#but I was not throwing away and redoing all this detailed dress all over

[beneaththeshadows]

Malora and Alerie Hightower

The hightower sisters, thanks to @highgardenart 's suggestion, I designed the 2 elder daughters of Leyton Hightower and loved the planning and gathering of references for the fashion of the Reach

I'll write more on my headcanons for the Reach fashion below if anyone is interested in that!

Also, closeups of Alerie's dress!

My inspo was mainly late 15th/early 16th italian fashion, with some big sleeves and lots of nice patterns, embroidery, motifs, and fabric (which I think would be very popular around the Reach). Lots of slashed sleeves because fabric is costly!

Jewels are a must but not the main show (unlike those flashy Lannisters), and the hair is what I can describe as "pretend you woke up and did this in 30 minutes" like showMarg, where she has pretty hairstyles but they feel more "natural" and less elaborate than Cersei's updos, but they're just as complicated, (it's all part of the persona) with the presence of decorative veils (which could be callback to fully veiled women back in ancient Andal fashion back in essos, but that's just headcanon) I feel that this is more in line with the "romantic" notion and tradition of the Reach!

And it's all supposed to be very romantic and very fitting to the courtly love aesthetic (they're doing the Victorian old trick of romanticizing ancient eras just for romance sake)

Alerie is dressed more within accord to Highgarden/Central Reach fashion, where I'd guess where she'd be wearing a kirtle and above it, that'd be the "overdress"/giornea inspired garment, filled with rose patterns and just a few towers to honor both houses (but more house Tyrell, since she's the lady of the family), the sleeves are very slashed and in my headcanon it would more similar to other dresses around the continent, while Malora is dressed in a typical fit around Oldtown, which is not necessarily THAT different but it still (hopefully) has its differences, like much fuller sleeves and lower neckline, showing more of the chemise, and fuller, pleaded skirt, (characteristics that I also have a headcanon for, they're originally from Braavosian dresses and then adopted by other port cities)

I also included some personal touch for both women, Alerie's hair rings as mentioned by cannon, and for Malora, I included a chain meant to mimick/pay homage to Maesters and a overdress/ropa because it'd be chilly at the top of the Hightower

So anyways, if you made it here, congrats, hope you like it! And that's it!

[murmurlilies]

Less about OCs, but I'm interested to know what your process is like when creating a piece as detailed as that one you posted for Valentine's Day. How do you go about it? And do you happen to do time-lapse videos?

hmm can't say I can give an explanation that's terribly interesting or satisfying lol... I'm almost entirely self-taught, so "process" is a very loose and nebulous concept for me, and it changes from piece to piece. the one common thread among my works is that they all involve obscene amounts of trial and error. I don't have any recent time-lapses because I never think to record them, but if I did you would definitely see how often I feel the need to adjust and redo every little thing.

for the Valentine's Day piece, because it was a "remake" I had the benefit of a much more solid foundation than usual to start out with. however you can still see where I ended up deviating from the sketch phase - most obvious being her pose, the design of her hair, and the details of her sandals. (there were also meant to be candles on the dresser, but I forgot and didn't feel like adding them back in later and so I decided a vague suggestion of candlelight was enough lmao)

anyways, compared to everything else, sketching and linework are fairly straightforward and come most easily to me. there really isn't much to say, just scribble some messy lines and then whittle away at and draw over them till they magically become less messy!

when it comes to coloring and shading, things get a lot weirder and more complicated. this is where my process tends to vary the most, because it really depends on the mood of the piece. for this one I wanted something dark and seductive, so I covered the whole image in a layer of burgundy red, then painted the "lighting" on top across several Overlay layers. additional shadow details were brushed in on Multiply layers using deep purple instead of straight black, but ultimately I didn't want them to be too dark, as that initial layer of red was meant to serve as the primary "shadow" of the piece.

this is also usually where I decide which lines I want to "color" with clipping masks, which can either make certain elements pop or feel softer. it sorta brings the whole image together, giving it a much more painterly look overall. from there all that's left is to keep making adjustments and adding little details - the glittery effect on her dress was one of the last things I added, I thought it looked really nice!

...ok now take everything I just said and throw it all in a blender. because even though it might sound fairly orderly, the truth is I'm constantly making changes to all stages of my works, even the earliest ones, all the way to the end. I'll still be making adjustments to the linework and such after I've already put so much effort into the lights and shading! it's not the most efficient way of doing things... but again, trial and error. my perfectionism gets the better of me...

anyways I apologize if NONE of this made any sense, like I said I never had any formal training in art, so I'm not very good at teaching or explaining it!! at the end of the day my process is less about what makes logical sense and more about finding what feels right in a given moment. at the very least I hope it was a fun read lmao 🥳

[stickers-on-a-laptop]

Since I have recently started Shinkenger, I would like to request Ryunosuke/Takeru where Ryunosuke gets taken a little more seriously than the show tends to take him. Maybe something with battle injuries :D

Loyalty and Dependence (are dangerously similar)

He didn’t have to say anything to the Kuroko. They simply moved away from Ryuunosuke with one single movement of his hand and from the expression on his face.

(And who was he to have this power? Nevertheless, it was the way it was, and the fact was—odd as it seemed to him—that he wanted to be the one to patch up his Blue Vassal.)

However, as the Kuroko moved away, in that silent way of theirs, Takeru found that Ryuunosuke had apparently been trying to patch himself up, probably in some way to punish or discipline himself for allowing attacks to get through.

“Ryuunosuke,” Takeru sighed, grabbing a roll of bandages the Kuroko had left behind.

“Tono!” Ryuunosuke gasped, gaping. “You don’t have to do this for me!”

(And that was the thing, wasn’t it? He, Shiba Takeru, did not have to patch up his vassals. He had to throw them into battle, and he had to make sure the world wasn’t swallowed by the Sanzu River, which was why his vassals were being thrown into battle. But it wasn’t his duty to do something as trivial as patch up the other Shinkengers; after all, they had the Kuroko.

And sure, Mako was trying to dress a wound on Chiaki’s neck as Chiaki made a mess with the bandage rolls trying to wrap Kotoha’s sprained ankle, despite Kuroko fluttering around. But Takeru didn’t need to concern himself with such matters.)

Having gotten lost in thought, Takeru almost missed it when Ryuunosuke got up to leave, but his reflexes were honed enough to grab his most loyal vassal’s wrist. The bandage wrapped around said wrist was better dressed than one would expect for it have being done one-handed, but still needed to be secured better.

Takeru wasn’t sure why this detail seemed so important all of a sudden, but it was something he, at the very least, could fix.

“Sit.”

Ryuunosuke wavered, probably torn between obeying the person he had sworn his (earnest-to-a-fault degree) life to and thinking it was improper for someone like Takeru to do such a task.

(Which, Takeru was just a man. He was no better than Ryuunosuke when it came to matters of his birth.)

Thankfully, Ryuunosuke sat, biting his lip.

“I can just have Mako redo it,” he offered.

“She’s busy dealing with Chiaki’s injury.”

(And again, who was he to send these four into battle? Simply because of families they had been born into? He might have overestimated the enemy’s escalation, but…)

Ryuunosuke watched as Takeru starting undoing his bandages, eyes wide.

“Tono…”

Takeru didn’t say anything for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. There was a metaphor here, in the unwinding of bandages, and his unwinding thoughts, wasn’t there?

“You...you’re my second-in-command,” he started, needing to get the right words, so that Ryuunosuke understood.

“That may be so, but your life is still more important than mine,” Ryuunosuke replied swiftly.

Takeru frowned, wishing Ryuunosuke hadn’t used those words.

After all, water was used to put fire out.

He fixed the bandage so it was more secure, wondering what the magic words were. How ironic, to have the power of words at his fingertips and yet not the knowledge of how to get them out in a way that let others understand him.

Maybe if Ryuunosuke was more like Mako, this would be easier. Even in their short time spent together so far, she seemed to understand Takeru in a way the others weren’t. But then he wouldn’t be Ryuunosuke, would he? He wouldn’t be sweet, over-eager and earnest, good at what he did but riddled with insecurity Ikenami Ryuunosuke.

Somewhere in the depths of his memories, a very vague one of lips kissing a band-aid on a scraped knee arose.

If he couldn’t say something, maybe this would suffice…? Takeru mused, raising Ryuunosuke’s wrist and placing a kiss on the bandaged pulse point and hearing a gratifying squeak.

[lynn-writes-things]

Good thing u reopened ❤. Since the new trailer i cant stop thinking about my big boy Wrecker...so you can do whatever (even a post war au-everybody lives with a bit of struggling) and u can get spicy if u want (im a big girl cant handle it...or him 👀) so i thought make a donation to request. If u need a prompt, a soulmate is one of my weakness....

Thank you so so so much for the donation!!! and the request, I had so much fun writing this!! I really really hope you enjoy this, and if not, let me know and I’ll redo it!! Thank you again!!!! <3

Word count: 2330

Warnings: nsfw at the end, mentions of sex, ptsd, nightmares, mentions of violence and injury

You’ll never forget the day it was announced that the war had ended. You’ll never forget the moment, you were waiting at your apartment for Wrecker, when you heard over the radio that the war had officially ended. Chancellor Palpatine had been exposed as a Sith Lord by none other than Fox, who had gotten a recording to the Jedi of Palpatine giving orders to Dooku- Dooku even referred to Palpatine as Lord Sidious, removing any trace of doubt. When Wrecker came through your door, you were already crying tears of happiness. You couldn’t believe it- you just couldn’t.

That night, Wrecker took you to 79’s to celebrate with the boys. It was where the two of you had met. Now that the war was over, he had a very important question to ask you, and he wanted his brothers to be there to experience it.

-

The air was cold, and your dress was entirely too short. You had been practically abandoned by your friends, who had convinced you to come out for a couple drinks. Admittedly, you felt foolish for thinking that they would’ve stuck around once they finally talked you out of your house. You had been so busy studying lately that you never got time to have any fun, and though they should’ve been having fun with you, they chose the company of a few clone troopers instead.

“Hey,” Came a voice from behind you. You turned, and came face to… chest, with the largest clone you’d ever met. “You look a little lost.” He commented with a kind smile. Only one of his eyes had an iris, and you found that it sparkled so radiantly that you couldn’t look away.

“Yeah, my friends sort of ditched me.” You said sheepishly.

“That’s not very nice of them,” He commented. “Want to grab a drink with me?”

“I—” You usually would say no, but you figured- fuck it, why not? He was cute, and seemed nice. What’s one drink? “Yeah, actually- I’d love that.” The two of you make your way to the bar, where you both sit and he orders you a drink.

“What’s in this?” You ask, sniffing the brightly colored beverage.

“It’s a surprise!” He laughed. “It’s nothing too heavy, trust me.”

“No offense, but I think we have drastically different perspectives on what is or isn’t a heavy drink.” You joke, and Wrecker belts out a laugh, just happy that you’re finally starting to relax. He couldn’t get over the way you looked- he wanted to take you back to meet his brothers, but he knew that it was way too soon for that sort of thing. He wanted to ask you to be his girlfriend on the spot, but again, he knew better. You try a sip of your drink, and you hum in appreciation for the sweet flavor of the beverage. It hardly tastes like alcohol at all.

“This is really good,” You comment.

“I told you!” He cheers, taking a swig of his own drink. “So, what happened with your friends?” He asks. You were sort of surprised that he remembered you even mentioned them. You had almost forgotten that you had mentioned them.

“Oh, they do this every time they get me out of the house,” You say with a sigh. “I don’t get it. They always want me to come out, but they never want to stick around me.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” He answers. “Who wouldn’t want to hang out with you?” He asks earnestly, and you can’t help but blush.

“You hardly know me.” You say with a lighthearted roll of your eyes.

“Well, I like what I know about you so far.” He smiles, and you can’t help but return it. “And I think you’re beautiful, so I don’t see who wouldn’t want to be around you.”

-

The bar was quiet tonight, unlike the night you first met. But that was okay. It meant for more privacy, which meant Hunter could actually breathe. He was the only one who knew what was going to be happening tonight, and he found that he could hardly stop smiling. He was just so excited and proud of his little brother. The first of them to get married was a big achievement, one that Crosshair would never be able to hold over his head. When you caught on to all of his smiling, Hunter just brushed it off by saying he was just happy that the war had finally ended. You had bought it.

“Hey,” Wrecker nudged you, you had him trapped in the booth. “Can I get out?”

“Yeah, ‘course.” You said, standing up. He did the same, only before you had the chance to sit back down, he dropped to one knee and pulled out the ring he had been holding onto for months now. He knew he wanted to propose to you for ages now, but he always just felt he had to wait for the right time. And, well, this felt like the right time.

“Y/N,” He starts, clearing his throat. Tech starts recording without your knowledge. “I’ve known you were meant to be mine from the first moment I saw you here, years ago.” He says. “I knew from the first time I looked into your eyes that you were the only one for me. You’re my soulmate, Y/N.” He’s tearing up, which is making both you and Hunter tear up as well. You had your hand over your mouth in shock. “Will you please make me the happiest man alive and please be my wife?”

“Yes!” You yelled, gaining the attention of every clone in the bar. “Yes, Wrecker- yes!” You’re crying now, and everyone in the bar cheers. Wrecker stands, and places the ring on your finger. You jump into his arms and kiss him as hard as you could. It was salty, the combined taste of both of your tears. The boys are all cheering the loudest, even Crosshair is smiling.

-

“Okay, okay, my turn,” You began, popping a fry into your mouth. You’d moved to a booth in the back, bonding over beers, shots, and fries. “Would you rather have sex with a Togruta or a Twi’lek?” You ask, alcohol swimming in your veins.

“Depends, which one’s hotter?” He asks, and you snort.

“They’re both pretty hot.”

“Are you there?”

“Why would I be there?” You laugh.

“Because if you’re there, I’m picking you regardless.” He promises with a wink.

“Okay, that was a good one.” You laugh, shaking your head. You couldn’t remember when you started holding hands across the table, but you were reminded by the warmth.

“My turn,” He states. “Would you rather fuck me or a reg?” He asks with a smrik.

“I don’t even know what a ‘reg’ is, but I’d definitely rather fuck you.” You answer, blinking with both eyes, causing both of you to burst out laughing. You laugh so hard that beer comes out of your nose, which makes Wrecker laugh so hard he’s pounding his fist on the table. When the two of you sober up, you agree to head back to your place for the night, with promises to show you why they call him Wrecker.

-

You wake up for the third night in a row to Wrecker yelling. He’s sitting up, covered in a layer of sweat. He’s horrified, again. It hurts you deeply that there isn’t more you can do to help him – he is your soulmate after all.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask gently, your arms around him.

“Tech,” Is all he says, and you know all of the details without him having to talk about them. He has had the same nightmare every night since the war had ended and he’d been away from his brothers.

In the dream, they were back on the battlefield, and it’s during a battle that doesn’t go to plan. It starts off fine, though it doesn’t stay fine for very long. Droids get airdropped in from every direction – faster than they can take them out – and they’re overwhelmed before they even know what’s going on. Tech gets captured, and by the time they all find him, he’s badly injured and barely alive. But, in the nightmare, Tech doesn’t make it, and Wrecker’s the one to find him. He blames himself.

“Do you want to call him?” You ask. “He might like to hear from you.”

“I… Yeah.” He says with a shaky sigh. You comm Tech, who’s still awake, and he and Wrecker talk for the better part of two hours while you cuddle up with Wrecker. You gently caress him and place gentle, soft kisses anywhere that you can reach. By the time he hangs up, you can tell Wrecker is feeling better.

“I wish there was more I do to help you, my love.” You say, kissing his cheek.

“You’re here for me,” He says. “That’s all I need from you.”

“Yeah, but…”

“I know.” He smiles softly. You kiss his lips now that he is no longer on the line with Tech, and he kisses back eagerly, passionately, trying to show you just how “okay” it was that you did everything you could to help him when he needed it. To show you how much he appreciates you taking care of him.

“I love you,” He sighs against your lips.

“I love you too,” You whisper against his. The kiss deepens, his tongue prodding for entrance, which you happily allow.

-

You don’t even end up fucking that night, you both agree that neither of you are sober enough to make that choice. But, you agree to spend the night together anyways, and see where things go in the morning. You can ride out your hangovers together.

You wake up first, to find the human equivalent of a heater curled around your body. You melt into his touch, and it’s the closest to heaven you think you’ve ever been. You wiggle out of his embrace, and promptly go throw up in the refresher, brushing your teeth afterwards and getting a glass of water. You down two pain killers with the water, and refill the cup, setting two more pain killers on the bedside table on Wrecker’s side, along with the refilled cup of water.

When he wakes up, you’re in the kitchen making caff, needing the caffeine.

“Morning, gorgeous.” He smiles at you. He barely even squints at the morning sun, and you’re reminded once more than being as large as he is must have it’s advantages.

“Morning, handsome.” You smile back, sipping your mug of caff. He walks over and places a soft kiss to your lips, humming at the taste of caff. “Want a cup?”

“I’d love some.” He smiles. You fix him a cup of caff, and you both sit and watch the morning news.

“So, about last night…” He begins, and you feel your heart sink with anxiety. “I really would like to get to know you better.”

“I… I’d like to get to know you better too, Wrecker.” You smile. “You seem like a really kind, funny guy.”

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be, angel.” He says.

“I want you to be yourself,” You laugh. “I like you quite a lot.”

“I like you, too.” He smiles. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you while Wrecker thinks of something – something you can’t read in his eye. “Will you be my girlfriend?” He asks at last. You beam at him.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Wrecker.” You answer happily.

­-

The kissing grows to him laying you on the bed and rutting against you, his lips never leaving yours. You breathe out that you want him, and Wrecker doesn’t hesitate to start fingering you, stretching you open with care. He knew he was bigger than most, and the last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt you – so he did this every single time the two of you had sex.

By the time his cock finally enters you, you’re keening, fucking yourself on his cock. He chuckles at your attempts, before finally giving you what you want. The most amazing part about fucking Wrecker is that he fills you up so perfectly, he manages to hit your g-spot and your cervix without even adjusting his angles – it just naturally happens. You’re convinced that he’s your soulmate, every detail proves it to you, even down to the size of his dick. He starts a slow and sensual pace, before the pleasure starts to get too much for him, and he can’t help but speed up. You’re a moaning mess, crying out in ecstasy with every thrust of his hips.

