#i ruined a drawing before due to overworking the paper

[ghiblisprite88]

Stone bound: Oaths of Ash & Stone

The Weight of Ordinary

In the foggy bustling city of Chicago, skyscrapers pierce the sky as cars below bellow in engine revs and horns. People hustle from place to place like ants in a colony. All but one that is. Going against the grain as always been a talent for one very late to work Mira Brooks.

“SHIT SHIT SHIT! Hold the door!”

Streaks of blue zip by people as Mira scrambles to the elevator; shooting out her hand to keep the doors from closing and squeeze herself into the limited space left inside. Panting she was definitely the odd one out. Her companions in the elevator all wore suits and ties while she was showing up in skinny jeans, a very visibly loved jacket that was starting to show its age, sneakers, light brown hair streaked with brilliant blue and a dash of freckles across her nose. Any other time she’d laugh at the visual, but she was very much so late and could already feel the wrath of her boss up above. Upon reaching her floor she bolted out of the elevator; navigating the halls on the lookout for her boss, when her cubicle came into view she quickly slipped into her chair and booted up her computer like she had been there the whole time.  Act cool act cool.

“Ms. Brooks! How gracious of you to bless us with your presence this morning.” Growled Mr. Wilson.

Mira groaned internally; she really thought she made it under the radar. Apparently not. She was kicking herself now for pulling an all-nighter to finish up a few articles she was writing for the paper she worked at. Diligence doesn’t always pay off. Peeking up at her boss she could see he was furious and was likely going to give her the hammer of judgement.

“My office…now!” He sneers.

Ok so working at the paper was great and all but Mr. Wilson was a horror to work for. It was like Snape and Voldemort were combined into one. He was calculating, undermining, mean for usually no reason and loved to overwork everyone. Power trip much? Yes absolutely. Groaning and banging her head on her desk as he left; Mira prepared herself for an ass chewing.

Once she collected enough courage to withstand the impending doom she could feel; Mira knocked quietly on his office door. He barked for her to come in, how professional. Letting herself in she greeted him meekly and he barked yet again for her to take a seat.  Settling into a seat before his desk; she watched as Mr. Wilson rest his elbows on his desk steepling his hands under his chin.

“So, what is it this time? Run all the way here from the belt line? Go sightseeing before work? Stay up all night out with your friends?” He antagonizes.

“Uh no sir. I finished the three articles that are due this week. I was doing extensive research and pulled an all-nighter. They are in your inbox sir.”

“Heh an all-nighter you say. Is that what kids are calling it these days?” He complained as he opened his email.

Upon seeing that Mira had indeed sent him the articles he scowled even further. He likely was in a bad mood and Mira knew he liked to take it out on folks he thought weren’t pulling their weight around the office. Today was her “lucky” draw…great. He was an older man nearly pushing his seventies and he did not have a lot of patience for anyone born after the sixties. Mira was aware of this; especially when she came to work with her blue streaks in her hair, she had done everything she was supposed to like to check the employee handbook, check with HR and appearance policies and nothing barred her from doing it. But the look of pure rage on Mr. Wilson’s face when she came into work was quite a sight. He raged about if for two whole weeks but know it seems he is over that little out there move of hers.

“You kids are always so snarky! Fine fine so you did the articles. Had you been here on time I could have spent more time on explaining this, but the higher ups need a reporter to do a piece about some freaking ruins somewhere I don’t know…Ireland I think. Anyways they need a piece about the ruins and the history to generate some buzz for the museum of natural history who is going to be receiving artifacts uncovered there. Everyone else I could think of have other obligations which leaves you.” Mr. Wilson complains really and gives a disdainful look.

Wow Mr. Wilson think it don’t wear it on your face, would ya? Mira tried to be polite and smile as he explained everything in a rush. Wait hold on…did he say Ireland? Like Nessie and leprechauns’ kind of Ireland?

“The flight is covered by the company and an inn was booked. All the details have been sent to your email. You have three weeks to get this done you hear me? I want this article to be delivered directly to my email regardless of if it’s been edited or not. Well? What are waiting for get out of here!” Mr. Wilson bellows.

