#i picked something else but I do all of the above

[lacy-oh-lacy]

i genuinely need you to write something for rio vidal plzzzzzz i’ll take anything but your writing is perfect so id love for you to write something *cough* dominant jealous rio *cough*

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉'𝒔 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒑

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝑨/𝑵: Omg thank you, Anon. You're too sweet 𖹭

𝑪𝑾: Fem!Reader, Dom!Rio, Jealous!Rio, Soft domming, knife play, biting, magical G!P, possessiveness

Contrary to all common sense, the quickest way to find yourself on Death’s radar was not through an act of death itself. Not by losing your life or taking another's…

No, it was through her girlfriend.

A stranger's lingering gaze or a friend's pda never escaped Rio’s attention, and a repeat offender, like oh say… that coworker of yours you were talking to at that very moment…

Well, they managed to make an enemy out of the force of nature that could usually pride herself on her indiscriminate apathy.

Rio lurked in the shadows outside your workplace, eyes darkening as that fool made you laugh.

She wasn't even two minutes late to pick you up, and already that snake was curling around you. Unbelievable.

You didn't think anything of it, Rio knew, but she could see in that man's eyes every disgusting thought he was having about you.

It made her sick, it made her burn.

Well, if the shades of purple littering your neck didn't clue him in to the fact that you were taken, she was beyond willing to do it herself.

Under the cover of darkness she shifted her attire with a thought, striding over in a new, clean-cut suit that made his own look like ratty hand-me-downs.

You perked up as soon as you noticed her and it made her heart leap. Your bright smile, your appreciative eyes taking in her new look…

He could never make you glow like that.

“Hey, Baby.”

Rio couldn't help a quick smile reserved only for you as she joined you under the streetlight, arm wrapping around your waist. “Hello, my love. Sorry I'm late, work was murder.”

She turned to face your companion, with a cold and withering stare. A look that could take years off a life.

“Who's your friend?”

You could never truly estimate the depths of Rio's jealousy but you knew that look well enough to know you had to get her out of there.

And you knew it well enough to not be surprised by the intensity she brought to the bedroom that night.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“I missed you today.”

Rio replied in her softest tone, someone less attuned to her might not have even heard the boundless resentment living within it, “You seemed like you were enjoying yourself.”

Leisurely, she traced her knife from your jaw, down your neck, applying a spine-tingling pressure just short of breaking skin.

“Yeah well, that new guy I work with is pretty fun.” You said breathily, not biting. Her blade caught on the collar of your shirt, lingering above your hammering heart, and Rio laughed.

Never before had such stubborn brattiness looked so good on someone, but you were just something else… teasing her even with a knife to your chest…

She cut through the fabric in one rough slash. “Careful, Lover. Wouldn't want to shorten such a fun man's life span, would you?”

“You wouldn't do that.” you challenged

“Try me. I'd do anything to keep you.”

The sincerity of the statement should have frightened you, but it was intoxicating. To be the object of such devotion from Death herself was a head-spinning high that no drug, spell or new lover could match.

“You'll always have me, Rio.”

There was a pain to the look she gave you in return, a wound behind her eyes, but she found a smile for you before she circled behind you.

“I’d better.” She breathed in your ear, pulling the tatters of what used to be your shirt from your body.

The tip of her knife traveled down your spine, barely grazing your skin on a trail to your skirt, which she skillfully cut open, baring you to her completely.

“My pretty girl…”

Her hand smoothed over your ass-cheek with near reverence before disappearing between your legs.

You gasped, skin aflush, but all too soon you realized she wasn't done playing with you yet.

“Please.” You whimpered as her fingers slid across your folds, just short of where you needed them.

“Say my name.”

“Rio, please, I need you so bad.”

She drew a lazy circle on your clit and your breath hitched, “Well how can I say no to that?”

A tingling warmth followed her hand on your back as she pushed you forward, forcing your chest onto your dresser and you into a bend.

You barely noticed the hardness of the surface against your breasts. You couldn't concentrate over the thought of being so exposed to her, and even that died with your last remaining brain cells as you felt the tip of her cock against your entrance.

She could've gone right in, you were wet enough for her to, but she slowly dragged up and down your slick folds, cock head catching on your clit every time and setting your nerves ablaze.

“Rio.” You whined.

“So impatient.” She laughed. “Don't worry, Baby, I'll take care of you.”

With that she pushed through your centre, slowly and gently sinking inside of you, savoring every blissful moan you let out.

She very nearly lost herself as you jerked against her but she resisted the rough thrust you were so clearly asking for. Your pathetic, little mewls, music to her ears.

She bottomed out inside of you, letting you adjust, letting you enjoy being filled. Then quicker than you could process she pulled out and slammed back in.

You cried out, but Rio wasn't slowing down this time, pounding you again and again with deep, unapologetic thrusts.

“You're mine. You hear that? Say it.”

“I'm yours, Rio.” You choked out, voice bouncing with her pistoning hips.

“Yeah, you’re mine. My good girl.”

She leant forward, her breasts flush against your back, as she sank her teeth into your shoulder, leaving behind a delightful sting.

Rio wasn't usually one for quickies but tonight she'd make an exception. There was a desperation inside of her stronger than mere lust. She had to see you cum.

She twisted her arm around your hip so she could work your clit, rubbing in a frenzy. “Tell me you want me.”

“Want you. Need you.”

“Then cum for me Baby, I know you can do it.”

Rio was nothing short of amazing. The concentrated skill on your clit and the near supernatural speed of her thrusts unraveled you like only she could.

Your mouth fell open and your walls clenched around her in a strangling hold as lust threatened to burn you alive.

“God! Rio!”

You came all over her and right on cue she emptied her cock inside of you, filling you to your very core with what felt like neverending ropes of cum, trapped inside of you by her refusal to pull out.

“I'm never gonna let anyone else do this to you, baby.” She breathed out, mouth returning to your shoulder to lick over the bite mark she left. “Never, for all eternity, I'm yours, and you’re mine.”

[ozzgin]

OZZ OMG OMG OMG THAT YANDERE PRISON THING OMG OMG OMG

*jitters with excitement*

I NEED MORE AHHHHH IT TICKLED MY BRAIN THE RIGHT AND WRONG WAY AT THE SAME TIME

Like if you're nice they'll just become your dogs and if you're not nice they'll give you a very rough foursome I'm down for either OMG OMG OMG help I have problems

To quote Markiplier: "I'm not a masochist, this is about power"

*drops dead*

*instantly revives*

Ahem, I saw you mention you might come up with small plots, so I'll do the logical thing to try to inspire you:

- clueless darling ask the leaders about their gangs and whatnot. Like nonchalantly. Because they're too nice darling thought it's no big deal lol

- darling subconsciously avoid blonde man (even tho he is my favourite hahah) after seeing him beat up the guy

- darling got drunk (somehow in a prison) and either gets horny (and try to let it out under the blankets forgetting they got roommates)or innocently touchy hugging all three of them and poking their unique features, sitting in their laps and so on. Or better yet, touches/approaches other inmates in front of the roommates...

content: gender neutral reader, alcohol consumption, NSFW below the cut!

Inmates are creative. They will always find a way around the rules, and this time it happened to be a rather clumsy attempt at brewing alcohol. Had this been discovered by a guard, whoever concocted the beverage would've landed in detention.

Instead, it was you who found it, innocently assuming someone must've forgotten their water behind. You gulped down the clear liquid, thirsty after you walk, then promptly grimaced at its unexpected bitterness.

Safe to say you're now quite drunk.

That in itself would already be troublesome enough, but another thing is endangering yours and everyone else's peace: you're in a particularly flirty mood.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The officer's smile drops instantly, and he turns towards the deep voice. One of your criminal roommates glares at the sight with hollow eyes. You were clinging to the officer's arm, a dumb grin plastered on your face. The man in uniform quickly shoves you aside, his features pale and drained.

"It wasn't me who started it," he pleads.

You're quickly picked up by your bunkie, who is still staring at the guard. He won't be leaving this prison alive, that's for sure. Now, however, his priorities lie somewhere else.

The hallway spins as you're being carried away, and you shamelessly cling to your ride, feeling and groping the muscles and tracing along his tattooed skin.

"My God, at least wait until we're back to our cell," he groans with flushed cheeks.

The blonde one is trying to play it cool. Come, now, you're obviously out of it. He needs to be mature and tuck you in, or something along the line.

Easier said than done, especially with a raging boner. You're quick to notice it, and you certainly don't hesitate to point it out, making lewd gestures with your hands as some sort of offer.

"Are you sure you won't regret it tomorrow?"

"Hey now, I'm drunk, not unconscious," you bark between hiccups.

He may have interrogated you further, but the thought of your pretty little mouth struggling to take him in is too much to bear. He's essentially drooling by the time he pats his knee for you to come over.

The pierced one drops you on your bed with a flat expression. Annoyance? A closer look at his pursed lips, and one can tell he's really just struggling to maintain his composure.

"Please, I really need to-"

You hold him back by the arm and bat your eyelashes. In return, he clicks his tongue. Is this some sort of test from above? His beloved Darling is essentially begging to be fingered. Yet, he shouldn't be taking advantage of your state. He shouldn't...

Too late. You gasp at his rough fingers making their way in.

"Alright, don't be too loud," he concludes with a faint smirk.

The masked one gently places you on your bed, then plants himself before you with crossed arms.

"Nonsense. You're drunk."

"I mean it", you repeat yourself.

He does his best to look imposing. Truth be told, his knees weakened from the moment "fuck me" slipped out of your mouth. He gladly would, but he has morals. Well, when it comes to you, anyways.

Your pout seems to suggest this would be a long standoff. He sighs, then pushes you back onto the mattress.