“Where?” He asks in a pant, and you don’t even need to hear the full question to know.

“Well, I was thinking,” You start, and his pace slows just a little so he can intently listen. “Since we’re engaged now…”

“I… Yeah? Really?!” He asks, sounding enthusiastic and in disbelief.

“Put a baby in me, Wreck.” You plead, and he groans. His big, calloused fingers find your clit, determined to make you come before he does. It doesn’t take long to send you spiraling over the edge, crying out his name as you came messily all over his perfect cock. Wrecker grunts animalistically as he comes inside you, not stopping until you’re filled to the brim with his seed. When he’s done, he stays sheathed inside of you, holding his come in you for several minutes before finally pulling out and laying beside you, pulling you close. You relax into his grip, still shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“You’re going to be such an amazing mom,” He says. “I’ll have so much fun making you one.”

“I love you, Wreck.” You say softly, nuzzling against his chest. “You’ll be an incredible father.”

“I love you too, angel.”

[spidxysense]

Back to You | 1

Summary: He broke your heart, but you’d always love him. Two souls that not even the universe could tear apart, even if you wanted it to at times.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: I told you guys I'd update to the best of my abilities!!! Hope you guys enjoy, just a bit of a filler, next chapter will be pretty intense so watch out for that. As always I hope you enjoy. I'll clean up the whole post tomorrow if there's a laptop or computer nearby since I'm just updating via cellphone.

Word count: not quite sure.

Prologue | 1 | 2

3 months later

“I’m home!” You hear the door slam from inside of what’s become your room and you het up from your seat, hoodie and sweatpants still on.

“I see you still look the same as when I left you this morning.” Troye gives you a pointed look that has you staring at him with an unamuzed face as you slumped your shoulders, “And not in a mood to joke around, I see.” He pulls out a bottle of wine that clinks with the other bottes in the paper bag and hands it over to you, “That’s for you, my little alcoholic.” He pats your head.

You sit down at the table, your right knee brought close to your chest and your left leg up on the chair as well, “How is the outside world?” You place the bottle on the table, “Is loaf bread still a thing?”

Troye snorts in laughter, “She finally speaks! And bonus, actually made a witty quip.” He ducks down to place the detergents under the sink, “I don’t think I’ve seen you sober without a hangover in two months.” He sits down on the chair in front of you and smiles sadly at you, he reaches across the table, squeezing your hand, “How are you today, love?”

You sigh, pulling your hood off, and taking out the bun in your hair before redoing it, “I don’t know, I still feel like shit.”

“Obviously.” He mutters under his breath, “You two were together for 3 years, you can’t just fucking break that up and not feel like shit for a long time.” He scoffs, “You can do sooo much better, Y/N.” His eyes soften up, “You know, he called me again today. I bullshitted him, obviously, he also asked about why my landline wasn’t in service.”

You eye the wire from the phone that you cut when you’d heard his voice from the answering machine, and you give him an apologetic look.

“And your sister called again too. She was worried.”

You sigh, rubbing your face in frustration, “I just cant talk to them right now. I don’t want to have to talk about him when I’m this out of it. They loved him so much.”

Troye sighs and stands up, walking behind your chair and undoes your bun, brushing his fingers through your hair, getting the tangles out, “Look Y/N. When you showed up on my doorstep three months ago soaking wet with blisters on your feet, I told you to do what you need for as long as you need to. I told you to stay for as long as you needed to. But for the past three months, you’ve been getting drunk and crying over him, this isn’t getting over it anymore, it’s just regression.” He grabs you by the shoulders and turns you to face him, “You are a strong independent woman, and I absolutely love having you here with me, but some things need to change.” He pulls you up and over to your room, “You room is a literal pig-sty.”

He runs over to your laptop, “And you can’t keep getting updates on him.” He shows you the articles opened up on your browser from months ago as he closes them one by one.

“Tom Holland steps out looking fresh from a cry with red puffy eyes and disheveled hair.” Closed.

“Tom Holland eats alone at restaurant, phone glued to his ear as he tries to contact Y/N?” Closed.

“Tom Holland takes dog Tessa out for a walk lookng tired and depressed.” Closed.

“Spider-man actor quitting franchise over relationship problems?” I point an accusing finger towards the article, “In my defense, I got a lot of shit for that, and I didn’t defend myself even if it was just clickbait because I promised myself that I wouldn’t go on social media!” Closed.

“Oh I’ll get to that.” He nudged your shoulder pushing you to sit on the bed.

“Tom Holland caught getting emotional on the phone.” Closed.

“Trouble in paradise? Tom spotted out once again, without Y/N in sight.” Closed.

“Tom Holland, spotted out and about, Y/N still as phone background, have the two worked out their problems?”

“Y/N spotted for the first time in months looking haggard as she grabs a bite to eat at local London Bakery.” He gives you a deadpanned look, “Seriously?”

You shrug, “That’s on you. You were gone for the whole day and I had nothing to eat.”

He sighs, closing the browser window with multiple tabs about Tom still opened, “Sweetie, you have got to stop caring so much. I understand that you love him and you two were in love.” He makes a stupid mushy face, “But he hurt you! Live your life, you don’t have to worry about him anymore.”  He opens the next browser window still opened on Tom’s instagram and twitter, “Exhibit B.” He gives you a look before closing the browser.

“You’ve written so many good songs too! But you won’t even share them with the world.” He sat down next to you, clicking around on your laptop before the room is filled with your voice, singing.

You look over at him, “You really think they’re good?”

“I have literally cried with you at night while you would sing.”

You sigh, “I can’t sing right now. I just don’t feel like I can release at album where I’m at emotionally.”

“Then sell some of these to musicians who will, your songs deserve to be heard around the world. And for goodness’ sake, Y/N. Read this will you? It’s been in the mail bin for a month now, they’ve wanted to meet with you for a while now.” He throws a script on your bed

“You aren’t this stupid crying child, Y/N. You are fabulous and you didn’t need a man before Tom, why the hell would need one now?” He has his hands on his hips, “The Y/N I know is better than this. So unless you plan on being her again, then I’m gonna have to cut you off.” He grabs the half finished wine bottle on your dresser before slamming the door shut behind him, “Clean up your room and I’ll call uou when we need to leave to have lunch outside for once.”

You look over at the script on the bed, “The Greatest Showman”, and turn to the first page.

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

“Yeah, I just finished reading the script.” You speak into the phone you kept for business, “I love it.”

“Wait-” Your manager’s voice sounds excited on the other end, “Does this mean you’re going to do it?”

You bite your lip, “Yeah. I think I am, I’m done with this. I don’t want to sit around getting drunk and cry all the time. I’ll send you some compositions I’ve been making these past few months, maybe find some artists who could use the sound on their albums.”

“Th-this is great news, Y/N!” She practically shouts into the phone, “Alright, this is perfect. We’ll fly you out the LA in a few days and you can meet with the directors, meet with the rest of the cast. They’ll be so happy to hear this, I mean, you were their first choice.” she sighs happily, “Alright, well I’ll go ahead and email you the details. I’ll get on the phone with them asap so we can arrange this whole thing!” She pasues, “I’m really proud of you, Y/N.”

“Does this mean you don’t want to be my roommate anymore?” You turn to see Troye pouting with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

You roll your eyes, holding out your arms for a hug, “No way. You’re my bitch forever now.” You laugh, “Thanks for the tough love.” He rubs your back while hugging you, “I really needed it.”

“Ugh, I know you did. It sucked having to be so mean to you.” He pulls away from you, “But please don’t ever ever wear anything like what you were wearing in that article, you looked like garbage.” He scoffs at you, “Now go get dressed and we can talk all about your new movie over lunch!" He squeals.

_________________________

"So glad you could make it, Y/N." Michael leans over to give you a handshake which you take gratefilly, "Hopefully the flight wasn't too tough on you. You've been in London so long, I'm sure you'd have jetlag coming back here."

"It was great! I'm so sorry about not getting back to you sooner, I was gling through some stuf-"

He holds his open palm, "Oh, say no more. I understand, you've been very strong amidst your relationship problems and have stayed above it." He compliments you, taking a bite out of his grilled chicken.

Ylu paste on a tense smile, "We all deal with it in our own ways." You sigh, remembering the days you'd spend drinking glass after glass of wine or whatever liquor was available.

"Anyway, so we wanted you for the role of Anne Wheeler, a pink haired trapeze artist and acrobat who falls in love with Hugh Jackman's business partner and protege, Philippe Carlyle." He ponders for a while, "Obviously we had you in mind for Anne, and we also had Ben Hardy in mind for Philippe, but since you were taking a while to give your answer, we honestly did start approaching other people for the roles and since Ben wasn't too keen on the role after finding out we might be going for Zendaya, it was just more work to get done before the production even started, but now that we have you aboard, everything's going according to plan!"

You clench your glass of water at the mention of Zendaya, you were definitely not feeling well enough to be around too many people, "So…" you play with the table napkin, tearing it to smaller bits and pieces starting at the corner, "When does filming start?"

He munches on some mashed potatoes, "We were hoping to start next month so it would probably.take a good 3 to 5 months to shoot, but your filming would probably be shorter since this is focused more in Hugh's character."

You clasp your hands together, "Perfect, I love it!"

"So, we'll send over the contract within a day or two to your manager, and we'll just pick up from there." He stands up to give you a quick hug.

__________________________________

You hop out the car, walking straight to the elevator in your hotel, your manager following closely behind, "He's your phone. Troye told me you broke it after throwing it against the wall." She looks over at me nervously, "I thought it'd be good for you to listen to his voice every now and then."

You take it without saying a word and stuf fit in your pocket, ignoring the constant dings and alerts coming from it as your manager gets off at the 12 floor. You grip the phone tight in your hand. You knew you didn't hate Tom, you walk out the elevator and towards your room, kicking off your shoes and finding more comfortable clothes to wear.

You could never hate him. But a part of you was afraid of all the messages he'd left you you were scared that if you opened them, you'd come crawling back to him, or if you heard him pleading for you to come back, you'd do it in a heartbeat.

You lie in bed, pondering over the phone, technically, you didn't need to open the messages.

0601 you hear a 'click' before a picture of your scrunched up face as Tom kisses your cheek greets you and you feel your heart ache. You open the photo gallery, and while your scrolling through all the pictures and videos, you accidentally press kn a video.

"I am with a child." You laugh as you watch him,it was raining in London, but you two were out and about, "Babe, let's get back to the car. We can just drive there."

You point the camera towards him as he jumps in a puddle, laughing loudly, pulling you along, "What are you doing with that umbrella? Get over here!" He pulls the umbrella away, "I love you." He mumbles before embracing you and giving you a kiss.

You pull away, giving him a look, "We're gonna be late to the movies, you know."

He shrugs, grinning at you and looking you like a lovesick puppy, he pulls you in again, "It's just the movies." He grins against your lips.

And then suddenly the video cuts and you're left there missing him and missing who the two of you used to be.

You smile sadly at the black screen, clutching it closer to your chest as you hug your phone, the closest thing you had to Tom, as you drift off to sleep.

[toast-tit]

Piano Man

Chapter Four

mob!Tom x reader

Warnings: language, violence

A/N: If you want to be tagged, let me know:)

Summary: The Ecclesiastes Pub catered to a plethora of people. Prostitutes, college students, successful businessmen and London’s most wanted. Bartenders and waitresses learned to tune out conversations from their customers quickly if they wanted to keep their head. However, people will still come looking for trouble, even if that trouble revolves around Tom Holland, the most feared mob boss around.

~ ~ ~

Though I probably should have, I didn’t tell anybody about the call or text. I knew that it was stupid of me to do so, but I’m living in the house of the most dangerous man in the country, so I figured that a threat was practically nothing. It might not even be a threat; for all I know, it’s a stupid prank.

The next morning I woke up around 8:00, hoping that was early enough for Tom. After getting dressed, I walked down the stairs and saw only Tom and Harrison conversing at the kitchen counter. They both were dressed impeccably (why should I be surprised) and stopped talking once they noticed I was present.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Harrison said, taking a sip from his glass. “I’m looking at it and there’s not much to see,” I equivocated. Harrison pursed his lips before turning back to Tom to resume their conversation. I sat down in the chair next to Harrison, marveling at the kitchen as well. Everything about this house screamed I shouldn’t be here and they were right. However, the house was going to have to suck my dick because apparently I’m not going anywhere.

“So where’s all your henchmen and shit? Isn’t this house supposed to have eyes everywhere?” I took an apple from a nearby fruit basket and not into it. Tom filled a glass of water and handed it to me and answered, “I have eyes all over London and the U.K., Y/N. The lot of them don’t come here until nine; only Harrison and I live here.” He handed the glass to me and I thanked him quietly, taking a sip, “So the mafia’s a 9-5 business then?” “Not at all,” Tom shook his head, almost cracking a smile at my joke.

For a while, we didn’t say anything to one another. I was finishing my glass and Tom began to cook breakfast. It smelled delicious and I was tempted to ask for some, but I figured best not to. The sun was rising gradually and wisps of orange and yellows rays managed to squeeze in through the closed curtains and dance across the house as if they were lovers.

Tom turned around with two plates of eggs and sausage, giving one to Harrison. He then looked at me and asked, “Did you want something?” “No, but you probably should’ve asked before you started cooking,” I said. He took a forkful of eggs and lifted them to his mouth, “One day you’re going to wish you didn’t have that sharp tongue.”

While the two were eating, I headed back to my room, deciding that I’ll start my job when everyone else does. I unplugged my phone from the charger and opened it, mulling over the photo like I had ever since I received it. I could see the picture detail by little detail even when I closed my eyes, but it pained me that I didn’t know who she was or who sent this to me. Is this a riddle I’m supposed to solve? Was I supposed to figure out who she is or why this photo has so much meaning and suddenly stop some psychotic maniac? Was this woman after me or was she also being chased? I literally know nothing about her, who she is, her favorite color, if she went to college or not.

Someone knocked on the door and immediately I took myself out of my messages and turned off my phone. “Come in,” I said and Harrison entered the room. “While you’re up, might as well start you on some training,” he looked a little too smug for my taste and I wanted to punch out his perfect teeth. Why the fuck were the two men in charge of the most feared mafia fucking gods? Last I remembered, mob bosses were fat guys who practically beat the living shit out of Viagra.

I nodded my head and stood up, brushing myself off and trying to shake the photo out of my head. “Do you want me to change into something different?” I asked. “Preferably, unless you really would like to sweat your ass if in those jeans,” he gestured to my pants.

“Good...good, you have decent form, Y/N. I’m impressed,” Harrison nodded along as I kept punching the bag with the new technique he taught me. I didn’t let the compliment go to my head, so I ignored it, continuing to throw more punches to the poor bag. Too much was on my mind and honestly, the training was a great stress reliever. Sweat was getting near my eye, so I paused for a bit and wiped it off, but that was when I looked up at the news. Where the photo of the girl was displayed on screen.

“Turn it up,” I demanded Harrison and he did so. We both listened to the reporter and I let the words hit my nerves. “Today, Ellen Rhie, a college student abroad from South Korea, was brutally murdered and found in an alley near the Ecclesiastes Pub, which had just reopened after a stand off from what seems to be a gang killing. She was strangled with what seems to be a piano string approximately 12 hours ago and was found by a homeless man,” the reporter continued, but her words melted away.

The woman was murdered. The woman who seemed so alive in the photo sent to me hours ago, 12 to be exact. Over and over in my head, I replayed the phone call and heard the voice tell me, “The first of many.” My mind was like a broken record player stuck on the vinyl of darkness, constantly relaying threats. So this was it, the text was a threat and I’m going to be a victim.

Harrison noticed my state and he put his hand on my shoulder gently, causing me to jump. “It’s just me,” he said softly, “Are you alright?” I stared at him, practically boring into his face. Everything around me seemed slower, and my eyes glazed around the room to make sure nothing was melting, although it felt like everything should be melting.

My voice was barely above a whisper, shaking uncontrollably, “I should have told you.” “Tell me what?” He asked. “I could’ve saved her,” my voice was louder now, “I could’ve prevented it.” “Prevent what, that murder? You had nothing to do with it, Y/N!” Harrison looked puzzled and I didn’t blame him.

I rushed to a nearby chair where I had left my phone and I opened it, revealing the photo. “I got a call last night from a random number. They told me that this was ‘the first of many’. I didn’t think much of it until now,” some of that was blatant lie but I didn’t care. He had to know now.

Harrison took the phone out my hand and examined it before averting his gaze to the TV to look at the same exact photo. He gave my phone back to me and grabbed my arm lightly, albeit a little pressure on it. “We need to find Tom,” he said with gritted teeth and the two of us rushed to his office where he was speaking with someone.

“I’m in a meeting, Harrison,” Tom stopped talking to the person seated in front of him, but he didn’t look at Harrison. The gun was perched on his desk and the person was visibly distraught. Harrison took a look at the person before changing back to Tom, “It’s important.” “Everything is important, Harrison,” Tom met Harrison’s eyes, “This meeting is important. That’s why I’m having it.”

Tom began speaking to the person again before Harrison sighed, “It’s Rigsby, sir.” Tom froze, something that shook me to the core. He turned to the person he was speaking with, and pointed the gun in their face, “You have five seconds to leave this house. One,” he counted and the person scurried out. Tom looked at me and commanded, “Close the door.”

After Harrison told him what went down, Tom slammed his fists on the table and stood up, pointing at me. I jumped and my stomach dropped lower than it already was. “You know you were going to be a fucking target, Y/N! Why the fuck would you hide this? What if you were sent your own photo? What were you going to do?” He shouted. Harrison looked stoic, but I knew that something about this was bothering him deeply.

“What’s going on? Why was I sent the photo, Tom? Do you know who the fuck did this?” my voice was rising as well, not taking kindly to being shouted at. “Of course I do, Y/N! I’m not fucking thick headed like you. I know when something’s dangerous,” he answered, but not really answering my question.

