoundly reminded of Christopher when he was designing his possible future house. You were 8 years old, and he was 22, who just got married. He explained how many floors it’ll have, what rooms to put and what extra furniture he’ll place to make it feel more at home.

Seeing how exceptional his art skills were, you started to sketch like him. With flowers first, it turned into bedrooms and sceneries of your neighborhood. You felt your shoulders rise in accomplishment when you were able to accurately draw people. As much as you credited Benjamin and Liam the most in your works, it’ll only be within yourself to know that you also held a soft spot for Christopher.

Excusing yourself to Princess Diana, you bravely yet quietly ventured into the Foreign Art Room. Hiding first from one of the cement columns, you resumed watching him sketch. Instead of a pencil, he used a black pen with a tip as thin as a pencil. Your assumptions would be it was for a class, basing it on him informing everybody earlier that he’ll be inactive for the remaining hours of his shift to focus on his midterm requirements. That must be difficult to balance, yet he still does everything expected from him. Maybe the second cup of iced coffee beside him stimulated his bones and mind, letting his imagination free.

Through the limited space, you tiptoed whilst holding the side of the column to make up his work. There were 2 and a half rectangular shapes stacked on top of each other, the third one he was still tracing. A sign encrypted with tiny written words you couldn’t decipher, the beauty and modernity of Jeno’s plate cannot go unappreciated.

“That’s absolutely beautiful.”

Sweet words you didn’t think would bounce back in the room, Jeno’s pace ceased whilst you hid again. Art pieces capable of walking weren’t allowed here, he locked the door even beforehand! Or he thought as he was rushing to get his work done because one of his terror professors moved up the deadline to tomorrow morning. Not even 25% finished, he petitioned for everyone’s cooperation just for tonight.

He used up his 2 days of not having the night shift for other projects, and not wanting to ruin his perfect attendance, he proceeded to show up.

The voices from the foreign paintings around him hushed for him out of respect. So possibly someone snuck in, his head looking around for intruders. But only did he quit it when he saw your blurry reflection leaning against the column. The glass windows slightly mirror back what it sees, without you knowing that.

Not to mention, the small bit of your lilac dress was left out. Of all people, it was you?

“Do my eyes deceive me or is Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) inside when she’s not allowed so?”

To break the killing tension, he tested the waves with an innocent taunt. Never did you reach out to him, so least to say he was entertained whilst keeping his distance.

Fixing your proud stance, you responded in a low baritone voice you used to persuade numerous men in her adventures. “Uhm no, I don’t know who she is.”

As intelligent as you were, Jeno was a few steps farther than you this time. Educated about the risky ways you’d get around and one of them was changing the pitch of your voice, he heartily laughed at your unsuccessful attempt.

“Okay don’t lie, (Y/N). I can see a trail of your dress and your cloak. Oh, your reflection too.”

Damn, you peeked a little to realize that he was correct. Hauling your dress back in to readjust your outfit, you pushed your hair back before appearing to him. Though when you did such, you didn’t suppose that he was practically beside you the entire time. Bumping into his towering stance of 5’10 while the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, your proud posture loosened up. He even discarded his blazer. A few more inches, he could’ve cornered you on the column if you didn’t take another step back.

Has he always been this tall or were you so used to your boots having high heels under? Oh wait, maybe because you wore flats this time because it’s making your toes sore. Your head bowed from struggling to maintain eye contact with him, your palms caressing your cheeks that suddenly heated up. Clearing your throat, you straightened your back again like nothing happened.

Jeno thought otherwise, shrugging his shoulders as he chuckled. He’s never seen you get shy, not that it was a bad thing either. The temptation to play around it more was there, but he was running out of time for his assignment.

“Come in. I’ll let you off the hook this time.” His arms opened up, allowing you access to such a wonderful exhibit. Paintings from different European periods, miniature versions of famous infrastructures inside glass containers, and replicas of Greek columns in the front entrance, no wonder it’s important to protect them all.

“Are you sure?” Watching him return to his spot, which was a bench in the center of the exhibit with a table in front, it didn’t process that you were gawking at his toned back. His broad shoulders and the evident muscles in his arms while he stretched, your eyes were speedy to look away when he tried to take a glance at you.

“I don’t think the paintings here and I mind.” Sitting down again, he tapped the vacant space beside him. “Feel free to watch me draw if you want to.”

Settling by his side, he recommenced where he left off. Now with a closer view of his piece, it did look like a building as you thought. He was sketching the remaining outline of the 3rd floor of this hypothetical place, continuously checking his ruler to monitor if the lines were consistent. Able to pick up on the words of the sign beside the building, you wowed with one hand on your lips.

“You’re redrawing Seoul National University Museum of Art?”

“One of my plate assignments was to visualize a renovation of a certain place, so I chose the museum.”

“Why so?”

“Well,” Jeno shook his pen so the ink could come out. “This entire place comes to life with the royal plate, so I think we should expand the space and bring in more art pieces to life if we add another extra floor. A rooftop area for visitors and events would be fun. And definitely, we should modernize the exterior and interior a bit because it looks outdated personally. That’s also what my friends think too.”

Noticing the minor details of his plate whilst removing any unnecessary pens so it wouldn’t smudge, “Huh, I quite agree with you.”

For the first time since his night shift, you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), came into an agreement with him. He became so accustomed to clashing opinions that now, you had no contrasting points to make at all. A good change perhaps was what he’s witnessing.

“Woah, who are you agreeing with me and where’s (Y/N)?” He creased his brows whilst locking eye contact with you. This time, you didn’t wince away and just nudged him on his shoulder to get back to work.

“Hush, Jeno. Isn’t that due later? Get to work, I’ll roam around here for the meantime.”

After decades in this museum, you’re enlightened with the foreign paintings in which some you’ve heard of in your younger years and some that were created beyond your time. The Birth of Venus, Liberty Leading the People, Girl with a Pearl Earring, there’s an advantage of learning about their stories that humans couldn’t interpret. Logical that this section must be off-limits because these pieces were extra special, yet there’s so much more than what meets the eye.

There’s peace in silence while you wandered around, though it doesn’t hinder only at the art. Jeno hasn’t uttered a word since he got back to drawing, and once you asked him what’s doing now, still no answer back. Odd, he’s constantly awa-

Oh, my. You must’ve jinxed it.

Your eyes laid on Jeno leaning forward on his desk with his arms serving as his pillow, resting his head sideways. Soft snores and minimal movement in his upper body to shake the growing cold temperature of the room, he was sleeping like a log.

Putting into perspective, he hasn’t acquired enough rest specifically this past 2 weeks. The endless number of plates due making him work extra during his shift rather than sleeping in the slightest, exhaustion must be an understatement. Coffee no longer pushed him to his maximum for this week even.

But this was the path he chose, and it’ll have its challenges. Still, if you could relieve the stress in any way, you would. This would be one of the ways to repay for all the rudeness you’ve passed on him. Scurrying to his side, placing the plate on the side with his other things. You returned the caps of his open pens so they don’t spill. They must be expensive, recalling how Jeno shared the cons of being an architecture major to Princess Diana. One was the pens needed for sketching, and any tiny damages to them meant buying them again.

With his watch on clear display, he only had 2 hours left until his shift was done. Then, 4 hours until his plate assignment was done, and his current plate was far from done.

The blunt impulse to wake him up slithered your mind, though his calm state deflected your duty. As if you were on board a ship again for your explorations, you paid attention to the view with a relaxed mindset.

Lee Jeno specifically was the view.