"How about this? I'll take care of it," he explains quietly, his cloth hovering above your groin. "I'll be awaiting your offer again once you're sober."

For now, his tongue will have to do.

[Yandere Prison] | [More Yandere Stories]

[mustainegf]

lingerie shopping w james 🤭 he picks out cute little outfits for you. could be any era but maybe like 99, 03 or current james ?

THIS IS AN AMAZING IDEA????? AND SOOOOO JAMES HOLY SHIT

𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍 & 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 ¹⁹⁹⁹

A soft jingle sounded from the bell above the door as we stepped into the small lingerie shop tucked into a corner of the strip mall. It wasn't a place I'd imagined us going, but James was in one of those playful moods all day, and there was no saying no to him when he flashed that mischievous grin. He had this knack for pulling me out of my shell and making me feel bold and sexy when I didn't even know I could feel that way.

The shop smelled of faint perfume and new fabric, the racks of lace and satin lining the walls. It was cozy, quiet, and we were the only ones there, which felt both exciting and a little awkward. But James didn't seem to care, he never did. He strode in like he owned the place, as he did with most places, eyes scanning the room for the perfect pieces, turning back to me with a gleam in his eyes.

"How about this one, baby?" He leaned and picked up a sheer red set, holding it up for me to see. "I bet you'd look hot in this." His voice dropped lower, a playful smirk on his lips. "Or out of it."

I rolled my eyes, trying to keep the flush from creeping up my neck. "You're crazy."

He laughed deep and rich, a set to our little adventure. "Come on," he urged, handing me the set. "Go try it on. Let's have some fun." There was just no arguing with James when he got this way. He wasn't overbearing, just… assured, in that confident way that he always had.

I took the lingerie and moved towards the dressing rooms, giving him a look over. Already he was eyeing up something else on the racks, his face assuming that look of concentration adopted by people who believed this was some serious mission.

I slipped on the red set in the dressing room. Soft fabric caressed my skin, hugging in all the right places. I looked into the mirror, feeling my stomach churning with shyness and somehow some excitement. It's not always that comfortable for me to be this daring, but since James had been waiting outside just to see me, it made me smile.

"You gonna let me see, or do I have to come in there?" His voice came through the curtain all teasing like usual.

I pulled back the curtain slightly and leaned my head out. "You're not supposed to be in here, you know."

James raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the wall. "Since when have I followed rules?"

I let him in with a sigh that turned into a laugh, shutting the curtain behind him. His eyes roamed over me and I could tell he liked what he saw. He reached out, tracing the lace along my hips, his fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Fuck, you look good," he murmured, his voice taking on that husky tonethat he knew drove me crazy.

I shook my head but couldn't help smiling. "Oh, hush."

His eyes met mine, serious for a moment. "No, I mean it. You're beautiful." He slid his hand down my arm, fingers brushing my waist. "I love when you let go like this."

He kissed me then, so soft and slow at first, before it deepened, and for a moment, we forgot we were standing in the middle of a small lingerie shop.

When he pulled back, his eyes glittered with that same light. "You're getting this one," he said, almost as an order. "But let's see what else we can find."

I changed back into my clothes while he roamed the store, picking out pieces and holding them up for me to see. A black corset, some lacy panties, even a soft, baby blue set that made me giggle when he held it out like it was the most serious thing in the world.

"This one's cute," he said, giving me a sideways grin. "For when you're feeling sweet."

I raised an eyebrow. "And when am I ever feeling sweet?"

He laughed again, reaching for my hand and pulling me toward the dressing room. "Guess we'll find out."

We had spent the next hour trying things on, and he would never take his eyes off me, always managing to say something flirtatious or giving a low whistle.

At one point, he pulled out an emerald green set complete with garter and stocking that he held up with one eyebrow raised, his gaze was locked on the crotch of the g string... or lack thereof... It was obvious what they were meant for. "This one," he said, his voice lowering. "You gotta try this one."

I wavered for a second, biting at my lip. A little more daring than I was used to. Then I caught the look in his eyes, full of heat, but also something else. He wanted me to feel sexy.

I took it from him as I headed back into the dressing room. When I came out, James looked like he creamed his pants on the spot.

"Damn," he muttered stepping closer, his hands sliding around my waist. "We're gettin' this one."

By the time we finally came out of that shop, I had a whole bunch of lingerie clutched in my bag and a whole warm heart out of it. James held me at the door and swung his arm around my shoulder.

I already knew what was in store tonight...

[joons]

okay no wait, I'm so curious your thoughts on the elvis mythology! I'm trying to think of an example haha. anyway, thank you for that food for thought. your takes on elvis are so interesting and kind of a different perspective than I normally see

Thank you! That means a lot because I do love going into his psychology and thinking about how he thought about things. And I love being able to engage with Elvis stuff from all different angles!

I can think of a few - like there will be people who were close to him who make such absolute statements about him: he refused to wear blue jeans, he hated eating fish, he loved eating peanut butter/banana/bacon sandwiches, he was afraid of germs, he wouldn't sleep with women who were mothers. But not all of those are true for him 100% of the time, or they seem to be big outliers where no one else has reported anything like that. And as you read more, you can see moments where he behaves differently than these big eccentricities that people pin on him, and you have to think about why that might be. You pick up little clues that you can put together to figure out what he meant. Did he have an almost pathological dislike of blue jeans because they reminded him of his childhood poverty, or did he just tell one of his band members that because he had made a brusque joke about the guy wearing blue jeans in front of a bunch of people and wanted to find a way to apologize without apologizing? Was he covering up behavior he was ashamed of, or was he revealing the real shame that drove him to look his best and make sure his entourage looked their best too? Did he actually have an aversion to women after they had given birth (unlikely, since he had relationships with several mothers), or did he want to give Priscilla a reason for avoiding her that she couldn't work around, knowing that she always went overboard trying to change herself to get his attention and getting rid of things she thought were coming between them (his spiritual books/Larry Geller/etc.)? Was this just one of a long line of excuses he made for not truly being in love with her and not wanting to try anymore? Did he actually eat the same sandwich every day, or did he just make a big deal about it one time because it was Lisa's birthday and he wanted to fly her somewhere special? And the other stuff he did eat every day, did he do it because it was one of the few things in his life he had control over, and could extract comfort from, or did he do it because, as he told Larry, he wanted to make himself sick of it so that it would no longer be a temptation? And how much of these conversations are either hearsay or someone putting words in his mouth to absolve themselves of something that bothered them?

The long and short of it is that people have sometimes reported things he said or did without any surrounding context, or it gets stripped away when it's reported elsewhere, and we are left with these moments that don't make sense or tell us anything about him unless we see how he dealt with them throughout his life, around different people, and see him as a whole person and not the Elvis Image that he tended to embrace when it suited him and resent when it hurt him. A really great moment that I think shows how Elvis tended to approach things is reported by Steve Binder, where he said Parker was telling Elvis absolutely not to do something, and Steve felt like Elvis just kind of shut down and mumbled "yes" until Parker left, and then Elvis' eyes flashed and he turned to Steve and said, "Fuck him," and did what he wanted to do. He was a people pleaser! A huge one! He valued loyalty above honesty. He was willing to lie to people he cared about if he felt that it would avoid a confrontation, and sometimes that tipped into a selfish "I want to do things my way," and sometimes that tipped into a selfless "I want them to have everything I can give them." And he waffled between those extremes because of his own low self-esteem and loneliness. I'm! Screaming! About this! At all times! He is an unreliable narrator, he's such a bubble of emotions that pops with the slightly scratch, he's so complex that you are not sure if he wants the bubble to be an opaque shield or a transparent boundary that you can slip through. He was testing people all the time to know if he could trust them with his heart without expecting him to be the Elvis Image, telling them things that were an invitation and a challenge and an insult and a declaration of love all at once, and so much of the problem we deal with now is that people are still completely uninterested in these depths. I???? Love him??? And the things he can help us learn about ourselves??? Just by trying to see him as he really was????

I don't know, I just get very overwhelmed!!!!

[abbbbyyy]

Mozart's In The Dark

Reader(wife) X Bruce Wayne/Batman(husband)

Summery: You and Batman get hit with a gas that makes you go temporality unable to move. You pass the time in fun little conversation.

Rating: Fluff

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

"I would love to kick you, but I can even feel my legs." You say, your voice strained and dry. A sadistic laugh echoes through the alley, the gas thick and suffocating in the air around you. Bruce's eyes, usually filled with fiery determination, are now glazed over, his body limp beside you.

You glance around, trying to get your bearings. The world around us is a blur of shadows and distorted sounds. The alley is narrow, lined with dumpsters and graffiti-covered walls. Above, the moon casts a feeble glow through the maze of buildings, providing just enough light to make out the outline of your attackers retreating into the distance.

"Let's do something to pass the time. Maybe it'll help keep our spirits up."

Bruce's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he doesn't argue. "Alright," he says, his voice a bit more clear than before.

So you start to sing, "Baby shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo…"

Bruce's eyes widen. "Really?"

"What? It's catchy." you laugh.

Bruce groans. "Catchy doesn't mean good."

"Fine," You concede, trying to think of something else. "How about this one?" You begin to sing the Batman theme song.

Bruce's eyes roll back into his head. "Oh, please, no. Not that."

"What?" you ask, feigning innocence. "It's your theme song, after all."

"And that's why it's the last thing I want to hear right now," Bruce says, his tone light despite the gravity of your situation.

"Fine," you say, pouting a little. "Then what do you want to hear?"

Bruce thinks for a moment, his breaths shallow and forced. "How about something from your playlist?"

"Alright," you say, "but only if it's not something too cheesy."

Bruce smiles faintly. "Cheesy? You mean like 'Batdance'?"

"Don't you dare," you threaten.

He chuckles weakly. "I was just testing you."

