short woman tall man

And While We Live (chapter 2)

Uncle Lambert’s little helper


It was so windy… So loud. Such a turmoil inside my body. It looked like my organs had separated from their cavities  and stood in suspension for a while, before they return to their place. I felt my hair in the air, I felt so light.

Glasgow, present day

She had dreamed of that day, tonight. And she had dreamed of Uncle Lamb again. It was all a mess in her sleepy mind… Opening the curtains of her bedroom, she noted how the clouds seemed to match the turmoil going inside her brain. They were white and grey and so, so angry. I am not angry. I am confused, I am tired of battling demons I don’t recognize. Adapting to a new place, a new job, a new time (JHRC!!), was not easy. Letting go of the past, of the literal past, felt like tearing up an arm. But she had made a promise to her Uncle, a promise she was hell bent on keeping.

A few months after moving into her apartment, Claire was still in a whirlwind of new things, shiny discoveries, amazing places that she reached without leaving the same spot. On that Netflix programme, she found and watched the most amazing film - “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade”. Sean Connery reminded her so much of her Uncle Lamb, that she found herself putting it on for company and comfort, while she cleaned or cooked.

Uncle Lambert knew. He knew a lot and while he hadn’t prepared her for it, he had left everything ready for a life she had to now live as if she hadn’t had one before. She was thinking about her old life, as she made her coffee and toast. The war was over, it was time to think about other things. About marriage, about family, about where in the world Uncle Lambert was now. About not wanting to stop being a nurse… What would Frank think about that? Quentin Lambert Beauchamp was a Blitz survivor, a true bachelor of the english kind. If he was a wanderer before, the war had just turned him into a bigger one. While he hadn’t asked to raise Claire and certainly wasn’t a by-the-book child tutor, he had done a good job. Claire was who she was, in part, because of the life she had led with this man. All the adventures, the stories, the work, letting her be who she wanted and do things considered not proper for an english little lady or lady to be…

After the stones, however, Claire had a turmoil of doubts about Uncle Lamb. The pieces of the puzzle started to be put together quickly after her arrival.

In the 30s, Lambert Beauchamp had settled for a bit in merry old England while Hitler rose to power. He had decided to teach at Oxford. There, a few years later, Claire met one of her uncle’s students, Frank Randall: dashing historian, older man. Uncle Lambert liked Frank and never stated any sign of approval, or disapproval, for that matter, regarding the relationship. But he did insist on them not getting married right away, not for the wrong reasons, or so she thought… “Wait until we settle this mess, my darling girl.” This mess being WW2. Claire saw right through him and while Frank would have liked to be legally married, Claire followed Lambert’s advice. Nothing prevented them from meeting and act like husband and wife when their leaves from duty allowed it. What was a piece of paper? But now, it seemed Uncle Lamb simply didn’t want that tie to exist, that legal impediment. What else Uncle Lamb, what else? Frank and Claire had seen each other and had a good relationship and courtship for a year, until war erupted. The United Kingdom did its call to arms, Claire followed her calling and trained as a nurse… you said it would be the appropriate thing for a woman, Frank, but if you saw me now… And if you had listened to me then… and Frank put his knowledge to the service of the MI6 after being recruited from officer training.

Their correspondence kept them alive to each other, the rare but well enjoyed encounters had been good. And they were planning on getting married once the war was over. In the autumn of 1945, they were in Scotland, in Inverness, in a magical romantic inn. They had been together for a few days. They would have gotten married on *that* day, if it weren’t for Uncle Lambert’s accident, that delayed his trip north. Accident…? It was going to happen the day after, if it weren’t… If it weren’t. More than 70 years had passed, it literally felt like yesterday. Claire also thought about those days with some longing, but with a tug in her heart, a question mark forged into her sixth sense. After years of seeing each other scarcely, of two day trips where the needs of the flesh were more urgent, after letters that were rare towards the end and in which a quick “hello, I’m alive, I’m alright” seemed enough, there had been some awkward conversations, some clouds of doubt that were quick to dissipate when the adrenaline of the decision of getting married rose in her heart and in his pleading arguments.

Claire’s loneliness made her heart ache for Frank and what could have been… But she had made a promise to her dear Uncle. She promised to carry on living, she promised to follow her dreams, she promised to not look for him, she promised not to look for Frank. There had been a Claire Beauchamp in 1945. Unfortunately killed in action, or so the documents said *snort*. But there was a new Claire Beauchamp in the 21st century, born in 1989. One that had in her hands a pack of letters to open, in order, per another request.