His coffee-stained lips were parted and his sharp nose breathing in and out at a relaxing pace, he must be dreaming a happy moment the way half his lips curved into a smile. If he’s resting well, then you too would be calm.

Because of your past disinterest in him, only at this moment did you observe how sharp his jawline was and the cuts on his arms he sought refuge in. No matter how many times you tried to deny Hera’s compliments of him on the side, you couldn’t.

Lee Jeno embodied attractive features; both physical and emotional.

Back to his plate, it’ll put him at a disadvantage if he submitted the way it looked before he passed out. But you remembered all those extra details he mentioned and wanted to add to this project. Being an explorer, you documented all your ventures through words or drawings. You’re fast to adjust to anything new too.

For all the good he’s done for everyone, he only deserved some help in return.

Your version of help was sketching the remaining details of this plate, using other pens for more emphasis. It’s a risk also, but no way could you turn a blind eye on Jeno this time.

Around 5:30 am, Jeno’s eyes blinked open due to a brightening light from the outside. Stretching his limbs, he finds a velvet cloak wrapped around him like a blanket. But before he could question it, he pulled his arm in to see the time on his watch.

“Fuck!” He cursed, realizing that his so-called 10-minute snooze break aborted.

“Oh my, you’re awake!” From his frazzled state, there you were. So put together yet active, some strands of your hair falling down your face even with your hair up in a ponytail. “How was your sleep?”

This whole time he could’ve been woken up, yet you chose not to. You’re aware of his deadline, yet you let him rest entirely. He could’ve burst out in stress, yet he didn’t. You and he may have started on the wrong foot, yet it’s impossible of you to do such an evil thing. He’ll just have to tolerate the outcome later today.

“Refreshing. I really needed it.” Packing his things in his bag and closing the table, you trailed along as he exited with you. Locking up, he has 30 minutes left to accomplish the cleaning. A long good morning indeed.

But his worry of that vanished when you admitted that you had it all covered.

“Everyone helped out in cleaning, plus there are no damages made either.” From your hand, you returned one of his keys that was on his guard blazer. “I double-checked the Oriental Room and locked the doors again.”

“Why are you suddenly so nice to me, (Y/N)?” He questioned with confusion, wearing his blazer again and patting away any creases. He placed your cloak over you again like a true gentleman.

Without a word, you simply invited him to walk you back to your exhibit as parts of the sun began to rise. As you returned to your section, your fellow figures readying themselves to pose again,

“It’s my way to apologize for my very rude first impression and the succeeding moments after. I was too cooped up in my past that I was too afraid to let humans in again, night guards in particular.” You admitted, removing your cloak and placing behind your chair like always. “I’m so sorry, Jeno. Everyone was right about you and your kind heart.”

“About time.” Cleopatra’s sultry voice cut in, laying on her day bed.

Before you had the chance to flip off, Jeno mediated swiftly. With a gentle smile, “No worries about it. I’m just happy you’re okay, after all you’ve been through.”

“Can we start over then?”

“Absolutely.” With his free hand, he brought it out. No matter what kind of introductions, shaking one’s hand was the best way to start a friendship. “Good evening. I’m Lee Jeno, the new museum night guard.”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), explorer and author.” Sighing at his humor, you still replied by shaking his hand. “And I believe you’re mistaken, Lee Jeno. It’s a good morning.”

Seconds after, you imitated your typical pose and smile. Only now, the latter was more genuine. Finally, a fresh start to end your agony.

Once the sun fully revealed itself, every figure including yourself froze back to sleep. Something Jeno wished to catch up on if it weren’t for his damn plate. He was so screwed, already contemplating his next steps if he does fail this class. The possibility of getting delayed in all aspects, he dreaded it already.

Heading back to his dorm, where both his roommates completely passed out from soju on the couch, he sat by his work desk and turned on his night lamp for more light since the sun wasn’t strong enough yet.

With another cup of coffee, he cracked the joints of his knuckles and laid out his pens. He had 2 hours left to submit this plate, and at most he should accomplish 50% of his initial plan. However, he didn’t anticipate such a gorgeous outcome when he brought out his plate.

Picture perfect of every detail he desired, even adding a rooftop area with that he’d love to have if ever the museum does go under renovation one day. Rather than setting the plate during the day, it was at night as the skies were dark and bright specks of yellow inside the building symbolized light.

So much for wasting coffee, he’ll just give it to Jaemin when he wakes up later. Below the final product, a note written in cursive was stuck on it.

 I knew you wanted to get this specific plate done, but you mustn’t compromise your sleep for it. It’s your inhumane professor’s fault!

To make up for my faults, I wanted to help you out. I paid extra attention to the details you spoke highly about, so I only hoped that I interpreted it correctly. It’s risky, but as someone who researched so much about me, would you be surprised that I did such a thing?

PS: Get back to sleep. I’m quite sure your desk is laid out the same way in the Foreign Art Room.

Respectfully,

(Y/N)

 Turning off his lamp, Jeno jumped the covers of his bed to continue his lost sleep. Without an ounce of care that he hasn’t changed into cleaner clothes, he’s relieved that he won’t flunk his class.

Most of all, he’s relieved that you’ve melted the ice in you and allowed kindness to come in. Jeno may never understand how hard that must’ve been for you, yet he raved you for it.

“Oh, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Surprise is an understatement when it comes to you.”

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

congratulations on your bachelors degree slug! can you give us tips on managing the workload and how you were able to talk to your counsellors about early grad? i’m a freshman in college and hope to transfer for junior year and finish then :)

Thank you very much for the congratulations! Put under a cut for length.

Your school will likely have a much different process than mine. I apologize; I will be a bit vague about the details, but a huge part of why my university worked so well for me as opposed to other schools (which I really struggled with) is because it was almost entirely self-paced. Because of that, if I wanted to take a year's worth of courses in a single semester, I could, provided I showed I could handle it. It wasn't a complex process. In your case, you will probably have a lot more graduation requirements and fiddly things to deal with, so bringing it up to a counselor now and making a roadmap towards graduation is a very smart idea. Be really careful! You don't want to end up in a time crunch due to perquisites, fall-only/spring-only classes, etc. If you're outside of the US, this may not apply (but still, please talk to the counselor), but plan ahead to take summer classes too. You'll probably not be able to do a lot of internships, extracurricular activities, or other fun/enriching things. Is the trade-off worth it? Maybe. In my case, I was paying for most of my tuition, so only paying 2 years of tuition vs 4 was a huge motivator for me. I was also working full-time and otherwise not living the typical college student life, so I already didn't give a shit about missing out on the social aspects of college. For some people, though, that's a big deal breaker.

In terms of managing the workload, again, your situation is probably going to be different. I've been lucky to have a lot of flexibility; when I was working full-time, my workday started in the afternoon and ran all evening, and when I was doing contract translation work, that could be done literally whenever. Likewise, my classwork could be done almost whenever, so I was able to shift things around as needed. My school also didn't have a lot of busywork since it emphasized self-management; it was on me to figure out how much I had to do in order to pass exams and complete projects to the necessary standards. With that being said, some general tips for time and workload management:

Plan out your time in advance with flexible scheduling. If you've been around for a while, you may remember how I always put up monthly translation calendars with daily translation goals. I almost never did the day's goal on the day itself (just because I kept moving things around as I responded to other workloads likewise shifting) but I always made sure everything was done before the deadline, aka the month's end. Flexibility is fantastic if you can have it! It allows you to absorb sudden shocks (accidents, unexpected new work coming in, illness, etc.). But if you're dealing with 12 hours of work in a day when you're only awake 16 - 18 hours, it's vital to have a game plan to know how you're going to fit that all in. Calendars, daily task lists, etc are all good tools to do this. I'd be happy to show some of mine if they're wanted.