You lean your head back, the cold pavement providing little comfort. "What's on your playlist then, Bruce?"

He takes a deep, painful breath. "Well, some Mozart, some Led Zeppelin."

"Mozart?" You raise an eyebrow. "I didn't take you for a classical kind of guy."

"And you married me," he says with a smirk, despite the gravity of our situation. "You should have known I had layers."

"But Bruce, my beloved, my soulmate, you listen to Mozart?" you ask, your voice filled with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"What did you think I would listen to?" he asks, his voice a barely-there whisper as the gas starts to wear off.

"I don't know," you admit, "Maybe something more… brooding? Rock? Something emo."

Bruce lets out a small laugh, the sound surprisingly warm in the cold, desolate alley. "Emo, huh?"

"Well, you know, the whole 'Dark Knight' vibe," you tease, trying to keep the mood light.

Bruce shakes his head slightly, his movements still sluggish. "You think I sit in the batcave, brooding to emo music?"

"I didn't say that," you retort, "But it's not like I've ever seen you rocking out to Mozart while fighting crime."

"And you've seen me with emo music?" Bruce says, a small smile on his lips.

"Well, no, I haven't," you admit, "but I can imagine it."

Bruce's head turns slightly towards you, his eyes focusing with a bit more clarity. "Alright, I'll play along. What song would you pick for me?"

you think for a moment, a smirk playing on your lips. "Let's go with something Skillet, I'm thinking "Hero"."

Bruce's eyes widen. "Really?"

"What?" you ask, playing coy. "You don't think it fits?"

"Mozart," Bruce repeats, his voice gaining a bit more strength with each word, "has a certain… elegance to it. Plus, it helps me think."

Youlook at him, surprised by his revelation. "Elegance? In the heat of battle?"

"No," Bruce says firmly, "I'm not looking for a song for the heat of battle. I'm looking for something to keep me sane."

"Sane?" you repeat, the word feeling foreign in the chaos that is your life.

Bruce nods. "Sane."

"I married a complete nutjob," you murmur, the smirk on your face growing wider.

Bruce's chuckle is barely a breath, but it's there. "You say that like it's a surprise," he says.

You feel the tension in your body start to ease as the gas wears off. "Well, you do wear a cape and fight crime at night," you say, a hint of laughter in your voice.

"It's not a cape," he says, his tone mock-serious. "It's a cloak."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Wayne," you tease.

"How much longer do you think we have?" Bruce asks, his voice still strained but with a touch more urgency.

You struggle to sit up, pushing through the lingering heaviness in your limbs. "I'm not sure," you say, gritting your teeth against the pain. "But we need to move before they come back."

Bruce nods, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he tries to push himself up with his arms. "I think…I think I have an idea," he says, his voice still strained.

You watch as he fumbles with his utility belt, the leather straps and gadgets blurring before your eyes. "What are you doing?" you ask, your own voice still thick with the remnants of the gas.

"I have a shot of epinephrine," Bruce says through clenched teeth, his movements slow and deliberate. "It's for emergencies like this. It might help counteract the effects of the gas."

You watch as he fumbles with the cap, his trembling hand finally managing to remove it. The silver needle gleams in the moonlight, a beacon of hope in this otherwise grim situation.

"Here," he says, offering it to you with a forced smile. "You first."

You take the epinephrine from his hand, the cold metal sending a shiver down your spine. You know the drill; we've practiced this before. But never in a real situation. You inject yourself in the thigh, hissing as the liquid shoots into my system. For a moment, everything goes white, and then, as if a switch has been flipped, the world snaps back into focus.

Bruce watches you closely, his eyes searching for any signs of improvement. "How do you feel?" he asks, his voice stronger now.

"Better," you reply, taking a deep breath and sitting up with a grimace. "A lot better." The epinephrine is coursing through your veins, burning away the last remnants of the paralyzing gas. You hand the epinephrine back to him, and he takes it with a nod, injecting himself with the same determination.

You stand up slowly, your legs wobbly but cooperating. Bruce does the same, his cape fluttering slightly in the breeze. He looks at me, a question in his eyes. "Can you run?"

You nod, taking a tentative step. "Yeah, I think so."

Bruce stands with more ease than you expect, the epinephrine working its magic. "Good," he says, "because we need to get out of here before the cops show up. Too many questions we can't answer."

With a smirk, "Hey, start playing your Mozart for dramatic affect," you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

"Hon," he warns, his voice a bit stronger now.

You shrug, smiling. "What?"

Bruce rolls his eyes before turning serious. "We need to get back to the manor."

The sirens are closer now, the red and blue lights dancing through the narrow gaps between buildings. The gas has almost fully dissipated, and we can move more freely. Bruce takes your arm over his shoulder his grip firm but gentle, as you make your way out of the alley. Your movements are swift and calculated, years of experience guiding you through the shadows and away from the approaching authorities.

[izudeeilo]

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You can study me

Sero hanta smau

volley-ball player sero x art student fem!reader, no quirks au, college au.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Senior year is finally here! You thought that this time, the teachers would be more lenient with you and your classmates, but not at all. In fact, they even got stricter... They assigned you a half year-long work, which would be worth 30% of your final grade. What does the work consist of, you ask? Making a complete study of the life of a student you need to pick and paint it.

But... you can't pick a friend

Part .2 • Part .4

Part 3

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You all walked into the club you’ve been going to since you can remember. It was your favorite because it played primarily 80s and 90s music, the whole club was also 80s themed.

The floor tiles were black and white, disco balls adorned the ceiling and casted beautiful lights all around the place.

You squeezed your eyes shut a few times from the bright colour lights emanating from above you as you made your way through the crowd with your friends.

Squeezed between people you danced to the music that was already ending, Izuku was next to you and Himiko and Ochaco right in front of you.

The next music played, and you jumped onto what you thought was Izuku’s arm and yelled “Oh I love that song!”

You turned your head and were met by Mina with a smile on her face and wide open eyes.

”Y/n! What are you doing here” she screamed, her hands going to your shoulders excitedly.

”The same as you, I would say, I’ve never seen you around here before” you chuckled, happy to see a familiar face.

”I figured I would try something new this time and I absolutely love it here!! Even more now that I know you also go here” she smiled, nudging your shoulder.

You took her hand and led her to your friends after she said she came here alone and you offered to spend the night together.

And as the song played, A forest by The Cure, you locked your eyes with her, and you both began dancing together. Her, in front of you, both shaking your shoulders from left to right in rhythm. Throwing your heads back, hands dancing in the air as you breathe in the alcohol fuelled air.

Come closer and see. See into the trees.

You all chant the lyrics and whirl around on the dance floor, moving your bodies from side to side.

After an hour or two of dancing, Mina led you all to the bar and ordered 5 blue lagoons.

”That’s on me you guys” she grinned at you, twirling around on her chair.

You all looked at her with disbelief, trying to insist on paying for your own drinks, but she declined and said it was nothing. You took your drinks when they were ready and went to sit around a table a bit further away.

She was so easy to get along with, like you all already knew each other. The conversation was going smoothly and you spent god knows how long talking about anything and everything.

Getting up from time to time to dance when a song you liked played.

You didn’t even order more drinks after that, too lost in the conversation to think about anything else.

Down Under by Men at Work was playing in the background as people still danced on the dance floor, the mix of sweat and alcohol slowly filling the air.

”I can’t believe that, how didn’t you tell us, my heart is breaking” Ochaco fake tries, clenching her chest.

Izuku hides his face and laughs “I couldn’t. It was a way too embarrassing moment to share with anyone.”

Mina throws her head back and laughs, and we all follow after her. She wipes a tear from her eye before continuing.

”I think it was the hardest i've ever laughed, I will never forget that scene” Izuku nudged her shoulder playfully and chuckled.

”So I heard from Kacchan you’re looking for a new place?” Izuku suddenly says.

We all turn our heads to them with a questioning look.

“Oh right that! Yeah my roommates are kicking me out for no reason” she leans back in her chair with an annoyed look.

”Seriously— What the hell is wrong with them?” you say revolted. What kind of roommates just kick you out like that you thought.

“The not so nice ones” she laughs “They’ve always been assholes but since it was a big house and they went out a lot, I thought it would be easy to avoid them and mind my own business.”

You sit here bewildered, wondering how she even managed to live more than a few days with these kinds of people. Living in a house where you always checked if there was someone home, not leaving your room when you wanted or needed to. Absolutely insane.

The girls and you quickly look at each other and nod with a small grin.

”You know me and the girls live together, and there's actually one bedroom we don’t use. Well, mostly, we only put random boxes in it or stuff we’re too lazy to put in the cave.” you say with a slight laugh.

Mina looks between you, Ochaco, and Himiko.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying? “ Mina leans forward, hands gripping the seat she was in.

You nod. “Come live with us!”

She gets up almost immediately and goes in for a big group hug, squeezing the breath out of your lungs. Jumping in circles screaming.

”Oh I can’t thank you guys enough. You genuinely just saved my life” she hugs you again, one by one this time.

It was an impulsive decision but you didn’t regret it one bit. Mina was a sweet and funny person and you knew she would bring even more wonderful energy in your shared apartment. You couldn’t wait until she was living with you all.

Two weeks later, she was ready to move in. All the papers were finally done after long days of waiting. For god knows what reason, the whole thing was a pain to do, and your landlord took an absurd amount of time to get everything done.

You just helped her put the last of her boxes into the room you had emptied and cleaned. Izuku also came and helped lift the heavier things she had brought with her.

”Your apartment looks so lovely, this is going to be amazing” she lifts her arms in the air in excitement.

You open your mouth to say something but are interrupted by the sound of your ringtone.

”Sorry let me take this” you smile leaving the girls to chat and making your way to your room.