“You don’t think I know what’s dangerous?” I stood up from my seat as well, “I live in fucking Southwest London you waste of breath! I’ve been fucking catcalled, assaulted, robbed, and destroyed beyond all reason because of this shitshow we call a city! I’m living with a fucking cold blooded killer who murdered his fucking father and probably the rest of his family too!”

Harrison grabbed my forearm, “Sit down!” He hissed. Tom was still, and his eyes bore daggers into my skin. “Harrison, leave,” he said, his voice almost like a growl. “Tom-“ “Get the fuck out of here!” He turned to Harrison. Calmly, Harrison stood up, walked to the door, opened it and left, all without saying a word, and leaving me with Tom Holland.

“So you really believe the bullshit they spoon fed you out in the world, didn’t you, Y/N?” He was walking out from behind his desk and I could see his hands were balled up and bleeding, from his nails digging into his skin. I was terrified, I knew I fucked up and now I couldn’t redo it. I didn’t know who I should’ve been more scared of, whoever wanted me dead or Tom.

I said nothing and he laughed, walking closer to me. “You really want to act so innocent and spit on me like I am the Devil, don’t you sweetheart?” His teeth were gritted and he cocked his head. I was backpedaling, but soon I had run out of place to backpedal and my back hit the door.

He finally pinned me to the door so that I couldn’t leave, although I couldn’t really anyway. “I know who you fucking are, Y/N. You have your own fucking secrets, some worse than mine,” he spat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, trying to act harder than I really was. He pressed a finger to my lips and shushed me, “Don’t lie to me, Y/N. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He shrugged and tilted his head, “I’ll admit it, I killed my father. He was getting soft and a bit too old for this job. The mob needed grit and he didn’t have it.”

“And you did?” I asked but he pressed his finger against my lips harder. “No time for talking, miss,” he chastised, “I have my demons and you have yours. But don’t ever think for a fucking second that you can use my crimes against me. Don’t ever think for a fucking second that you can best me. After all, I am a cold blooded killer, according to you.”

He took his finger off my lips and replaced it with his thumb brushing my lower one. “Look at me, Y/N,” he said softer than before but all the more dangerous. I did what I was told begrudgingly and I noticed an emotion I wasn’t particularly excited to see. His eyes seemed clouded with a concoction of emotions: anger, madness, and what seemed like lust. “One day,” he said to himself as he took his thumb from me.

He finally backed away, giving me space, but I still didn’t move; I was petrified. Fumbling around for the lock, I unlocked the door and opened it. Before I exited the office, Tom called out my name and I stopped in my tracks.

“You’re here for a reason, you need to tell me these things, especially now more than ever,” he was holding information back, but I didn’t want to get into it. I wanted to get away from him right now and let my nerves sort themselves out. I nodded silently and left, closing the door behind me and practically rushing down the stairs, tripping over my feet.

CHAPTER FIVE

TAG LIST:

@financialinstability @magical-fairy-princess-stuff

[nolookfive]

all you’ve done is more than enough

Requested: Could you do an epilogue to the miscarriage fic where its set a year or two after and they end up having another baby!

go read i will be your home, keep you warm when it’s cold first if you want some context for this. enjoy!

It's exactly 463 days later that Amy decides to rip up her life calendar.

She sits cross-legged at the foot of their bed, staring at the giant poster paper laying flat on the floor in front of her. She'd thought it was full-proof, every event she wanted to occur in her lifetime planned out with precision right down to the last detail, colour-coded in terms of personal goals and business goals.

She runs her index finger along the permanent blue line that moves "marriage" higher up the list, smiling to herself as the light hits her wedding ring just right, the thin gold band still as shiny as the day Jake slipped it onto her finger for the first time. Her eyes travel down the timeline, letting out a hum as she looks over the rest of her "planned" events, and her heart almost stops when she reaches the one that still pains her the most.

Start a family.

Much like "marriage”, this one had a long permanent blue line that ran up the length of the list, slotting it seven spaces from the top. But it wasn't the fact it had moved up that got her, rather the black scribble that ran down the length of it, cancelling it out and putting it back in its original place. She slides a finger of it, flinching when she feels the rough indents of the paper almost breaking through to the other side, a reminder of one of the few major breakdowns she had in the weeks that followed her miscarriage.

She thinks about Jake, remembering the heartbreaking look on his face when he came home from the grocery store to find her curled up on the sofa, holding the tiny police onesie she'd found in the back of their wardrobe to her chest, heavy sobs racking her entire body. She remembers him wrapping his arms around her, not saying a word, and she knew it was because he was too afraid that anything he would say could set her off again.

She remembers her first day back at work, the waves of frustration when she felt all eyes on her, watching her every move. Every conversation the squad had with her would be like walking on eggshells, all of them being extra careful not to say the wrong thing. It wasn't until she went to get a file from the evidence lockup that Rosa found her, and before she could even say a word, Amy snapped.

"Rosa, I don't know what you want from me, but please just stop. God, if it's not you, it's Jake. If it's not Jake, it's my mom. I just want to work, I want everyone to stop trying to protect me and stop watching me and stop making sure I'm okay because honestly, no, I'm not, but I'm dealing with it and you guys need to please leave me alone, please."

Her yells turned to choked sobs and as hard as she tried to leave the lockup, Rosa grabbed her arms tightly. "Santiago, stop," she said sharply. "Even if you don't want people badgering you, we're all still here for you, whether you like it or not."

Amy tried to ignore the curious look Jake gives her when she returns to her desk, her eyes red and puffy. She sees him glance at Rosa out of the corner of her eye, before he gets up and presses a kiss to the top of his wife's head, squeezing her shoulder as he walks past.

She lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose, trying to push all the memories to the back of her mind. Finally, she sets her jaw and picks up her life calendar, taking a deep breath before ripping it fully in half, scrunching it up in her hands. Just as she throws it to the other side of the room, she hears footsteps behind her.

"Uhh, what are you doing?" Jake asks as she turns around, giving him a sheepish look.

She shrugs. "Redoing the life calendar," she says nonchalantly, laying a fresh sheet of paper on the floor. Jake walks to the bed, throwing his bag down and sitting next to her.

"But why? What's wrong with the first one?"

She looks up at him, her eyebrows raised. "It's - I don't like it," she admits, "it's a mess. It's unorganized. I can't handle it. And some things didn't...work out. I don't want to see them anymore."

He nods, knowing what she's referring to. "So, is the new one going above our bed as well?"

She lets out a small laugh, struggling to reach her pencil case until Jake hands it to her. "I think this one can go inside the door of the closet," she answers, pulling out a red Sharpie.

"Probably a good idea," he replies, gesturing to her stomach, "I don't think this one would be too happy about spending her first few months staring up at that thing."

Amy rubs her ever-growing stomach tenderly. "I mean, we've got eight more weeks, we can put it up there until she arrives."

"Noooope! You said closet, that's exactly where it's going and staying."

She laughs, before gasping and looking at Jake with wide eyes. "God, she's really playing football in there today," she says, reaching for his hand and placing it against the side of her belly. 

He waits for a moment, before he breaks into a wide grin as he feels a hard tap against his palm. "That's so amazing," he murmurs, Amy's fingers linking with his, "never gets old."

Amy leans forward and kisses him sweetly, her free hand reaching up to cup his cheek. "Yeah, never gets old for you," she teases, "you're not the one whose had a foot to the spine every day for the last few months."

He pulls away, an offended look on his face. "Hey, who's the one that's had to cater to your weird-ass cravings at three in the morning? You're welcome by the way."

"Alright, alright," she laughs, shoving his chest playfully. "I need to finish this, can you please organize dinner?"

"Yet another example of me tending to your needs," he jokes, kissing her cheek as he stands to leave the room.  

She rolls her eyes, looking down. "Your dad is super dramatic, kid," she says to her belly, pulling the cap off her Sharpie and biting her lip in concentration as she leans forward, scribbling on the blank page in front of her.

And three months later, after they've put little Mia to sleep in her cot, donning the police onesie her father so carefully dressed her in, Amy stands at the door of their closet, black marker in hand, and ticks "two plus one" off the life calendar.

[sweetsoursugarcube]

The Ghost Ship

I wrote this to celebrate Eren’s birthday, but it’s been over a week since the big day D: In my defense, I’ve been busy translating it from Swedish to English.

Please read the original story, Spökskeppet, if you can, either on AO3 or on FF.NET

You can also read The Ghost Ship in English on AO3 and FF.NET

Summary: The sea rages and Eren awaits a visitor. Jean tells Marco the ghost story of the captain and the lighthouse keeper in the stormy night. And through the mist sails the ghost ship; the Captain’s coming to meet his lover. ~3k

EDIT: tumblr is having problems with the “read more” feature and some strange symbols might pop up if you read the post on desktop, but if you view it on my blog it should be fine :) i didn’t put them there myself lol

Once again the clock strikes twelve and it’s the thirtieth of March. The light of the crescent moon and the stars waltz across the smooth surface of the sea and the heavy air rests. A thick mist from the north glides over the calm waters. Above it rolls the clouds. And the world slumbers.

Standing on his islet, Eren looks over the sea. When he catches sight of the gray mist wall in the horizon, he hops down the cliff and slides down to the water’s edge with wildly flailing arms. There he sinks to his knees on the small, charcoal stones covering the beach and stretches his hand over the water. It’s hardly comfortable despite that the stones have been polished smooth by the waves, but he doesn’t register the pain. He’s only interested in the rippling surface and how the tips of the tiny waves lick his palm.

These waves aren’t common. The sea outside of Shiganshina bay behave like this only once a year, on the thirtieth of March. A hundred years ago or so it might have done so more often, but it’s been long since then and the circumstances have changed over time. Eren doesn’t remember the details of his past very well either, so maybe he’s mistaken. It doesn’t matter.

He wipes his hands on his pants. Visitors are on the way, they must be. The ship has never missed his birthday, but that’s not enough to put him at ease. “The sea has its own mind. You can’t control the damned thing,” Levi used to say. And when Eren’s temperament exploded, he’d say “you’re just like the fucking sea” in that special tone of voice with a tenderness only Eren could hear.

He runs despite the lighthouse door being thirty scarce steps from the beach and he could make it walking as well. Leaving the door open behind him, he rushes through the lighthouse keeper’s apartment and to the stone stairs. So often have they been plodded up and down that the edges have become slanted and the surface worn into slipperiness. Hence why he kicks his shoes off before climbing two steps at a time all the way up.

Lighting the lamp in the lighthouse is like second nature to Eren. Once the light is on, he pushes the balcony door open and gazes northward.

The enormous waves heave greedily. Some break against the cliffs, while others throw themselves over the stone beach to leave thick stripes of sea foam behind, over and over again. It’s a game for them. Sometimes their tips glimmer when the crescent peeks out from between the clouds. The wind that had been mild all afternoon pulls now at Eren’s clothes. It blows through him and nips at his soul as it passes.

The mist is thick and the clouds dark. Eren shields his eyes from the wind and his own hair that whips him in the face. He has to confirm that the travelers are going to pay him the visit he’s been longing for every day, every minute, all year long.

But there in the distance flutters a flag. Not wildly like Eren’s hair, but proudly. It’s green, with a pair of white and blue swords painted across it. Or maybe they’re wings? Hard to tell, because the picture is as worn as the lighthouse’s stairs. Worn and familiar.

He leans over the balcony railing and peers in the mist. Its damp, silky lips have reached the lighthouse and are prepared to swallow him. And all he wishes is to make sure his visitor has arrived.

Surrounded by a bubble of stillness, despite being the eye of the storm, glides the ship across the sea. The mist hangs over her like a bridal veil, but the wind is mild and the air is lukewarm. The floorboards and masts creak, and on the starboard side gapes a hole so big you’d think the ship should’ve sunk a long time ago.

But she has not.

The wind blows away but Eren and the lighthouse remain. They’ve been swallowed by the ship’s private bubble.

“There she comes,” he whispers to himself. “There comes Kuchel and her crew.” And her captain. Kuchel’s son, who has named his most important belonging after he. If only she knew how far away he’s sailed and how much he’s seen and done. The world’s strongest captain, they call him. She’d be as proud as Eren is.

The mist following the ship lies heavy as a curtain and the sight is poor, but there’s nothing wrong with the sound. If you get close enough, you’ll hear the ship creak and the ropes beat the masts, and if you get even closer, you’ll hear the men sing and laugh. In the commotion a command may ring. “Order aboard” or “scrub the decks” will a low but silky voice yell then. And always will it be answered by a “yes, Captain!”

Shanties echo over the calm water. Eren’s heart pounds. Fluttering wild against his ribs, like a flag in the September storm.

Vaguely sung words about storms and sea monsters are carried to him on the wind. The crew has changed course since they’ve caught sight of the lighthouse light. They’ve avoided grounding and are on their way past the islet. The shanty fades away and the low but silky voice shouts “do you call this clean? Deck’s covered in shit, redo it!”

Afterwards it’s silent. Not even a small ”yes, Captain!” rings through the night.

The ship has passed Eren without anchoring. He squeezes the balcony railing so hard his knuckles shine white.

“Wait,” he yells. “Wait!”

Now he’s running again. Down the lighthouse stairs, two steps at a time. He trips, but gets a hold of a window aperture and continues without missing a beat.

This can’t happen, it can’t be true. For the first time ever the ship passes the lighthouse on the thirtieth of March without stopping. Has the old Captain gotten senile? Has he forgot what he came here for? Or does he not have the time to take a break? But Eren’s waited for this night! He’s waited for it for a whole year, every day and every minute, he cannot wait another year. He just can’t.

The lighthouse door has locked itself. Without yanking on his shoes, Eren twists and pulls the lock. He kicks the door.

“Open up, you old bastard,” he says and jerks the handle. The door groans but obeys and Eren falls out onto the cliff.

The pier lies in the southeast. If he waves and shouts from there perhaps the ship’s crew would hear him. And if not, at least he can threaten their captain with what’ll happen the next time his collar is within reach of Eren’s fist.

“We’ll see how much you love the uncontrollable sea then, all right,” he hisses from between his teeth.

The islet is slippery after the mist and the great waves washing the cliffs. The chance of falling into the sea is high, especially if Kuchel continues onward and the storm following her gets a hold of Eren before he gets inside. But he’s not afraid of drowning for he’s been the lighthouse’s keeper for decades already and he can take care of himself. Besides, the legend says that if you drown, you’ll grow a tail over your legs. Though that sounds more like a beautiful tale told to comfort the parents of the hopeless girls who’ve drowned themselves.

When Eren reaches the pier, something splashes at its end and he halts abruptly. An oar pokes out from behind it. In the background sits Kuchel surrounded by her heavy veil.

A man disembarks on the pier. Kicking the rope that keeps his rowing boat in place with the tip of one boot. He raises his gaze and meets Eren’s with an emotionless expression.

Short and pale as a ghost, he is. The hair’s inky black and his eyes light. A few wrinkles sit in the corners of his eyes with black bags underneath. He’s dressed in shiny, knee-high boots and around his neck hangs a white cravat.

The awaited visitor has arrived.

“Levi,” Eren shouts. His legs are numb and yet he runs. On the last step he jumps despite being at least half a head taller than his guest.

They stagger but Levi gets a grip of Eren’s waist and holds him up, unaffected. He tilts his head back to study Eren’s grin.

Eren squeezes the cravat in his fist. “You little bastard, I thought you’d leave without seeing me.”

A small smile pulls at Levi’s lips. “Never. Congratulations on your birthday, love.”

  Jean and Marco sit wrapped in a blanket on a fallen pine trunk. The weather had been calm all evening, but around midnight a storm blew in and Marco confessed that he was too nervous to sleep. Together they left the tent to watch over the sea, sheltered by the forest. The shared blanket was Jean’s idea.

“I wonder where this wind came from,” Marco says. Only his eyes peek out from behind the blanket.

“Who knows,” Jean mumbles. Gravity pulls at his eyelids, even though his company has an uplifting effect. It wouldn’t be all that knightly of him to fall asleep in the middle of the storm that worries Marco, so he fights bravely against the Sandman’s temptations.

“It shouldn’t be this windy by the end of March.”

“The end of March. . .” Jean blinks. The sea raging outside of Shiganshina. . . by the end of March. . . A vague bell rings somewhere at a distance, but his brain is too tired to remember what it wants to remind him of.

“Oh but look, someone turned on the lamp in the old lighthouse. I didn’t know it was back in use. Who’s the keeper?”

“Huh? Where? The old lighthouse has been empty for at least a hundred years, why would anyone turn on the lights there?”

“I wonder as well. But since the light’s on someone has to have done it. Look.” Marco shoves his hand out from the blanket fort and points before he quickly tugs it back into the warmth. How cute he is. Jean can’t help his feelings. He wants to say something, but peers northward instead. And as it is, the light from the lighthouse shines through the thick mist.

And then it hits him.

“Oh shit.” Gravity gives up on Jean’s eyelids, because now he’s wide-eyed. Goodbye, Mr. Sandman. “Someone’s playing us.”

“What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you heard the ghost story?”

Marco pales. “No, which one?”

”The one about the captain and the lighthouse keeper?”

“Sounds scary.”

A wide grin spreads across Jean’s face. ”Not really. Come closer and I’ll tell you.”

Marco squirms until he sits pressed against Jean’s side. Hip to hip, arm to arm. He pulls the blanket closer around them.

“It’s said that the old lighthouse is haunted. It’s the crazy son of a doctor, Eren Yeager, who lives there. He’s the last one to live in the lighthouse before it was shut down. Eren died on that islet on the thirtieth of March, on his twenty-eighth birthday. He turns on the light in the old lighthouse every year, on the night before the thirtieth.”

Sorrow weighs Marco’s voice. “In his own memory?”

“Nope. He’s showing the way to passing ships.”

“Only once a year? The lighthouse isn’t used anymore, it’s not needed.”

“No, but it’s more of a signal to one ship alone. Or to its captain. When Eren turns on the lamp, it’s to say ‘here I am’. He’s hoping for visitors, you see.”

Marco gasps. ”The Captain.”

Jean nods with a serious countenance. ”Yeah, that’s his lover. Eren was barely twelve years old when he met the Captain for the first time here in Shiganshina. He was known as a merciless pirate before he was employed by the state. They said that he was the strongest man in the world, that he was invincible. When his ship Kuchel arrived to the battle, it was already won, because she was the quietest ship in the world, and her crew the most skilled. The Captain always led his men himself.”

“What was his name?”

“No one knows. Eren probably was the only one who was allowed to call him anything else than Captain. He was known to be very strict and tidy. And short. It made him scarier, you couldn’t get a good grip of him.”

“Did Eren become a sailor as well?”

“No. His father made him a doctor. And Eren was young, the Captain didn’t want him coming along either. It wasn’t until he turned fifteen that they started to seriously socialize. It’s a bit unclear with all of that. Some pages have been ripped from Armin’s book.”

”Armin’s book?” Marco frowns. ”Is this a fairytale?”

“No-no. It’s Eren’s childhood friend’s diary. That’s where everything’s written. People were worried when weird things happened on the sea and wanted answers, so they dug up some old books. But I personally think it’s only little boys who’re playing around. They probably row out to the lighthouse once a year to turn on the lamp and then they come back again. It’s all in good fun, I know it.”

“Yeah. . .”

”Anyway. The Captain and Eren were in love and Eren goes with Kuchel as the ship’s doctor. One time, when they return home, they’re told that there are many sick in Shiganshina and that Eren was more needed here than on the ship, so he stayed. Kuchel and the Captain sailed away. But they were supposed to return on the thirtieth of March because the Captain insisted on being here on his lover’s birthday.”

“How romantic.”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe.” Jean rubs the back of his neck and looks over the sea. The mist is thicker and heavier than before, but the lighthouse lamp shines bright. “Problem is, they never came back. People said they must’ve lost their way. Or that maybe the Captain had grown tired of Eren and left him for good. That maybe he had found some nicer and more handsome ship’s doctor. You see, Eren was known for his temper and stubbornness and the Captain was invincible, so it was unlikely that he would’ve died. We still don’t know where Kuchel is, but it’s known that she and her Captain visited the city she was supposed to. She disappeared after that with all of her crew aboard.”

“Do we really not know their fate?”

Jean shakes his head with pursed lips.

Marco shivers. “What do you think happened?”

“Some people blamed sea monsters. It was the only thing people thought could’ve overpowered the Captain. But it’s more likely that he upped and left to a faraway country, painted his ship and lived there for the rest of his life. Eren didn’t want to believe that of course. He insisted that the Captain would keep his promise and sat down to wait. ‘Crazy, he’s completely lost it,’ people said about him. So Eren decided to become a lighthouse keeper instead, since no one trusted him to be their doctor anymore.”

“People are terrible. He was just mourning, poor thing.”

“Yeah, maybe. He was a lighthouse keeper for four years, but then he drowned. No one knows how, but it was on this night, between the twenty-ninth and thirtieth, after he had turned on the lighthouse lamp. It’s said that it was terribly misty back then. The next day Armin and Eren’s sister went to the lighthouse to celebrate Eren’s birthday. They found him dead on the beach by the pier.”

“No, that’s too horrible. I don’t like this at all.” Large, brown eyes stare out at the sea, pause at the lighthouse and turn then pleadingly toward Jean. “It was his birthday. How can something like this happen?”

“Take it easy, it’s just a story.”

“But you said it was written in Armin’s book.”

“I’m sure he’s exaggerated for the sake of drama, it’s okay. So, once Eren had died, everyone thought that was the end of the Captain and the doctor’s son’s romance. No one wanted to move into the lighthouse so it was abandoned. Besides, it wasn’t needed anymore. Everything was forgotten. But then, exactly a year later-”

”The light in the lighthouse was turned on.” Marco swallows. He searches for Jean’s hand beneath the blanket and holds it tight.

“Yeah. Armin and Eren’s sister rowed out on the thirtieth. They’d been warned for the confusing mist that seemed to roll in by the end of March. They were the only friends Eren had and wanted to leave flowers in his memory. But guess what they saw on their way there?”

Marco holds his breath and Jean raises an eyebrow before continuing.

“Kuchel.”

“No, that can’t be true.”

“But it is, according to Armin. Kuchel had been anchored outside of the lighthouse and someone had tied their rowboat to the pier, so Armin and Eren’s sister didn’t have room for theirs. They left their flowers there and rowed away. When they passed the Captain’s ship, they saw an enormous hole in its side and heard shanties sound in the mist. And on the pier stood Eren and the Captain waving at them, side by side. They realized that they’d seen a ghost ship and that Eren had reunited with his lover.”

“But why would Eren still light in the lighthouse if he’s found his Captain?”

“I already told you, it’s not him who turns on the light, it’s just someone playing around. But . . .” Jean bites his lip. ” Armin thought that the Captain’s not done sailing yet. He’s no landlubber you see, he loves the sea. Besides, Kuchel’s disappearance was never explained, so maybe she was cursed.”

“Eren could’ve become the ship’s doctor again,” Marco says.

“But he died as a lighthouse keeper. Armin suspected that he can’t leave the lighthouse and that the Captain can’t abandon his ship either. It’s their destiny to be forever separated and only meet once a year.”

Marco buries himself deeper into the blanket. His eyes glimmer in the light from the lighthouse. “Such a sad ghost story.”

“It’s a myth, don’t be sad because of it,” Jean says. ”It’s just some brats who are trying to trick us with the lighthouse lamp.” And yet he had goosebumps.

Marco sits in silence. ”But it’s misty out here. It’s always misty by the end of March. And the storm began so suddenly too. . . that’s weird, isn’t it?”

Jean rubs his knuckles. ”Ha, no, that happens all the time, every now and then. It’s not weird at all.”

“But a little bit.”

“A little bit, maybe.” And he straightens his back. ”But don’t worry about it. You didn’t get scared, did you?”

“No, just sad.”

Jean grins, but shivers run down his spine again. “That’s so like you. But Marco, shouldn’t we maybe go back to the tent now? Not because I’m scared or anything like that, I just don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“How nice of you,” Marco says and smiles.

“Yeah, haha.” Jean jumps up. ”Let’s go.”

“Okay, I’m coming- oh, but look!”

”What? Where?”

”The ghost ship. It’s there. I swear I can see it.”

Jean laughs, but it sounds more like a cough. He stares wildly over the sea. “No-o, you’re just making things up. It’s so misty, sometimes you imagine seeing things in the mist.”

“No, look past the lighthouse. If you look carefully, you’ll see it.”

He follows Marco’s pointing finger in the thick mist around the lighthouse and its bright light. And he distinguishes a proudly fluttering flag on the top of a mast, and under it the contours of a ship.

“The Captain’s ghost ship,” Jean whispers. His voice is hoarse and so low he barely hears it himself.

“The Captain’s come to meet his lover on his birthday. How nice.”

“You’re the one being nice.” Jean grabs Marco’s arm. “I think it’s for the best if we leave now.”

Into the forest they disappear, Jean and Marco, hand in hand. And out on the open sea rocks the ghost ship, while her captain disembarks on the little islet where his lover has waited and longed for a visit, every day, every minute, for a whole year. As he’s done for many years and will do for many, many more

[fernwehbookworm]

Broken Hearts- Chapter 6

Two weeks have passed since I last talked to Lena. Once I saw her standing on the balcony of L-Corp as I flew past. Supergirl's absence was noted by almost every media outlet but I soon dawned my cape again when an alien attack threatened a school bus full of children.

It felt good to be Supergirl again. Just a distraction really. It became my habit to fly to the DEO as soon as I was done with work. If there was nothing to do J'onn and I would spar. They were searching for a way to dampen my powers so I could practice with others but had little success.

I would return late at night to my apartment and try to sleep. I was restless though and got very little. Mostly I would lay awake and stare at my ceiling until it was near dawn and then go watch the sunrise.

The sunrise always made me think of Lena. Of the picture, she drew of me in her office. My heart was broken and this time I didn't think there was enough left to pull it back together. Like not only did Lena smash it but she took half the pieces with her.

I stir from where I sit on the fire escape. The sun is well above the horizon so I use my super speed to dress and make it to work on time. I know Alex would say I am being reckless with my powers but I don't really care too much anymore.

"Danvers!" Comes Snapper's gravely voice as I walk in the door.

"Tonight you are going to the Sun Gala being held by L-Corp to raise funds for their alternative energy. You're friends with the infamous Lena Luthor correct?" My mouth hangs open. I don't know, I want to say but it doesn't come out.

"Perfect. Make sure you get an exclusive quote then. We need a step up on the competition. We only have one pass so you go alone. The theme is fire so dress appropriately. You can have the day off to get ready. The rest of the details are in your email." Then Snapper Carr moves on to his next victim before I can object.

In a panic I decided to call Alex. Not only am I freaking out about seeing Lena, but also I have nothing to wear. Despite Alex's badass-ness, she was always better at clothing than me.

"Kara? Are you okay? Do you need me to come over?" Worry colored her voice like it did every time we talked for the past two weeks.

"Yes, no, I don't know. I have to go to this stupid Gala thing that Lena is hosting. I'm freaking out because I have to see and talk to her. Also, I have nothing to wear because it has a stupid theme. It's just stupid and I am freaking out." It all comes out in a rush because I am nervous.

"Relax Kara. What's the theme?" Alex's voice is calm and it helps steady me as well.

"Fire. I think it's because of the sun." She hums into the phone as she thinks.

"Okay. I think we have something here at the DEO that will work. It might need some changes but I'm sure I can have the undercover costume team work some magic."

I am pacing my apartment a few hours later waiting for Alex who said she was on her way. I spent the hours in between doing my hair and makeup. I had my hair in a knotted bun near the nape of my neck. I had used my super speed to race around and find something to do with my hair. I found these bright red, orange, and yellow beads that I was able to weave into it. And I must say it had an amazing effect, like little coals searching for something to light on fire. I hoped it would match the dress.

I spent the better part of that time doing and redoing my make up to get the perfect smokey eye. If I had to see Lena, I was going to look damn good.

A knock brings my pacing up short and then Alex comes in carrying a black garment bag. She lays it on the table so I can look inside. She catches my hand before I undo the zipper.

"No matter what happens tonight, you look gorgeous." I smile at her words and unzip the bag. I inhale sharply at the gorgeous garment.

"Alex! It's beautiful. And perfect."

"And bulletproof. Not that you need it." Alex grins at her own joke and I roll my eyes before picking up the dress to go change.

The Gala was in an old historic house. The kind that only a name like Luthor and a bunch of money could use for a party. The large double door entrance opens into an equally large foyer with a wide staircase that splits into two directions at the top and wrapping back around the room. To my right is a study of some sort and to my left is a dining room.

The crowd is a moving mass of reds, oranges, yellows, and blacks. It gave the entire room a soft warm light that made the whole thing almost dreamlike.

Heads turn when I enter, causing my cheeks to flush, but I force myself to not look down in embarrassment.

"Alex, this is not fire themed." I had said, but I didn't really care that much because it was such a beautiful gown.

"It's the hottest part of the fire. Besides, blue was always your color." Alex had said. And when I lifted it from the bag I saw what she meant. The dress was covered with rhinestones that shimmered and moved. The bottom started a deep blue and transitioned to a lighter one as you looked up the dress. But around my chest, it transitioned into a yellow, then, orange, then red. Blue was still the most notable.

The heads continued to turn as I made my way through the crowd. I caught a glimpse of myself in a wall made of mirrors in the dining room. I looked like the hottest fire come to life. My cheeks flushed again at the attention I knew I would get all night and cursed Alex under my breath. She did this on purpose.

I made my way to a table laden heavy with food. Most of it appetizers and finger foods. Live music played somewhere off in the distance and I decided to go seek it out once I had a small plate loaded with food.

A small string quartet was set up on a wide back porch overlooking a garden fit for a queen. It was large and expansive with a fountain in the center and benches surrounding it. I could see trees and tall hedges looming in the dark. And I rolled my eyes at the couples already beginning to occupy the darkest corners.

I heard glasses being chimed inside and knew something was happening. I made my way back through to the dining room. Descending the steps was none other than the hostess of this party, Lena Luthor. She stopped on a landing that was halfway up the stairs.

Lena's eyes scanned the faces of the crowd as she smiled at them. She nodded occasionally at notable individuals that speckled the crowd in this very rich and exclusive event. When I shifted my footing to pull my notebook and pen from my handbag, Lena's eyes found mine and for a second it was like the world stopped. Her mouth fell open slightly, for what reason I couldn't decipher. Either for my presence or my dress or both. Lena covered it quickly though by beginning to speak.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome! And thank you for joining us tonight."  Lena continued into more details trying to persuade greedy people to open their wallets and I quickly scrawled across the page trying to get the story Snapper wanted.

"So everyone raise your glasses, this is to a brighter future for our children and grandchildren. To a future that is brighter than the hottest fire. Brighter than the sun!" Everyone muttered something like 'here, here' or 'cheers' and glasses clinked around the room.

I made my way back outside from the stuffy foyer to finish my notes and tuck them back into my bag. I was leaning on the rail watching the fountain when I heard her approach.

"Kara." Lena almost sighs my name and it sends tingles down my spine. I missed hearing her say my name. She says it like no one else does. I turn away from the porch railing to face her. The girl that stole my heart and wouldn't give it back to me.

"Lena," I say just as soft. Not sure where we go from here. Lena holds all the power and it scares me.

"Kara. I hoped they would send you."

What! My brain screams. Why would she hope that? The implications hurt too much to wish for.

"Wh-why would you hope that? I didn't think you would want to see me."

"Kara. In that dress. Everyone sees you." Lena's eyes look over my body. I feel them trace up every inch like lasers. My checks burn even hotter.

"I hoped because I didn't know if you would answer my phone calls. Plus I wasn't sure until I saw you again."

"Su-Sure of what?"

"That I miss you. Everyday. And I realized that I may have overreacted. You had a big secret and you didn't know how I would react. And then my mother forced you to tell me. And I miss you, Kara. I miss your laugh and miss your smile. Kara, can you forgive me?" My breathing had sped up as she spoke. Maybe my heart wasn't broken. Just stolen. Lena stole it and here she was offering it back.

In a blink of an eye, I had picked her up and pulled into an unoccupied corner of the garden. My lips found hers in a desperate seeking way. She had made a small gasp at the speed but didn't object. Lena's hands made their way to the back of my neck and pulled me even closer. My tongue was searching for entry to her mouth when I heard someone in the distance.

"Has anyone seen Ms. Luthor? Ms. Luthor!" Jess was calling from within the house.

I broke off the kiss, too suddenly for my liking but getting caught together was not an option. I place my forehead on hers and inhale the scent of her.

"Jess is looking for you," I whisper to her. Her eyes scrunch up in a question but then she remembers.

"Right. Super hearing. So I take it that this means you forgive me?" I chuckle lightly.

"Only if you forgive me too." And with a smile that I love so much, she leaves me in the shadows to go deal with whatever emergency Jess has for her. 

I weaved my way through the crowd heading for the exit. I couldn't find Lena anywhere to say goodbye. Despite the late hour, the house was still full of people laughing and drinking. Ties had begun to loosen and shoes were kicked off. Luthor's sure know how to throw parties for the rich and famous.

When I finally escape the stuffy house I dial my phone to call a taxi. There was no way I was ruining this dress by flying. Plus alcohol may not affect me but better safe than sorry. A dark car slows in front of me and the back window rolls down.

"Would you like a ride Ms. Danvers" comes a husky voice in the back. Mesmerizing red lips appear from the shadows of the dark car and I can feel a knot form in my stomach. Not of anxiety but something I can't quite put my finger on. I nod and walk around the car to get in the back with Lena.

"I couldn't find you in the party. I figured you had left."

"Oh, my dear. I couldn't leave without you. I believe we still have to finish our conversation from earlier." A sly smile comes to her lips.

"Oh?" I say confused at first trying to remember what we could have been talking about.

"Oh!" I exclaim as I remember. My cheeks flush at the thoughts running through my head. I glance toward the front of the car but the partition is up and Dave can not see us.

Suddenly Lena is very close. Her lips just a breath away from mine when I turn back toward her. Lena's eyes search mine as if asking permission so I close the gap between us.

It's a searing kiss. One that burns itself into your mind so that even years later you can still feel the heat of it. My tongue eagerly seeks the entrance to her mouth that I was denied earlier. She relents to my pressing and allows me to tangle mine with hers.

I feel myself rise a little from my seat and Lena lays back against the door. I support myself with a hand on the headrest and one on the window. The new angle deepens the kiss. I feel Lena's hands trail from my shoulders and down my back. Suddenly she breaks the kiss and puts her lips to my ear.

"Is this okay? I don't want to go too fast." She whispers and it sends shivers down my spine. All I can manage is a nod. Then I feel Lena's teeth nip my earlobe and I tighten my grip on the headrest.

Crack!

I almost fall onto Lena as the headrest snaps off in my hand. I sit back down, and the hand not holding the armrest covers my mouth in shock and embarrassment.

"Oh my Rao. Lena. I am so sorry." She laughs at the expression on my face. And for a few moments, it's a full-on belly laugh that gets me laughing too.

"Who's Rao?" Lena asks when she can finally catch her breath.

"Just the Kryptonian god of light and life," I say.

"Oh right. Because my girlfriend is an alien from another planet who has superpowers." She puts her head in her hands as if it was too much to comprehend.

"Girlfriend?" I asked, shocked that she would use it so soon. We had just spent almost a month apart and not talking.

"Well, I think just being friends is out of the question now. Because the thoughts I am having about you are anything but friendly." Lena's eyes darken as they wander my body. My cheeks flush again. Man, that was getting annoying.

"Except that I could hurt you. I mean look, it was our second kiss and I broke your car. Lena, how can we be together if I am constantly worried about hurting you?" The car stopped and I looked out the window. We were at my apartment.

"Hmm... let me take care of that. As for now, how about we just go up and watch Netflix?" Lena inviting herself up was odd but actually turned me on a little. She got out and told Dave to go home. No one would know she was here. Besides, little did Dave know that she would be with Supergirl.

When we head up to my apartment I grab clothes for myself and Lena while she pours some wine. While Lena changes I start up New Girl where we had left off. When she sees that she actually blushes.

"Umm... I am actually in season 4." My jaw drops at how far she's come.