“Please madonna, please follow your uncle’s instructions and open one by one, follow the dates on the envelopes. Trust us.” “Please Claire, ye have to promise us.” She was still so confused, so dizzy, but these people were there, they knew her, they knew Uncle Lamb, they were standing in the middle of the square in Inverness while she was running around looking, wanting to go to the police because surely someone must’ve stolen her car after. “I feel asleep picking flowers. That was it! I must’ve forgot to have a decent breakfast.” They were there when she started looking around and getting out of her frenzy state into a slightly more frenzy scottish town with cars that really weren’t cars, street signs that she did not recognize, clothes that looked strange. Everything was the same and everything was different. The short froggy man and the tall read headed woman approached her, casually, “Hello Claire, please keep calm.” “WHERE AM I?” They smiled like she hadn’t just screamed, like she had just said hello how are you dear friend. “Please Claire, we are friends, we are here at the request of your Uncle… I’m Gillian, this is Raymond.” And so she went.

Claire shook off the memories, the doubts, the questions. Every three months she opened a letter, an action that left her with more questions than before. She had been so tempted to look for them. When the loneliness was almost strangling her. But she kept the promise.

Putting the mug in the sink, she checked her reflection in the mirror, applied lipstick, tucked her shirt in her jeans, put on her coat and went off to another day of classes. As she turned to close the door on her building and check something in her purse, a black motorbike stopped at the traffic light in the road ahead. The helmet didn’t quite completely hid the mop of red hair peeking underneath. The biker liked what he saw, when he turned his head while waiting for the light to change.

Have a great weekend! :) 

Rose requested Nerd Ren.

thirst-order-confessions said: Give mod Rose a library au or whatevs where Ben sits across the desk and sends notes and dirty glares to readerchan DEWIT



Readerchan gets to be studying what I’m studying rn, because why not.

University. Fuck that shit.

 Y/N slammed several heavy text books onto the table. Her laptop followed, placed down more reverently. It looked like, yet again, she would spend another several hours in the library, cramming as much information into her brain as she could before the next lecture.

The other occupant on the table glared at her, and she sneered at him before sitting down and returning to work.

“The guy who came up with having to study like an asshole to get anywhere in life can go fuck himself.” she muttered angrily, tapping away at her notes on the keyboard.

A snort from in front of her made her look up.

The other occupant of the table, a tall, dark haired man, had moved to the spot adjacent of her. His own text books looked as though they could be used as foundations, heavy and large and way too expensive to buy, even though he, like everyone else, did it anyway.

“Could you possibly record that and put it on repeat? Literally the best thing I have heard all day.” he rumbled.

Y/N laughed.

“No seriously, I already know half this stuff from my dad, I really do not even need to be here.” he grinned.

Three hours later, Y/N found herself and the man being kicked out of the library for “rowdy behaviour”, the behaviour having been that their discussion had gotten progressively more loud as they became more excited.

“Shit, uh, I’m Ben, by the way. Ben Solo.” Ben threw out a hand to shake.

“Y/N, nice to meet you, Ben.” she shook his hand, watching as his hand enveloped hers entirely. He grinned at her and let go of her hand.

“See you ‘round!” he waved, jogging away quickly on long legs and catching up to another tall, blonde woman, with a slightly shorted red haired man.


A week later, Y/N found herself at lunch with Hux, Phasma, and Ben, laughing as Ben imitated and irate Hux, copying all of his movements and enunciating his words with a shit British accent. Hux proceeded to pick up one of Phasma’s books and smack Ben’s arm repeatedly, but Ben later affirmed that it was all worth the look on Hux’s face.

Phasma shook her head. “At least I’m not the only female in the group anymore. Now I have someone I can actually without having to be asked to double check a ruler.”

Hux and Ben both spluttered, going red and immediately begin trying to defend themselves. Y/N laughed again.


For a law and economics student, Hux was very likely to take over the world. Perhaps the galaxy, if he could get Ben to stop “accidentally” spilling coffee all over his papers, and convince Phasma to be his primary military adviser.

She was adamant that she be called Captain and gain silver armour. Hux wanted her to wear black and red, but after being shown the chrome armour she would prefer, he was beginning to think that she may be right.

Ben decided that he would be head engineer to Y/N’s counter regime, that would at first look governmental, and then span to hostile take over after they’d amassed enough of a following.

“Hang on, when did we plan this?” Y/N asked.

“Just now, keep up.” Ben petted her hand.

“Dude, I’d totally bring Phasma onto our side though.” Y/N said.

Hux spluttered while Phasma leaned in close.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Silver armour, as many nerds as you need for whatever experiments, whole regiments of soldiers at your command, cookies-”

“Sold. You drive a heard bargain, but cookies solves all problems.” Phasma nodded. She turned to the other two. “I like her.”

Realising she didn’t have any one’s phone numbers, Y/N pulled out her phone and opened up the contacts, urging them each to put their own numbers and names in. Hux listed his name down as “Emperor Hux”, Ben as “Kylo Ren (better than Hux)” and Phasma down as “Phasmama”. They each got Y/N’s number into their own phones, trying to one up one another with the name they gave her.

Phasma won by calling Y/N her “Lil Nugget <3 <3 <3″


“So, who’s ‘Crylo Ren’, ‘Biggest Little Bitch’ and ‘Phasmama’?” Aina asked, staring at Y/N’s phone as it exploded with messages from the ‘Wonder Trio’.