You sit on your bed before answering.

”Hi Hanta” you grin.

”Hi hermosa” you can hear the smirk on his face as he speaks.

”Stop calling me that” you chuckle.

”Why would I if it’s true”

You roll your eyes and scoff.

”I can feel you rolling your eyes. Are you rolling your eyes?”

”No…”

”Liar.” he chuckles. “I was calling to ask if you were free today?”

”Today? Sorry Mina just moved in and we want to spend the evening together” you reply a bit sad about not getting to see him.

During these two weeks, you two grew closer, now eating lunch together every day, seeing him and the boys at practice when you were free and just hanging out around the campus or taking walks in the city.

You’ve now had your designed places when you hung out, sketching him out when he wasn’t looking.

It would be a lie to say that his little nicknames didn’t get to you and made you feel warm inside every time he spoke.

“Oh right! How about tomorrow?” He brought you out of your thoughts.

”Eager to see me huh” you tease.

”What can I say, I may like spending time with you” You can hear him slightly move on his bed.

”Tomorrow’s perfect. See you at?”

”Three. I’ll pick you up at three.”

”See you at three then Hanta” you smile while hanging up.

You let out a sight and continue smiling to yourself.

The rest of the evening was filled with laughter and music as all four of you sat on the couch. Watching movies and playing board games for hours before you all pass out from exhaustion.

You were convinced it was a good idea to offer Mina to move in and you were absolutely right.

The next morning you woke up before everyone else at around 11am. You get up slowly, careful as to not wake up the girls who were still sleeping. Ochaco had her head pressed on Himiko’s chest, one leg over her waist and Mina was using Ochaco’s back as a pillow.

You chuckled quietly at their weird position and made your way to the bathroom. Taking off your clothes you take a quick shower and make your way to your room to pick out an outfit for the day.

You scan through your closet and decide on a short white sweater, a black skirt and a large dark brown jacket. You put them on and add tights underneath with long white socks.

You went back to the bathroom and did a simple makeup, putting your hair in a hair clip.

Quietly, you go to the kitchen and make yourself some tea while waiting for Hanta.

After some time, you hear the doorbell and quickly put your boots on before grabbing your bag and opening the front door.

”Hi” you say slightly looking up at him.

”Hi” he smiles at you, looking you up and down, admiring your outfit.

“You look…very pretty.” he says as he tilts his head.

”So do you” I compliment him back.

Closing the door, you both make your way down to his car. You had no idea where he wanted to bring you. You kept asking him during the ride, but his mouth was sealed shut. You settled on turning on the radio and waiting until you arrived at his mysterious destination.

a/n a longer chapter for you guys this time ☝🏻

[lambergeier]

wip whursday here's another 4.6k. initially kept writing bc i needed a good fic to pick at to keep my game up while i read enough batcomics to get started on fic for THAT fandom, and then i downloaded genshin again yesterday bc who gives a fuck anymore lol. so now here's another 4.6k! this is basically like posting a serial. like charles dickens

---

They don’t leave exactly on time. But it’s pretty close.

The caravan with whom Alhaitham bought himself (and now Kaveh) (they were very understanding) a ride departs Sumeru City just after noon, with the sun at its dizzying peak, and Alhaitham and Kaveh crammed onto a single sumpter beast’s swaying back. The drivers’ understanding about Alhaitham’s surprise guest had not extended to giving that surprise guest a separate mount. Kaveh digs his hands into the sumpter’s rank fur and holds on tight.

It’s a long afternoon’s ride to Paradisea, then a significantly longer ride to Aaru the next day. They stay the night between in a lodging house just down the hill from the Akademiya’s palatial greenhouses. At dusk the wind changes and fills their rented room with the smells of flowers, as thick in their mouths as honey. They fuck each other senseless in a haze of perfume and nearly miss their ride the next morning. 

“There have been strange reports back from the desert, in the wake of the Traveller’s passing,” Alhaitham says, long legs crammed tight against Kaveh’s in the the shade of their cart’s small awning. He plays with Kaveh’s hand in his lap like it's a puzzle to crack, pressing at each callus and bone with the limitless fidgeting energy of his teenage self. Kaveh sweats beside him, unwilling to withdraw. 

“The great red storm has ended,” Alhaitham says. “The skies above Hypostyle are clear for the first time in two thousand years.”

Kaveh nods, lips against Alhaitham’s shoulder. He's not really listening, mind on houses and fireworks and the depthless unknown of the future. He tucks his toes beneath Alhaitham’s thigh as they exit the hot shade of the Wall and rattle into the desert. “That much is verified,” Alhaitham continues. “By every man, woman, and child of the lower desert. A scholar was with the Traveller and Paimon—his reports, what they saw—tombs unseen since the Archon war.” Alhaitham pauses, eyes on something far distant. “But there's more, from even deeper in the sands.”

Even Kaveh had heard about the end of the storm, in his blinkered way. He freely admits to the thinness in his news diet, but the architectural digest had reported on it, and the merchants and tradesmen in Lambad’s, and the tourists from Liyue at the docks. “What else?” Kaveh asks. “How did you find out?”

“The Traveller writes to Nahida,” Alhaitham says, always on a first name-basis with his god. “Others do, as well. Scholar-cults supposedly dead for centuries find a way to write to Nahida, who leaves all of her papers in a pile on my desk.”

“You snooped?” Kaveh smiles. 

“It’s my desk,” Alhaitham says. “Something happened in Hadramaveth that no one can describe the same way twice. Giants wake and the eternal storm walks with them. The tribes who do no business with scholars are on the move. At the edge of the inland sea the ghost of a tree rises to the height of the moon.”

“How much did that correspondent have to drink?” Kaveh asks, thinking mostly of the pile of his hair pins growing ever larger beside Alhaitham’s bed. 

“They see it in Fontaine,” Alhaitham says. “The sailors brought the first news last week, plus a letter for Nahida from their Duke under the water.”

“I suppose it's real, then,” Kaveh says.

“Two months,” Alhaitham murmurs. “It’s only been two months since they left the forest.”

Alhaitham presses his thumb into the lines of Kaveh’s palm. Kaveh puts his mouth to Alhaitham's red neck. It’s only them in the back of the cart, with the bags of rice and the linen. They have an exhausting amount of sex again that night in their guesthouse in Aaru. Kaveh wakes early, in the grey light before dawn, to an empty bed. 

Bleary, he pushes himself up on his elbows, frowning at the rumpled sheets where Alhaitham used to be. It is, for now, the perfect temperature, with sweat neither beading nor cooling on Kaveh’s back and a slow breeze from the windows pulling at the mess of his hair. He really should have taken all his hairpins out before Alhaitham got his pants off. That was a rookie mistake. 

There's voices speaking outside, from the flat adobe roof of the house’s first storey. Kaveh shuffles toward the little curtained door that opens onto it, a blanket wrapped around his bare shoulders, and sees Alhaitham, in his sleeping clothes, speaking to—of all people, Hat Guy.

Kaveh blinks, realizing he should be listening to this but not really awake enough to do so. The waterfalls beneath the village are thunderous in the morning, nearly as loud as the birds, and Hat Guy says, “—you understand? This isn’t just history anymore. This isn’t a game.”

“I’m aware,” Alhaitham says. 

“I don’t know how that could possibly be the case.”

“I’m aware,” Alhaitham says again. His hair is the same becalmed color as the sky.

Hat Guy’s comically large headgear bobs. Could be a nod, could be the wind. “Then keep your head on straight. Be careful. And don’t fuck it up. And don’t fucking say—”

“I’m aware,” Alhaitham says, with a mean, handsome, perfect smile. 

Kaveh’s hand slips on the beaded edge of the curtain. Both men turn at the noise and Hat Guy sees him there, naked but for a blanket and the hickeys down his neck—Kaveh ducks back inside the house, red with shame, before Hat Guy can finish laughing. He scrambles and is back in bed with the blankets over his burning ears by the time Alhaitham returns to the room. He thinks Alhaitham will say something, make some comment about Kaveh looking like his kept man, his little pet, for all to see, but no such comment comes. When Kaveh peeks between the folds of his cocoon, Alhaitham is sitting on the edge of the bed, rolling his vision in his hands. Kaveh can tell it’s his vision because it’s not Kaveh’s, which is much a piece of Kaveh as his sight or pulse. Alhaitham weighs his gift from the gods in one loose fist and looks at the wall.

Kaveh won’t look this particular horse in the mouth. He shuts his eyes and wills himself back to sleep. If one more person knows about their relationship, then, whatever. Whatever! Not like anyone likes talking to Hat Guy, anyways.

–

“Okay, so it’s like, really gone,” Kaveh says, staring up at the sapphire blue skies above the mausoleum of King Deshret. “You weren’t kidding.”

“I was not,” Alhaitham says, not even breathing hard from the last dirty slide down the road to the dune field. Bastard. “Why would I?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Kaveh blinks again, eyes watering in the undiluted brilliance of the sun above the sand. “Well, okay. Okay. It’s so blue.”

“The sky usually is.”

Kaveh maintains his dignity and doesn’t kick any sand at Alhaitham’s stupid pedantic boots. He’s an adult with several different ongoing debt repayment plans and a semi-sentient briefcase. Also, they’re absolutely surrounded and someone might see. 

He’s really never seen this many people in the sands at once. The packed dirt trail to the steps of Deshret’s mausoleum is as busy as any city street, crammed with not just scholars and merchants and the mercenaries who usually accompany them, if not always at this density—but families, too. Children, parents, elderly residents of Aaru being helped down the rocks and into the dunes by their neighbors and spouses. The whole village emptied out this morning and accompanied Kaveh and Alhaitham into the desert, happy and chattering. They led the way.

“How was it opened? How did she manage this?” Kaveh asks.