"Well, I didn't really do much while we were apart. And it made me happy. It was something we did together." I smile and get up and pull her towards me. The kiss is soft this time and full of warmth, not the searing heat from earlier. I hear Netflix start to play but Lena and I are too occupied.

We lay on the couch and kiss and whisper to each other. We make each other giggle. The whole thing feels so natural that it's amazing we lasted so long as just friends. At some point, we both fall asleep wrapped in each other's arms. For the first time in a month, I sleep through the night.

My body stirs me again before dawn like I usually did to watch the sunrise. Lena is still sound asleep on top of me. I shift her gently to the side and stand up. Before I crawl out on to the fire escape I cover her with a blanket. For once I am not sad sitting out here. In fact, I am perfectly content. It's amazing how much has changed since just yesterday morning.

A hand touches my shoulder and I press my cheek into it as Lena sits next to me.

"This is a very different feeling from the last time we sat here." She places her arm around me. She still had the blanket on her shoulders and so now she drapes one end over mine.

"Yeah, I've watched the sunrise every morning since I last saw you. Mostly because I never slept anyways but also I think it was the moment I knew I would be okay, with you." Lena leans in and kisses my cheek and then lays her head on my shoulder. The sun breaks over the horizon and floods the city with light.

"I'm glad there are no more secrets between us."

"Well... there is one more that's kind of big. But it's related to my other big one." Lena lifts her head and looks at me with a puzzled look.

"My sister isn't actually an FBI agent. She works for a secret government agency the protects against alien invaders." Lena's mouth opens in shock.

"It's called the DEO. And I work with them. We fight bad aliens and humans. Including your mother." Lena sat silent thinking about what I just told her.

"And that's it. That's all my secrets."

"Thank you, Kara." She hesitates for a second. "Is there anything I can do? To help with my mother I mean."

"Just stay away from her. When she took us she told me she needed you to not trust me. To hate me so much to stand against me with her."

"Well, it didn't work. I could never hate you." My phone alarm went off.

"Well now that you know everything I guess I don't have to make excuses. I'm headed to the DEO to check in. I don't know how long I'll be gone so you can stay if you want or leave." I help Lena stand then giving her a quick peck on the lips.

"Kara. We never talked about how open we are going to be about this."

"Well, you are the one with loads of publicity. So when we come out it can be on your terms. But for now, I was thinking we don't tell anyone." Lena smiles brightly at that. One more quick kiss and then a flash to my room to change and a flashback out the window. I turn and see Lena watching me fly away.

I exhale deeply as I flop on my couch twenty minutes later.

"What's wrong?" I start, Lena was still sitting at my kitchen island, mug in hand a newspaper open in front of her.

"Jeeze, I figured you had left. You startled me."

"Well, I was just going to have some coffee then go. What's with the sighing?"

"There is nothing for me to do, Hank is too busy to spar with me, no one else can or I risk hurting them. I told them that you knew my secret and Hank flipped out. Well flipping out for him is more of a stony silence."

"Okay, so many questions. Who's Hank and why is he the only one strong enough to fight you?" She picks up her coffee and walks over to the couch and sits next to me.

"Oh yeah. Hank is actually J'onn Jones a Green Martian from Mars who lives most the time as Hank Henshaw, director of the DEO."

"Wait martian? Never mind. I'll just let that one sink in. So they really have no way for you to fight anyone else?"

"They used to use a kryptonite emitting room but some fell into the wrong hands so Superman took all the kryptonite. So now we don't have any."

"Is kryptonite the only thing that weakens you?" She asked.

"Well, that and a red sun. My powers come from the radiation of earth's yellow sun." It was feeling really good telling Lena everything about me. She listened so intently, but then there was almost this spark in her eyes and she stood up suddenly.

"Where are you going?"

"I have an idea that can help us and help you. I don't know how long it will take. I'll talk to you later."

And with that, she grabbed her purse and was out the door. I sat there a little stunned at her abrupt departure and then lay back on the couch. Well, at least I can take a nap then.

Chapter 7

[artificialqueens]

Something New- Chapter 7 (Trixya) - Julie

AN: This is going to be the last chapter of Something New! Thank you so much for reading and thank you for all your lovely feedback! It really motivated me to keep going.

Chapter 7 includes: a hair crisis, Kim being a good friend and Brian’s parnets. Tw for some transphobic comments.

Thanks for reading! - Julie

Brian was woken up by a loud cough. He jerked up and blinked a few times. The room was well-lit and his curtains didn’t do much to keep the sun out.

“What the fuck?”, he asked confused when he spotted Kim standing next to his bed, hands on his hips. He raised an eyebrow at Brian.

“Good morning”, he said.

“What’s going on?”, Katya asked next to Brian and his head whipped around, having forgotten that she was there. Her hair was a mess and she had pulled up the blanket to cover her breasts. She still was the most beautiful woman Brian had ever seen. She blinked at him with tiered eyes.

“What time is it?”, Brian asked Kim and he let out a laugh.

“It’s 12.”

“Oh fuck”, Katya groaned. Brian glanced at his alarm clock to make sure Kim wasn’t lying. He groaned as well when he saw that he was in fact telling the truth.

“Where’s Keira?”, Brian asked, his voice slightly panicked. He didn’t want her to burst into the room, seeing Katya in his bed. He didn’t have the energy to explain that right now and so he was glad when Kim assured him that she was in her room.

“How did you even get in here?”, Brian demanded to know. He was more awake now, and able to think a bit more clearly.

“Your door was open”, he explained, “it seems you were too busy to close it last night”, Kim nodded at Katya and Brian put his face in his hands embarrassed. But Katya just giggled and the sound of her laugh made Brian feel oddly comfortable.

“Fuck off”, he said, the sound muffled by his hands but Kim understood him anyway.

“I’m going to make coffee”, he said and went over to the door. There he turned around and let his gaze wander between Brian and Katya.

“And put some goddamn clothes on!”, he said before leaving Brian’s room, letting the door fall shut behind him. Brian sank back into his pillows and groaned loudly. This was not how he had planned this. Granted, he hadn’t planned anything but if he had, Kim finding out about them like this would have not been involved his his plan. He groaned again, thinking of the merciless teasing that would probably await him the next few weeks at work.

Katya snuggled closer to him and pressed a light kiss to his shoulder.

“Good morning”, she said in a soft voice and then she giggled again.

“This is awkward”, Brian sighed and she laughed.

“I need a cigarette”, she said and Brian could feel her warm body next to his own move. She got out of the bed, naked, and went over to her purse. Brian had to hold back a moan when she bent over, presenting her ass. She grabbed her pack of cigarettes and a lighter and walked over to his window. She opened it and lit her cigarette.

There was a naked woman in his room, smoking.

Brian rubbed his temples and wondered if this might be a dream.

He got up with a sigh and went over to his wardrobe taking out two boxershorts and two shirts. He laid one pair on his bed for Katya and put on the other one.

“I’m going to look after Keira”, he said and Katya acknowledged it with a nod, while she was blowing smoke out of the window.

Brian closed the door behind him quietly, and rested against it for a moment. Then he walked over to Keira’s room. She wasn’t there but Kim had heard him opening the door.

“Kitchen”, he called out.

Keira was sitting on the kitchen counter, her legs dangling of it. Kim shoved a cup of coffee in Brian’s hands when he entered the room and he smiled at him gratefully.

“Hey honey”, he said and pressed a kiss to Keira’s forehead before leaning on the counter next to her, “how was sleeping at Kim’s?”

“I want to go again!”, Keira’s eyes lit up, “we watched two movies and I was allowed to eat a whole bowl of popcorn!”, she recounted excitedly.

“That sounds fun”, Brian said and took a sip of coffee. He almost choked on it when Katya entered the room. She had brushed her hair, so that it was falling down her shoulder now, slightly curled. She was wearing his shirt, that was a bit too big for him and it almost looked like a dress on her. It went down to her thighs and she hadn’t put on the boxers that he had laid out for her. She was barefoot and in his shirt she looked tiny.

She grabbed a cup of coffee and winked at Keira.

“Morning, sweetheart”, she said. If Keira was confused she didn’t let it show.

“Did you have a sleepover too?”, she asked and Kim let out a stiff laugh.

“You could say so”, Katya said, ignoring Kim. She took Keira’s hand and inspected her nails. The nail-polish was already chipped.

“Hey do you want to come up later to redo your nails?”, Katya asked, changing the topic cleverly.

Keira nodded excitedly.

Katya moved so she was now standing next to Brian, her side pressing into his.

“Keira”, Kim said, “why don’t you go to your room and set up something to play with?” Brian knew that this was a manoeuvre for Kim to get to speak with him and Katya alone and he couldn’t even be mad at his friend. Keira hopped off the counter and bounced to her room giddily.

When they heard her door shut, Kim turned around to look at them with raised eyebrows.

“Soo”, he said, “anything you want to tell me?”

“It’s none of your business”, Brian mumbled into his cup, before gulping down the last sip of coffee.

“It is, when I come to bring Keira over and your still asleep”, Kim sounded offended.

“Look, Kim”, Brian said pitting down his cup, “I’m sorry. I really am. But I don’t know what you want to hear from us.”

“I think it’s fairly obvious”, Katya chimed in, “why do you want details?”

“Ew no!”, Kim said and his face scrunched up.

“Just- don’t let me find you in bed together, I guess?”

“Noted”, Katya said and Brian was well too aware of the implication that this hadn’t been a one time thing. That Katya wanted to repeat their night together.

“I’m going to look after Keira”, Kim said, “don’t-” he threw his hands up and left without finishing the sentence.

Suddenly Katya was I front of Brian, pressing him against the counter. Her face was so close to his and he could smell her morning breath. He was surprised to find that he didn’t mint it at all. Katya stood on her toes to reach Brian’s lips with her own and pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth. Brian put his arm around her waist but before he could pull her in even closer he heard Kim’s voice.

“Jesus Christ it has been ten seconds”, he complained and Katya quickly twisted herself free from his embrace.

“Uh Brian you should probably come see this”, Kim said and he sounded unsure.

“What is it?”, Brian asked slightly nervous at Kim’s tone.

“Just…look”, Kim said and Brian followed him to what he thought would be Keira’s room but Kim passed it and motioned to the bathroom instead. Brian looked at him questioningly but Kim only pushed him forward.

“Oh God”, was the only thing he could say as he looked at Keira sitting on the closed toilet.

“What have you done?”

Keira was holding a scissor and the ground beneath her was covered in strands of hair. The hair still on her head only reached the tip of her ears instead of falling down her shoulders. It looked uneven and the left side was longer than the right. It looked a mess.

“What’s going on?”, he could hear Katya ask behind him and then an “Oh”, as she spotted Keira who had crossed her arms defiantly.

“I cut my hair”, she said.

“I see”, Katya said and her voice sounded a bit unsure.

“Keira”, Brian crouched down in front of her, “why did you do this?”

“Because I wanted to”, she said and Brian tried to control his breathing to not get mad.

“I think it looks fabulous”, Katya said behind him and his head whipped around to glare at her.

“You should have asked me”, he said to Keira, his voice decidedly calm.

“Why?”, she asked and Brian couldn’t help but to raise his voice slightly.

“Because you can’t just cut your own hair! Look how short it is now!”

“Jacob in my class has short hair too”, Keira complained and her bottom lip was trembling. Brian could see that she was on the verge of tears and he did not want her to throw a tantrum now.

“Yeah but Jacob is-”, he started and then he abruptly stopped when he realised what he was about to say. But he knew that everyone in the room already knew what he had wanted to say, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

But Jacob is a boy.

He slowly turned his head to look at Katya. She was standing there, in his too big t-shirt. Her mouth was open in disbelief and she shook her head slightly when his eyes met hers. She turned around, her hair flipping over her shoulder. She walked away without saying a word and Brian flinched when he heard the door snap shut.

“You fucked up royally”, Kim said, breaking the silence.

“Yes, thank you”, Brian snapped and then Keira started to cry. Brian wished he was four too, so he could just join her. He certainly felt like crying.

“Honey it’s okay”, he said while uncrossing her arms to take her hands.

“I’m not mad.”

“But Katya is”, Keira sobbed and Brian could feel his heart shatter.

“She’s not mad at you”, he promised while running his hand up and down her arm, “She’s mad at me. I said something mean.”

He took a piece of toilet paper to dry her tars and Keira sniffled.

“What did you say?”, she asked and Brian sighed. He leaned against the cold tiles of the bathroom. Kim was still standing in the door frame.

“Do you remember a few days ago when you asked what trans meant?”, Brian asked and Keira nodded.

“Well, sometimes boys or girls are born in the wrong body. Sometimes a girl is born as a boy.”

“Why?”, Keira asked and Brian shrugged.

“I’m not sure. You know, some people can’t pet dogs without sneezing? It’s just a genetic mistake.” Keira nodded.

“And Katya was born as a boy even though she is a girl. And that’s very hard. She felt like something was wrong with her, when she was growing up.”

“But there isn’t anything wrong with Katya!”, Keira interrupted him.

“No there isn’t. But when I said that you couldn’t have short hair because you are not a boy that really hurt her feelings. Because when she was growing up there were people who told her that he couldn’t do things because she wasn’t a girl.”

“But she is”, Keira said and Brian nodded.

“She is, yes. But not everyone could see that right away. And I want you to know that you can be whatever you want to be and that you can have any haircut in the world because I will love you regardless.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Keira’s now short hair.

“I want to be a girl”, she said and he smiled into her hair.

“And girls can have short hair”, he said, “I was being stupid.”

Keira giggled at that.

“You’re a stupid Daddy.”

Kim huffed behind them.

“Yes he is”, he said and took a step forward to put his hands on Brian’s shoulders in a comforting way, “and he’s going to have to apologise.”

“I will”, Brian said and stood up. Keira’s eyes were still red but she was smiling now.

Suddenly a shrill sound interrupted them and it took Brian a while to realise that his phone was ringing. Which was weird. Because no one ever called him. No one except for – Brian groaned when he saw the caller ID and realised he was right.

“Yes?”, he asked as he picked up and he really was doing his best to not sound annoyed but he couldn’t help it.

“Brian!”, his mother chirped, too loud. She still didn’t understand that she didn’t have to shout all the way from Milwaukee for him to hear her.

“Hi mum”, he said and Kim gave him a sympathetic look.

“Brian, we’re in LA, we’re going to be there in 2 hours”, his mother declared and Brian almost screamed.

“Why didn’t you say something? I could have plans for all you know!”, Brian said angrily and his mother made a disapproving sound on the other line.

“We wanted to surprise you. We haven’t seen Keira in a while”, his mother explained and Brian looked at his daughter with panic in his eyes. She looked horrible, her hair was cut unevenly and there was no way in hell that his mother would find the whole thing funny. She would somehow find a way to blame it on him and then she would make Brian feel guilty and accuse him of being a bad father. A girl needs a mother, she would say and sooner or later Brian would run out of arguments or simply out of energy to have a discussion with his mother. His dad would stand there and nod along, occasionally making affirmative grunts. Always, always siding with his wife, never with Brian.

“Listen, mum, this is really not a good time”, he tried to speak up but he was soon cut off by her.

“Oh, nonsense! We’ll be there soon! Love you”, and with these words she hung up, leaving Brian defenceless and without a choice.

“Are they coming?”, Kim asked. He could probably read Brian’s face.

“In two hours”, he said and looked around. He would have to clean the bathroom, there was hair lying everywhere. He should probably vacuum the kitchen as well and his parents would expect coffee and cake. Keira looked a mess but it was Sunday and there would be no hair salons opened today. He could cut it himself but he didn’t have the right equipment and he hadn’t cut hair in years. There was also no time and there was still Katya.

Katya who probably hated him by now.

He hadn’t realised that he was shaking until Kim took his trembling hands in his.

“We’ve got this”, he said, looking Brian in the eyes.

“I’ll clean and bake a cake or something, okay? You go talk to her.”

“She won’t talk to me”, Brian whispered.

“Then you will talk until she has no choice”, Kim said sternly and began to lead Brian to the front door.

“I can't”, Brian said and he wanted to turn around but Kim blocked the way.

“Fucking go”, he said and pushed him out of the door.

Brian stood in front of his door for at least ten minutes, contemplating what he was going to say. When he finally climbed up the stairs and knocked on Katya’s door he had forgotten every word he had so carefully put together. It didn’t matter, because Katya didn’t open the door. Brian knocked again and again but Katya ignored him.

“Katya?”, he finally called out and he was shocked at how broken down his own voice sounded, “Katya, please. I know you’re there, I-”, he exhaled, “I was a fucking idiot, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Katya”, he could feel tears well up in his eyes.

“I know that you probably don’t want to have anything to do with me ever again but I’m sorry. I am so so sorry.” He immediately shut up when he could hear shifting behind the door.

“Katya?”, he called out after a few seconds of silence. Nothing.

“Keira thought that it was her fault somehow”, he said and at the mention of Keira’s name the door was being opened slowly. Katya was still wearing his shirt. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying and Brian could feel a tug in his stomach.

“I hope you explained to her that you are the one who is a massive dickhead”, Katya said and he could hear that she was trying to sound confident but her voice broke at the last second.

“I did”, Brian reassured, “I did and I explained what trans means and I told her that it didn’t matter and-”

“God Brian, it’s a fucking haircut. It doesn’t mean that she’s fucking trans”, Katya interrupted.

“I know!” Brian said and he put his hands up just to let them fall to his side again, “what I’m trying to say is, that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter to me, Katya.”

“Well, it should”, Katya said crossing her arms.

“I mean it matters but I don’t like you any less or more because of it”, Brian said helplessly, “I like you for you and I don’t care that you’re a woman. Maybe I’m not that gay, I don’t know. But I don’t care. I like you. I really do. And so does Keira. And I know that I fucked up big time. And I’m sorry.” He looked at her, trying to read her face. She was biting the inside of her cheek and her arms were still crossed.

“You are such an idiot”, she finally said, but her face softened, “I forgive you.”

Brian could feel the knot in his stomach loosen and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Thank you”, he said and stood there unsure for a moment. Katya blinked at him and he took a step forward to wrap his arms around her. He was hugging her tight, but not too tight. He could feel her breath against his neck as he hugged him back.