Learn your peak hours of productivity and use them to their fullest extent. For me, I am most active in the morning (usually 5 am - 1 pm or so) so I try to shift all my hardest, most energy-consuming tasks to those time slots. Other people are most active in the evening or afternoon and should commit to those as their peak productivity hours.

Use wait times productively. Since my disability prevents me from driving, I use public transit a lot which is often sloooooow and boooooring - but I can use that to my advantage! During the unpleasant six months of my junior semester where I was averaging about 80 working hours a week (two jobs + a year's worth of classes in six months - and then there was Hypmic and housework and shit to contend with of course), the overwhelming majority of my coursework was done on the train to and from work. Before that, I printed light novel pages or grabbed Hypmic screenshots to translate during those commutes. Nowadays, on days when I know I need to run errands, I bring my self-studying textbooks with me and pencil in working on those during that timeslot. Outside of public transit, there are lots of other situations when you may lose chunks of time waiting - waiting for a ride, at a doctor's office waiting room, etc. Plan ahead, and if you find yourself in a situation where you're wasting time on your phone or whatever, know that that's a good time to spend a few minutes studying from a textbook, doing flashcards, finishing a worksheet, etc.

Budget downtime for yourself. Energy is a resource as much as time is. If you're working yourself into a crash state on a consistent basis, you're likely to burn out. Most people schedule themselves at least one day off a week to allow themselves time to relax and have fun. I... do not for a variety of reasons, but I'm very much an exception to the rule and not the rule itself. Please plan time to recharge. Having a certain time to "clock out" at the end of each day is also a wise idea.

Be diligent in taking care of yourself physically. Your body can't work at 100% capacity constantly, especially if you aren't taking care of yourself. Be mindful of getting enough rest, even if that means setting a strict bedtime. Make sure you're eating enough, at whatever times are appropriate for you, and with balanced nutrition. If you have the time, exercise is also vital.

Learn how your brain works best and go with it. What works for one person you know may not work for you. If you're not sure how to begin with this, try different strategies out and reflect as you go on what is effective and what isn't. Tweak things as needed until you feel comfortable and like you're working with yourself instead of actively fighting against yourself.

I think I'm making it sound more stressful than it is, but graduating early or otherwise managing large workloads isn't usually an easy process for anyone. I think of it as a battle I have with myself to be the very best that I can be each day, which requires a lot of discipline, training, and mindfulness of my thought processes. I don't always win this fight, but I take note of what didn't work and then try again the next day and the next to do better. Best of luck to you in your education!

[spencerreidsconverse]

When Evil Doesn't Sleep

summary: Spencer has been gone far too long on a case and when he finally returns home, reader shows him just how much she missed him.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut, implied dom/sub undertones, pet names

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Female Reader

A/N: My first fic!!! I hope you all enjoy! <3

“Y/n I’m really sorry but it looks like the case is going to take a lot longer than we thought. We had a recent development and the profile is now pointing to a partnership so now we’re hunting down two unsubs”. You sighed as Spencer rattled off his apologies through the phone before putting him out of his misery “Spencer honey, you don’t have to apologize. Quit worrying about me and focus on catching the bad guys.”

To say you missed Spencer would be the understatement of the century. He had been in Utah for six days already and now with a pair of psychos your odds of finding him in your bed by the end of the week were growing increasingly slim. It didn’t help that you had been swamped prepping for an extra class you’d agreed to take on at Georgetown where you worked as a Criminal Psychology professor. Between both of your hectic work schedules you hadn’t had a real weekend to yourselves in a few months, and while you knew when you first started dating Spencer that it was an inevitable of his job, it had never been this crazy before. They say evil never sleeps but lately it hasn't even taken a catnap.

“I love you Y/N. I promise I’ll come home to you soon and take you out on a real date. I’m sorry darling, I have to go. I’ll text you when I get to the hotel tonight and if you’re still up we can talk for a bit okay?”. “Alright Spence, I love you too. Stay safe okay?”. “I promise, goodbye love.”

Your farewell barely made it past your lips when the dial tone cut you off and once again your boyfriend of three years vanished from your side of the country. You let out an exasperated sigh before reminding yourself that there were other people who needed his help and that you could wait for his attention - at least until that night. Continuing the trek up the stairs of your and spencer’s shared apartment, you managed to haphazardly balance your grocery bags in one hand while unlocking the door and disabling the security alarm, internally cringing at the high shriek that rattled through your brain.

Walking through the living room, you sat the bags on your kitchen counter and began reorganizing the small fridge space to fit all the perishables you had brought home, absentmindedly hoping they wouldn't spoil now that it would be just you for several more days. Moving to the cupboard you replaced the few grab and go snack boxes you had made up to try and encourage Spencer to eat more throughout the day and refilled the paper plate stash that quickly became a requirement after you realized neither one of you could tolerate doing dishes every night. You ripped open the cardboard packaging of yet another microwave dinner and set the timer before leaving to change into more comfortable attire.

Opening the door of your shared bedroom, the smell of vanilla wax melts and dryer sheets hit you like a brick and immediately sent a pang of loneliness through your chest. Spencer was usually around by the time the chores needed done, and you rarely had to do them yourself. Unfortunately, the laundry was piling up and you needed something to distract you so you spent the day running errands and cleaning the apartment more thoroughly than necessary. You walked over to the stack of black dresser drawers and pulled out the first pair of pajama pants you touched, Spencer’s old caltech sweats that now fit you far better than him considering he had received them when he was 14. They looked more like capris on him now and it was embarrassingly difficult to convince him to buy a new pair that fit him properly. You slipped on a tank top and pulled your hair back before making your way lazily to the bathroom to take off the remnants of your simple makeup.

After scrubbing your face clean and pulling your dinner out, you moved to ready the couch for yet another night of binge watching cheesy 90s movies. You selected Clueless and watched the vibrant colors pop across the screen while you dived into your meal, making a poor attempt to ignore the slight freezer burnt taste that lingered after every bite. You finished your dinner and set the bowl aside before covering yourself with a blanket and allowing yourself to sink into the cushions, desperately awaiting Spencer's text.

You were jolted out of your doze by the loud buzzing of your phone against the wooden coffee table. Clumsily you reached for it and managed to swipe the answer pad before it sent your genius to voicemail. “Hello?” you managed before a yawn ripped its way through you suddenly. “Hey Y/N, I’m sorry it’s so late. I didn't mean to wake you, I figured you’d still be up. You should go back to bed love.” For the first time, you noticed the neon green numbers on the microwave. 12:30. You stifled another yawn and shook your head in an effort to wake yourself further “No way, I just dozed off while watching a movie. I was waiting to talk to you. Besides, I’m up now anyways so you might as well stay on with me for a bit. Did you get any further today?” “Well, JJ had the idea that the partners were originally a typical dominant/submissive partnership but that something in the dynamic must have changed because the MO began to deteriorate. We think the partners must have split up now, because we’re finding similar pieces of the previous MO at separate crime scenes.”.

You processed the information he fed you slowly due to your semiconscious state but eventually you put your words in order well enough to respond. “That should be helpful though yeah? I mean, they’re used to working in a partnership so being suddenly separated from your other half so to speak would throw you off track quite a bit right?”. You could practically hear him smiling through the phone as you drew the conclusions the team had come to only a few hours prior. “Yes. We’re hoping to be able to draw them out and trap them. Play them against each other.”.”Does that mean I can stop sleeping on the couch soon?”. You heard him let out a dejected sigh - you knew he hated that you would force yourself onto the cramped couch when you had a king sized bed a few hundred feet away but he understood.