Mira snaps out of her thoughts and thanks him for his time, even though he doesn’t deserve it. Professionalism for the win on her part. Returning to her cubicle she is quick to get her email open and learn the scope of this project. WHAT!? Her flight leaves in like five hours!

“Shit! You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Mira prints off her tickets, inn information, itinerary and shuts down her station. Whipping out her cell she calls her best friend Sara. Stashing everything in her bag, the phone still ringing in her ear, she hustles out of the office.

“Hello?”

“Sara! Sara oh my god I need your help like asap!”

“What’s going on are you ok?”

“NO! My boss is sending me to Ireland to write a piece and only gave me today’s notice. My flight is in about four and a half hours. I need to pack and get my passport and what if I can’t convert my money? How will I get around? Rent a car? Don’t I need and international license for that? I don’t know wh—”

“MIRA! STOP! Chill out girl. I’ll leave work right now meet me at home and we will get it sorted out, ok? Take the line home instead of a taxi; the traffic is stupid today.”

“Y-yea ok. I’ll see you at home then.

“Ok see you in a bit and remember to breathe, ok?”

“Thanks Sara.”

“Heh any time.”

Mira takes a deep breath and makes her way to the station to hope on the line; once she’s on the right train she takes a seat and starts to research on her phone. The ruins in question are of an old castle that was recently uncovered, supposedly it was lost to history as stop for the knights templar. Ok that’s new information, all the way in Ireland? Thought that was just an English thing. She found her inn online and checked it out, it wasn’t really close to the ruins, she would have to rent a car likely to get to it as it was a bit out of the way of any roads and surely no cabby would take her there. After learning more about where she was going, she started to think up a plan on how to travel and how much to bring with her, how she was going to handle everything while she was gone. She would likely need to pay Sara ahead of time for the time she would be gone. Adulting sucks honestly, bills and bills and more bills which is why Mira felt like slave to her job. With out money you go hungry, you sleep on the streets or worse you die. Life can shift at any time in a city like Chicago, get complacent and you can lose everything. Shaking her head from those thoughts she hears her stop is coming up; once the cart stops, she makes her way through the station back up to the street to get to her apartment building.

Once in the apartment Mira is anxious yet again; picking through her closet she finds her luggage from her last trip to Murtle Beach for spring break like six years ago. Sifting through her room she found her passport, dragged out totes of clothes and shoes because work or not you don’t travel abroad looking like a bum. Not long after the jingle of keys announces Sara’s return as well.

“HEY, SARA, I’M IN HERE!”

“Whoa this is a disaster zone.”

“Heh yea kinda. Found my documents and printed off everything I need. Now it’s picking out clothes. For three weeks that’s what four pairs of pants and shirts, maybe a dress or two, and two pairs of shoes?”

“For Ireland? Won’t it be cold?”

“Right, it’s still winter there too. Well ok then skip the dresses and let’s pack in a jacket and my hoodie. Anything else I need I can just get while there and donate it before I come back.”

“See there you go, you on a mission is not only entertaining but a learning experience for me too. Ok so you have about a little over an hour to pack up and then we can take the line to the airport. I’ll make us something to eat while you sort this out.”

“I swear you are a god send I’m starving.”

“Hmmm someone has to have their head on straight for you.”

“Shut up!”

Sara cackles as she leaves to the kitchen. Mira and Sara have a long-standing friendship, they met in college right out of high school and have been close ever since. In their late twenties now neither of them has found the milestone theory they were taught at a young age fit them. Sure, they went to school and got their degrees, but the get married and have kids’ bit was just not for them. Sara was nearly married once but the man cheated, and she called it off. Mira never had that connection to want to get married just long relationships that usually fizzled out. Guys were too focused on physical things and Mira craved intellectual stimulation more; she just couldn’t be bothered to date currently while working at the paper the hours were atrocious.

After having dinner Sara accompanied Mira to the airport. Sara repeatedly telling Mira to quit worrying about little things like the bills, she would handle it. Once they reached the check in desk and got to security, that’s when the gravity of the situation his Mira.

“I’ll miss you.” She says quietly.

“Oh, I’ll miss you too. Have fun while you’re over there ok? Your boss can eat a bag of johnsons.”

“Sara! Oh my god.”