“Thank you”, he whispered again against the top of her head.

They stood there in Katya’s hallway for a while, embracing each other. Eventually Brian pulled back to look her in the face. He gently kissed the corner of her mouth.

“I’m still mad”, she said and he quickly drew back but he could see that she was smiling.

“I need to go back downstairs”, he said after a while, “my parents just announced that they were coming. God, that’s gonna be a mess”, he groaned.

“Oh”, Katya said, “they’re not gonna like Keira’s new hair are they?”

“They are going to fucking flip”, he confessed, “very,and I mean very traditional gender roles. Having a gay son who’s a single dad almost brought my mother to her grave”, he joked.

“Well semi-gay”, he added when Katya raised her eyebrows slightly.

“Plus you can’t argue that Keira isn’t the most talented hairstylist.”

“I think she looks amazing”, Katya said, “asymmetry should be celebrated more across the world.” Brian laughed but Katya’s look suggested that she hadn’t been joking.

“Wait are you serious?”, he asked.

“Dead”, she said, “but I can see why your parents maybe wouldn’t be into it. My mum’s a hairstylist, I can take Keira there and ask if she can fix it?”, Katya suggested and Brian could have kissed her. He didn’t, only because the had just fought and it didn’t seem appropriate, but he definitely felt like it.

“Katya, that would save my ass. Thank you. I really owe you.” Katya simply shrugged.

“You’re lucky I still think your ass is cute.”

Brian and Kim had worked a miracle, Brian was sure of it. When his parents arrived, his house smelled of a freshly baked banana bread and coffee. The floor in his kitchen was spotless and not a single hair was to be found in the bathroom. He had fluffed the pillows on the couch and Kim had karate-choped them “to entertain the stereotypes”. He had left precisely five minutes before his mum had knocked on the door, making it look like Brian had done all the work by himself. There was only one problem.

“Where’s Keira?”, his mum said, looking around instead of a greeting.

“Hello to you too”, Brian grumbled but his mum just stalked past him, pushing her coat between his arms, signalling for him to hang it on the coat rack.

“Hello, son”, his father said, somewhat awkwardly and Brian nodded.

“Hey.”

“So where is she?”, his mum called from the kitchen and Brian sighed.

“She should be here any second. I told you it wasn’t a good time!”

He went to the kitchen, where his mother was sitting in one of the chairs. His dad trotted behind him.

“I should warn you, though, she-”

“We’re here!”, he was interrupted by Katya. She came into the kitchen.

“Oh”, she said, when she spotted Brian’s parents, “they’re already here.”

His mother gasped when she saw Keira. Suddenly Brian regretted that they hadn’t seen her before Katya took her to her mum, because she looked much better. Her hair was a tad shorter now but much more even. Pat had put a bit of gel in them so they were styled. Brian had to admit, that it suited her. She looked a little bit cheeky.

“What have you done?”, his mother asked Brian aghast. He put his hands up in defence.

“I haven’t done anything”, he said, “it was Keira’s idea”, he turned to face his daughter, “you look amazing, honey, that’s much better.”

“Don’t you dare to think I’m stupid, I know that was your idea”, his mother hissed.

“Nope”, Keira simply said, popping the p, “I did it. And Pat.”

His mum turned to Katya know, acknowledging her for the first time.

“Are you Pat?”

“Uh no, that’s Katya”, Brian jumped in, “she’s my, uh, Katya.” His mother looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“She’s my neighbour”, Brian said blushing, “Pat is her mother. She’s a hairdresser.”

“Hi”, Katya said and extended her hand towards Brian’s mother. She didn’t take it. Instead she focused on Keira.

“But you had such pretty blonde hair!”, she complained and it sounded accusatory.

“Mum, please. It’s just hair”, he said, trying to defend his daughter, “it grows back.”

“I don’t want it to grow back”, Keira said, crossing her arms. I like it.”

Brian wondered how a four year old got that much confidence.

“What is that?”, his mother asked all of the sudden and took Brian’s hand.

“Uh, nail-polish?”, Brian stammered.

“Why?”, his mother asked, her eyes widening.

“Because Keira- God, Mum, I’m 24, I don’t have to explain myself to you!”, he said drawing his hands back. His mother raised her eyebrows.

“I think it looks nice”, Katya chimed in and her mother glared at her.

“I do not recall, asking for your opinion, Katie.”

“Katya”, Brian said and now it was his turn to be glared at.

“Let’s just all sit down to have some coffee”, his father said, trying to ease the tension.

“Well, it was a pleasure to meet you”, Katya said and Brian could tell by her voice that she didn’t mean it.

“You can stay if you want”, he said and his mother gasped again.

“I thought this was supposed to be a family thing”, she said and Brian whipped around.

“This wasn’t supposed to be anything”, he growled, “this is my flat and when I say Katya can stay, she can stay”, his voice sounded angrier than intended and his mother was clearly taken aback, her mouth was hanging open, gaping like a fish.

“No it’s fine”, Katya said and looked at Brian’s mother, “I don’t want to disturb anything.” She stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Brian’s cheek.

“I’ll talk to you later”, she whispered and turned around. She ruffled through Keira’s hair as she walked away, messing it up again. Keira giggled and walked over to the table to sit next to her grandmother. Brian sighed and poured his parents and himself some coffee while Keira got a glass of orange juice.

“Thank you”, she said and Brian felt a tiny pang of victory over her showing politeness in front of his parents.

They sat down and ate in silence.

“That Katya-”, his mother started and Brian involuntarily tightened the grip around his fork, “is she a man?”

“No”, he said, not wanting to discuss Katya with his parents.

“She’s trans”, Keira piped up, proud to present the new word she learned. Under any other circumstances Brian would have been proud too, but Keira had now undoubtedly proven herself to have terrible timing.

“Where did you learn that word?”, his father asked.

“From Daddy”, Keira answered.

“Don’t you think she’s a little young to know about such things?”, his father asked, looking at Brian sternly.

“No, I do not”, Brian said, “she’s perfectly able to understand ‘such things’.”

“Well, do you think it’s good that she’s growing up under the influence of people like that?”, his mother asked, “If you ask me she’s too young to-”

“I didn’t ask you”, Brian interrupted her, his voice raised.

“Brian-”, his father said warningly, but Brian ignored him.

“If you have something against the way I raise my daughter or the people I surround myself with, you are more than welcome to leave”, he said through gritted teeth.

“We just think, that it would be best for Keira to come to Milwaukee for a while. This city isn’t right for a young girl”, his mother said and Brian was just about to say something when Keira spoke up.

“I don’t want to come to Milwaukee. I like it here and I like Katya. She’s my friend.”

A wave of affection for his daughter hit Brian.

“Keira that decision isn’t up to you”, his mother said and Brian had to control himself to not yell.

“But it is up to me, and when Keira says she wants to stay, then Keira stays.”

“Brian.”

“Mum”, he said challengingly.

“You are on very thin ice here”, she warned and Brian couldn’t help but to laugh out loud.

“I am?”, he asked, “This is my flat. And I think it’s best that you leave now.”

“Are you throwing us out?”, his mother asked shocked and Brian stood up.

“Yes, I am. Are you honestly surprise by that? You come into my house, insult my daughter and my friend and basically tell me that I’m not a good father? I don’t need to hear that right now.”

His mother gasped for air.

“This is unbelievable”, she said and turned to her husband, “come on, we’re leaving.”

This was typically her, Brian thought. Making it look like she had made the decision to leave. But he wasn’t going to correct her, risking to start a new argument. He walked over to the door, opening it, and handed her her coat.

His parents left without another word.

He knocked on Katya’s door again, after he had put Keira to bed. After his parents had left he had talked to her, feeling bad that she had to witness the fight between her dad and her grandparents. But she seemed fine and not all too phased by it. She was mostly just excited for school on Monday to show Jacob and her other friends her new hair style.

He had called Kim to tell him how the unfortunate visit ended and to thank him for his help. Kim had asked if he needed Monday off but Brian had declined thankfully. He needed a distraction. And now he was back where it all started, standing in front of Katya’s door, hearing her shift behind it.

How’d it go?”, she asked as she opened her door but her face and voice already disclosed that she knew.

“Terribly”, Brian answered anyway and Katya opened the door more so he could come in. They sat next to each other on Katya’s couch.

“I had to throw them out”, he said after telling her the whole story, “They were acting unbelievable.”

“You stood up for yourself. And for Keira. That takes courage, especially if it’s your own parents.”

“I guess so”, he shrugged, “I’m just worried that they are going to take her anger of on Keira. They’re the only family she has.”

“She has you”, Katya interjected, “and she has Kim. And if you ever need any help, you know where to find me. A family doesn’t always need to be connected by blood.”

Brian smiled at her suggesting that she considered herself part of Keira’s family.

“You’re right”, he said.

“I always am”, she agreed and then her body was shaking with the laughter, Brian loved so much.

“What are we going to do?”, she asked after she calmed down.

“What do you mean?”, he asked but he knew what she meant.

“Us two”, she said and Brian noticed her hand twitching nervously. He took them in his.

“We can try this. If you want. Maybe we can go for dinner again? To another place, though, I don’t need your friends threatening to cut off my dick again.” Katya threw her head back and laughed, her hands still in Brian’s.

“Let’s try it”, she agreed, “and I’m sure we’ll find another restaurant. I’m always open to something new.”

[willadonoghue]

i want you to love me now or never [aiden & willa]

TAGGING → Aiden & Willa  LOCATION → A bar in downtown Chicago TIMEFRAME → Sunday, November 27 GENERAL NOTES → Aiden finds out about Willa’s side job.      

Aiden had absolutely no idea what Willa could possibly be doing that was work-related so late on a Sunday afternoon but he chose not to linger on it, instead figuring out what the hell his surprise was going to be. If anything, Willa being busy right now was sort of a blessing -- it gave him more time to come up with something good. Still, he couldn't deny that he was desperate to see her; to be around her. Whenever they were apart for a while, he started feeling the need to be with her kick in like something vicious. The connection that they had really was like a drug; toxic sometimes, addictive always. They'd been doing some weird kind of sneaking around but he wasn't complaining, in a way it was kind of working out for them and he didn't want to rock the boat too much. Chain-smoking in his half-empty living room while he tried to come up with something good left Aiden with very few good ideas on how to make this surprise different. So, frustrated and needing some inspiration that sprung from outside of his place, he grabbed his jacket and hit the streets; hoping that window shopping would somehow help. He peered in a few places, the windows already decorated for the festive season -- too early, if you asked him -- but nothing really struck him. He followed his feet downtown, figuring there'd be way more option, and walked along the busy streets with his eyes peeled for a prize. Little things here and there would remind him of his ex-fiancee, pieces that related to their past or brought up a fond memory. As he moved passed the stores towards the bars and restaurants, he geared up to call it a day and go back home. It just wasn't happening tonight. Letting out a huff, he turned to go back on his own footsteps before something caught his eye in one of the windows of the bars. It was a girl in a stunning dress, almost reminiscent of the one Willa had been wearing on the night they'd met. With a smirk, remembering the night that started it all, Aiden took a few steps closer before that smile turned to a frown. The girl definitely matched the dress, there was no mistaking who she was: it was Willa. However, the guy she was laughing at was most definitely not him. It wasn't even her "boyfriend" of the minute, Theo. Aiden's eyebrows knitted together as he tried to get a good look at this guy before he threw away his cigarette and made his way into the bar.

Willa couldn't tell you what was happening with her, but something was definitely different. The one thing she could say with all the certainty in the world was that she actually liked this version of her a lot better than how she used to be. For one thing, she wasn't struggling to stay afloat financially, and knowing that she could live without her job made Willa more relaxed at it. It was a change her bosses had noticed, and didn't particularly like, but then, she didn't particularly care. For the first time in her life, Willa could afford every dress, every pair of shoes, every meal, whatever her heart desired, she could have it. It kept her family happier, too, now that she helped redo the place to suit their needs better. And all she had to do was go out on dates with men who'd never pick her up at a bar, sometimes do a little more than that, but it didn't matter. The price wasn't too high for her to pay. However, it wasn't just her professional life that was affected by this change, it was her personal life, too. She wanted a lot of things: she wanted to keep seeing Theo and enjoy the semblance of normalcy, but at the same time and above everything else, she still wanted Aiden. And if this was the way to have him, while dating another guy almost exclusively, well, fuck it. She's been careful all her life, it was her time to throw caution to the wind. When she told him earlier that day that she had a work thing, Willa wasn't lying, she just didn't specify which work. Sitting across a middle-aged, bald, white guy, Willa laughed at his jokes, batted her lashes, and touched his hand, eating a delicious meal, wearing a killer dress. There were worse things in life, right? Sipping her wine, Willa nearly choked on it when she spotted a familiar figure walk inside, wearing─ most notably─ an almost murderous look on his face. Willa excused herself from her client, and rushed to Aiden's figure that looked ready to storm in their direction. "What are you doing here?" She hissed out as she grabbed him by the arm, trying to drag him back to the foyer.

Aiden glared down the table that Willa was sat on when he noticed how the guy was looking at her. What a fucking creep. What really made him see red though was when Willa reached over the damn table and touched his hand. /She/ touched /his/ disgusting hand. What the fuck was going on here? Taking a step forward, Aiden was almost immediately noticed by Willa and before he could reach where they sat unnoticed to rip that guy's head off, Willa was already dragging at his arm, trying to get him the hell out of there. "What am I doing here?" Aiden asked furiously. "What the fuck are you doing here? With /that/ fucking guy? What drugs are you on right now?"

Willa knew the tone: he was almost beyond reasoning, but she couldn't let him ruin this for her. Besides, if anyone could understand doing what you have to do it was Aiden, right? "Stop making a scene," she scolded him and smiled at one of the waiters that was looking at them as he passed them by. "I'm not on drugs," she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest. "I'm working, like I told you. Just... not in the office. We decided to take it out." Well, that was not going to raise any red flags at all.

Aiden clenched his jaw as Willa told him off like she would a petulant child before listening to what she had to say. He could see her smiling, silently assuring the restaurant staff but quite frankly he didn't give a shit if he was causing a scene or not. Raising his eyebrows as the girl explained what happened here, he glanced back over to the suit sat alone at their table with nothing but hatred in his eyes. "What the fuck?" Aiden repeated. "Is he forcing you to do this shit? Oh, I'm gonna kill him." Moving to get past her, he zoned in on the bald prick with tunnel vision, ready to ruin his face.

Willa felt her insides tie into knots, as Aiden still insisted on seeing things wrong, and tried to move around her to probably pummel the man into oblivion, which was a very bad thing for her because it wasn't stated in her contract that her ex-fiancee could do that without her getting fired and sued for all she had. Grabbing his hand in the last possible moment, she stopped him, her hands cupping his face and making him look at her. "No one's making me do anything, and you're not going to kill him, because he is my rent for next month, so can you just please calm down?"

Aiden 's right hand was already clenched into a tight first but he felt Willa tug at his left and before he knew it she was forcing him to look at her, instantly bringing him back down to the present. She had a power over him: he knew it, so did she. One look could bring his temper back to neutral and force his attention to rest on her, almost as if she was the only one in the room. Freezing at her words, Aiden pulled back a little, confused as to what the hell she meant. Whatever it was, he didn't like the sound of it. "What are you talking about?"

Willa knew he didn't recoil from her touch, and he probably refused to believe her words, but she had to say them out loud for the first time now. No one knew this; it was just her luck that Aiden would be the first to find out. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing the long locks out of her face, as she tried to come up with a way that wouldn't result in Aiden being disgusted by her. "I get paid to go out on dates with men like him," she finally huffed. Unable to face him, she looked aside as she kept on explaining. "Men who are rich, powerful, and want to have a night with a beautiful woman, so I give them one in exchange for money."

Aiden tried to make sense of the words that were coming out of Willa's mouth but none of them did. How was any of this happening right now? It felt as though Aiden's brain was about to explode as he pieced together what she had told him. He tried to picture it in his mind but he didn't want to -- it was an image he never wanted to see, and yet here he was, right in the middle of one of these exchanges. "You're..." he shook his head, closing his eyes over. "Are you sleeping with these guys?"

Willa could see the disbelief, even the hurt in his eyes as he processed her words, and suddenly she wasn't all that comfortable with what she was doing, either. Swallowing back a lump, taking a moment, Willa tried to figure out the best way to tell him. "Not exactly," she sighed out finally, brushing her sweaty palms against her dress. "Sometimes we... No, you know what, I'm not getting into details. I haven't had sex with any of them."

Aiden felt physically sick as she skirted around the issue and pretty much answered specifics of the question without giving him an upsetting answer. He was upset, he was furious but most of all Aiden was devastated that she'd resorted to this. "I gave you money," Aiden said firmly. "You didn't want it because you thought it was from doing something shady, so, instead you whore yourself out to desperate fucking disgusting pigs like that piece of shit at the table?" The blonde felt his anger rising and knew he'd be breaking something in a matter of moments if he didn't calm down. "I can't believe you're doing this. What happened to the girl that I asked to marry me?"

Willa 's insides were in knots and wobbly at the same time, the room spun around her as Aiden berated her, her knees had gone week. Aiden was not the only one shaking with anger, with hurt. Glancing down at the tips of her shoes, she blinked back the tears forming in her eyes. Now was not the time to be weak. "I don't have sex with them," she reiterated, being called a whore by Aiden definitely stung. "You think the money you gave me was enough? I have paid it all off only because I had a second source of income, so sue me for doing what I had to do." The tears were back in her eyes, and her hands shook as she hugged herself. "You wanna know what happened to that girl? She got tired of getting fucked over time and time again. You disappeared, her family fell apart, her entire life turned into her worst nightmare, and she finally got tired of barely making it through life so she changed things for herself. Turns out, carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders is a lot easier when you have money."

Aiden could tell that his words had stung and he wasn't surprised: his anger had got the best of him and his choice of words had been particularly harsh. It was an upsetting situation all around and never in a million years did he want to hurt Willa but this "job" that she had just pushed him to that point. As the girl explained her actions once more, Aiden let out a low breath and reached his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. How was this even real right now? "Please," he sighed out lowly; eyes opening to meet her sad ones once more. "Please don't do this."

Willa let out a dry, humorless laugh as he pleaded with her, though the look in his eyes said more than the tone of his words. It broke her heart because she knew this kind of broke his heart, too. "And who is going to pay for Kiara's physical therapy, or her shrink? Not to mention the leg brace that costs a fortune but will let her have a somewhat normal life? My mom?" Another laugh. Her deadbeat mother hasn't had a steady job since Kiara was born, she could never take care of her now with all the added expenses.

Aiden knew that this gig wasn't exactly her dream job but simply her taking action when it came to helping and essentially providing for her family. It was a role that Willa had played for as long as he'd known her, Aiden just hated that it had turned into something this extreme. Biting down on his bottom lip, Aiden shook his head and took a step closer; reaching out to place his hands either side of her. "We'll figure it out. Together, alright?" His voice was low but it didn't shake or doubt any of the words. "I promise you, we'll find another way to pay for everything but I can't let you do this anymore."

Willa 's eyes closed over when she felt his touch through her dress, and heard his words. She always knew she could count on him, and that she could turn to him for help, but this was more than anything she's ever asked for before. This was something that could have sent him back on the path of crime and Willa wouldn't allow that, let alone be the cause of it. "I know you mean it when you say it," she began softly, opening her eyes to look at him. "But I can't have you risking your freedom. What am I going to do if you're not around?" She managed a chuckle, the stubbornness so quickly diminished by his touch. "And I can't do nothing while we figure it out, so I don't know if I can stop just yet."

Aiden felt the 'but' coming before she'd even opened her mouth and knew all of the reasons why she'd protest against his help. It was nothing he hadn't heard before. She cared about him too much to put him in a position that could end up with him facing time again and that meant more to him than he could even put into words. Stubborn as ever, he shook his head once more and closed any space they had left between them; wrapping his arms around her waist. "I will flip burgers at every burger joint in town, if I have to," he assured her with a little smile of his own. "I'll take on all the shitty jobs in this town that nobody wants to do. I will work night and day. All legal, whatever you need to feel sure that I'm staying. 'Cause I am, Willa, I'm not gonna leave you in this mess." Squeezing her body gently, he touched his forehead to hers and just held her for a moment. "Because I love you. In case you didn't know."

Willa: Somewhere in the back of her mind, Willa was aware of the fact that she was supposed to be on a date, and yet, here she stood with a man who was clearly not a client, having an emotional moment, even going as far as to being held by him, and she didn't even try to stop him. Aiden would always have a pull on her, as much as she had one on him, and this might have been the first time when it was truly good. His words and promises made goosebumps cover her skin, and she knew he meant every single one of them. He would do all that, if that was what she needed, what she asked for. And her heart took flight with the final words he uttered, tickling her breath. She tried to fight the urge, shaking her head, their noses bumping as she fought her heart with logic until it lost, and she pressed her lips firmly against his, giving into the feelings she knew would never go away. Desperate and longing, Willa lost track of time and space, forgetting about their conversation. All she wanted right now was to make the moment last forever.

Aiden kept his arms around her petite frame tightly, not giving her the chance to back away and come up with some excuse or reason as to why she had to do all of this by herself. Part of the reason things were so messy in her life right now was down to him and his actions that had led him to serve time in prison and cut all ties with her, thinking it was helping. Clearly, all that did was make it worse. The blond felt her head shake against his own before ultimately giving in to what they both needed. Feeing her lips against his, Aiden returned the kiss just as strong and felt his body light up and relax all at once. She sent electric through his veins every time they were close, but knowing she was safe: feeling it for himself, that was more calming than anything else.

Willa didn't need to know anything apart from the familiar taste of Aiden's lips as they meshed with hers. There were times when their kisses were teeth and nails dragged across skin, times when they were sensual and slow, leading into something else. But this one was different, it was─ for the lack of a better word─ purer. Hands moving to his neck and slipping back into his hair, Willa had to break away from the liplock once she could no longer breathe, but she couldn't pull away, not a single bit. "In case you didn't know it either, I love you, too," she whispered, her entire body buzzing with life. "But I can't imag─" her words were interrupted by a waiter making his presence known beside them. 

"The gentleman you were with," he addressed Willa, pointing back to her now empty table. "Said you'll take care of the bill."

Aiden returned back every ounce of what Willa was giving him and it was a strange moment for them, in the sense that it was so different from their usual encounters. Always passionate, never boring or flat, they had a way of getting lost in one another. This time it felt like some sort of reconciliation. They cut out all the bullshit and the reasons that they’d been holding onto to stay apart - Aiden more so than Willa. As Willa broke the kiss, the blond kept his forehead resting against hers with his eyes closed and felt a genuine smile take over his features as she returned those three words. It had been a while since they’d said it, even though both knew it was undeniably true. Aiden didn’t have time to enjoy the moment as a voice rudely interrupted and snapped him back into the present. Raising his eyebrows at the waiter, giving him a look that could kill, he turned his body to face his head on in a threatening manner. “I’ll take care of it.”

Willa had managed to forget everything that happened before the kiss, and only when she heard the waiter was she reminded of their argument, of her job, and the fact that she clearly ruined it. For better or worse, Willa wouldn't have a choice anymore, because there was no way this wouldn't reach her "agency," and there was no way she could keep doing it. She would be lying if she said that didn't take some weight off her chest, and she shook her head at Aiden's offer. "No, I have this. You still haven't started flipping burgers," she joked with a smile, squeezing his hands. This kiss meant a lot of things, all of which Willa wanted to sort out, but not before she washed her hands of tonight's job. "Wait for me here," the words were skirting the line between a plea and an order, and she headed back to the table to take her things, leave the money for their order and a hefty tip, before returning to him. "Let's get out of here."

Aiden backed down only when Willa squeezed his hand and he crossed his arms over his chest watching her walk away. With a nod, he assured the girl that he wasn’t going anywhere and kept his eyes on her as she paid the bill. Obviously, the loser she was here with had seen their little exchange and angrily left. What he wouldn’t give to kick that guy’s ass. As Willa returned to him, Aiden took her hand in his and squeezed it tightly before leaving the building. “This wasn’t the surprise I had in mind for you, just so we’re clear,” he told her with a half smile. “Kinda crazy how I ended up here, huh?”

Willa: Hand in hand with Aiden, Willa stepped outside of the building, moving in closer to him as the crisp, cold air wrapped around them like an icy blanket. "I was gonna say, this was quite a surprise you came up with," she laughed softly, the reality of it all still not hitting her. Right now, after hearing him say he loved her and he would be there for her, Willa was on cloud number nine, and nothing other than being with him mattered. It was what she wanted for a long, long time, after all, and she wanted to relish in the fact for a little before they got into the the details of it. "I'm starting to think it was fate. Where to now?" She asked as she looked up at him, willing to follow him to the ends of the earth if it meant they'd be together.

Aiden smiled softly at her reply, happy that she was going along with this. Aiden was stubborn but so was Willa and it proved to be somewhat of a major challenge in their relationship when the two of them decided to remain their stubborn selves regarding certain things. Their latest — and longest — had been Aiden’s stance on not getting back together. He knew she deserved better, she let him know time and time again that she knew what she wanted and it was this. Why he ever thought he could completely stay away was beyond him. Maybe it had been that time away from her that filled him with this false sense of confidence they could keep apart. “Let’s go home,” Aiden told her happily, squeezing her hand. “And by “home” I mean your place.”

Willa looked up at the word 'home', barely able to hold back the cheesiest line she may have ever uttered: I already am. Hoping that this time it would last, that it wouldn't fall apart at the sign of the first conflict (which was bound to be soon), Willa nodded her head and smiled at him. "Let's go home before we freeze to death here."

Aiden gave her a look that could only be described as pure adoration: tugging her closer to him. Somehow, it never felt as though it was close enough. “I’ll even let you make me a nice hot coffee when we get back,” he teased, bumping against her side with his own. “C’mon, gorgeous, let’s get outta here.”

[careergrowthblog]

The most pointless activities from teacher training

I was somewhat inspired by seeing people who are apparently involved in teacher training finding various reasons to ignore what teachers actually experience in schools (details here). It made me wonder whether there are other questions they don’t want teachers to answer. So I asked this one:

What was the most pointless (or harmful) task you had to undertake as part of teacher training?

The answers don’t necessarily distinguish between training in universities and training in schools. For the most unlikely ones I did ask a few follow up questions to convince myself they were genuine, but obviously I could have been fooled. As ever, these are intended to be answers only to the question I asked, not an account of what is normal in teacher training. You can find the thread here on Twitter. I’ve also included answers from Facebook. I’ve tried to avoid answers that are obviously from outside the UK, although many of these are still well worth reading on the thread.

Taking part in a carnival where I had to dress up as a box of McDonald’s fries. Do I win?

Photographic evidence provided by @OhLottie

Being made to do learning styles & left brain/right brain questionnaires to find out what kind of [learner] I am.

First week of PGCE at York we were required to carry an orange and a blindfold to all sessions. Eventually had … to identify our oranges blindfold. Still no idea why!

Being made to have a reconciliation meeting with a student, to apologise for telling her there’s no such thing as a kinaesthetic learner… This was last year!

Triple mounting… Mounting work on card then remounting on 2nd contrasting colour then a 3rd mounting with 1 cm border. I cried when told I would have to redo… Did I mention how long it took? I was a student and last out of the building. Caretaker tapping foot outside door. General effect of display was hallucinogenic.

‘Kinaesthetic’ learning in maths. One trainee: ‘I got outstanding for my lesson – we did the starter outside with the hula hoops’

Compiling a massive folder of ‘evidence’ and then organising and signposting key bits for the assessor so most of it was ignored.

[A massive folder of evidence] and a reflective sketchbook (think full-on creative & decorated) which was the last thing I had time for and didn’t benefit my learning… The idea was nice but it added to the stress of things to do & has just been shoved in a cupboard since.

I had four huge boxes of “evidence”. I have no idea what was filling most of it and I don’t believe for one second anyone looked.

Working out how to teach numeracy in English to tick off that bit of my evidence folder.

Building a bottle rocket. I have no idea why we had to do it. Maybe to do with teamwork? Near the end of our training. Seemed weird.

Teaching an entire lesson without speaking. First placement too! … It was to encourage them to learn independently.

Having to reorder my folders for the tutor’s ease of marking having arranged them for my ease of teaching.

Building a tower from rolled-up newspapers to learn about teamwork.

The “assessment and ICT” essay? portfolio? where we had to photocopy and collate paperwork.

My tutor … said he would pass us all if we survived his organised pub crawl.

Going outside to collect sticks and leaves then using them as ‘inspiration’ to write a Halloween story. We were encouraged to dress up too.

I remember our ICT lectures were truly awful. Basic stuff like how to save a Word document.

To play ‘pass the teddy and speak’ during a staff meeting. Some took role seriously and revealed ‘inner child’ *cringe*

Spending hours devising & printing OHTs (remember?)with pictures of Simpsons characters in order to have ‘eye catching starter’ I recall many sessions concerned with devising games of bingo and other ‘lively activities’ apparently for MFL vocab learning. I recall a fellow trainee telling me of advice she’d been given by course tutor regarding difficult class: “Wear a silly hat”.

Watched a tutor get up on a table to demonstrate a swimming stroke as he insisted you didn’t need to go swimming to teach [children] to swim.

Having to write a 6000 word essay on the decimal system and how it had positively impacted on my life.

Being made to teach from the middle of the classroom for the whole lesson, far far away from the PC or my resources to see how I’d cope.

Giving me a class with a child who (in hindsight) was clearly autistic, with no warning & no back up. The actual teacher had walkie talkie … as child was a runner: I prepared a history lesson & blacked out the room & played sirens. The kid threw a chair at me, swore & ran. I had NO way of contacting other staff other than to leave my class & run to reception. I had no SEN training at all. Was year 2 teaching degree.

Going to a primary school for the day when I teach KS5

Three weeks at a primary school at the start of my 11-18 PGCE. Totally wasted time. … Three weeks with year 2. I didn’t see a secondary kid for six weeks. I learnt v[ery] little.

Organise a trip for PGCE students, taught me nothing, but on hottest day of the year, 6 month[s] pregnant, I had to walk miles up a hill

Make a poster.

Brain gym

Weekly logs of around 750 words, not entirely pointless as it was all about reflective practice but coming up with 3 SMART targets a week was a struggle.

Morning spent on cross-curricular links possible between English and geography is the first thing that springs to mind.

Draw a teacher. Mime a poem. L[earning] S[tyles] survey. Kinaesthetic paper-cutting. Write answer, throw scrunched paper at teacher. So many! … Actual most harmful was probably advice to choose English texts based on what kids are interested in and what they know already.

Most pointless was creating 3 different worksheets (H[igher] A[bility], L[ower] A[bility], and average) to demonstrate differentiation. I would never do this in class or even have time to do it for all classes

Spent h[ou]rs thinking up French activities to suit each of the multiple intelligences (naturalistic was my fave. Erm, learn vocab about trees?) Think we settled on a French trip to a farm in the end (just to make it all stop).

The ICT skills test!

Listening a diatribe from a member of faculty telling us it was awful that heads & governors were held responsible for school performance

Pointless: the display stuff. Suggesting that jaunty angles was disrespectful of pupils’ work. The effort/gain didn’t justify the time spent.

As part of my drama elective, being told to become a piece of spaghetti, coming to the boil in front of an audience of 60 fellow students!

[My] D[ear] H[usband] was training to teach history. Lecturer wanted students to crawl under desks, to experience what it was like to be a coal miner.

Make up a dance with The Jabberwocky’ as the inspiration. Mortifyingly embarrassing

We spent a whole day being shown how to double mount work for display purposes. We were shown how to put up a roll of backing paper and they had to ‘have a go’ putting up backing paper. This included tips on how far to allow the staple to go into the board. We had to have mitred corners. We then had to create a display in teams, mount it and assemble it. The lecturer took ages to mount one piece of work. She used a rule and set square to make sure the border around the work was exact on all sides. We were told not to just use eye judgement. I happen to have a very good eye for doing this.

We spent an hour on how to choose the right colours to match the work and given examples of which colours went together well.

I’ve never felt so patronised.

We were taught how to write the labels for displays. We had to rule 3 horizontal lines and some vertical lines and then write the words in pencil before going over with felt tip. When I moaned to my mother, she pointed out that she had to do it with a wide-nibbed pen and ink!

Sing in a musical of 7 brides for 7 brothers! Worked on it for a whole term. Because I told the tutor I was tone deaf,was given a main role. …It was mortifying. What it had to do with teaching, none of us understand! It was a long time ago in Swansea, the 4 year b Ed course. It was a performance only the other class got to see thank God. I qualified 95.

The most pointless activities from teacher training published first on http://ift.tt/2uVElOo

[everlark-lover3892]

Chapter Four- The Night

“My husband and I got pregnant on the first night that we got reaped” so I was forced to try and go to a family thing at Peeta’s and if I’m completely honest… I’m hating it right now, I’m sourrounded by pregnant women and some that already have children talk about how well they’ve obeyed the law… I could give two craps about what it was like, this just makes me feel beyond uncomfortable

“What about you Katniss? I hear my cousin just adores you” Peeta’s cousin asks

“Um, I’m not pregnant yet, were kind of taking it slow… instead of getting straight into it” I reply

“Really? Well, will we be expecting a new family member anytime soon?” She asks but I just shrug, they all send me weird looks before they continue their conversation about what gender they’re having or names for the ones who aren’t that far along, I stand up and walk around the very fancy home and find Peeta talking with his brothers so I choose not to disturb him and go outside the front porch and watch the rain fall

“Not enjoying the party?” I hear next to me and there Peeta’s dad sits in a wooden porch chair

“Care to join me?” He asks, I decide not to refuse his offer and sit in the chair next to me

“I love this weather. Helping dead grass grow again, grows our farmers crops” he sighs

“Not for hunters. All the animals are hiding which makes it harder for us” I admit

“Indeed but what you need to remember is hunting isn’t something you should be doing everyday, our animals need time to reproduce, give off offspring. In every animal there is a life worth living” he replies

“So you like hunting?” He asks me

“I love it, not the killing aspect of it, the being able to spread your wings, when I’m hunting I feel like I’m someone different. I feel so free when I’m hunting” I smile and he chuckles

“That’s how my Peeta feels about his painting. When he was just a boy he would draw the most… detailed drawings, I mean it wasn’t like Leonardo Da Vinci but it was impressive for a little boy, Peeta is a unique boy, I’m proud that he’s my son” he explains and I give a small smile

“Everyone’s expecting us to have a baby soon…”

“That’s because no one wants the Mellark blood to disappear” he says rolling his eyes and drinking his drink

“Ever since Peeta was born his mother vowed that this child should do no wrong, her sons not having children is a wrong” he adds

“Why aren’t you rushing us then?” I ask

“Because the beauty of life needs to make its own path” he replies

“Thank you. It was getting to me until we had this little talk” I smile and he does too

“No need to thank darling. Your part of the family now, I’ve got you through this whole thing” he smiles at me, I see where Peeta got his personality from.