“Some friends.” Y/N chuckled, reading Hux desperately try to defend himself as Ben sent photos of him, Phasma rapid-fire texting in all capitals about how he had just been “#REKTSON”, “FUCKING PWND”, all of which was followed by several baby emojis.

Ben had several photos, videos, and multiple snapchats sent her way.

Hux was not amused.


And suddenly three years had passed, Y/N remaining close to her friends, despite the fact that they were all in entirely different departments. By this stage, Phasma was refusing to let any of them go because they all owed her money from some of the various poker games they had drunkenly agreed to play with her. 

In said games, Y/N had found out that Hux was actually Irish, and he put on an English accent so that people could “understand him better”. She thinks he said that, but no one is sure because as he became more drunk, the Irish lilt became slurred and random syllables. 

Ben became extraordinarily clingy and, as he began to lose consciousness, was passed around the table. Y/N had found out the hard way what happened when he passed out on someone, the drool on her shoulder having been impossible to get off as the giant wookie of a man became part octopus and clung onto his new “bed”.

Phasma was a dirty fucking cheater, but no one knew how to point it out, let alone point it out without risking being murdered and never found.

Phasma also refused to accept any money from Y/N, her “smol child nugget” needed all the money she could get, according to Phasma.

Ben and Hux pleaded desperately to keep their money, but Phasma refused.

Ben’s parents only laughed whenever they were all around, Han and Leia both practically adopting Y/N into the fold and watching the quartet suffer the pain of university together.



Y/N sighed, standing up from her chair and stretching out, before gathering her things and trudging out the library door.


‘Where are you?’


Y/N sighed again, waiting for the onslaught of photos and private snapchat messages from Ben saying he was lost again. He literally had no sense of direction.

‘lol fuq you, scrub’ Phasma helpfully supplied. ‘im in memeology rn, so i cant’

Hux refused to answer, code black being the phrase to state that Ben was lost somewhere on or near the campus grounds again. At least, he thought he was on campus grounds. Sadly, Ben was useless with a map.

Omw. Calm down, dumbass. Send me some photos of the area.

Fortunately, Ben was close. 

“I gotta get to the labs.” he sighed in relief, grabbing Y/N’s hand in a death grip, following along as she guided him in the complete opposite direction to where he had thought they were.

“I tried to get lunch.” He supplied helpfully when she looked back at him, his eyes looking at the ground and not meeting hers.

“You should probably look up if you want to at least see where you are and maybe learn the layout of the place.” Y/N chuckled.

Ben muttered something under his breath, following along and grumbling about how the campus was too big, too disorganised, and too “full of assholes who won’t help find the right direction”.

Y/N did not mention the fact that she knew for certain he didn’t try to ask anyone for directions once.


The exams time rolled back in, and Y/N was in full study mode.

Apparently Phasma had deemed the medical section of the library a “No Fucklord Zone”, meaning Hux and Ben could not be within 3 meters of the area, or Phasma would kill them for attempting to distract her.

Hux stayed home, mostly, avoiding all of the outside world for studying. Ben adamantly swore that 80% of what Hux was actually doing was just wanking off at his mirror. 

Ben flopped dramatically into the chair next to Y/N.

“I’m so fucking bored. Oh my God, just kill me.” he whined, nudging her.

She growled, shifting back into The Study Position, and didn’t acknowledge him. This had been going on for the week that she had been studying, Ben would be annoying, she would ignore him. It would be a pretty good deal, except for the fact that Ben was an attention whore.

The first year and a half of their friendship had been proof, the fact that Ben had just about slept with every vagina bearing person in engineering, including the professors, and several males, along with multitudes from science, law, and IT. He often had bemoaned that he never asked for money, claiming his looks and skills would have gotten him “so many fuck tonnes of dosh. Get it? Fuck tonne. Because-” “Shut it, Crylo.”.

Part way through the second year, he’d suddenly become celibate. He’d had some sort of fight with Phasma, the kind that meant Hux and Y/N had to struggle to get them back together. Whatever Phasma had said to him had hurt, a lot, and he hadn’t slept around after that.

“Y/N,” Ben whined again. “Please look at me. Look at my pretty face. Talk to me, baby.” he chuckled.

She once again didn’t respond.

Spying a set of her post-it-notes, Ben took a pencil, the post-it-notes, and wrote on one, sticking it the the edge of her screen. If she noticed it, she said nothing.

“Come on. Really?” Ben huffed. Fine, he could play that game.

He continued writing notes, each one progressively sounding more whiney than the last, begging for her attention. Three of them had promises of cookies, nachoes, or some other sort of food.

He began sticking them to the books she had open.

After a long period of time with no response, he whined again.

“Baby, you’re holding out on me here.”

She remained in study mode.

“Fine. Okay. Fine then. Well… Don’t think about food.” he tried, getting close to the side of her face to whisper into her ear.

“C’mon baby.”

Y/N shuddered slightly.