“I saw it on a sticker, it fit the situation. Anyways, gimme a text or call when you make it and tell me all about it ok?”

“Yea I will. Time difference might be off though.

“Eh I don’t mind. Do it anyways.”

“Well this is me. Try not to miss me too much.”

“Too late.”

Sara pulls Mira into a rib cracking tight hug; they squeeze each other and giggle together in the moment. Emotions swirling in her chest Mira had to break away.

“See you soon Sara.”

“Yep, see you soon. Have fun out there.”

Mira waves to Sara as she lines up to security and gets checked through; it’s when she’s on the other side searching for her flight gate that she feels the pang of saying good bye. She was never good at saying goodbye, it stung every time. Wishing the feelings away she searches for the gate and thankfully she made it just before boarding started. Once boarded on the plane she found her seat and stashed her small luggage in the bin above before taking her window seat. The foggy grey of Chicago still the same as that morning. Getting comfortable; Mira saw the screen on the back of the seat in front of her say the flight would be seven nearly eight hours long. Good grief she hoped she could get a nap in during that time.

Once the plane is geared to take off, Mira takes her last looks of Chicago before she jets off into the unknown. She’d never been abroad before, which is part of why she freaked out so much when her boss dumped this project on her last minute. Launching into the sky above the clouds that left Chicago grey; Mira feels excited, it’s a new experience and the trip ahead is full of possibilities.

Thankfully Mira was lucky and didn’t have anyone sat next to her in her row. The flight attendants were kind and offered snacks and drinks once altitude was reached. The drone of the plane a bit much on the ears, thankfully Mira brought her headphones to drown it out. She had found podcast about Irish history to give her a bit of insight to what kind of country she was going to and so she could understand the people for her article later. It’s not long and she falls victim to the husky voice of the podcaster and slumbers in her seat.

“Attention passengers this is your captain speaking. We will be landing shortly; the weather is rather cold upon arrival 45 degrees with misting rain. Please remain in your seats and follow direction of the staff please.”

Well Mira was certainly awake now; looking out the window she could see the green hills cast in the glow of the sunrise. Sunrise? What time was it? Looking at the screen on the seat again she could see she was now in a new time zone. Five hours ahead actually than what it would be in Chicago. That’s crazy. A new wave of excitement washed over her; it was beautiful, and she couldn’t wait to experience Ireland.

Upon landing, Mira grabbed her things and shuffled off the plane like everyone else, yet when she touched ground, she felt different. Like a barrier was broken somewhere within. Chumping it up to just feeling different in a new land, she continued. Finding a cab to take her to the Inn was easy enough; after checking in and getting settled in her room, she sighed in relief. She left a voicemail for Sara that she had made it; she always kept her promises. Jet lag did not take long to hit; after a small lunch that day, she passed out in her room for the rest of the first day.

[irenetheeadler]

Drawing dark skin on watercolor is tricky and but you gotta learn it

[video-killed-the-radio-host]

Nurture and Nature ch 5

 Earl looks around Cecil and his heart sinks.  The large window had been blown in, leaving shattered glass all over the floor. The bed Kevin has been using is on it's side. Books and research papers littered the floor, ruined by the half inch or so of water sitting on the floor. 

Earl runs a hand through his hair and looks at Cecil. "Is….is anyone hurt?"

"Nothing major. Mostly everyone is just shaken up. We haven't had a big storm like that in years."

Earl nods. "That's good. I don't think I have enough supplies to treat many right now." He sighs a little and looks around again. "I have to restock."

"That's a three day trip. I can have Carlos send a guard with you if you like."

Earl turns when he hears a noise behind him. Kevin stands in the bedroom doorway, gripping the doorframe so tightly his knuckles were white. Earl moves towards him. "Are you alright?"

Kevin nods quickly. 

"Okay...i have to take a long trip to get more supplies. Would you like to come?" Earl asks, remembering that Cecil said some time outside would help Kevin feel better. 

Kevin hesitates before nodding. 

Earl feels relief flood through him and smiles. "Alright." He turns back to Cecil. "Could you-"

Cecil gives him a smile and nods, turning to leave. His staff makes small splashes as he taps it on the ground. 