When he had come home in the early hours of the morning after an abrupt end to a case a few weeks after you had moved into his place, he had caught you curled up on the sofa with a throw pillow stuffed under your head. When he questioned you about it the next morning, you simply answered that the bed felt too big without him and that you couldn’t stand the empty feeling. “Sooner than later I hope my love. Y/N I really wish you wouldn’t do that to yourself. It’s horrible for your body. It can put you at a much higher risk for chronic back and neck pain as well as-”. “Spence. I’m not a giant like you are. I fit on the couch much better than you do, and I barely notice the difference.”. You both cringed, hearing the lie clear in your voice. Still, Spencer must have felt bad because he humored you. “If you're sure. What did you do today my love?”. You smiled sadly hearing in his voice just how desperate he was to escape from his reality and come home to you.

”Well, I straightened the house. In fact, it’s so clean i think we could use it as a sterilization room.”. He let out a soft chuckle and you could hear him begin to relax as you recounted the rest of your day, excluding the part about the microwave dinner. Spencer loved to tell you how many of the ingredients were one step away from processed garbage and you decided to opt out of the lecture for the evening. He had more than enough to worry about without having to focus on your diet while he was away. After a half hour of light conversation, a loud yawn betrayed you as you were excitedly discussing the cute puppy you had met on the way to the market. Spencer immediately requested that you hang up and get some more sleep but you refused. After a few minutes of bickering, you relented on the condition that he would read to you until you had fallen asleep. You curled up under the fluffy blanket as Spencer’s even voice recited the collection of Grimm’s fairy tales quickly lured you to sleep.

You woke up the next morning as sunlight peered through the curtains, stretching your body out to ease the aches from the previous night. You smiled softly as your screen lit up with a text from Spencer wishing you a good morning and an update that they had a solid plan for boxing in the two unsubs that afternoon. “If all goes to plan I should be carrying you to our bed before midnight tonight.”. Your smile widened and you sent back “Can’t wait to truly see you - and love you- tonight. I’ll be waiting.” You plugged your phone into the charger and straightened up from the night before when your phone went off again. The one word message glared at you from the screen and you let out an involuntary giggle. “Tease.”. You hoped it gave him something to look forward to until he was back in your arms. You sent back a simple “XO” before deciding to reread one of your favorite books for a few hours to kill some time. You made yourself a sandwich for lunch and had a few glasses of water as the clock slowly ticked by. You were over halfway through the lengthy novel when you received another message.

“We apprehended both unsubs. Hotch is postponing the paperwork until Monday so we can go straight home. I’ll see you in a few hours baby.”.  You jumped slightly in celebration before finishing your current chapter, marking your place, and all but skipping to the shower to shave and exfoliate your skin. You knew Spencer would still be heavily worked up once he arrived home and luckily, his favorite release included intertwining your bodies as close as possible and loving you sweetly and slowly.

You took your time in the shower careful not to nick yourself with your razor. You scrubbed your scalp with your nails, letting your stress and soreness melt away under the steam. You waited until the water ran cold before turning the knob and stepping out, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel and blow drying your hair until it layed perfectly even. You applied lotion all over your skin and stepped out of the bathroom to slip on your black silk robe, knowing it wouldn’t be worth it to dress up further. Spencer would be desperate to feel your skin against his and any fabric in his way didn't stand much of a chance.

You made an actual meal for dinner, a pasta dish with chicken that could be easily reheated for Spencer when he grew hungry later in the night. You helped yourself to a serving and after quickly cleaning up the kitchen and storing the leftovers, you retreated to the bedroom to wait for his return.

You were half paying attention to the feed you opted to scroll through on your phone when you heard the door creak open and bags drop to the floor. You set your phone on the bedside table and ran towards the foyer, all but throwing yourself at the exhausted man in front of you. He took a step back from the impact but still enveloped you in his arms and pulled you impossibly tight into his chest. “Hi baby.” you whispered against the scruffy skin of his jawline, peppering kisses up towards his earlobe. He let out a long sigh of relief and picked you up off the hardwood floor, wrapping your thighs around his waist resulting in a high pitched giggle to erupt from your throat. He kissed you then, slowly at first but quickly building more passionate. Your lungs were burning when he finally allowed you to pull away, opting to kiss down your neck to your collarbones and the skin of your chest that was newly exposed as your robe slipped open.

He carefully made his way back to your room, continuing his kisses back up to your shoulder, stopping only to leave marks you knew would only grow darker as time passed. At the very least he was sure to only mark you in places you could cover with little difficulty. “I missed you so much Y/N. The entire ride home all I could think about was you waiting for me in our bed. My gorgeous girl.”. You felt your chest heat up at his words of admiration, wrapping your fingers into his curls and pulling his lips towards your own once more.

You felt him groan against you and moved to quickly unbutton his shirt, slipping it down his arms and tossing it in the general direction of the hamper. He pulled you up with him then, so you were both on your knees, chest to chest as he pulled your robe fully down your back to the swell of your ass where he grasped at you through the slick fabric. You let out a whine and you pulled his belt off, undoing his jeans desperate to continue. He grinned against your neck and pushed you down so you laid flat on your back, completely exposed to him. He kissed at your stomach, making his way down to your inner thighs. He licked a slow wet trail from your pelvic bone to the top of your clit as you whimpered desperately. “Spence, please… I need more”. He humored you, creating slow small circles with his tongue moaning at the taste. You cried out as he created the perfect amount of pressure on your clit, legs threatening to close around his head when he moved to slip one of his fingers easily inside you as the mix of your own wetness and his saliva aided him. He smirked as he felt your thighs flex before using his left hand to throw one of your legs over his shoulders at a time. He pushed a second finger in, curling them up to perfectly reach your g-spot with every thrust. Soon though, you grew impatient with just his fingers. You needed more and you knew just how to get it.

“I want you so bad Spence. I’ve waited for so long and I just can’t anymore. I need to feel you deep inside of me.”. You were positive those words would leave him just as needy as you were and he proved you right when he kicked his pants the rest of the way off and went to line himself up against you. “Wait.”. He stopped immediately, examining your face for any indication of what was wrong. “What’s the matter baby? Are you okay?”. You shook your head and smiled at his concern before switching your positions so his back was resting against the pillows as you straddle his thighs. He smirked at you as he caught on, trailing his hands up the front of your legs to rest at your hips. “You gonna ride me angel?”. You responded with an eager nod and he squeezed your hips, pulling you up further so you were hovering above him. “Sit pretty like my good girl then.”. You whined softly at his words before slowly sinking yourself down around his length, sucking in a harsh breath at the stretch. Even with how wet you were, the adjustment took longer than usual due to the dry spell you were both suffering from as of late.

When you finally felt stretched out enough to move, you slowly ground your hips forward flush against his. He groaned out, lifting you back up so you were almost completely off of him before pulling you back down. You moaned both at the sensation and the idea of being manhandled by the genius below you. You realized what he was asking though, and began bouncing yourself up and down his cock, stopping every few thrusts to grind your clit down on him. You let out soft moans, and after a few more minutes you felt his fingers dig deeper into your hips and his breaths quicken. You knew he was close and as if on cue you started rubbing fast circles against your clit as he spoke again.