“Oh. Oh, hello, she lives.” he chuckled. She shuddered again, cleared her throat, and continued her work.

“Oh, pretty baby, I think I know what’s up. You’re all riled up, aren’t you?” he grinned. “Sweetie, look at me. Look at me, c’mon.”

He moved a post-it-note, scrubbing off the message and re-writing, before placing it back on the screen edge.

I’ll give you a kiss if you look at me.

He wrote another.

Pretty girl like you can’t be left riled up too long. Not fair on you.

He wrote several more, becoming more and more provocative as he continued on.

Y/N snapped, pulling the post-it-notes off her screen and into the open book, slamming the book shut to hide everything he had written.

“What?!” she growled, cheeks warm with blood.

Ben grinned and leaned close. “Hey, you.”

His eyes made a bee-line to her mouth, and upon raising his eyes to look into her own, he leaned in to kiss her.

She shuddered again, lips parting to meet his, whimpering slightly when his tongue came out to caress her own. His hand reached her hair, cupping the back of her head as he kissed her, fingers playing with the thick locks he found there.

When he pulled back, he watched with glee as her eyes opened up to be blown almost black, chest heaving slightly.

“Okay. Thank you, now be a model student and study for your exam. Can’t have you failing, can we?” he smirked.

Pulling away, and leaning back, he watched her work for five minutes, letting her get back into the rhythm of studying again after his distraction.

A hand touched Y/N’s back, fingers ghosting over her spine, following it up and into her hair, moving to the side to expose her neck to the hand’s owner. 

Ben leaned in close, pressing his nose into the crook of her neck. He hummed, smelling her scent, nuzzling his nose against the soft skin he found there.

“Don’t get distracted.” he murmured, other hand snaking around her stomach to her waist, settling happily on her hip and stroking the bone their with his thumb.

With that, Ben’s lips descended lightly on her neck, pressing soft kisses against the skin, tongue flicking out occasionally to taste. Bit by bit, he sank lower, bending down more and more in order to follow the line of her neck down, reaching a shoulder and pulling her shirt to kiss along as much skin as he could reveal.

Y/N keened quietly and he stopped.

“Shh. We’re in a library. This is a place of learning and quiet study. You should focus on those things.” Ben tutted, his hand in her hair moving into his own lap.

His other hand began to go downwards, reaching the end of her skirt. Slowly, as though not to spook her, he pulled the skirt up towards her hips.

Y/N moved slightly, and he froze. She exhaled loudly, shifting so that she sat slightly further back in her chair, back extended and chest puffed out slightly.

Ben grinned. “Later, baby. I love them, but you have to study.”

His fingers slowly crept up her thigh, moving from outer to inner thigh over what felt like years. He reached the apex of her thighs, brushing the tip of his finger against her folds lightly through her panties. She whimpered.

“Shhh. Study time.” Ben chuckled.

His fingers pressed against her, her thighs opening more as his questing fingers explored more of her. They brushed the edge of her panties, pulling the edge slightly off of her skin, before letting the fabric go and the elastic snapped quietly back into place. 

He nibbled her ear lobe, fingers brushing against her clit as they followed the shape of her body to the uppermost part of the panties, and with a huff of laughter, he pushed his hand down to touch her skin.

She clenched her hands and held back a gasp, fingers trembling when she released them and tried to find her line on the notes she was re-writing.

“Good girl.” Ben kissed her cheek, adding the reward of his fingers swirling a circle against her clit with the praise.

With much difficulty, Y/N pretended to study, hands skittering random gibberish into the notes accidentally as he pressed against her clit, and sent his other fingers closer and closer to her entrance. As she backspaced her mistakes, he huffed more laughter into her ear, middle finger circling the tight, wet opening into her body.

“Mmm, you feel so tight, baby. Been this long?” he sighed into her ear. “Answer me, baby.”

Her hand flew to his forearm, gripping tight as she struggled to speak.

“N-No. Never… Umm.” 

Ben stopped. “Never been with anyone?” he whispered.

She nodded.

“Fuck.” he cursed, hand moving away from her nether region.

“N-No!” she pulled his arm back towards her, his hand returning to its post between her thighs. “Please, I wanna. I want you to keep going, please, Ben.”

He groaned. “You sure, sweetheart? I don’t want this to be some sort of fling, lemme tell you.”

With a whimper, and a nod, Y/N let go of his arm, spreading her thighs to show her readiness.

His hand entered her panties again, brushing carefully against her clit, circling her opening once more.

“’S gonna feel a bit strange, but it’ll feel good too.” he kissed below her ear, finger prodding her opening softly, getting firmer as the flesh began to yield and pull him in.

He grunted, murmuring something about how she felt around his finger, pushing in slowly and prodding her walls. His other hand came to her face, resting next to her mouth.


“Hang on. “

As his finger pushed further inside her, the sensations became stronger than she’d anticipated, sensitive body responding to his ministrations.

He brushed something inside her, and with a grin pressed his hand against her mouth, and finger against the spot in her pussy. Her reaction was instantaneous, thighs closing closer around his hand and a muffled noise came from her mouth.