Earl watches him go before looking around once more. "I'm going to salvage what I can."  He says softly, picking up the overturned bed, setting the wet blankets aside. He gathers up the jars that somehow didn't get broken, sitting them on the bed. It'll take days to air the room out. Maybe it would be done by the time they got back. 

Kevin stays in the doorway for a moment before moving forward to help. He gathered the wet plants but most just fell apart in his hand. He frowns. Poor plants…. He jumps a little at the sound of shattering glass.  He turns to find Earl kneeling in the floor, gathering pieces of what looked like ceramic. He puts the destroyed plants aside and moves over to Earl, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

Earl jumps at the hand on his shoulder and turns. "Oh. Kevin. Hey."

"Are you okay?" Kevin signs, gesturing at the mess.

Earl sighs. "My mother gave me that mortar bowl. And...she died years ago." 

"Is it fixable?"

"Probably not."

"Can I try?"

Earl sits back,  feeling the cold water seeping into the fabric of his pants. "You can try."

Kevin inches forward and puts his hands over the broken bowl. There's a soft glow as the pieces come back together. 

"Oh." Earl says softly. "Thank you." He picks up the now fixed bowl and turns to look at Kevin. The darker skinned man leaned against Earl and closes his eyes. "Kevin?"

Kevin blinks up at him, a tired look on his face. He waves his hand in a way Earl assumed was supposed to be reassuring. 

"You aren't healed enough to be using a lot of magic." Earl sighs and puts the bowl aside before pressing the back of his hand against Kevin's forehead. 

Kevin waves his hand again, tracing the words on Earl's arm. "You were upset."

"I…" Earl sighs. "You shouldn't overwork yourself. It'll make your healing slower."

"I'm….sorry." Kevin leans into Earl's touch and closes his eyes. "Are you upset?"

"No. I'm not. I'm worried about you."

"Can I take a nap before we go?" 

Earl laughs softly and nods, shifting and picking Kevin up out of the water and starts toward the bedroom. "I'll have to get you new bedclothes." He sits Kevin down on his bed and watches him sink a little into the mattress. "Yours are all ruined from the rain."

Kevin responds by rolling up in Earl's blanket. 

-----.-----

It's late afternoon by the time they finally get to leave. They go on horseback with a few supplies but Earl didn't mind because he liked camping outside. 

They were escorted by Magnus. The tall gentle man was nice to be around because he always had a kind word. He didn't talk nearly as much as Cecil did when Carlos found him on the beach but he was still friendly. 

Currently he was telling Kevin about his wife and Kevin was listening intently with a fond expression. Earl trails behind them, only half listening as he looks around. The sun was starting to set and he's looking for a certain…..

"Magnus I need to stop for a moment." Earl announces before getting off of his horse. 

Magnus stops and turns. "Is something wrong?"

Earl crouches at the side of the path and moves aside some leaves before standing with a small glowing stone in his palm. "A Seod Réalta." 

Kevin gives him a blank look.

"A star gem." Earl explains, offering the stone to Kevin. "They're said to hold the light of a star that was knocked from the sky by an old god because they are needed more here with us than in the sky- Kevin? Are you okay?"

Kevin was staring at him, face flushed and eyes wide, lips slightly parted in shock. 

"Earl." Magnus chuckles. "He's a Fae, remember? Giving a Fae a nice rock is basically a proposal."

Earl looks down at the Seod Réalta and then back up at Kevin. "O-oh. So I can't just give him a nice rock I found?"

Magnus looks at Kevin and goes through a series of hand gestures. Kevin brings his hand up to cover his mouth as if he was silencing a giggle. 

"Alright so you can give it to him but it's a bit weird to propose to someone you haven't known long." Magnus announced. 

Earl sputtered a few times. "I wasn't- " he then noticed the laughter on Magnus's face. "Shut up."

Magnus laughs loudly. "I'm sure."

Kevin takes the rock and smiles as he turns it in his hand. It's warm to the touch and would glow brightly in the dark. He uses his left hand to sign "thank you."

"We should get a little further before stopping for the night." Magnus says, looking at the sky. 

Earl nods and takes the reins of his horse, following Magnus down the path. He glances back at Kevin a few times and smiles to himself when he sees the injured man more relaxed than he has been since they've been there. Maybe Cecil was right. Nature would do him good. 