“The Traveler? With a robot, a stone slate, two Tanit mercenaries, and a middling amount of violence. Tirzad was with them.”

“Tirzad the fifteenth-year Vahumana student?”

“He may finally graduate, once he finishes writing this up,” Alhaitham says, with a sweep of his hand. “Though he was hardly there for all of it. She kept opening doors, once he returned to the city.”

“What does that mean?”

“Tirzad gave an oral report to Nahida upon his return, at her request. I sat in. He described only the opening of the mausoleum and the towers of Khaj-Nisut in his journey with the Traveler.” Kaveh boggles. The fact that the throne of Khaj-Nisut is real, found, and open to visitors is all news to him. Alhaitham describes it like he would a spot of river traffic at the docks. “Letters trickled in afterwards, from scholars and matra across Hypostyle, which I obtained copies of. They had all begun to find the same thing. Doors were open, everywhere, in every structure under study and some we’d had no idea existed at all, because the structures themselves had been locked in sections of the cave systems never before seen.”

“But that’s—” Kaveh struggles to fit this into his understanding of the world. He looks at the people surrounding them, the kids and grandfathers and shepherds and bricklayers of Aaru, the dogs capering between them, just happy to be included on this day away from home, and then looks up. Shadow flashes over them in magisterial bands—the columns that mark the edges of the great paved plazas beneath the pyramid. “That can’t be right. The desert is huge. The underground caves are—It can’t have just been her and Paimon, and, what, a robot?”

“It wasn’t. The Tanit woman took the robot.”

Kaveh doesn’t know what any of this means. But they’re in the pyramid, and a door that Kaveh touched himself once, as a student, running careful fingers through centuries of unmoved dust, is open wide. The crowd moves through it, more feet than these halls have seen in a thousand years. The corridors beyond are lit brightly by complex mirrors and a system of flowing power Kaveh has never seen before. The air changes. They enter the pyramid’s great hall.

It’s blue. It’s so beautiful. Kaveh, without much control over the situation, sits down in the middle of the carved stone floor and puts his hands to his mouth.

Some time later—tricky to say how much, doesn’t really seem relevant to the day’s events—Kaveh looks up to a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh, hello,” he says, then, “Oh! Collei! Hello! Are you—what are you doing here?”

“Hello, Senior Kaveh!” Collei says with that sweet smile of hers as Kaveh stumbles up, papers raining from his lap. He’d just been making a few sketches, several dozen sketches, of the vast interior of the hall, the thunderous repetition of its forms, which he thinks he might dream about, every night, for the rest of his life. Each torch, each carved relief—all of it rising, pulling the hall up with itself, toward the great mechanism, toward something far above. Like a summons—the culminating urgency, thousands of years of history all striving to meet some incomparable, celestial unknown—

“I came with Master Tighnari and General Cyno,” Collei says. She’s in traveling clothes, like Kaveh himself, a long robe tied loosely at the neck and red with sand. Her freckles are just barely darker than her sunny cheeks. “We got here a few hours ago, have you been here long?”

“Uh, maybe!” Kaveh says. “How are you doing, how are your classes going? You started learning about herbalism, recently, right? With the, with the plants?”

“Yes, Senior Kaveh,” she says with a laugh she tries just a bit to hide. 

“No, come on, don’t call me Senior, you make me sound so old,” Kaveh says, which makes her laugh again. Oh, she’s so sweet. He’s known Collei since Tighnari decided he and Kaveh were going to be friends, of course, for years by now, and still he wants her to like him so bad it makes his knees shake. She’s just so lovely! “We should have checked if you were coming out, though, we could have traveled together! Tighnari didn’t mind leaving the forest for all this heat?”

“Oh, well, you know Master Tighnari,” Collei says, which means Tighnari was a crabby old hag from the moment they left Ribat, “but General Cyno was going, and Master Tighnari didn’t think he should go alone, and so, you know, we came, too!”

“He shouldn’t go alone?” Kaveh says. “Why not? The road’s hardly dangerous these days.”

“Oh, no, of course it is! And of course General Cyno could defeat anyone he came across,” Collei says, with perfect, reverent faith. “Master Tighnari just thought someone should be with him. When he saw all this, for the first time.”

“Oh,” Kaveh says, and feels like an entire bundle of idiot. “Of course. Duh.”

“Yeah,” Collei says, and smiles again, with more grace than a teenager should ever be capable of. Tighnari and Cyno are so lucky to have this kid. “Isn’t it amazing?”

“It really is,” Kaveh says. The crowds have only grown since Kaveh last paid attention to anything except architecture. Not far from him and Collei, two women hold up their young children to one of the reliefs of Deshret and his kingdom, the King carved as tall as any building in Sumeru City. The women are from deep in the desert, dressed in the colors of a tribe Kaveh isn’t familiar with—they speak rapidly to their children, bounding over each other in their eagerness, like they have to retell every story of Al Ahmar now, at this second, here, while their children stand where he stood and smack their small hands to the stone of his knees.

“Who would have thought that we’d see this place in our lifetimes?” Kaveh says, craning his neck back to the monumental peak of the ceiling. “It’s unbelievable.”

“There’ve been a lot of unbelievable things this year!” Collei says.

“That’s too well-adjusted, Collei, I need you to be more freaked out,” Kaveh says, and is rewarded with the infinite riches of her laugh. It’s much bigger when she’s surprised. “Well, where’s Haitham gone? I assume he tasked you with finding me. Sorry, on his behalf.”

“It’s okay, you weren’t hard to find. You were sitting right where he said he’d left you!”

“Of course. He knew where I was, but couldn’t be bothered to come back himself. How long ago did he wander off?”

“I’m not sure, I was only back by the wall for about fifteen minutes before I tapped you on the shoulder.”

“Fifteen minutes!” He rounds on her, hands on hips, but she’s still smiling. “Collei! You should have said something! You didn’t have to wait for me!”

“It was nice!” she protests. “It’s okay, really! I liked watching you draw. Do you know you chew your hair when you draw? I couldn’t tell if you knew.”

“I do. It’s a terrible habit. The split ends never go away,” he says, and bends to gather up his many scattered pencils and socks (in which the pencils had been carefully stored within his traveling bag). “So, where did he go?”

She shrugs, hair bouncing upon her shoulders. “He said he was going to look at the mechanism but—”

“God forbid he specify which mechanism, in the enormous hall full of interesting ancient mechanisms.”

“Yeah, that,” she says. “But he said that when he was done he’d meet us where Master Tighnari and General Cyno are.”

“It’s fine, Collei, you're not his runner, I can just go find him. He’s pretty predictable, luckily.”

“Sure, I bet you could,” she says, in a casual knowing tone that makes Kaveh narrow his eyes suspiciously. Do five people now know about his and Alhaitham’s relationship? “But he said you’d probably want to see where Master Tighnari and General Cyno are right now.”

“...And where is that?”

She points. “Over that way, in the rooms outside the hall. Senior Alhaitham said they looked liked quarters for the priests who tended the mausoleum before it was abandoned?”

Kaveh inhales sharply. Domestic architecture? From the age of Deshret? Damn the man!!

Collei is smiling again. Like perhaps Haitham informed her how Kaveh might react to such an indescribable temptation. “Well, if that’s where everyone’s going to be meeting,” Kaveh says, with what little dignity he can muster, and lets Collei lead him away.

He does get to find out about her herbalism classes as they make their slow way through the hundred little knots of people gazing in wonder at the work of their ancestors’ lives. She is doing very well and had only mixed up a potion and poultice once. And it hadn’t even been that big a deal, because Gülsha (another apprentice, Kaveh understands) had mixed up a potion and a poultice the other way around and had had to vomit behind the classroom for ages before the ranger in charge would let her stop! Collei had just stained her arm red for a day or two, which Master Tighnari thought was funny. And Gülsha’s boyfriend was really sweet during the whole thing, Collei assures him as they reach the far door of the hall. 

“Oh, yeah?” Kaveh says. The corridor beyond is much emptier than the hall, the sand thicker upon the tiles. He likes letting Collei chatter. It feels like such an accomplishment that she chatters at him. 

“Yeah, he kept running down to the river to get her water even thought she couldn’t, you know, keep it down! He was kinda stressed out, but she thought it was funny after. They’re so cute together.”

“They sound like it.”

Collei’s big doe eyes go, as best they can, conspiratorial. She isn’t very good at it. It’s like a kitten trying to slip you a few extra mora for that bottle of cream on the high shelf. “She told me she wants to go talk to Hassan’s parents soon. To introduce them to her parents!”

“Whoa, getting pretty serious!”

“Right?” Collei says, with an eager nod. “They’ve only been together for a year, but she really likes him, I think!”

They pause outside one of the neat sloped doors in the eastern wall. Kaveh can hear familiar voices beyond, tucked somewhere close and safe. Collei has her hands tight over her chest and is looking like she wants to ask him something.

“Everything okay?” Kaveh asks, as Collei, in total silence, does honorable battle with whatever it is that she will or will not say. Her eyes are very big.

“You—” she starts, but that’s as far as her recent bloom of confidence will take her. “Nevermind-Senior-Kaveh-I’ll-go-get-Senior-Alhaitham-bye!” she continues at the approximate speed of a hunting tiger and then, face flushed and huge with panic, she vanishes.

“Ah, so close,” Kaveh says to the emptied hallway. He gets it. He’s been there.

“Collei?” Cyno calls from inside.

“Gone to get Haitham,” Kaveh replies, and steps past the ancient shelves by the door (God, shelves!! Whoever lived here lived a life that included shelves!!) to find Cyno in a tailor’s seat upon the stone. The room is small and easily warmed by the torches on the wall, more of an clearing room for the cells beyond it (for sleeping? Arranged around a common eating/study area? The implications!) than a grand space itself, but with plenty of room for two grown men to sit on the floor together. Kaveh does so, folding his overlong legs to match. “She said Tighnari was with you?”