He grinned, mouth at her jaw, pushing his finger slowly in and out of her.

“C’mon, baby. Study.” he teased.

His hand stopped, and only when she started to “study” again, did he return to his actions, slowly prepping her for a second finger. The second became the third, three fingers thrusting in and out of her, pressing against her sensitive walls while his thumb rubbed against her clit.

Y/N whined quietly.

Ben grinned, slowly pulling his fingers out. She gasped and looked at him, begging him to continue going with her eyes. 

With a huff, he lightly slapped her pussy with his slickened fingers, hiding the gasp he knew she’d make by clearing his throat.

“I felt you gush a little there, sweetie.” he murmured.

He pulled his hand out from between her thighs, bringing his juicy fingers to his mouth and sucking the juices off. His eyes rolled back and he groaned quietly. Once his hand was clean, he smirked at her.

Picking up one of her pens, he placed his hand below the table, and dropped it, watching it roll out of sight under the table.

“Oh no. I dropped a pen. Guess I’ll have to go get it.” and with that, Ben dropped down to the floor, getting underneath the table and pulling the chair he was in close to it to hide his presence.

“Oh God.” Y/N gasped, feeling Ben’s breath creep up her legs, is nose brush her inner thighs.

She felt his hands reach her panties, tugging at the fabric and coaxing her to lift her hips enough for him to pull them off. He then pulled her forwards, sitting on the edge of the seat so that he could access her more easily.

She felt the vibrations of his chuckle, and fought desperately against a gasp as his tongue brushed against her slit.

He groaned against her, tongue pressing further into her, following the path into her body his fingers had quested. His nose pressed against her clit, and he twitched his head slightly, nose brushing shapes against the sensitive flesh.

Y/N closed her eyes with a groan, feeling pleasure shoot across her body and up her spine.

“Y/N?” a voice called.

Y/N froze, trying desperately not to respond to the sensations of Ben’s tongue sliding through her pussy, his lips closing around her lower lips to draw her juices into his mouth.

“Ph-Phasma. Hey. How you doin’?” Y/N stuttered with a grin.

Phasma marched over to her, arriving at her side and pressing a hand to her forehead.

“Are you okay? You look feverish. Your temperature doesn’t feel high, but a bit higher than normal? Do you feel sick? You’re sweating bullets.” Phasma went into medical student mode, immediately caring for her favourite human, who seemed to be in distress.

“N-No, I’m fine.” Y/N felt Ben’s tongue prod a particularly tender spot inside of her, his flesh scraping against her walls. She hoped she imagined that squeak in her voice.

Phasma pulled her bag off her shoulder, rummaging through it to pull out different pharmaceuticals and a bottle of water.

“Here, read the backs of these, put everything you’re allergic to or sensitive to in one pile, everything else in the other. We’ll sort through the okay pile once we figure out what might be wrong. I’ll go get you a Coke so we can get some sugar into you, that’ll help, poor lil nugget.” Dropping a kiss on her forehead, Phasma was off, marching straight for the door.

Ben chuckled again, and the moment he believed them both safe, began eating Y/N out with gusto, tongue making obscene noises against her pussy as he slurped at her juices happily.

Y/N came quickly, hands rushing to her face to block any sound coming from her mouth, suppressing a scream of pleasure from Ben’s work, especially as he licked her oversensitive flesh clean. After helping her put her panties back on, he picked up the pen, and returned back to the world above the table. He licked his lips and swiped at his lower face to clean the juices away.

He was slightly pink in the cheeks, and looking overly pleased with himself. 

“Found it.” he said, a little out of breath.

Phasma marched back immediately afterwards, stopping in front of the table and glaring at Ben.

“Where’d you come from, and why are you bugging her?”

“Hey!” Ben put a hand to his chest. “The ‘No Fucklord Zone’ doesn’t extend this far. And I came to make sure she’s okay. She told me earlier she had a headache and I was busy so I couldn’t check on her then.”

Ben used the lowest trick, making Phasma return to worrying immediately about her lil nugget.

“Isn’t that right, little ewok?” Ben petted her hair.

“Fuck off, hairless wookie.” Y/N sniped, grabbing the panadol and popping two of the pills, grabbing the water and swallowing the pills down in one go.


It took Phasma three hours to find out what happened, Ben having not been able to keep his big mouth shut about how he’d eaten Y/N out, and how potentially it was going to happen again. 

Hux, true to form of being the biggest little bitch, told Phasma immediately, rushing into one of her lectures, whispering into her ear what had happened, and moving out of the way immediately as she screeched “What?! I’ll fucking kill him!”

Ben had managed to see all of the campus that day, sprinting away from the blonde she-devil that was throwing threats his way.


Hux chased after them, tears of laughter streaming down his face as he recorded every second he could.

When Phasma finally caught Ben, she kicked him several times, punched him several more, and grabbed him by the collar.