They get to a clearing and Magnus ties the horses to a nearby tree and gets started setting up for the night as Earl wanders a bit away in search of the herbs he came for. He hears Kevin start to wander behind him. Finding the herbs weren't hard as they were brightly colored but due to it being nearly fall, they were few and far between. Hopefully this winter isn't too bad….

The quiet is interrupted by the snap of a branch and the sound of a body hitting the ground. Earl jumps and turns. Kevin was laying face down on the ground, clearly having tripped in one of the many hidden holes that littered the forest floor. He curses softly and quickly moves over to help. "Are you okay?" He asks, helping Kevin to a sitting position so he can inspect the man's ankle. 

Kevin waves his hands as if to shoo Earl away but Earl ignores it. "You sprained your ankle." He looks up into Kevin's face. "No you aren't fine. I'm going to wrap this and make you a crutch. Sorry I didn't warn you about the holes." He stands. "Stay here." 

Kevin's shoulders rise and drop as if he's huffing like a small child being told no. Earl can't help a small chuckle. "I won't be long."

Earl makes his way back to the camp where Magnus was mixing something in a pot over the campfire. He looks up when Earl returns. "Earl?"

"Kevin fell in a hole and sprained his ankle. Gotta make a crutch." He looks around and finds a large branch near the edge of the campsite. Perfect. He starts to peel the bark off of the branch to lower the risk of splinters. 

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Mostly. We're a little short but I'm sure we can make do."

"Are you ready for the High Moon?"

Earl sighs softly. Six months of no sun. Happens every winter. "Lets just hope people have common sense."

"Shh." Magnus jerks his head up. 

"Wh-"

"Earl. Shut up for a minute." Magnus draws his sword. "Something's wrong." 

Earl looks up. "What is it?" He then drops the branch. Kevin. He scrambles to his feet, running back to where he had left him. He looks around. "Kevin? Kevin can you hear me?" Panic is starting to rise in Earl's gut and chest. I shouldn't have left him alone. He looks around again and something glinting on the ground catches his eye. He kneels down. In the grass is the Seod Réalta. 

[corcordium1983]

I Couldn’t Be More In Love

this started out as a blurb. it is no longer a blurb, I don’t think, considering it’s over 2000 words long. it just took on a life of its own, ok? anyway, it was inspired by the picture above, because it makes me sTRESSED. (this is unedited fyi bc I rly need sleep but also wanted to get it up tonight)

The first time you realised he was a clumsy idiot was when he spilled his drink on you at an after party. He’d been trying to manoeuvre you into his lap with one hand while simultaneously wielding a drink in the other. Thankfully it was a clear spirit, and nothing that would stain, but you were still less than thrilled about reeking of alcohol. He’d apologised profusely throughout the rest of the night, and in his drunken state had offered you his shirt to wear instead. You’d laughed it off and peppered him with kisses, assuring him it was all right. And it was, because he was there, and that was enough to make just about any situation better.

You should’ve expected it, should have seen it coming, based on the countless interviews and gifs that had been sent your way after the news of your involvement broke. Your favourite by far was the one of him tipping backwards on his chair at a panel – you still shoot him a warning smirk whenever you find him leaning too far back on a chair, and it never fails to make him blush.

To be honest, he’s not too clumsy normally. It’s only when he’s exhausted, overworked, or – as in the most prominent cases �� drunk that he turns into a bumbling, uncoordinated fool. So you’ve learned his tells, and you’ve taken it upon yourself to keep a watchful eye on him when you feel like he (and his clothes, and other people’s clothes) are at risk. It would be such a shame to ruin a decadent Ackermann suit, after all.

The first time you pluck a champagne flute out of his hand as he leans in to hug some big-shot producer, he gives you a puzzled stare over the man’s shoulder. You offer him a shrug in return and take a sip of the champagne, before handing the flute back once he’s at a safe distance from the producer. He doesn’t question you about your move as you thought he would, but instead seems to let it slip from his mind as others come up to him to mingle. You can’t say you blame him – being Timothée Chalamet seems like a busy life to lead.

The second time it happens, your reflexes are only barely quick enough to avert the disaster. You’re at yet another party, a house party of sorts. You’re not quite sure who owns the place, but whoever it is, they must be loaded. Timmy had disappeared earlier in the night, slipping outside with an acquaintance of his, and returning approximately half an hour later with eyes that were suspiciously red-rimmed and the sharp scent of smoke clinging to his sweater. You’d rolled your eyes, but really, who were you to judge.

The accident, or what would have been an accident, takes place later that evening when he’s more than pleasantly buzzed on both alcohol and other substances. You’re hanging out in what looks to be a living room, and Timmy spots someone he recognises sat on one of the sofas. He bends down to hug the girl, not remembering the drink in his hand, and as if in slow-motion you see the glass tilting towards the expensive-looking dress the girl is wearing. You might have let out a small squeak of horror as you just about managed to snatch the glass out of your blustering boyfriend’s grip in time. He doesn’t even seem to realise that the glass is missing at first, too engrossed in the conversation. After a while, however, he looks down at his hand, then over to the nearby coffee table, and then he glances around with the most adorably confused expression you’ve ever seen. The confusion turns to a sense of realisation when his gaze lands on the drink in your hand, and when he makes grabby hands in your direction you’re not sure whether he means you or the drink, so you give him both.

The third time it happens he’s surprisingly not drunk, just very, very tired. He’s been caught in a carousel of press events across the globe for a month and a half, and now that he’s back in New York the jet lag seems to have finally hit him, badly. You suspect he’s been jet lagged the entire time, but that it’s only really caught up with him now that he has a few days off. It makes your heart ache, to see him so run down. You know he loves his job, and that he’s grateful of all the opportunities that have come his way these past few years, but you gently try to remind him every now and then that you don’t have to love every part of your job, and that no job is worth running yourself into the ground for. Still, the bags under his eyes appear to be here to stay, at least for a little while, and when you bring them up he just laughs and tells you they’re Gucci.

When you find him fumbling with his shoelaces just mere hours after arriving back home (honestly, judging by the state he’s in you’re surprised he even managed to get the correct shoe onto the correct foot), you try to tell him that dinner with his parents can wait. He’s got a few days before he has to leave again, and his parent’s aren’t going anywhere. You’ve got time. He however, in typical Timmy fashion, is stubborn as a goat.

“We’ve had this scheduled for ages, mom’s probably started cooking already,” he argues, and that’s the end of that. You purse your lips as he leans into you for support after getting out of the car at his parents’ place, but you don’t say anything. You trust him to know his own limits, and to act accordingly when he feels he’s met them.

Nicole and Marc are as warm and inviting as ever. The second you step through the doorway Nicole envelops Timmy in a hug. Marc pulls you in for a hug as well, telling you it’s nice to see you again (even though you’ve been over for dinner once every few weeks while Timmy’s been gone). Out of the corner of your eye you see Nicole running her hands over Timmy’s shoulders to smooth out the wrinkles, before her hands come to rest by his neck while she inspects him more closely. You make casual conversation with Marc while Nicole frets over the state Timmy’s in, worrying about the bags and dark circles underneath his eyes.

Timmy shoots you an impish smile before retorting with “They’re Gucci”. Nicole sighs and deems him a lost cause, and moves on to you instead, drawing you in into the same motherly hug you’ve come to expect from her every time you meet now. When you lean into her embrace, you take the opportunity the shield of her body offers to conspiratorially whisper “he nearly fell asleep on the way over here”. She leans back a little, keeps you at half an arm’s length and nods in understanding, before giving you a brief kiss on the cheek. The smile she offers you is one of sincere gratitude, although you’re not sure what you’ve done to deserve it. Behind you you can hear Timmy and his father quipping back and forth in rapid-fire French, and although your French is nowhere near as good as you’d like it to be you still manage to get the gist of the situation. His parents are worried about him. He works too much. He’s kept this insane schedule up for years now, and he needs a break. You can’t help but silently agree as you work your way towards the kitchen in search of a drink.

Disaster doesn’t strike until after dinner, when you’re all seated in the living room. Timmy had been lightly dozing off every few minutes throughout the meal, so once you’d settled onto your loveseat Marc had brought Timmy an espresso in the hopes that it would keep him awake for a few more hours. You warily eye the tiny cup that Timmy’s been sipping from where it’s perched on his leg, not trusting his grip on the cup in the slightest. And sure enough, mere moments later, before you have time to react, there is black coffee seeping into the denim of his trousers, which are thankfully black already.