“Yes,” Cyno says, then, “I think so. Tighnari?” he shouts, to which there is no reply. He’s holding a hand-written note in one hand and a few pieces of decorative stone in another, which he sets down carefully. Kaveh, not a child, resists the impulse to lean over Cyno’s shoulder and sneak a peek. “I think he went to go get water. There’s an exit south of here that leads to one of the underground rivers. He was making that face like when he’s pretending he doesn’t want to wash his ears immediately.”

“He’s really not a fan of the desert, huh.”

“Fool,” Cyno says, with a big, creased grin. Kaveh laughs. “How’s Collei? There are more people here than we were expecting.”

“Great, actually. She’s so cool. How’d you get such a cool kid?”

“She’s not my kid.”

“Does that mean she’s up for grabs? Can I have her?”

“You couldn’t handle her,” Cyno says, in the confident tones of someone who is very proud of their cool kid.

“Well, you don’t have to be so truthful about it!” Kaveh laughs. “Surely I could at least make an attempt! We were having a pretty nice conversation, up until—well, she wanted to ask me something right before we walked in but I have no idea what, she immediately got tongue-tied and ran off, so…”

“She wants to know when Alhaitham’s going to make an honest man of you,” Cyno said.

Kaveh, who had been pretty nice time in the thousand-year divine tomb until now, goes tense all the way down to toes. His face feels suddenly like a war banner: big, easy to read, and scarlet red. “What?” he says. “She—she knows we’re dating?”

“Yes, somehow,” Cyno says. “Though strenuous detective work.”

“That’s not—you didn’t tell her, did you?”

“That wasn’t necessary, no,” Cyno replies. He sounds so casual. But Kaveh really hadn’t—they didn’t even sit next to each other when they had dinner with Tighnari and Collei in Gandharva! Kaveh had wanted to, to keep it between them! Just for now, just for the start. But Cyno is still talking: “Does it bother you so much that she knows?”

It shouldn’t. Collei is Cyno and Tighnari’s family. She’s a wonderful kid. But still, Kaveh can’t bring himself to answer.

“She quite likes it,” Cyno goes on. “You two being together. She thinks you’re cute.”

“That’s…wonderful. But—Cyno, we’ve only been together three months. There’s no need for her—for anyone!—to be thinking about marriage!”

“By one reckoning.”

“What?”

“Three months by—don’t worry about it. She won’t mention any of it to anyone else. She’s barely mentioned it to us.”

“No, I know she wouldn’t, she’s not—” Kaveh stumbles over himself, fingers knotting painfully in his lap. “It’s not like—look, you guys aren’t even married! Right?”

“I don’t think that’s relevant. Tighnari doesn’t believe in marriage.”

“Wait—really?”

“It’s not a thing for Valuka Shuna,” Cyno shrugs. “Or most of the desert, outside Aaru.”

“So you don’t mind? Even though you guys are…” The two most married people Kaveh had met since his father died?

“No,” Cyno says, with a noise almost like a scoff. “Why would I? I could have no greater piece of his heart.”

“Sure,” Kaveh says, as if that’s not the most romantic line he’s ever heard in his life.

“But you believe in marriage,” Cyno says.

“Sure,” Kaveh says again.

Cyno considers him. His jackal-head sits in his lap, showing off the shocking intensity of his eyes. “You seem uncomfortable. Do you want me to change the subject?”

“Please,” Kaveh says.

“Okay,” Cyno says, and laughs at him. It’s not unkind, because very rarely can Cyno ever be unkind. “Do you like the architecture?”

“I love the architecture,” Kaveh says, and seizes the opportunity Cyno presents him, to talk for several minutes uninterrupted about the beauty of Deshret’s great halls. 

“I don’t know, it just seems so impossible to believe,” Kaveh says. There are people outside in the hallway, their footsteps soft over the sandy stone. Candace passed by earlier, nodding to Cyno, and he’s learned that the note in Cyno’s hand was left by Sethos—days ago, when Sethos, before almost anyone else, discovered the depths to which the Traveler had opened her doors. He came in the back way, through the caves and the river, and wrote something he knew Cyno would find. “All of this, miles of it, sleeping for century upon century and we, of all people—”

He brought this up before, or almost did, with Collei, but he can’t stop thinking about. His mind circles it like water around a drain. Why this? Why now? Why them? “Look, just—” he’s not going to be able to stop himself for asking again. “Did you ever expect to see any of this? To be here? Was this, like, part of your five year plan?”

To his credit, Cyno takes his time to consider this. It’s an insane question, driven by insane impulses, Kaveh’s fingers once again pressing Kaveh’s knuckles to a pulp in his lap, but Cyno gives it its due. “No,” he says at last. “But many things have happened recently that weren’t part of my five year plan.”

“You know, that’s almost exactly what Collei said.”

“Yes. I’m trying to learn from her.”

“Learn what?”

“How to live within change. To roll with the punches, as Dehya might say. Collei’s very good at it.”

Kaveh almost protests, thinking of Collei’s nerves, the fears she works so carefully and notably to set aside and walk away from—but that’s not quite the same is it? They’re distinct. “...I suppose you’re right,” he says.

“I am,” Cyno says, with surety. No wonder him and Alhaitham get along. “I think some days she even forgets what her childhood was like. I can hardly do that. But she spent a long time being certain of her future, in a very unpleasant way.”

“Yeah…God, I mean, she must have been.”

Cyno nods, as much to himself as to Kaveh. “Right. But then it wasn’t what she thought at all. All of our lives—who knows what’s to come? Oh, Candance,” he says, as Kaveh blinks and grasps for a response. Candace is entering the room, something in her hand, and behind her, making Cyno’s face shine like the sun in the cloudless sky, Tighnari. “You found him? It?”

“I believe I found it,” she confirms with a gentle smile. “Its presence was tangible in the far western hall. Tighnari required no finding.”

“Hello, love,” Tighnari says, leaning down to envelop Cyno’s face in his hands. “Doing okay?”

“Just fine. How are the ears?”

“I don’t think that’s any business of yours,” Tighnari says smiling, then leans to the side. “Here.” Candace hands Cyno something crumbling and beautiful. Cyno takes it with a sudden, electric smile and Kaveh realizes that it’s of a set—it matches the pieces of stone Cyno had held earlier with the note. 

“Gifts from Sethos,” Cyno explains, as he lays out the pieces of an ancient painted relief upon the floor. “He found most of it, but couldn’t find the last before he had to leave. He trusted we would be able to dig up the rest.”

There’s more soft noise, Collei and Alhaitham at the door. They hesitate to enter, Collei out of unsurety, Alhaitham out of his usual distaste for sentiment, but Kaveh can see that he’s feeling it too—the thing radiating out of Cyno’s careful adjustment of stone against stone like a beacon over the dunes. 

The relief is small but masterful. Assembled, if not whole, it shows Al Ahmar, in his familiar representation, as he is portrayed with Lesser Lord Kusanali and the Goddess of Flowers, his equals and lovers. Beside him is the jackal-priest commonly identified as Hermanubis. Cyno strokes his finger down Al Ahmar’s edge and Kaveh realizes he’s crying.

Tighnari does too, and Collei, but Cyno smiles and shakes his head, waving them off. “It’s alright,” he says. “It’s alright. It’s just my friend.” That’s how he refers to the spirit within him, when he’s amongst company that won’t require an explanation. His friend. Kaveh feels Alhaitham’s eyes upon him. Tighnari takes Cyno’s hand. “He’s just—very happy to be home.”

behold: opening 3k of current haikaveh wip. feeling ambivalent about ever finishing this just bc i have so fully dipped from genshin since all the natlan racism lol, so just in case this doesn't get finished.... starts with porn, so watch out for that!

---

The first thing that happens that day is that Kaveh gets a letter from the Akademiya’s Desk of Graduate Recordings and Happenstance on the subject of future mailings to his address. Well, sort of. Well, it’s almost the first thing. The first first thing that happens that day, Kaveh supposes, is that Kaveh wakes up in Alhaitham’s arms.

“Not yet,” Alhaitham says, sleepy and firm, his hands pressing around Kaveh’s stomach and sweating chest as the midmorning birds sing from the eaves.

“Mmm, Haitham,” Kaveh says, then, “Haitham, let me up, Haitham, I’m—”

Alhaitham presses his mouth to the back of Kaveh’s bare neck, his chest to Kaveh’s hot shoulders. “You have time,” he says. “Not yet.”

Does Kaveh have time? He has no way of knowing. He’s still so asleep, hot and slow-moving as glass, blinking against the brightness in Alhaitham’s bedroom like some kind of newborn housepet. He has a meeting today, right? With a client? Perhaps a vendor?? Unhelpfully, Alhaitham shapes his body to Kaveh’s like skin over muscle. Kaveh feels the desire to purr.

It’s as bad now as it’s ever been. There’s no respite. He’s never been this disorientingly horny in his life. Not just this morning, when the prospect of orgasm is immediate and obvious, but for days now. Weeks? They’ve been sleeping together for—his breath hitches abruptly as Alhaitham’s hand on his hip becomes Alhaitham’s fingers petting down his fattening cock, stroking his sac with focused care—oh, God, it’s been at least three months. Three months in what must finally, formally, be called a relationship, and Kaveh feels now as he did that very first afternoon: insane. With lust, with need, with panic, with flagrant desire. Has he ever thought this much about sex, this regularly, in his entire life? Alhaitham’s bush is scraping his ass raw, Alhaitham’s cock hard enough that Kaveh can feel the hot tip of it against his skin, and that makes him twice as insane as all the rest of it.

“Haitham,” he pants, “I have to get up.”

“Not yet,” Alhaitham says again. He’s like creeping vines this morning. He doesn’t intend to be removed.

Three months Kaveh has been thinking about sex with Alhaitham, morning to night. Unbearable, and yet still better than thinking about the other thing—how much he wants to be with Alhaitham, morning to night. How much he wants to be pulled into him, like sunlight into sprawling leaves. A fish into an ocean. A man into a relationship he wanted profoundly and understands minimally. Compared to that, an obsessive contemplation of a quarter-year’s unbridled libido isn’t bad at all.

“Fuck me,” he pants. Screw the client and the vendor. Give him this. “Haitham, your cock, fuck me.”

Alhaitham, nearly on top of him, is urgent and threatening to roll Kaveh face-first into the sheets. “If you think,” he says, “I’m going to go get the damn harness when you,” he’s not managing the scornful tone particularly well, “look like this—”

“Not your cock!” Kaveh says. “Your cock!”

Praise God, he gets the picture. Alhaitham rolls Kaveh over, pins him to the sheets, and starts to thrust.

Face down, panting like a dog into Alhaitham’s overpriced pillow, Kaveh struggles briefly to spread himself before Alhaitham realizes what he’s doing and deigns to help. He shoves Kaveh’s thigh up and toward his side and Kaveh grabs it, pulling his own hips wide and eager. This is good. This is great. The more he has to be in his body the less he has to be in his head. Alhaitham has an arm across his shoulders and his pelvis to Kaveh’s ass as he thrusts the tip of his short cock against Kaveh’s hole. It’s not quite firm enough to penetrate and drives Kaveh thoroughly insane. He pants for it like an animal.

“Good” Alhaitham says, “good,” his greatest of praises. What’s Kaveh good at? Being limber and getting fucked? That’s not so bad! 

“Yes,” Kaveh says (it’s outside of his control), “yes, yes, yes, yes,” with a rising intensity as Alhaitham’s thrust threaten to bash them both into the headboard. “Yes!”

“You’re,” Alhaitham pants, “repeating yourself.”

Kaveh shouldn’t let this example of Alhaitham’s worst behavior go unpunished. Unfortunately, right now he’s so powerfully turned on he thinks he might shatter, might vanish, might rocket into the air like a firework. And it’s always like this. Puberty was less intense than this! Kaveh barely survived puberty!

“C’mon, give it to me, give it to me,” he says. The heat of the sun inflames his neck, his back, his chest. He doesn’t know what he wants. He wants so desperately it’s going to rip him apart. He bruises his own thigh. Alhaitham bruises his hips. He fucks his cock against Kaveh, using Kaveh for all the pleasure he can get. 

“Desperate,” Alhaitham says, which makes Kaveh gasp a little, red and brainless. How could Alhaitham tell? How did he know? Can he see that it’s more than the sex? Does he suspect like Kaveh suspects that he’s desperate, actually, for all of it? Desperate to sit beside Alhaitham in the morning and drink their coffee together? To rearrange the bookshelves together? To debate the world’s philosophies together? To spend all the years of their life in the pleasure of—

Can everyone see it? What is Kaveh supposed to do?

Alhaitham pulls him back, fishing Kaveh from the sudden plunge of panic with all the gentleness of a tiger upon its prey. “Up,” he gasps into Kaveh’s ear, sweaty chest sliding across Kaveh’s sweaty back, “get your hips up, you perennial imbecile—”

He gets so punchy when he’s turned on. Maybe Kaveh could just rub himself to completion on Alhaitham’s sheets as Alhaitham rubbed himself to completion on Kaveh. Maybe he’s dizzy with the idea of it, actually. But he shuffles up, obedient, movable as clay, and at Alhaitham’s prompting gives his own cock three quick strokes that end—predictably. With fantastic, enervating clarity. Kaveh gasps wetly as he falls back on the sheets, Alhaitham coming down with him, getting in a few last hot thrusts against Kaveh’s ass and quivering thigh.

It’s not quite enough for him—he rolls over, on his back beside Kaveh, eyes screwed shut as he rubs himself with an almost furious impatience. Kaveh watches him with one eye, sweat pooling between his shoulders. He likes Alhaitham’s tense, closed face, the shuddering ridge of his shoulder as he works himself like an unruly machine. He reaches out a hand, tracing the gray hair around Alhaitham’s nipple and down his abdomen. Kaveh fingers meet Alhaitham’s at the base of his hot cock. That’ll do it. Alhaitham gasps, tenses, and opens his eyes wide. When he closes them again, relief flows off him like cool water. 

“Good morning,” Kaveh says. 

Alhaitham hums, low and rocky. Kaveh keeps stroking the whorls of his chest hair. It’s always so soft. He never expects how soft it is. “Good morning,” Alhaitham says. “Aren’t you going to be late?”

“Ass,” Kaveh says, unable to help a smile, and then the hour-horn calls from the market and Alhaitham raises an eyebrow and Kaveh realizes he is quite seriously late.

“Ass!” Kaveh shouts from the bath as he scrubs come off himself then leaps damply toward the other bedroom. His bedroom. The bedroom that is still officially his, because it has his drafting table and wardrobe and jewelry (despite how much of that jewelry and wardrobe and even the drafts have begun to emigrate into Alhaitham’s bedroom with no hope of return) but they’ve only been dating for three months, and it would be crazy for Kaveh not to keep his own bedroom, so he does. It’s this one. He can’t remember the last time he slept in it. But it is 100% his own bedroom!! 

Kaveh emerges from the bedroom (his) with most of his clothing on the right way around. Alhaitham sits in the living room, sipping his morning coffee.

“Aren’t you late?” Kaveh says.

“Nope.” Alhaitham takes another sip of his coffee. He’s wearing loose trousers, sweat still shining on his bare chest. Bastard.

“Don’t tell me you—oh. Wait.” Kaveh frowns. “The trip? Is that today?”

“Yep,” Alhaitham says.

“Two weeks?”

“Two weeks.”

Kaveh frowns harder, though of course they’ve both been away from home longer than that. Just not recently. “And this is for—have you told me what this is for?”

“I haven’t.” 

“Haitham, come on.” He’s reading a book flat on the table, flipping through the pages at a speed that indicates he’s not so much reading the book as using it as a means to avoid eye contact. Haitham, having grown since their teenage years, now only does this when he’s upset about something—or being a massive bitch. 

“Oh, sorry, was the mind-blowing morning sex not enough for you?” Kaveh snaps.

Alhaitham jerks his head up. “What? The sex was extremely enjoyable.”

“Oh, yes, it—” Abort, abort. Kaveh backpedals wildly. “---Was for me, too. Actually. Forget that. Where are you going?”

“The desert,” Alhaitham replies, flicking the book closed as he rises for more coffee. “I’m undertaking a survey of recent changes to the environment following the Traveller’s journey to the north coast.”

“Huh,” Kaveh says. “For Lesser Lord Kusanali? Like, at her request?”

Alhaitham makes an unintelligible noise into his mug.

“Well, alright,” Kaveh says. “Two weeks isn’t that long. Right? It’s not that long. And you’re leaving in the afternoon, you said.” Kaveh really should go. He’s not getting less late. “So you’ll be here when I come back.”

“I will,” Alhaitham says.

“So I can say goodbye then.”

“That would appear to be the case.”

“Right, okay. Well—”

Alhaitham catches his sleeve as he makes to leave. As if unable to himself, as if by the biddings of his soul, Kaveh turns towards him. Alhaitham kisses him with the care and dedication of a craftsman, humbling himself to his art.

It doesn’t mean anything, how intensely he feels about Alhaitham. They’re just dating. They’re just trying all this out. If they’re moving a bit fast, if the high isn’t wearing off—if Kaveh has the suspicion, hot in his heart as molten brass, that he has entered into the last relationship he will ever have, that what he is doing with Alhaitham is a flare in the sky that everyone on the continent can see—it’s not. He isn’t. It’s only as serious as he wants it to be. He still has time to figure things out.

For God’s sake, only like four people even know he’s living with Alhaitham!

“I have to go,” Kaveh pants, mouth against Alhaitham’s.

“So go.”

“Ass.”

“See you later,” Alhaitham says, pressing a last firm kiss to Kaveh’s lips (he’s insatiable this morning! Kaveh wants to climb him like a tree!). Kaveh stumbles away, snatching his cape, shoes, and non-Mehrak briefcase as he goes. His keys are on top of the pile of mail that Alhaitham always leaves unopened by the door because he doesn’t believe people should have the ability to contact him at this home address. Kaveh, red up to his ears, just takes the whole mess with him. He can check for bills on the way. He’s feeling really normal. He’s fine, actually. It’s only as serious as he wants it to be. And if he doesn’t yet know exactly how serious he wants things to be—that’s fine, too!

Outside, proceeding at a brisk walk, feeling refreshed by the morning air and the scents of the Tree’s great flowering vines, Kaveh opens the first of the letters from the pile. It’s addressed to him—great. It’s from the Desk of Graduate Recordings and Happenstance. Perfect. They probably just want him to participate in another guest lecture. He feels capable and confident that he can accomplish this task. 

It’s not that. They’re updating their mailing records. His mailing address is currently listed as the Puspa Cafe (where Kaveh has been sending his mail for years as he bounced between the dorms, his childhood home, the couches of various acquaintances, etc.). Is this address still correct? Is this address still preferred? If neither correct nor preferred, could Kaveh please return the included form with his new address at the earliest convenience, postage prepaid?

Kaveh stops in the middle of the ramp-street, sun beating down his neck. “Ha,” he says. “Ha ha. Ha?”

—

Okay, this is absolutely not a problem. Kaveh totally, 100%, without a doubt knows the address at which he’d like to receive mail. It’d be crazy if he didn’t!

This is what he tells himself, very reasonably and in a normal tone of voice, as he careens through his morning. 

Because obviously it would be odd if Kaveh kept getting his mail at Pupsa’s with all the sailors and mercenaries and students too recently landed in Sumeru City to have a fixed address. He has a fixed address. He’s been living in Alhaitham’s spare room for almost two years. Recently, to be frank, he has been living in Alhaitham’s room. He’s been—

“Sir?” asks the carpenter whose bid he’s reviewing over a meze lunch at a nice little restaurant in the roots of the market. “Sir, are you alright?”

He’s thinking about the carpet in Alhaitham’s room, taking the skin off his knees, burying his head between Alhaitham’s heavy thighs until the breath runs out and his chest pounds and they both can’t—

“I’m fine!” Kaveh laughs. “Ha ha!”

Because it’s not like changing his address, telling the Akademiya and all their subsidiary organizations that actually he is living Alhaitham, and even has been living with Alhaitham, and presumably will be living with Alhaitham until some indeterminate future—Kaveh narrowly avoids walking into a pole, half a mile from the market and with another mile to the docks—that wouldn’t be great, either. Like, it just doesn’t seem that nice! The system he has now is fine, right? It’s not like Alhaitham likes telling people things about himself, god knows. Especially the Akademiya!

It would just be so final. So definitive. A commitment, in blue ink on white paper. Is that necessary? Like is it really necessary?

He imagines writing the Akademiya and telling them he has no fixed address. He imagines writing the Akademiya and telling them that he does. He imagines spending another five years picking up his mail alongside snotty homesick students and drovers reeking of sumpter beast. He imagines telling the Akademiya that for the next five years he, Kaveh, will be available to be reached at—

“Haitham!” Kaveh says, throwing open the door to their—Alhaitham’s—the house. “I’m coming with you.”

Alhaitham, dressed for travel in woolen pants and both shoulders actually contained within his cloak, for once, looks up. His mouth forms several silent shapes before he says, “You are?”

“I just think it’s been ages since I’ve left the city!” Kaveh says, blowing past Alhaitham and his assembled bags to start packing his own. His briefcase and the pile of this morning’s letters (contained therein) he leaves by the door. He won’t need those where he’s going! “I need some inspiration. My work is growing stagnant!”

“...Did you forget a loan payment?” Alhaitham calls from the living room as Kaveh empties his wardrobe onto his bed. “Is this a collections issue?”

Kaveh laughs airily—even casually! “I’m all paid up, Haitham, don’t worry!”

“Are you avoiding a deadline? Or a client?”

“My diary’s in order!” This is mostly true. This is true enough. “I just need some time off!”

“I’m going to be gone for two weeks,” Alhaitham says, standing with an uncomfortable look in Kaveh’s bedroom door. “At a minimum.”

Kaveh strips out of his clothing, reaching for his nearest traveling shirt, a nice airy linen he picked up in Bayda last year. “Yeah!” he says, from within it. 

“It’s not going to be safe. I’m leaving the caravan roads in Hadramaveth.”

“All the better to have a partner, right?”

Alhaitham shifts again, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Is this a panic attack?”

Kaveh pauses. The expression on Alhaitham’s face is, to Kaveh, in this moment, indecipherable. Like the workings of Dahri machines. “It’s—does it matter? Do you not want me with you?”

Alhaitham shifts and changes, tensing and humming like a struck stone. Kaveh has no bead on him. He can’t tell what’s happening and can’t try to—his own body feels like a plucked string, like a note held so long it’s about to break the instrument. He stares at Alhaitham, cloak in his hands, with no idea what Alhaitham will do. 

“Of course I want you with me,” Alhaitham says.

“Oh!” Kaveh says. “Oh, great.” He smiles, huge and breathless. “It’ll be nice. Won’t it? A little time away. When do you—we leave?”

“Five minutes ago,” Alhaitham says. He looks down at the pile of clothing on Kaveh’s bed. And floor. Kaveh looks, too.

“Great,” Kaveh says. “Great. Just one second.”

--

[royalberryriku]

As the US election closes in and the final states take to the polls, I want to remind people to turn out and protest.

Yep, protest. Strike, disrupt, be out there on the street regardless of who you voted for or who wins. I expect to see you all out there demanding; access to abortion nation wide, protections against discrimination, free universal healthcare, a free Palestine, anti war, prison abolition, to increase the minimum wage, and for a US free of the electoral college and that counts votes as votes.

Yes, you can say "you should vote for Harris" and do so as much as you like, but do not forget the power you have through your own everyday actions away from the polls and that of protesting. Do not use the excuse that your right to vote means it's somehow more foundational or important than the right to protest. You have the ability to create direct action and that is so so important, please don't just expect a rich representative to stick to their promises every time you vote; you have power too, never forget that.

This system will not change until we, the people, make it. There is NO representative that can ever change the system that allowed them in, and likewise; this system will never allow a candidate that would stop it from continuing and/or ensuring its designated purpose of oppression and subjugation. Resist, regardless of the results.

Long live the resistance.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

oh my god oh my god oh my GODDDDDD i can’t BELIEVE i found these on my little rainy october thrift shop wander this morning. like, one would have been more MORE enough. but both?? at once??? i am quite simply floating and may never touch back down to earth

[bookshelf-in-progress]

I'm approaching the most terrifying part of the Exciting New Story Idea process: Writing it down.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[stevethehairington]

was going to try to write today but instead i have spent the last hour thinking up tattoos for eddie to have

[aeolianblues]

swear to god if ‘24 August Downsview, Toronto’ (2025?) turns out to be real you fucking bet I’m selling what I own to get to that pit

[fideidefenswhore]

#TheTudorsWeek2023, by @thetudorsgifs | Day 1: Best Episode(s)

Episode 2x02: Tears of Blood: Henry continues undermining the Catholic Church's influence in England, while his chaplain makes a fact-finding tour of Lutheran Germany; Anne resolves to consummate her relationship with the king as Brandon plants doubts about her virtue.

Episode 2x03: Checkmate: His patience at an end, Henry marries Anne in secret, appoints his Lutheran chaplain Thomas Cranmer the head of the Church, and strips Queen Katherine of her title and status; the king and new queen's first child is born, a girl christened Elizabeth.

Episode 2x10: Destiny and Fortune: In the Season 2 finale, Anne awaits execution in the Tower of London as Henry's marriage to her is annulled, baby Elizabeth is removed from the line of succession, and Henry proposes to Jane Seymour, who accepts.

Episode 3x05: Problems in the Reformation: Henry remains in seclusion while mourning the queen's death, an opportunity that enemies of the crown seize to murder several friends of the court; Cromwell is disturbed when Henry doesn't resist his new church's similarities to Catholicism.

Episode 3x09: The Undoing of Cromwell: In the Season Three finale, Henry moves swiftly to annul his loveless marriage to Anne of Cleves, and beds a new teenage mistress; Princess Mary falls in love with Duke Philip of Bavaria; Cromwell's fall from favor is sudden and dramatic.

Episode 4x01: Moment of Nostalgia: Henry introduces his new wife to court, Katherine Howard, his fifth Queen. She attempts to befriend Henry's children; this succeeds with his young son, Prince Edward, but she receives only contempt from Lady Mary while Lady Elizabeth is receptive but prefers to spend time with Henry's former wife Anne of Cleves.

[fingertipsmp3]

Lads I have an ‘informal phone interview’ for that electrician course I half-jokingly applied for

[orcelito]

Ok I got to actually looking at my classes for next semester. Reorganized things a little bit into clear categories. See the thing is, the 3 classes I thought I was gonna choose 2 from? None of them are being taught anymore lol. It's just that my enrollment term is so old, it's showing the old requirements. So I'm choosing 3 classes from the general list of classes, which makes me glad I picked out so many potential ones to choose from!!! So the 3 categories I've sorted these classes into are:

Quality assurance: "six sigma data quality" is the 1st choice, "quality engineering in IT" is 2nd choice

General theory: "policy, regulation, and globalization in IT" is 1st choice, "advanced systems development methodologies" is 2nd choice

Coding/computers: "applied machine learning" is 1st choice, "UNIX administration" is 2nd choice, "front end web coding" is 3rd choice

(Putting commentary under a cut bc it got a lil long)

'Cause how my school does scheduled now, we submit a list of requests & they compile them all and then figure out what classes work best for everyone. And u wanna include multiple options for each class slot in case the first doesn't work out for some reason. So that's why I have 7 choices, despite only needing 3.

As for the actual sections. I wanna make sure that my semester is as well-rounded as possible. I wanna get at least Some kind of coding in, to make sure I get some more practice before leaving. I have applied machine learning listed first for it bc I really know very little about how machine learning works, & with the way the IT field has gone, it's a little inevitable that I'll be working with it some. Best to learn about it now so I know what I'm doing later. But if I can't take that for some reason, I have the UNIX administration which would honestly kind of suck to take, but it'd be useful. And then front end web coding is less generally useful, but could still be a good skill to have.

The policy, regulation, & globalization in IT is one that I think would be very good for me to take. More of a theory class than a tech class, & it's focusing on learning about technology's effects on the world in economic, social, cultural, and ethical dynamics. I already have taken an ethics of IT sort of course so I've got some context for that, but I still think it'd be important to learn more about globalization. If for whatever reason it's not available tho, then another systems development class could be useful.

& then the data quality thing. Six sigma put at priority here bc it's smth ppl always talk about but I just don't know that much about it, outside of how it's supposed to help improve things. By taking this course, I'd also get a certificate in SS, which could only help in job searching I think. Then quality engineering in IT after that, which I don't know that much about but it seemed about in line with the goal of Data Quality stuff.