“Baby girl I’m getting close. You gonna cum with me angel?” You nodded furiously in response and you felt him start thrusting up to meet you. You panted as you hurried towards the edge of your orgasm, holding on until his thrusts grew sloppier. “You ready to cum with me baby? You gonna cum on my cock?” “Yeah.. gonna cum all over your cock Doc.” You fought to keep the grin off your face when he moaned at the title. He thrusted deep into you twice, before he ordered your release. “I want you to cum now baby. Cum all over my cock.” You felt your orgasm rip through you, electricity shooting through your limbs. Spencer groaned loudly as you tightened around him before pulling you down deep and releasing inside you.

You both fought to catch your breath as you rode out your highs before you found yourself slumping against his chest, suddenly drained from your activities. You felt him chuckle at your drastic change in energy as he wrapped his arms around you again. “I know you just washed the bed sheets and we’re both sweaty but do you think a washcloth will suffice for tonight?”. You nodded against his chest before slowly lifting yourself up and off of him, rolling onto your back on the other side of the bed. Spencer swiftly made his way across the hall, returning to wipe you down gently with the warm fabric. You shivered as the cool air dried your skin, watching him move throughout your room.

He slipped on a fresh pair of boxers before tossing the washcloth in the hamper along with his previously discarded clothes. He hung your robe on the back of your bedroom door then flipped the light switch off before rejoining you in bed to slip under the blankets with you. You immediately curled up into his chest, sighing contently as the sound of his heartbeat filled your ears. You kissed his chest and whispered goodnight, drifting into your first real sleep since before he left.

The next morning you and Spencer went shopping after you successfully convinced him to upgrade to a smart phone with video call abilities. He had begun to shut down the idea as he always had before but after the mere suggestion of what it could do to better your late night hotel room chats he was the one pulling you towards the nearest phone shop. You smiled politely while Spencer took his sweet time weighing the pros and cons of each model, letting your mind drift to the first time it would come in handy. As you finally neared the checkout counter, you took Spencer's hand in your own and gave it a gentle squeeze. After running his card through the machine, the salesgirl gave him the small plastic bag and wished you both a good afternoon.

As you exited the shop, you looked up at him, nudging him to get his attention “What do you think of an app controlled vibrator?”. He stared at you incredulously for a few moments, almost stopping dead in his tracks. After recovering from the initial shock at the vulgarity of your suggestion, he shook his head with a soft smirk and nudged back against you. “Tease.” he called you once more. “That’s the reason you love me right?”. He pulled you into his side, kissing you softly. “One of many Y/N. One of many.”

[samwisethewitch]

Everything You Need to Know About Pagan Deity

As you’ve probably guessed by now, there are many, many, many different approaches to deity within the wider pagan community. While it would be impossible to summarize all of these different perspectives in a single blog post, this post contains some common themes and best practices that are more or less universal and can be adapted to fit whatever system you choose to work with.

In my Baby Witch Bootcamp series, I talk about the “Four R’s” of working with spiritual beings, including deities: respect, research, reciprocity, and relationship. However, when it comes to gods and goddesses specifically, I think it’s important to include a fifth “R” — receptivity.

If you’re completely new to this kind of work and want to avoid making rookie mistakes and/or pissing off powerful spiritual forces, sticking to the Five R’s of Deity Relationships is a good place to start. The Five R’s are:

Respect. It’s always a good idea to have a healthy respect for the powers you choose to connect with, whether you see those powers as literal gods and goddesses or as archetypes within the collective unconscious (see below). While not every ritual needs to be incredibly formal and structured, you should always conduct yourself with an air of respect and reverence when connecting with deity. There’s no need to humble yourself to the point of cowering before the gods (and in fact, this kind of behavior is a turnoff for many deities), but you should strive to be polite and follow your system’s proper protocol for things like cleansing, offerings, and prayers.

Research. I am of the opinion that you should do serious research into a god or goddess before any attempt to make contact with them. This can be controversial, but in my own experience things seem to go more smoothly when I know what I’m doing. Books are really the way to go for this — the Internet can be useful for connecting with other worshipers and hearing their stories, but it isn’t a good source for nonbiased factual information. I recommend starting with academic sources written by secular experts for a purely historical account that won’t be colored by personal religious experience. Once you have a decent understanding of the basic historical context, look for books by pagan authors who have experience working with this deity. These sources will give you a framework for your own interactions with them.

Reciprocity. As we’ve discussed before, reciprocity is a core value of virtually every pagan tradition. Reciprocity is a mutual positive exchange where all parties benefit in some way, and this quality forms the backbone of all healthy relationships with deity. While we benefit from connecting with the gods, the gods also benefit from our worship. Upholding reciprocity in your relationships with deity means making regular offerings to show your appreciation as well as living in a way that your god or goddess approves of.

Relationship. At the end of the day, connecting with a god or goddess is about creating a healthy, fulfilling relationship. Like any relationship, it takes time and effort to keep the connection alive. The gods are living, thinking, feeling beings just like you and me, though on a much larger scale. Just like you and me, they have likes and dislikes and require certain things from those who want to work closely with them. Try to approach the gods as individuals, and connect with them as you would with another person. This will naturally lead to much more authentic and organic relationships.

Receptivity. To be receptive is to be open and ready to receive whatever comes your way — this is an essential quality for anyone who is serious about connecting with a god or goddess. Connecting with the gods means allowing them a place in your life, whatever they choose to bring with them. It means forming a relationship with them on their terms, and that requires us to give up a certain degree of control. While you should never feel afraid or completely out of control when connecting with deity (if you do, stop contacting that deity immediately), you may very well experience things you did not expect or ask for. Be prepared for these surprises, and understand that when the gods surprise us in this way, they do it in order to help us grow. Let go of any preconceived ideas about what a relationship with this deity “should” look like, and instead let it unfold naturally.

Though there is much more to working with deity than just these values, keeping these values in mind will get you started out on the right foot in your relationships with the gods.

Deity or Archetype?

As odd as it may sound, not everyone who connects with the gods through study and ritual believes those gods to be literal spiritual beings. Some pagans (I would even say the majority of pagans, based on my personal experience) connect with the gods as individuals with their own personalities and agency, but others connect with them as symbols that represent different elements of the human experience. This latter group is working with the gods not as deity, but as archetypes.

The term “archetype” comes from academia, particularly the fields of psychology and literary analysis. An archetype is a symbol that embodies the fundamental characteristics of a person, thing, or experience.

Swiss psychoanalyst Carl Jung argued that archetypes are powerful symbols within the collective unconscious (basically an ancestral memory shared by all of humanity) that arise due to shared experiences across cultures. For example, Jung would argue that Demeter, Juno, and Frigg all represent the “Mother” archetype filtered through different cultural lenses, reflecting the important role of mothers across Greek, Roman, and Old Norse culture. For Jung and his followers, archetypes allow us to connect to latent parts of our own psyche — by connecting with the Mother archetype, for example, you can develop motherly qualities like patience, empathy, and nurturing.

For comparative mythology expert Joseph Campbell, archetypes represented types of characters that appear in some form in most or all global mythology. In his book, The Hero of a Thousand Faces, Campbell identified the “hero’s journey” as the archetypal narrative framework on which most stories, from ancient myths to modern films, are based. (If you’ve taken literally any high school literature class, you’re probably familiar with Campbell’s work.) Like Jung, Campbell has been hugely influential on modern pagans who choose to connect with the gods as archetypes.

Working with an archetype is a little different than working with a deity. For one thing, while archetypes may manifest as gods and goddesses, they can also manifest as fictional characters, historical figures, or abstract symbols. Let’s say you want to tap into the Warrior archetype. You could connect with this archetype by working with gods like Mars, Thor, or Heracles — but you could just as easily do so by working with superheroes like Luke Cage or Colossus, literary figures like Ajax or Achilles, or the abstract concepts of strength and honor.

When pagans worship a deity, it’s because they want to form a relationship with that deity for some reason. But when pagans work with an archetype, it’s usually because they want to embody aspects of that archetype. In our above example, you may be trying to connect to the Warrior archetype to gain confidence or become more assertive.

The biggest difference between worshiping a deity and working with an archetype is that a deity is an external force, while an archetype is an internal force. When you connect with a deity, you are connecting with a spiritual being outside of yourself — a being with their own thoughts, feelings, and drives. When you connect with an archetype, you are connecting with a part of your own psyche. Because of this, archetypes tend to be more easily defined and behave in more predictable ways than deities, although some archetypes can be very complex and multi-faceted.

On the surface, worship and archetype work might be very similar, but the “why” behind the action is fundamentally different.

If you choose to worship the Morrigan, for example, you may have an altar dedicated to her, make regular offerings to her, speak with her in meditations and astral journeys, and/or write poetry or make art in her honor. If you choose to work with the Wild Woman archetype, it may look very similar to an outside observer — you may have an altar dedicated to the Wild Woman energy, speak with manifestations of Wild Woman (perhaps including the Morrigan) in meditation, and write poetry or make art dedicated to this archetype. However, these actions will have a very different intent behind them. Your Wild Woman altar is not a sacred space but a visual trigger to help you connect to the Wild Woman within you. Your meditations are conversations with different aspects of your own personality, not with a separate being. Your art is an expression of self, not a devotional act. The result is a deeper connection to yourself, not a relationship with another being.

I hope I’ve made it clear that archetype work and deity worship can both be very worthwhile spiritual practices, and that each serves its own purpose. Many pagans, myself included, work with both deities and archetypes.

There is some overlap between worshiping a deity and working with an archetype, and many pagans start out with one practice before eventually ending up in the other. Sometimes working with an archetype leads you to encounter a deity who embodies that archetype, which can lead to a relationship with that deity. Likewise, your relationship with a deity may help you become aware of a certain archetype’s influence in your life, which might lead you to work with that archetype.

Making First Contact

First impressions are important. This is true for making new friends, for job interviews, for first dates — and for your first meeting with a god or goddess. In many cases, the way you behave in your first meeting with a deity will set the tone for your relationship with them.

That being said, don’t overthink (or over-stress) about your first impression. You aren’t going to be cursed or punished if you mess this up — at the very worst, the deity might lose interest in connecting with you, and even that can often be remedied with an offering and a polite apology. While it’s always best to get off on the right foot, don’t feel like you need to be perfect.

So, how do you make a good first impression on a god or goddess? Honestly, the rules are largely the same for making a good first impression on any other person. Make sure your physical appearance is clean and tidy — some systems, such as Hellenismos and Kemetic paganism, have special rules for cleansing before contacting the gods, but it’s always a good idea to take a shower first and make sure you’re wearing clean clothes. Likewise, make sure the physical space you invite the gods into is relatively clean — it doesn’t need to be spotless, but take a minute to tidy up before beginning any ritual. Be polite — there’s no need to be overly formal, but you should be respectful. Don’t immediately ask for favors — how would you feel if you met someone at a party and they immediately asked you to do some sort of work for them?

Beyond the basics, it’s wise to make sure you have an idea of who this god is and what they are like before you reach out to them. This will keep you from accidentally doing something offensive. For example, you wouldn’t want to invite them to an altar dedicated to a deity they have a rivalry with. Likewise, you want to avoid offering food or drink that would have been taboo in their original worship. (Of course, there are exceptions to every rule, but when you’re just starting out it’s a good idea to follow the historical framework as closely as possible.)

At the risk of sounding like a broken record: this is why research is so important. Knowing who you are dealing with allows you to deal with them respectfully, gracefully, and competently.

Callings

There’s one aspect of deity worship that is controversial in modern paganism: the idea of being “called” by a deity. This is a question you’ll find many, many heated discussions about online. Do you need to be called by a deity to form a relationship with them? Do deities choose their followers, or do we choose them? How do you know what a call from a deity even looks like?

As I said, this is a controversial topic, but I firmly believe that 1.) you do not have to feel called to a deity beyond being interested in them, and 2.) feeling drawn to a deity’s image, symbols, and myths is a form of calling.

Many pagans do feel like they were called or drawn to the deities they walk most closely with. They may have encountered myths of that deity as a child or teenager and deeply resonated with them, or may have always had an affinity for that god’s sacred animals. They may have dreamed of this deity before knowing who they were, or may have felt a spiritual presence around them before identifying it as a god or goddess.

Many people first encounter the gods in fiction, only for this fictionalized depiction to spark a deeper connection that eventually leads to worship. In the modern era, it’s entirely possible for someone who worships Loki to have first encountered him (or at least a character loosely based on him) in Marvel comics and films, or for someone who worships the Greek pantheon to have first discovered them through the Percy Jackson books. As far as I’m concerned, this is also a valid “call” from deity. The gods are very good at communicating with us through the means available — including fiction.

That being said, just because you don’t already feel a strong connection to a god or goddess doesn’t mean you can’t or shouldn’t worship them. The connection will come with time and effort, just like in any relationship.

Dedication, Patrons, and Matrons

In online spaces such as Tumblr and TikTok, a lot of inexperienced pagans parrot the idea that every pagan needs to have a designated matron and/or patron god and/or needs to be formally dedicated to a god in order to have a close relationship with them. Not only is this untrue, but such restrictions can actually cause harm and/or stunt spiritual growth.

Let’s address dedication first. To be dedicated to a deity means to outwardly declare yourself a servant of that deity, usually with a formal dedication ritual — think of it as the pagan version of joining a convent or going to seminary. It is an outward expression of your devotion and loyalty to that deity. Dedicants are held to a higher standard than the average worshiper by themselves, their communities, and the god(s) they have dedicated to.

Dedication can be a powerful and fulfilling spiritual experience (it’s the backbone of many peoples’ spiritual practice), but it should not be taken lightly. Dedicating yourself to a god or goddess should be a sign of your commitment to them and a deepening of your relationship — it should not be the beginning of that relationship.

Dedication is a lot like marriage. Just like you wouldn’t marry someone you’ve only been on a handful of dates with, you shouldn’t dedicate to a deity just because you’ve had one or two positive experiences with them. Like marriages, dedication can be difficult to get out of — ending your dedication to a deity is possible, but it’s a messy, complicated, uncomfortable process that is sure to shift the foundation of your entire spiritual practice, and not always for the better.

My advice to new and inexperienced pagans is not to even consider dedication until you’ve been practicing for several years. As you begin your journey, your focus should be on exploring your options, forming meaningful connections, and developing a practice that works for you and your unique spiritual needs. Now is the time for experimentation, not lifelong commitments.

But let’s say you are an experienced pagan, and you feel like you are ready for dedication. How do you know if you should dedicate to a given god or goddess?

Dedication may be the logical next step in your relationship with a deity if:

This deity has been an active part of your spiritual practice for at least 2-3 years, with no major gaps in contact with them

You are comfortable upholding this deity’s values for the rest of your life — and are willing to face consequences if you fail to do so

You are willing to dedicate a significant amount of time and effort to the service of this deity

You are willing to face major changes in your life outside your spiritual practice — dedicating to a deity often leads to major shifts that may affect our career, family, and/or relationships

If you answered “yes” to all of the above, dedication may be appropriate. This may seem overly cautious, but remember that dedicating to a deity is a serious, lifelong commitment akin to joining the clergy. For context, it takes at least five years of study and practice to become a Catholic priest, a similar amount of time to become a Jewish rabbi, and three years to become a high priest/ess in Traditional Wicca. If you don’t have the patience to maintain a relationship for a few years before dedication, that is probably a good indicator that dedication isn’t for you.

If you are dedicated to a deity or are planning to dedicate, you may actually choose to attend seminary or receive some other formal religious training. This training will help you to better serve your deity in a public capacity, as you will learn skills like religious counselling, leading ritual, and building community. If your program of study includes ordination, it will also allow you to perform legally binding religious rituals like marriage ceremonies. Depending on your path, attending seminary or training may be your act of formal dedication.

Finally, let me make it clear that dedication does not make you a better pagan than someone who is not dedicated. The choice to dedicate or not dedicate is only one element of your spiritual practice, and it is possible to have a fulfilling and life-affirming practice without dedication. Some of the people who do the most work in the service of the gods are not dedicated to them. You may be one of these people, and that is totally okay.

Patron/matron relationships are a specific type of dedication.

The concept of patron deities comes from Wicca and related neopagan religions. As we’ve previously discussed, Wicca is a duotheistic system with a God and Goddess, whose union is the source of all creation. However, because Wiccans believe that all gods are manifestations of the God and all goddesses are manifestations of the Goddess, some covens choose to work with the God and Goddess in the form of other deities (say, for example, Osiris and Isis), which are referred to as the coven’s “patron” and “matron” deities. In these covens, initiation into the coven’s mysteries (traditionally in the form of first, second, and third degree initiations) typically acts as a form of dedication to these deities.

As Eclectic Wicca has gained popularity in the last few decades, there has been a growing trend of individual Wiccans and eclectic pagans choosing personal patron and/or matron deities. Some Wiccans will have a single god or goddess they are dedicated to, while others feel that it is very important to be dedicated to exactly one masculine deity and exactly one feminine deity. This second model is the one I see most often in online pagan spaces, especially Tumblr and TikTok.

The patron/matron model can be useful for some pagans, but it is not one-size-fits-all. As I mentioned, this model of dedication comes from Wicca, and is a very modern concept. In ancient pagan religions, most people would not have been dedicated in this way. That does not mean that this isn’t a valid form of worship (it absolutely is), but it does mean that those who practice reconstructionist paths may not be inclined to interact with deity this way.

The guidelines for patron/matron relationships are similar to the guidelines for dedication in general, but these relationships often (but not always) have a more parental nature. For some people, having a divine mother and/or father figure is ideal — especially for those who are healing from parental trauma or abuse. If you feel drawn to this type of deity relationship, I encourage you to explore it.

On the other hand, you may not have any interest in the patron/matron model, and that’s totally fine! It’s called polytheism for a reason — if you prefer to maintain less formal relationships with many gods, you should feel free to do so.

I hope this post has helped clarify some of the murkier aspects of polytheism and deity work. Obviously, this is only the tip of the iceberg — I could write a book about this topic and many, many authors already have. However, I think the information here is enough to get you started, and I hope that it will provide a first step on your journey with your gods.

Resources:

Wicca for Beginners by Thea Sabin

A Witches’ Bible by Janet and Stewart Farrar

The Spiral Dance by Starhawk

Where the Hawthorn Grows by Morgan Daimler

The Way of Fire and Ice by Ryan Smith

Jessi Huntenburg (YouTuber), “Dancing with Deity | Discovering Gods, Goddesses, and Archetypes,” “Archetype, Deity, and Inviting Transpersonal Experience,” and “10 Ways to Bond with Deity”

Kelly-Ann Maddox (YouTuber), “How to Have Deep Connections with Deities”

[didsomeonesaydaddydraco]

Baby you | Tom Felton x Reader

Pairing: Tom Felton x Reader

Words: 1,637

Warning: none. just fluff

Author’s note: Sorry for the long wait, I was on a hiatus. I had to figure out a few things in my life and focus on my mental health. 

Hospitals have always been one of my least favorite places on the planet. When a family member or acquaintance had a kid, I didn't even want to go there. I felt sick to my stomach from the scent of antiseptics and the notion that someone could be dying in one of the rooms, so I tried to stay away from the building as much as possible. But right now, I'm sitting in the waiting room, staring at half-white, half-sage green walls, trying to take in as little air as possible to avoid the stench of antiseptics and my excessively protective boyfriend freaking out next to me. 

"How many times do I have to tell you that you need to be more cautious?" Tom sighs and fidgets with his watch on his wrist, checking the time every second and blaming the ER nurses and physicians for their slow job. "We've been here for more than a half-hour and no one has bothered to inquire as to what we're waiting for.”

"Tom, I have a sprained ankle, but I'm not going to die. Calm down, just because you're impatient doesn't mean they can work faster," I say as I roll my eyes and gaze around the waiting area, attempting to figure out why people are there. He groans and gets up to find a nurse or a doctor who can finally check on my leg. I take a big breath and rub my temples. Deep down, I'm glad he went to see a doctor because my ankle has swollen and become more painful than it was when we arrived. I would never have given him the satisfaction of being correct about me pushing my limits too hard and refusing to accept when my body attempts to tell me to stop or not do anything, putting me in situations like the one I'm in now. When I tried the online yoga session, it was meant to be a simple assignment, and I carefully followed every instruction, but my body was still fatigued and stiff from the hiking the day before. And, of course, my obstinate arse refused to listen to Tom when he advised me to take a break and try the class again a few days later. 

He sits down next to me and takes my hand in his, massaging the back of it with his thumb. "Alright, a nurse will be with us shortly," he says. Without saying anything, I kiss his shoulder and express my gratitude for his kindness and affection. "You don't have to hide it; I can tell how much pain you're in right now just by looking at the size and colour of your ankle, dear." 

I roll my eyes and lie my head on his shoulders, smelling his wonderful aroma and listening to his slow breathing. I attempt to ignore the puzzled looks of onlookers and patients who recognise him and are undoubtedly trying to figure out why he's there and with whom. We never told the gossip-hungry social media users and the deceitful newspapers about our relationship. Only those who were close to us knew about us, and we want it that way. 

"Miss Y/L/N, please come with me," a middle-aged nurse says, smiling gently and directing us to the examination room, where a doctor is already waiting for us. Tom assists me in standing and sitting up in bed, and then graciously moves away to give the nurse and doctor more room.

"What appears to be a problem, Miss Y/L/N?" He gets up from his desk and walks over to me, where he sits on a little stool and gently touches my ankle, causing me to groan in pain.

"She felt it would be a good idea to try an online yoga class with no prior experience in either an online class or yoga," Tom says, looking at me and then at the doctor.

"On my own, I can tell him what's wrong." I give my lover a mischievous scowl before returning my gaze to the doctor, who is attempting to examine my ankle without further injuring it. "But in a nutshell, that's what happened, huh”

"All right, let me see that ankle," he jokes, and a two-hour treatment begins, including a trip to another hospital level to have it x-rayed.

——-

"Careful" Tom assists me out of the car and supports me by placing my arm around his shoulder as we walk to the house. "You know what the nice thing in this?" I asked, holding a gorgeous pink plaster on my ankle up to the middle of my shin and a small bottle of pills in case "You know what the good thing in this?”

"No, but knowing you, you'll tell me in less than a minute," I say softly as I take a seat on the living room couch, my leg propped up next to me to relax.

"I can baby you, and you won't be able to stop me," he grins as he walks to the backyard to allow Willow in and feed her. She dashes inside, but Tom stops her and kneels to cup her cheek. "Willow, listen to me, mommy's ankle is injured, so you must be gentle around her," he says. "Please don't jump on mama or lay on her legs." He kisses Willow on the head and walks away. I chuckle from the living room, knowing well well that no one can stop Willow from sleeping on my leg.

———

"Tom?" you might ask. An hour later, I dial his number. After the painkiller knocked me out, I got a great nap, and when I awoke, Willow was sleeping on top of me, breathing noisily in my neck. I hear loud and rapid footsteps, so I suppose my partner is running down from our room or his study to the living area.

"Are you all right? Is there anything else you require? Do you have any discomfort?" I giggle quietly as he looks at me with a worried expression on his face. 

"I'm alright, but could you just get me a bottle of water?" I give him a friendly grin and gently massage the area behind Willow's ear. I smile at her as she groans a bit in her sleep.

Tom goes in and brings me my water before sitting down next to me and wrapping his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to his body, and kissing my cheek softly. 

"How are you doing?" he inquires.

"Much better," I say softly as I put my head on his shoulder, my eyes resting a bit. "Now that you're with me, sweetheart," I say softly as I kiss his lips and lean my head on his shoulder, resting my eyes a little.

"I've been thinking about us," she says. "We've been dating for a while, and if I'm being honest, you're the only person in my life who gives meaning to everything," Tom says, taking a deep breath. "Y/N, you're the light in my days, and I'm tired of always having to go over to your place, or waiting for you until you're off work and can come over.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to figure out if the butterflies and peculiar feeling in my stomach are due to the love and happiness this man has given me for almost two years, or to my concern about his intentions about this brief speech. I raise my eyes to him and admire his features.

"Y/N, would you like to move in with me and Willow?" he asks, sighing and looking down at me with genuine love in his ocean blue eyes. I give him a big smile and kiss his jaw. When my buddy put me up on a blind date with him two years ago, I was convinced he'd find someone else shortly. But no, this man has always been at my side, giving me his undivided attention, sharing his dreams and anxieties with me, and becoming not only my lover, but also my best friend. I knew I didn't want to be with anybody else the moment he revealed me his soul.

"I'd love to, babe," I say as I stroke his thigh and advance a little to lightly kiss his lips. He pulls me closer to him and places his palm on my cheek, stroking my skin with his thumb as he smiles against my lips and intensifies our kiss. I make a slight movement, and he instantly pulls away from me, frowning at my leg.

"No, no, no sexy time till your leg is better," he says, shaking his head and kissing the bridge of my nose. "Do you need extra pillow under your leg?" he asks. Or do you want me to take Willow off your lap?" 

"No, I want you to kiss me again," I say as I grip his chin and turn his face back to me.

"Okay, so, I brought additional pillows to our bed, so you may put your leg on them at night," he pecks my lips a few times before pulling away, prompting me to grunt in irritation. “My mom will be here shortly with soup and cookies, as she is concerned about your health. In addition, I composed a song about our hospital visit and-“

"Tom, I love you, but you talk too much sometimes" I chuckle and look at him. "You know, you could use your lips for something other than talking" Tom grins and leans in closer to my lips. "Oh, really?" he asks, softly touching his lips to mine. "I can think of a few things you don't need your leg for" he kisses the corner of my lips and pulls me onto his lap.

[atlabeth]

night owl - sokka x fem!reader

summary: when things get too overwhelming, your boyfriend is always there to pull you back, no matter how forcefully he has to do it.

a/n: this is for @missmorosis​​‘s 400 follower event!! go follow her and check it out if you’re a writer as well:-) ngl this is kinda self indulgent because im also dying of school rn i need a sokka of my own. also i did not proofread this, i think it adds some spice to life not knowing if this is coherent or not

wc: 907 

warning(s): stress over school and one (1) curse, but other than that it’s pure fluff 

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You considered yourself a fairly smart person. 

You had earned a scholarship to get here, you took hard classes, and your friends came to you for help from everything to school problems to just general every day things.

But for a “fairly smart person”, you made a lot of bad decisions. 

You knew that taking on a part time job wasn’t a good idea when you already had so much going on. You knew that taking 8am’s wasn’t a good idea when you were already a night owl. You knew that saying yes to that night out with your friends wasn’t a good idea when you had a huge paper due in two days.

(It was worth it, though.) 

You knew all of this before you decided to take on the world, but dammit, you were still allowed to complain. Besides, getting anywhere in the world required sacrifice — if your sacrifice entailed having more caffeine flowing through your veins than blood, then so be it. 

Making up for your mistake of wanting a social life was proving to be much more difficult than you planned — you were on page seventeen of a twenty page paper, and you were stuck in a rut. You had written and rewritten the same sentence more than twelve times; it was like your brain was going on strike in protest of what you had put it through. 

The lights in your room suddenly flicked on and you blinked rapidly to get used to the sudden onslaught on your eyes. You had been staring at your computer screen for so long that you were sure the document was burned into your irises, and this extra brightness was not helping. You squinted and looked to the doorway to see who the perpetrator was, and despite the mix of sleep deprivation and deliriousness you were experiencing right now, the corners of your lips quirked up in a small smile.

It was none other than your boyfriend. You were a bit surprised to see Sokka up at this hour — he took hard classes as well, but he was better at managing his time than you were — but just seeing him made you feel ten times better. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Sokka asked as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Work. This paper is due tomorrow, and I only have a couple pages left until I’m done. Why are you awake?” You countered playfully. 

“‘I’m awake because my girlfriend doesn’t know what a proper work-life balance is,” he answered, though there was real concern in his voice. “How long have you been working on this for? It’s three thirty, you have to be up in four hours.” 

“All day,” you managed through a yawn. “I’m almost done, but I’m just- I’m stuck on this one part, and it’s infuriating.” 

He hummed in acknowledgement and walked over to you, draping his arms around your shoulders and giving you a light kiss on your temple. “Have you ever thought that you can’t focus because you’ve been staring at this screen for eight hours?”

You closed your eyes and leaned into his embrace, feeling the most at peace that you had this whole week. “I mean- it has crossed my mind, but I’m fine! As soon as I get past this sentence, it’ll be smooth sailing. I only have three pages left, I can survive off of four hours of sleep.” 

“Alright,” he sighed. You thought that Sokka had conceded until you felt his arms around you, and you squealed as he lifted you out of your chair. 

“Sokka!” You laughed, swatting his arm in a very low effort attempt to get free. “What in the world are you doing?” You tried as hard as you could to inject some form of anger into your voice, but you couldn’t be mad at him in such a ridiculous situation.

“Sometimes I need to take things out of your hands, and apparently your sleep schedule is one of them,” he grinned. He was carrying you bridal style through your apartment, your arms now looped around his neck for support. 

“Excuse me? I am perfectly capable of maintaining—” your own claim was foiled with the interruption of a yawn; even your body was against you at this point, “— a proper sleep schedule.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” By now, the two of you had reached your room and Sokka gently set you down on the bed before climbing in next to you. You turned your head slightly to meet his eyes — you were always captivated by the oceans that were held in them. “Just trust me. You trust me, right?” “Of course.” 

“Then believe me when I say that not being sleep deprived does wonders for the mind,” he chuckled. You leaned forward the slightest bit and pressed a kiss to his lips, already finding your way into his embrace. 

“Okay,” you murmured, nestling your head into pillows and humming contentedly at the warmth he brought you. “Just this once.” 

And laying there, together with Sokka, it didn’t take too long for you to fall asleep. Just before you drifted off, you felt him press another kiss to your hairline, and you smiled unconsciously. Your mind couldn’t be farther away from the task that you had been so feverishly working on just minutes prior. 

That paper could wait until the morning. 

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