Nicole and Marc share a look that appears to communicate a million different things all at once, and then there’s a flurry of activity as Marc springs up out of his armchair in the search of paper towels to clean up the mess. Nicole leans in and plants a kiss on Timmy’s forehead, asking us if we shouldn’t maybe stay the night so that he won’t have to sit through the cab ride home.

“There’s spare toothbrushes upstairs, and you should still have some clothes here that fit you.”

This time Timmy appears too exhausted to put up much of a fight, and that’s how you find yourselves crammed into the tiny single bed in his childhood bedroom. Not that you’re complaining, though, because he was out as soon as his head hit the pillow and you’re just thankful that he’s finally getting some sleep. You’re also very thankful for the big breakfast that awaits you the following morning.

After that failed attempt at evading disaster you have a few successful ones, and it seems like Timmy’s finally clocked on to what you’ve been doing all this time. He doesn’t get angry like you feared he might; instead, he gets teary-eyed. You attribute it to the lack of sleep due to awards season, as well as the drink that’s currently in your hand, but that was previously in his. He can’t stop touching you the rest of the night, which isn’t completely unheard of behaviour for him, but this time it seems like he needs constant reassurance that you’re real. In the cab on the way home he leans his head on your shoulder and laughs when you tousle his hair.

“I couldn’t be more in love right now,” he says. The scary part is, you think he really means it.

It’s two months later, and you’re on your third cup of coffee of the morning. You had a deadline an hour ago, and didn’t manage to get more than two hours of sleep last night. Since the deadline has now passed, and you managed to get your script sent off in time, that means that you could technically be sleeping right now. The only thing stopping you is that you’re conscious of your sleeping pattern, and don’t want to risk messing it up now that you’ve finally gotten it sorted to conform with normal people hours. You’ve therefore resigned yourself to a day of chugging coffee in an effort to stay awake until the evening.

Timmy’s got a rare two weeks off, something you both seem equally grateful for, so it’s not long until he pads softly into the kitchen on bare feet. You’ve still got all of your work spread out over the kitchen table, as you’d resigned yourself to working there so as not to keep him awake all night, and you’re now struggling with closing all the open tabs in your browser and moving all of the books and notepads. You spent so long working on the project that it’s difficult to accept that it’s done.

Timmy’s arms around your waist and his cold nose buried in the crook of your neck, as well as the scratchy stubble of his chin dragging against your sensitive skin, appears to bring you out of this work-induced fugue state. He mumbles a quiet “good morning”, his voice still low and raspy from sleep, as he peers into your almost empty coffee cup and silently crosses over to the coffee pot to refill your cup, and to make a cup for himself. You hum gratefully as he sets your steaming cup in front of you, and pulls out a frying pan and half the contents of the fridge in order to make you breakfast. You’ve missed this, quiet mornings (literally quiet, neither of you are very good on the talking-front until you’ve had your morning coffee and at least an hour to wake up properly) of domesticity, of just having him around.

You talk about your work over breakfast – scrambled eggs on toast along with a fruit platter. He’s read the earlier drafts of the project, but seems eager to read the finished product as well. You’re not meant to show it to anyone, but you already know you’ll cave, so you set about drawing it up on your laptop. You don’t even see it happening, but before your brain even registers what’s going on, there’s a lithe hand grabbing your coffee cup and moving it far out of the way. With a slight twinge of panic, you realise that it had been about to topple onto your laptop, and would surely have ruined your precious device. You expect to be met with a grave look when you peer over at Timmy, but the look on his face is a pleased one. Maybe even bordering on smug.

“Finally I got my turn to save your ass,” and now you really want to wipe that smug grin off his face. Instead you just groan, too tired to think, and let your head rest on your folded arms on top of the table.

“C’mon, let’s just go back to bed. If you don’t want to ruin your sleep schedule, I promise I’ll wake you up in two or three hours.

You think it over for a second.

“Fine, but only if you promise to bring me a second breakfast in bed later.”