*

*

*

I watch as Peeta paints, no one was able to go to work due to the storm so Peeta and I have been cooped up in our home, we’ve been too busy to actually have sex but my sexualness towards him is getting too much for me. I stand from where I was sitting and walk up behind Peeta then I start kissing his neck

“Katniss… I can’t concentrate when your doing that” he sighs

“Make love to me” I whisper in his ear, he turns on the stool he was sitting on and pulls me into his lap

“Your sure? We can still wait i—” but I cut him off by kissing him, carefully he lifts me and carries me to our room as we continue to kiss, he lays me on our bed then takes off his shirt and this is actually the first time I’ve seen him without a shirt and I never thought he was that in shape, my hands slide up from his stomach and on his chest, I decide to get rid of my shirt so we can keep kissing, I feel so exposed and shy once it’s off as he looks at me but it’s all forgotten when we start kissing again, I run my hands through his hair as he kisses down my neck and further I let out sounds that I didn’t know I could make, he takes off my sweatpants which leaves me in just my underwear

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” He whispers on my lips and I nod

“Well your beautiful, I-I love you” he replies which makes me smile

“I love you too, more than you think” I tell him and pull his head down so we can kiss again, he reaches his hands behind me and unclips my bra then throws that across the room, he’s mouth covers one of my breasts while he massages the other, I moan out in pleasure, struggling to contain myself, so this is what this feels like…. I like it, no, I love it. While he does that I take his pants off and rub his bulge from his boxers causing him to bite down in pleasure, as I keep rubbing him, he continues to kiss down all the way to my panties

“Peeta… I can’t wait any longer” I moan, he then gets rid of them right away, he takes his time as he looks at my naked body before taking his boxers off, I take this chance to look at him naked before he starts kissing me again

“If it hurts too much… just tell me okay?” He says against my lips and I nod, I then feel him enter me, I grip the bed sheets trying to get use to the uncomfortable feeling, I mean yeah it hurts but not as much as I thought

“You okay?” He asks

“Yeah… just give me a minute” I reply, after I give the okay he slowly and softly starts thrusting, by the middle of it he’s picked up the pace and I’m screaming out his name

“Oh Peeta!” I scream and I feel myself shake as I finish but continue to moan in pleasure as Peeta continues his thrusts but soon he lets go inside me, he pulls out and collapses next to me, we both try to regain our breaths as we hear the raindrops hitting the window

“I… wow” he pants

“I never thought it’d feel like that” I say

“Me neither” he replies, I cuddle up to him with a tired but happy sigh, my eyes slowly start to close and the last thing I hear is Peeta telling me that he loves me before I fall completely asleep, having a nice dream for once.

*

*

*

I wake up and notice I’m in bed alone, I look next to me and see that Peeta’s gone but a delicious smell is all I can smell. I get up out of bed but as I stand I can feel the pain between my legs but I actually smile as I just remember what happened between Peeta and I, I put on some new underwear and just put Peeta’s shirt over me, I walk downstairs but as I do I can hear other voices coming from the living room but as I walk in my eyes grow wide… Peeta’s grandparents are here! I thought they weren’t coming till next week!

“Katniss. Your awake” Peeta says giving me a sorry look, he better because both of his grandparents see a girl they’ve never met before wearing their baby grandsons shirt, what else would that give off?!

“So this is Katniss? Why is she wearing your shirt, darling?” His grandmother asks

“Oh! Well I was teaching her to paint earlier and let’s just say she’s a really messy painter” Peeta chuckles but I still give him a death glare from behind his grandparents

“Will you excuse us for a moment” he smiles and we walk upstairs to our bedroom

“What the hell Peeta?!” I whisper/yell at him

“I’m sorry! They just showed up” he replies in defence

“A heads up would’ve been nice. Like maybe waking me up and say ‘oh Katniss my grandparents are here don’t dress like we literally just had sex’ that would’ve definitely be nice” I snap at him

“I know! I’m sorry but it’s not my fault that they came so soon! You looked too peaceful to wake up” he sighs and I immediately feel bad

“I’m sorry… I just panicked because I wanted their first impression of me perfect” I sigh

“Katniss. You don’t need to impress anyone, I love you and that’s all that matters. How about you get dressed and we’ll have dinner, forget this al, happened. Yeah?” He replies rubbing my shoulders and I nod, he kisses my forehead then walks out, I take my time redressing and I redo my braid as I walk down the stairs, I join Peeta and his grandparents in the kitchen so we can start dinner, of course they had to be his moms parents, which makes everything so much harder because they’re both fancy and eats eligantly and dress like it too

“So, I hear that you hunt as a job Katniss?” His grandmother Violet asks

“Um yes, I only hunt once every three weeks, I teach it to ages 12-17, for the ones who enjoy it of course”

“Katniss is one of the most impressive archer there is around here” Peeta proudly states

“Well where we live our hunters are all men, the jobs us women have is baking or a receptionist”

“But you live in the rich part of this country, Nan. Girls are able to hunt here” Peeta defends

“I know that but women are not meant to have men jobs”

“Why not? I mean what law says that we’re not meant to have jobs that only associate with men? You know the world doesn’t work like that. You can’t tell me what I do for a living is only for men because I love your grandson and like most people like you he likes me for who I am not by the job I have” I put her in her place and of course she doesn’t like it so she leaves with her husband, for a moment I feel like I’ve upset Peeta but I just hear him start laughing

“Oh my god that was amazing! This is why I love you, you’re not afraid to stand up for yourself” he smiles and I do too

“So you’re not mad?” I ask

“Oh god no! I’m proud that you’re my wife that’s for sure” he chuckles, I never thought that I’d like to be married this much but I do.

[careergrowthblog]

The most pointless activities from teacher training

I was somewhat inspired by seeing people who are apparently involved in teacher training finding various reasons to ignore what teachers actually experience in schools (details here). It made me wonder whether there are other questions they don’t want teachers to answer. So I asked this one:

What was the most pointless (or harmful) task you had to undertake as part of teacher training?

The answers don’t necessarily distinguish between training in universities and training in schools. For the most unlikely ones I did ask a few follow up questions to convince myself they were genuine, but obviously I could have been fooled. As ever, these are intended to be answers only to the question I asked, not an account of what is normal in teacher training. You can find the thread here on Twitter. I’ve also included answers from Facebook. I’ve tried to avoid answers that are obviously from outside the UK, although many of these are still well worth reading on the thread.

Taking part in a carnival where I had to dress up as a box of McDonald’s fries. Do I win?

Photographic evidence provided by @OhLottie

Being made to do learning styles & left brain/right brain questionnaires to find out what kind of [learner] I am.

First week of PGCE at York we were required to carry an orange and a blindfold to all sessions. Eventually had … to identify our oranges blindfold. Still no idea why!

Being made to have a reconciliation meeting with a student, to apologise for telling her there’s no such thing as a kinaesthetic learner… This was last year!

Triple mounting… Mounting work on card then remounting on 2nd contrasting colour then a 3rd mounting with 1 cm border. I cried when told I would have to redo… Did I mention how long it took? I was a student and last out of the building. Caretaker tapping foot outside door. General effect of display was hallucinogenic.

‘Kinaesthetic’ learning in maths. One trainee: ‘I got outstanding for my lesson – we did the starter outside with the hula hoops’

Compiling a massive folder of ‘evidence’ and then organising and signposting key bits for the assessor so most of it was ignored.

[A massive folder of evidence] and a reflective sketchbook (think full-on creative & decorated) which was the last thing I had time for and didn’t benefit my learning… The idea was nice but it added to the stress of things to do & has just been shoved in a cupboard since.

I had four huge boxes of “evidence”. I have no idea what was filling most of it and I don’t believe for one second anyone looked.

Working out how to teach numeracy in English to tick off that bit of my evidence folder.

Building a bottle rocket. I have no idea why we had to do it. Maybe to do with teamwork? Near the end of our training. Seemed weird.

Teaching an entire lesson without speaking. First placement too! … It was to encourage them to learn independently.

Having to reorder my folders for the tutor’s ease of marking having arranged them for my ease of teaching.

Building a tower from rolled-up newspapers to learn about teamwork.

The “assessment and ICT” essay? portfolio? where we had to photocopy and collate paperwork.

My tutor … said he would pass us all if we survived his organised pub crawl.

Going outside to collect sticks and leaves then using them as ‘inspiration’ to write a Halloween story. We were encouraged to dress up too.

I remember our ICT lectures were truly awful. Basic stuff like how to save a Word document.

To play ‘pass the teddy and speak’ during a staff meeting. Some took role seriously and revealed ‘inner child’ *cringe*

Spending hours devising & printing OHTs (remember?)with pictures of Simpsons characters in order to have ‘eye catching starter’ I recall many sessions concerned with devising games of bingo and other ‘lively activities’ apparently for MFL vocab learning. I recall a fellow trainee telling me of advice she’d been given by course tutor regarding difficult class: “Wear a silly hat”.

Watched a tutor get up on a table to demonstrate a swimming stroke as he insisted you didn’t need to go swimming to teach [children] to swim.

Having to write a 6000 word essay on the decimal system and how it had positively impacted on my life.

Being made to teach from the middle of the classroom for the whole lesson, far far away from the PC or my resources to see how I’d cope.

Giving me a class with a child who (in hindsight) was clearly autistic, with no warning & no back up. The actual teacher had walkie talkie … as child was a runner: I prepared a history lesson & blacked out the room & played sirens. The kid threw a chair at me, swore & ran. I had NO way of contacting other staff other than to leave my class & run to reception. I had no SEN training at all. Was year 2 teaching degree.

Going to a primary school for the day when I teach KS5

Three weeks at a primary school at the start of my 11-18 PGCE. Totally wasted time. … Three weeks with year 2. I didn’t see a secondary kid for six weeks. I learnt v[ery] little.

Organise a trip for PGCE students, taught me nothing, but on hottest day of the year, 6 month[s] pregnant, I had to walk miles up a hill

Make a poster.

Brain gym

Weekly logs of around 750 words, not entirely pointless as it was all about reflective practice but coming up with 3 SMART targets a week was a struggle.

Morning spent on cross-curricular links possible between English and geography is the first thing that springs to mind.

Draw a teacher. Mime a poem. L[earning] S[tyles] survey. Kinaesthetic paper-cutting. Write answer, throw scrunched paper at teacher. So many! … Actual most harmful was probably advice to choose English texts based on what kids are interested in and what they know already.

Most pointless was creating 3 different worksheets (H[igher] A[bility], L[ower] A[bility], and average) to demonstrate differentiation. I would never do this in class or even have time to do it for all classes

Spent h[ou]rs thinking up French activities to suit each of the multiple intelligences (naturalistic was my fave. Erm, learn vocab about trees?) Think we settled on a French trip to a farm in the end (just to make it all stop).

The ICT skills test!

Listening a diatribe from a member of faculty telling us it was awful that heads & governors were held responsible for school performance

Pointless: the display stuff. Suggesting that jaunty angles was disrespectful of pupils’ work. The effort/gain didn’t justify the time spent.

As part of my drama elective, being told to become a piece of spaghetti, coming to the boil in front of an audience of 60 fellow students!

[My] D[ear] H[usband] was training to teach history. Lecturer wanted students to crawl under desks, to experience what it was like to be a coal miner.

Make up a dance with The Jabberwocky’ as the inspiration. Mortifyingly embarrassing

We spent a whole day being shown how to double mount work for display purposes. We were shown how to put up a roll of backing paper and they had to ‘have a go’ putting up backing paper. This included tips on how far to allow the staple to go into the board. We had to have mitred corners. We then had to create a display in teams, mount it and assemble it. The lecturer took ages to mount one piece of work. She used a rule and set square to make sure the border around the work was exact on all sides. We were told not to just use eye judgement. I happen to have a very good eye for doing this.

We spent an hour on how to choose the right colours to match the work and given examples of which colours went together well.

I’ve never felt so patronised.

We were taught how to write the labels for displays. We had to rule 3 horizontal lines and some vertical lines and then write the words in pencil before going over with felt tip. When I moaned to my mother, she pointed out that she had to do it with a wide-nibbed pen and ink!

Sing in a musical of 7 brides for 7 brothers! Worked on it for a whole term. Because I told the tutor I was tone deaf,was given a main role. …It was mortifying. What it had to do with teaching, none of us understand! It was a long time ago in Swansea, the 4 year b Ed course. It was a performance only the other class got to see thank God. I qualified 95.

The most pointless activities from teacher training published first on http://ift.tt/2uVElOo

[careergrowthblog]

The most pointless activities from teacher training

I was somewhat inspired by seeing people who are apparently involved in teacher training finding various reasons to ignore what teachers actually experience in schools (details here). It made me wonder whether there are other questions they don’t want teachers to answer. So I asked this one:

What was the most pointless (or harmful) task you had to undertake as part of teacher training?

The answers don’t necessarily distinguish between training in universities and training in schools. For the most unlikely ones I did ask a few follow up questions to convince myself they were genuine, but obviosuly I could have been fooled. As ever, these are intended to be answers only to the question I asked, not an account of what is normal in teacher training. You can find the thread here on Twitter. I’ve also included answers from Facebook. I’ve tried to avoid answers that are obviously from outside the UK, although many of these are still well worth reading on the thread.

Taking part in a carnival where I had to dress up as a box of McDonald’s fries. Do I win?

Being made to do learning styles & left brain/right brain questionnaires to find out what kind of [learner] I am.

First week of PGCE at York we were required to carry an orange and a blindfold to all sessions. Eventually had … to identify our oranges blindfold. Still no idea why!

Being made to have a reconciliation meeting with a student, to apologise for telling her there’s no such thing as a kinaesthetic learner… This was last year!

Triple mounting… Mounting work on card then remounting on 2nd contrasting colour then a 3rd mounting with 1 cm border. I cried when told I would have to redo… Did I mention how long it took? I was a student and last out of the building. Caretaker tapping foot outside door. General effect of display was hallucinogenic.

‘Kinaesthetic’ learning in maths. One trainee: ‘I got outstanding for my lesson – we did the starter outside with the hula hoops’

Compiling a massive folder of ‘evidence’ and then organising and signposting key bits for the assessor so most of it was ignored.

[A massive folder of evidence] and a reflective sketchbook (think full-on creative & decorated) which was the last thing I had time for and didn’t benefit my learning… The idea was nice but it added to the stress of things to do & has just been shoved in a cupboard since.

I had four huge boxes of “evidence”. I have no idea what was filling most of it and I don’t believe for one second anyone looked.

Working out how to teach numeracy in English to tick off that bit of my evidence folder.

Building a bottle rocket. I have no idea why we had to do it. Maybe to do with teamwork? Near the end of our training. Seemed weird.

Teaching an entire lesson without speaking. First placement too! … It was to encourage them to learn independently.

Having to reorder my folders for the tutor’s ease of marking having arranged them for my ease of teaching.

Building a tower from rolled-up newspapers to learn about teamwork.

The “assessment and ICT” essay? portfolio? where we had to photocopy and collate paperwork.

My tutor … said he would pass us all if we survived his organised pub crawl.

Going outside to collect sticks and leaves then using them as ‘inspiration’ to write a Halloween story. We were encouraged to dress up too.

I remember our ICT lectures were truly awful. Basic stuff like how to save a Word document.

To play ‘pass the teddy and speak’ during a staff meeting. Some took role seriously and revealed ‘inner child’ *cringe*

Spending hours devising & printing OHTs (remember?)with pictures of Simpsons characters in order to have ‘eye catching starter’ I recall many sessions concerned with devising games of bingo and other ‘lively activities’ apparently for MFL vocab learning. I recall a fellow trainee telling me of advice she’d been given by course tutor regarding difficult class: “Wear a silly hat”.

Watched a tutor get up on a table to demonstrate a swimming stroke as he insisted you didn’t need to go swimming to teach [children] to swim.

Having to write a 6000 word essay on the decimal system and how it had positively impacted on my life.

Being made to teach from the middle of the classroom for the whole lesson, far far away from the PC or my resources to see how I’d cope.

Giving me a class with a child who (in hindsight) was clearly autistic, with no warning & no back up. The actual teacher had walkie talkie … as child was a runner: I prepared a history lesson & blacked out the room & played sirens. The kid threw a chair at me, swore & ran. I had NO way of contacting other staff other than to leave my class & run to reception. I had no SEN training at all. Was year 2 teaching degree.

Going to a primary school for the day when I teach KS5

Three weeks at a primary school at the start of my 11-18 PGCE. Totally wasted time. … Three weeks with year 2. I didn’t see a secondary kid for six weeks. I learnt v[ery] little.

Organise a trip for PGCE students, taught me nothing, but on hottest day of the year, 6 month[s] pregnant, I had to walk miles up a hill

Make a poster.

Brain gym

Weekly logs of around 750 words, not entirely pointless as it was all about reflective practice but coming up with 3 SMART targets a week was a struggle.

Morning spent on cross-curricular links possible between English and geography is the first thing that springs to mind.

Draw a teacher. Mime a poem. L[earning] S[tyles] survey. Kinaesthetic paper-cutting. Write answer, throw scrunched paper at teacher. So many! … Actual most harmful was probably advice to choose English texts based on what kids are interested in and what they know already.

Most pointless was creating 3 different worksheets (H[igher] A[bility], L[ower] A[bility], and average) to demonstrate differentiation. I would never do this in class or even have time to do it for all classes

Spent h[ou]rs thinking up French activities to suit each of the multiple intelligences (naturalistic was my fave. Erm, learn vocab about trees?) Think we settled on a French trip to a farm in the end (just to make it all stop).

The ICT skills test!

Listening a diatribe from a member of faculty telling us it was awful that heads & governors were held responsible for school performance

Pointless: the display stuff. Suggesting that jaunty angles was disrespectful of pupils’ work. The effort/gain didn’t justify the time spent.

As part of my drama elective, being told to become a piece of spaghetti, coming to the boil in front of an audience of 60 fellow students!

[My] D[ear] H[usband] was training to teach history. Lecturer wanted students to crawl under desks, to experience what it was like to be a coal miner.

Make up a dance with The Jabberwocky’ as the inspiration. Mortifyingly embarrassing

We spent a whole day being shown how to double mount work for display purposes. We were shown how to put up a roll of backing paper and they had to ‘have a go’ putting up backing paper. This included tips on how far to allow the staple to go into the board. We had to have mitred corners. We then had to create a display in teams, mount it and assemble it. The lecturer took ages to mount one piece of work. She used a rule and set square to make sure the border around the work was exact on all sides. We were told not to just use eye judgement. I happen to have a very good eye for doing this.

We spent an hour on how to choose the right colours to match the work and given examples of which colours went together well.

I’ve never felt so patronised.

We were taught how to write the labels for displays. We had to rule 3 horizontal lines and some vertical lines and then write the words in pencil before going over with felt tip. When I moaned to my mother, she pointed out that she had to do it with a wide-nibbed pen and ink!

Sing in a musical of 7 brides for 7 brothers! Worked on it for a whole term. Because I told the tutor I was tone deaf,was given a main role. …It was mortifying. What it had to do with teaching, none of us understand! It was a long time ago in Swansea, the 4 year b Ed course. It was a performance only the other class got to see thank God. I qualified 95.

The most pointless activities from teacher training published first on http://ift.tt/2uVElOo