“I have access to liquid nitrogen, I will literally snap your dick off, and beat you to death with it if you throw her away. You break her heart, I’ll break your fucking skull, are we clear?”

Ben nodded, gulping to keep the bile that had risen to his throat down.

“I’ve not been with anyone since our first discussion, Phas. I’ve no intention of hurting her, ever, I swear. I care, way more about her than anyone else. I swear to God this isn’t a fling.”

With a glare, Phasma let go of him, pulling Hux by the ear away from the terrified man-baby.

Later, when Ben finally managed to stumble back to the library, having found it by using “signs! How long have they even been there for? Like two minutes, I swear.” Phasma laid down the ground rules for Ben being able to be with Y/N. 

She apologised to Ben later, having seen that he was being genuine.

“Hang on. When was this, by the way?” she asked, petting her “poor, innocent lil nugget, drawn in by Ben’s disgusting charms”.

Ben snorted. “You walked over here asking her if she was sick when I was slurping the fuck out of-”


The Future of Us

A Joshaya fanfic

Written by: @hoffkk

Written for: Joshaya Week (Day 2 - Josh finds out about Maya’s talents)

Summary:  Josh learns something new about Maya…and perhaps himself.


Josh was halfway through his first semester at NYU, and he was having the time of his life, meeting new people, trying new things, and just being a part of something new.  As fun as college life was, the work load sucked. It wasn’t particularly hard, he just had a lot of menial assignments that he had to do pretty much all the time.

It was a Wednesday evening around 7:00pm and Josh had just completed a couple of the aforementioned assignments when he decided he needed a pick me up.  There were a couple coffee joints nearby, but Josh decided to take the long walk to Topanga’s.  The walk would be a good refresher, and it would be nice to see his family.  In fact, maybe he would stop his brother’s place afterward.

Josh was contemplating the idea as he waited in line for his coffee.  Once he received his order, a large cappuccino, he headed toward the door. He was about to make his exit when a familiar mane of blonde hair caught his attention.

“Maya?”  He called out in question toward the blonde who sat in the corner booth, hunched over an array of papers.

“Huh?”  She said, snapping her head upward to locate the voice she knew all too well.  "Oh, hey, Josh.“

"Hey.”  Josh smiled.

“What are you doing here?”  She queried, knowing that there were coffee shops much closer to campus that he could go to.

“Need some coffee…and a change of scenery.”  He answered.

“Ah.”  She nodded, understanding the feeling.

“Where’s Riley?” He inquired, suddenly aware that his niece was nowhere to be found, which was weird because the two girls were pretty inseparable.

“She’s at the movies with Lucas.”  Maya replied. “So, I figured I would just hang out here for a bit.”

“Cool.”  Josh smiled then took a sip of his coffee.  "So, What exactly you working on there?“  He added with a nod of the head toward the table top, which was covered in different half-finished drawings.

"Just  a few sketches.”  Maya tried to act nonchalant about it.  "They’re rough…really rough.“  She explained as Josh stepped forward to get a closer look.

"No,”  He assured.  "They’re good…really good.“

Maya could feel her cheeks flush at his compliment, which only made her blush more.

"Thanks.” She smiled.

“Are they for school?”  Josh wondered aloud.

“More like for work.”  Maya responded, and when Josh gave her a confused look she went on.  "I’m too young for an actual job, but I wanted to make some extra cash, so Topanga offered to pay me for my artwork.  She wants to decorate the bakery with a few of my pieces.“

"Wow.”  Josh replied.  "That’s awesome.“

"I’ve only done one so far, the one on the wall beside the register.”  She clarified, gesturing to the picture on the wall.  It was of a family of four, two parents and two kids, a daughter and a son.  The resemblance was uncanny.  Josh could clearly see likeness of his brother’s family in each of the people in the drawing.  They were all smiling and having fun, playing a board game in the living room, the Family Game he presumed.

“That’s amazing, Maya.”  He told her once he managed to pull his eyes away from the piece of art he somehow missed before.  "It looks just like them.“

"That was the goal.”  Maya stated, tucking some hair behind her ear.  "I figured since the store is called Topanga’s, the first picture should be of Topanga…and her family.  Then, once Topanga saw it, she insisted the next one be of my mom and I, since we are a big part of the store and their lives…her words, not mine.“

"Well, she’s right.”  Josh affirmed, making Maya’s cheeks turn pinkish yet again.

After giving him a shy smile, she said, “I, um, I’d also like to do one of you.  I mean, you and your parents, and maybe one of your sister, Morgan, and your brother, Eric.  To me, you Matthews are what make this place and the people inside it feel so special, and I’d like to show the customers that through my artwork.  Do you think, they’d mind?  Your family, I mean?

Josh just stared at her a moment.  Maya was something else.  She was clearly very talented, and the way she was talking about his family was incredibly sweet.  He didn’t seem himself as special, but Maya…she definitely was.

"Josh?”  She questioned when he didn’t reply right away.

“Hmmm?  Oh, no, they wouldn’t mind at all.  In fact, I’m pretty sure they’d love it.”

“Cool.”  She said, her nervousness suddenly gone. “Now, I just need to find the right inspiration.”

“How about some live inspiration?”  He asked tentatively.

“What do you mean?”  She retorted with a quirked brow.

“I mean, I could be your model, and you could draw me.”  Josh offered.

“If I say yes, you’re not gonna rip of your shirt and make me draw your muscles, are you?” She queried only half-joking. Let’s be serious, if he did do that, she would be drawing him in a heartbeat with incredible detail.

Josh burst out laughing before responding, “Yeah…no.  I was thinking I could just sit here and smile.

"Okay then.” Maya smiled.  "Why, not?“

"Cool.” Josh smiled back, then slid into the booth so he was sitting across from her.

For the next twenty minutes Maya began working on a portrait of Josh, while they talked aimlessly about anything and everything.  The weird part was…that it wasn’t weird at all.  They were completely comfortable chatting and joking with each other like they were old friends…or a couple.

“Okay, I’m finished.”  Maya stated matter-of-factly, then turned her sketch book around so Josh could see.

“That looks great,” Josh complimented.  "though you could’ve made my hair look better.“  He added jokingly.

"Hey, I just draw what I see.” She teased back.

“Ouch.”  He feigned hurt, then proceeded to laugh.

“Seriously, though, that picture is pretty incredible, especially since it’s the first one you’ve ever drawn of me.  You’ve got some serious talent, Maya.”  Josh enthused, raking his eyes over the portrait once more, taking in every detail from the curve and structure of his jaw line to the gleam and smile of his eyes. He still couldn’t be she could draw like that; her work looked so professional.

“Uh, right. Thanks.” Maya stumbled through her thank you.  The truth was, this wasn’t the first time she had drawn him, or the second, or even the third.  Let’s just say she could give Riley’s “Bowl of Lucas”  a run for its money… and then some.  However, she wasn’t about to tell Josh that.

The two got to talking some more about school, friends, family, and a bunch of other stuff.  Josh found Maya very easy to talk to, the conversation just flowed so naturally between them.

“So, are you sure your family won’t mind me drawing them?” Maya asked once more, not wanting to make anyone uncomfortable with her portraits.

“I’m sure.  Trust me.”  Josh confirmed.

“I do.” Maya said with a sweet smile, and Josh smiled back.  They were getting lost in each other’s smiles was Maya decided to come back to reality.  "Um, do you think you could do me a favor?  For the portraits, I mean.“

"Of course,” Josh answered without missing a beat. “Name it.”

“Well, my drawings come out much better when I have a model to look at.”  Maya began.  "So, would you mind lending me some family photos to look off of for my portraits?“

"No problem. I’ll bring some by this weekend.” Josh promised

“Thanks.  I owe you one.”  Maya responded.

“Seeing you amazing work displayed in here will be thanks enough.”  Josh replied, placing his hand on top of Maya’s to show he meant it. The world deserved to see a talent like hers.  The touch sent a tingle up his arm and straight to his heart, catching him off guard. They way Maya stared back at him with stars in her eyes made him wonder if she felt it too.

“Well,”  He began to add, breaking contact to check his watch and collect himself.  He couldn’t believe it, but apparently he had spent a whole hour chatting with Maya. “I should probably get going. I didn’t realize how late is was getting.”

“Okay.  See you this weekend?  For the photos, I mean.”  Maya rushed to add, not wanting to seem too eager or anything.

“Definitely.” Josh answered, tossing her one of his million watt smiles, then stood and made his way to the door to make his exit, but not before tossing one last smile over his shoulder.

Maya just smiled and gave a small wave back.  Once he was out of sight, she put her nervous, excited energy to work and started sketching.  Her hand flew across the page of her sketch book a lightning speed, guided by pure passion.

After what felt like hours, Maya was finally done with her drawing and could finally look at it as a whole.  It was of a couple, a short, blonde woman and a tall, brunette man with a boyish grin. The wore wedding rings and played with a small child.  They were all having a picnic in the park.  Maya bit her lip then made one last addition to the woman’s stature, a small, protruding belly.

With a small smile, she signed her name in the bottom right corner and scrawled a title at the top:

“The Future of Us”

In Scandinavia, a Nisse (or Tomte) is a household spirit that is responsible for the care and prosperity of a farm or family. A Nisse is usually described as a short man or woman (under four feet tall) wearing a red cap. While belief in guardian spirits is a very old tradition in Scandinavia, belief in Nisser was prominent in the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries in Denmark, Norway and Sweden. Many farms claimed to have their own Nisse. The Nisse took an active interest in the farm by performing chores such as grooming horses, carrying bales of hay, and other farm-related tasks. These chores were usually done much more efficiently and effectively than by their human counterparts. However, Nisser could be temperamental, to say the least. If the household was not careful to keep its Nisse satisfied – usually in the form of a single bowl of porridge with butter in it left out on Christmas Eve – the spirit could turn against its masters. In the 1840s the farm’s Nisse became the bearer of Christmas presents in Scandinavia, and was then called “Julenisse” and has been associated with Christmas ever since.The Swedish “Jultomte”, the Norwegian “Julenisse”, the Danish “Julemand” and the Finnish “Joulupukki” still has features and traditions that are rooted in the local culture: he doesn’t necessarily retreat to the North Pole, but lives in a forest, field or stream nearby, or in Denmark he lives on Greenland, and in Finland he lives in Lapland; he or she does not come down the chimney on Christmas night, but arrives through the front door, delivering the presents directly to his household friends.

Oh but a nice big family gathering on Harry and Ginny’s place. Literally every friend and family is there. Ron and Hermione help in the kitchen, Hagrid pets Buckbeak in the backyard, close to all the owls and pets. There’s laughter and a delicious smell of food.

Then the doorbell rings. Ginny counts the people. Everyone is there, who could it be? Harry sprints to the door, smiling to himself.

“Didn’t think he’d actually come.”

Everyone looks confused to Ginny, and she shrugs, baffled as anyone else. Then Harry enters the living room with a tall blond chubby man and a short woman with dark brown hair. Both seem very timid. Harry smiles.

“Everyone, this is my cousin Dudley and his wife. Dudley… These are my friends.”

“I was bitterly disappointed when Sgt. Calhoun married Fix-It Felix. I loved her design, her attitude, everything about her, and wanted desperately for her to be a stand-alone woman instead of having a love interest. It reminds me of the ‘beautiful tall woman/short unconventional man’ tropes in older cartoons, and I was so let down by her having a romance plot. It sounds selfish, it IS selfish, but I can’t help feel disappointed, and I feel alone in that feeling”

The Little Things

I’m still sort of obsessing on the Clinton and sexism front. It’s been a maddening conversation, and has gotten under my skin more than a little – I really do need to cool out, because I know that when I dig into a subject, I can get angry enough that I’m truly unpleasant to talk to. It’s one of my big points of sympathy with the Berners, actually. We have that in common. 

What gets to me, I think, is the refusal to admit that gender bias can be unconscious. The people who don’t like Hillary often do identify as feminists, are politically engaged, are opposed to sexism. (Hell: The same thing is true for Sanders. He’s a decent guy, my irritation aside.) Which is great, and good. But calling out bias against Clinton is not calling those people bad, fake feminists. You can be the best feminist in the world, and still have reactions that are completely irrational, and almost impossible to identify as political. And it’s those little reactions that make up most biases in the world. 

Like: Let’s start with the silliest, weirdest thing people believe about Hillary Clinton. The most trivial, apolitical misperception you can imagine. One thing about Hillary Clinton is that people literally and routinely see her as bigger than she actually is.

Size is a weird, recurring theme with Hillary: Maureen Dowd uses a lot of giant-monster metaphors to describe her (“Godzilla,” “50-Foot Woman”). Edward Klein’s particularly vile book — most notable for its extended attempt to prove Clinton is a lesbian, based on the fact that she had gay friends — bizarrely referred to her as “the Big Girl.” She’s also allegedly called “Big Mama.” Magazines visually portray her as gigantic – a planet, or a giant stepping on a man. “Hillary = big” is just persistently part of the conversation.

You can sort all that into the general “irrational dislike” pile, and dismiss it. But that doesn’t explain this: When she was a First Lady, her height was widely reported as five feet, five inches. Now that she’s running for the Presidency, Google gives her height as five foot seven.

Keep reading

Ok so theres this whole controversy about black/mixed/tanned people cosplaying as white/light-skinned characters and its apparently a bad thing. Well lemme tell you something. See that Loki in the picture, thats me. And yes im mixed. When I told my friends I was cosplaying Loki they were thrilled, ecstatic even. When my friend Casey(the Tony in the picture) saw it she was super excited. Everyone loved the pictures and thought I was super brave to be cosplaying a tall white man as im a short tanned woman. When I see people bashing other cosplayers cause the character is white and they arent, consider the fact that the cosplayer doesnt give a shit. They love the character theyre cosplaying and are proud to represent them. Who cares if a dark girl wants to cosplay sailor moon or a white guy wants to cosplay afro samurai. LET THEM!

Cosplay bashing is not ok and it never should be.
My name is Keiko, I cosplay as Loki and im proud of it!


how many times do i have to spell this shit out

when you spell out how a character “looks” trans, you’re showing the entire world what a trans person LOOKS LIKE. you are giving people a TOOL TO IDENTIFY REAL TRANS PEOPLE.

when i bind, i still have a little width to my chest, sort of a muscled look. when you claim a character must be trans because of this exact look in their chest, you are outing people like me. 

when you base your headcanons on a woman being a bit hairy, or a man having substance to his chest, or a woman being tall and flat, or a man being short and round, you are not only claiming this can’t be how cis people look, but you are actively outing trans people who may look that way.

in short: