#Before I actually hit myself with a ukulele

[ruthariandbluecookies]

One Half of My Brain: Debating and tempted to post my drafts, but also fearing that what if I hit a wall and can't think of anymore and want to be prepared

The Other Half: *hits with a ukulele* NOpe, we're playing the safe game today, b!tches!!!

[pjharvey-moved]

i hit the pen too hard and remembered when i was 15 and i briefly had a thing for this friend of mine and one time i brought my ukulele to school (this was actually a regular occurence) and i played a song for her and another friend outside the band room before school that i wrote about her that included the lyric “i entertain myself by imagining you kissing me ‘till i can’t breathe” and i didn’t tell her it was about her and i also said we should start a synthpop band together and she was like lol yeah we could be like a pet shop boys cover band

[shutupandplayasong]

Ok ok ok time to talk about the show!!!!

(Warning this going to be beyond hectic I'm quite literally shaking with excitement and also it's 1 am)

Justin's floofy little hyena mohawk gives me LIFE it looks so good

Instead of the ukulele being tossed onto stage by someone below, the funeral director guy tosses it to Beej

After the sad puppet show BJ screams out "I'm burning! I'm burning! I thought this only happened to books that make kids gay!" And I literally gasped. I don't know if that was written into the script or if it was improv but holy shit

During TWBDT Part 2, when BJ tries to spell his name a second time, he pulls his sleeve back to read a little cheatsheet to spell it correctly. My illiterate little himbo ❤

Instead of "Sadness is like kale salad, no one likes it, throw it out" Delia says "Sadness is like a third nipple, it's a part of you but no one wants to see it"

During Charles and Lydia's dead mom argument, Delia is just waggling her triangle around and slow motion dancing. No thoughts, just vibes

When Charles and Delia are making out on the table, Charles is full on sniffing her foot and rubbing his face against it like a cat..... Chuck has a foot fetish confirmed.

Someone already posted about the guacamole story and jesus fucking christ man

When Barb gives her "best primal screams" she gives a very half hearted "blehhh" and then hits a fucking opera note on her second attempt?? I'm love ??

BJ'S MIC IS BEDAZZLED

It's also small enough to fit up his sleeve. Big spooky demon with this dinky tiny glittery microphone. I love it.

I swear to god in Charles' room there's this big ass sculpture that looks like a giant butt plug. I did an actual double take. I couldn't focus on anything else during that scene.

Except the fact that Delia had a juul pod im pretty sure?

After Say My Name, when the curtain drops, Adam is all like "We should bring the sheets" "No" "Well we should bring the sheets just in case" "Adam, no, come on!" "Ok I won't bring the sheets :("

After Beej is pushed off the roof a little puff of smoke is blown onto the stage like a cartoon

When Beej crawls out of the table when Lydia calls him there's this god awful squelching sound

After That Beautiful Sound, when BJ is explaining his plan to his clones, one of the women is stood there wiggling her fingers and popping her hips out and she's so cute!!

I never really cared about Otho but the man who played is a whole ass Shane Madej caricature and I kind of love him now

We unfortunately do not get red Beetlejuice, but for a split second the lights give him a similar effect and while it's not the same, I will take it. It's better than nothing I suppose

I love the yellow and blue suit on Justin he's so hampsome 🥺💞😭🥺💘😢💖💗😭

To fill in the awkward silence after the "we both have dead moms" joke, BJ fucking bounces on Juno's severed leg like a pogo stick????? It literally sucked the air out of my body and I had to force myself to breath so I didn't start wheezing and disrupting the whole auditorium

We got confetti'd after the curtain call and I grabbed 3 handfuls :) That's not really a note on the show, I just felt like sharing

Ok on to my feelings about the cast:

Justin:

Listen, no one can ever top Alex, but I'll be damned if Justin isn't a close second.

Just constantly screaming and doing his little dancy dance, even if it's during normal dialogue that does not call for screaming or dancy dancing.

Not much in the feral behavior department, but he sticks his tongue out so. much. A lot of sarcastic gasping too like sir close your mouth before bugs start crawling inside

He takes his sweet time finishing dialogue. There were several times where there would be a good 30 seconds of dead air, and every time the laughter died down it would start up and fill the silence again. I don't know what spell he cast to make the audience do that but it was a good one.

I'll be honest I wasn't so sure about him when the casting was announced but god damn it he just has so much charisma I want to get on all fours and bark for him

Im not taking that back btw you're gonna have to live with me saying that

Isabella:

My favorite Lydia hands down.

Her Lydia has so much attitude she's almost a bit of a bully. There's so much sarcasm and angst and anger in her delivery. She plays the moody teenage girl character well.

Not really an acting not but Isabella has such big, expressive eyes. Granted, I had pretty close seats, but you can still see her eye rolls and quirked eyebrows from the stage it's amazing.

Overall she's a fantastic Lydia and again, my absolute favorite. No shade to Sophie, but I feel like her Lydia was... a bit whiny and immature. Isabella is truly grieving her mother and you can see how much of a toll all these changes are having on her. I absolutely love the edge and the bite she brings to Lydia.

Britney and Will:

These two.

These two are out of fucking control for real.

Take the goof factor from the original Maitlands and crank that shit up to 11.

Gonna have to agree with Beetlejuice though, Will's Adam is quite sexy...

"Adam... You're boring. But! You're sexy. You should own that." *cue Will doing a full body roll*

I dont know if it's his height or voice or line delivery but he just seems a lot less... idk pathetic? than the original Adam. It's a nice change of pace. I always wished they did more to develop his character.

Britney brings a lot of spunk to Barbara. Like Barbara has always been the slightly more adventurous one in the relationship but Britney really makes her shine.

OG Barbara is a bit more subdued but Britney's body language is so big? I guess is the right word? So many big gestures and so much movement. Im always a big fan of when actors use their whole bodies to deliver their lines instead of just standing pin straight and talking.

Kate:

I've noticed a lot of people don't really like her Delia and while she isn't my number one favorite either, I still think she does a good job

OG Delia, I feel, is out of touch with the times and trying to be "hip" while still being old school. Kate's Delia is very much aware of "kids these days" and is an obnoxious try hard. I kind of like her take on the character in that sense.

Delia has absolutely no concept of personal space. She stands wayyyy to close to Lydia and whenever Lydia gets fed up, she gets in Delia's face to give her a taste of her own medicine. I LOVE the dynamic between them.

Also Kate's Delia is lowkey kind of bullied by Lydia? Like Lydia is actually pretty mean to her. Again, I love how Kate and Isabella interact with each other. There's a lot more turmoil and strain between these two that I feel was lacking in the original production (at least from what I've seen in the bootlegs I've watched).

Jesse:

Not as imposing or strict as OG Charles, but I like it. I don't prefer it, but I like it.

I feel like Jesse's Charles wears his heart on his sleeve? You can really hear how tired and lost and confused he is when he's struggling to communicate with Lydia.

I never cried while watching bootlegs but damn it, their performance of Home almost made me cry...

Also if anyone would like to drop me off at the theater tomorrow so I can snag those remaining $30 single seat tickets my address is-

[goldkirk]

9, 60

Thank you so much for the asks!!! And I love your icon, I hadn't realized you changed it till now!

9) Did you ever learn how to play an instrument?

Yep! I wanted to learn violin, but my mom said it had to be piano, and if I mastered piano as an advanced player, then we could talk about me learning the violin.

So I took piano lessons for a couple years, but I hit an interest plateau and it felt like drudgery instead of at least curious and novel, and I quit.

One of the homeschool co-ops I was in did recorder karate for us in the 4th grade, and I LOVED it, I went hard, I was so proud and I tried to be one of the very earliest ones to get each next color string on my recorder! I felt so proud of myself for that. It was such a logical progress-forward-in-these-steps-and-your-result-will-equal-what-you-put-in system. I loved that experience. I'm sure many other people who had to hear me practice did NOT lmao.

I wanted so badly to learn drums, but that was never gonna happen. Probably someday I'll get myself twelve weeks of lessons or whatever. I also thought I wanted to learn electric guitar, but it was because that's what my two closest cousins did. I thought they were the coolest people in the world and I wanted to be part of that shared creative expression experience with them.

I learned a little bit of ukulele on my own and from a friend in college, so I can pluck or strum a little bit here and there. I have a nightmare of a time gripping the ukulele in a way that lets me reach the strings, so it's kind of on the backburner until I get hand and wrist PT eventually. I don't know if I'll ever dive into ukulele fully--I want to make a different kind of sensation and sound, personally, and I still haven't figured out what instrument will be right. But I know the ukulele can't get into the speeds and ranges that I need if I'm going to ever actually connect with an instrument and a song.

Oof that answer got long lol

60) If you would have the money to donate what would you donate for?

I would donate to every child safety and family/parent support and respite care and health care group in my area and then go from there! I'd also donate right away to anyone I could who's working hard to get the world to develop antibiotics to fight our priority pathogens before they get the upper hand from our lack of preparation for so many years.

[nightcolorz]

Just want to say I enjoyed Millenia Gate tremendously and can’t wait for the next update. Appreciate if I could hear your thoughts on its themes too!

omg thank u so much 😭😭😭 shakes and sobs. every time someone tells me this I ascend to heaven. U r playing a bold game asking me this bcus u r unleashing a beast rn. Ty ty for sending the ask lol even tho I said I’m always itching for some one to ask me about this I had no idea someone actually would 😭 bless u ur my favorite guy. I am going to go on a whole essay rant analysis of my own fic now praise god. I am going to give u not only my thematic thoughts but my millennia gate backstory cuz they r very tired together lol at least to me.

(for outsiders millennia gate is my tvc au about tvc characters getting cancelled for being problematic influencers. Armand makes an expose video about marius Lestat gets involved and everyone finds out he’s insane it becomes like a mystery daniel is there it’s a great time)

so millennia gate truly was initially intended to be a straight up comedy. A dark comedy inherently cuz the subject matter is so dark, but still a crack fic with little substance that I was doing for pure goofs. I literally decided to write it as a stupid inside joke with my then friend now boyfriend @the-vagabond-angel bcus we had a joke about marius making a Colleen ballinger style “apology video” where he plays the lute instead of the ukulele. We even wrote marius version lyrics it was really funny 😭 I wish I remembered what they were cuz they were top tier truly. But yeah that prompted vagabond angel to be like wow wouldn’t it be so funny if tvc characters were influencers who get cancelled, and that prompt alone caused me to start spamming paragraphs of ideas about what the tvc characters would do to get cancelled and how they would play into each other drama wise, all centered around the initial idea of marius grooming Colleen balligner none apology. Angel was like “wait have u thought of this before??” And I was like no I am literally just now coming up with this u unlocked smth within me. This was in the middle of the night so I went to sleep and then right away the next morning I woke up and wrote over 7,000 words in the day. I was literally none stop writing, with my silly jester the vagabond angel in my ear like the devil on my soldier live reacting as he followed along on our shared Google doc. I think my manic writing was what prompted this uncontrollable meaning to emerge, that I wasn’t truly aware of until I was at the end of the first chapter.

I was surprised at myself by how serious it gets 😭 bcus I earnestly intended it to be purely light hearted. I think while I was writing I, consciously or otherwise, registered that I took these characters and these topics very seriously and it would have to take some disingenuous effort to not do so in my writing. I started reflecting on the cognitive dissonance of internet drama as a culture, bcus it was rlly reflective in my writing in a way that I couldn’t ignore. I spent an entire day writing about grooming and abuse, and I barely registered that until I wrote Armand’s video, which felt like being possessed by this tragic spirit almost, and I realized huh. This is what online discourse is like. The first chapter of millennia gate ended up being really unintentionally impactful, I’ve been told, bcus it’s so funny and then u just get hit by the reality at the end like a train.I’ve always been very involved and personally affected by online drama and cancelling and all those things, I find it very entertaining and sometimes very triggering and upsetting, and I think I fully was able to conceptualize my relationship with that through writing this fic. It was meant to be funny, but it turned into sort of grotesquely funny and sort of seriously upsetting at times. There’s this constant tonal whiplash in millennia gate of the internet users engaging with the drama and the perspective of the people involved that always feels sort of cruel while I write. I am always thinking when I write the little tweets and the tumblr posts YouTube comments etc, “these people don’t care about armand, these people don’t care about Lestat, this is not real to them, this is a hypothetical scenario that they can leverage to make a point, or this is a reality show or an absurd soap opera they watch for guilty pleasure entertainment, this isn’t real to them, they don’t care.” Whether it be me writing a joke post or me writing a sensitive discourse posts, they rlly do not care.

and that’s just how the internet works really, it doesn’t make anyone who engages with discourse or drama online an unempathetic person, etc. The way influencer culture and internet culture in general works requires this distance, were we as the consumers see everything, wether it be a tiktok or a person having a mental health breakdown before our eyes, or talking about there abuse, as entertainment. Even if u aren’t making it a joke, even if u r posting about how concerned u r for Gabbie Hanna or someone or watching commentary videos analyzing the weight of the situation and making intellectual conversation about the broader cultural and societal implications of whatever moral argument is taking place through the lens of someone’s life—-it’s still entertainment. I know! I love video commentary about online drama, my most watched genre of video dead ass. It’s not anything wrong with us, our brains our hardwired. We go online to be entertained like we turn on the tv, but these are not actors being paid, these are just people without any workplace safety percussions making sure they aren’t being hurt, who are given the sort of social responsibility and weight an actor would be given, a professional. These are not professionals! 😭 and I don’t mean like Jeffery Star, someone with wealth and a career, I mean the guy on tiktok who went viral unexpectedly or that animator on YouTube who got cancelled for making vent art as a teenager. This results in this trivialization of real events, true crime told like spooky stories while the teller does her make up. A memeing of someone’s grooming, a trend of making jokes about an abuse scenario. Analyzing real ppl like they r characters in a book, dissecting motives, arguing over who is the better person. I intended there to be this rlly whiplash-y tonal shift from the end of chapter 1 to the beginning of chapter 2. We go from armand talking very graphically about his own abuse instantly to girls on tiktok arguing over whether or not it’s offensive to find armand hot. It’s almost absurdly funny 😭 these girls do not care about Armand’s abuse, they rlly don’t, even if they think they do. They don’t know him! He’s a character to them!

then with this culture u get scenarios of children who were raised on the internet growing into young adults who’s perception of how socialization and validation works is through the lens of marketing urself like a product and shaping ur own identity for entertainment. We have 10 year olds making glow up videos on tiktok, 12 year olds who barely hit puberty making sure that there fandom opinions are non problematic and the music they listen to isn’t made by assholes so that they aren’t bad people. There’s a constant prevailing set of eyes when u use the internet that it’s almost Catholic, and it’s fucked up the generation raised in this environment in such a new way that no one knows how to react to it. Things just aren’t real anymore to the internet generation. We have people filming each other and posting them online to laugh at. And even if ur not doing that specifically u still kind of have that mindset if you’re on the internet long enough, of everything I do is to be consumed or for me to consume, everyone is a celebrity and a public figure and everyone is responsible for there image.

for armand, a character who in canon is conditioned through his whole life to believe that he is meant to be used by others for a greater purpose or a god, this makes sense. Millenia gate Armand’s god is social media, he was groomed and manipulated ofc online, but then shaped into a public figure when he was too young to know if that was even what he wanted. He lived on the internet as a kid bcus it’s the only place where he had validation or love, and it’s created this way of being that centers devotion to a brand that is ur identity rather then a healthy sense of self perception. Then he finds his community of friends online who he changes his name for, rebuilds himself, rebrands, bcus that’s rlly what identity is to him, a username and a profile. To me Armand’s cult shit is almost like aesthetic trends for modern teens, the reworking of ur personality and ways of dressing and behaving for the sake of conforming to an established identity and aligning urslef with a crowd just like u. Armand is like those people who r always reworking themselves to fit a new aesthetic, just so much more overtly sad, lmao. In modern day Armand is on the road to healing by condemning his abuser etc, but the only way he knows how to do this is publicly for an audience, that’s literally how he was raised, like a performer always preforming. Lestat is this but worse, while armand resents the culture but can’t escape it bcus it’s so inherent to him, Lestat is addicted to it. His only validation and primary comfort source is having fans who love him, and preforming his own self in a way that is entertaining for people. Without that he wouldn’t know if he was even lovable at all. That’s why Lestat is always posting when he claims to be taking a break, he has no way of taking a break, he doesn’t know what he is without his social media presence. He doesn’t know if he is capable of being loved if he’s not being praised by strangers online!

I could talk about Louis but I don’t want to spoil 😭 but to a degree every characters story follows this theme of an always performer. Even so, louis is a bit of an outlier. Louis is mentally unwell in a different way, not to give too much away. He is a performer yes, but more so in the sense that he is scared of back lash to the point of neuroticism. He obsessively needs to be perceived as a good person, or a normal person, probably the type of guy to make lists of writers you shouldn’t support bcus there books are problematic. Not because he is empathetic, or cares for social justice, but bcus he wants to be considered someone who has these traits, he wants to be respected as someone who isn’t bad. Louis didn’t grow up on the internet like most of the cast so he’s a bit of a different beast, I’m so excited to officially introduce him in chapter 6. We r going to get into rpf, it’ll be wild.

In conclusion uh, millennia gate started out as a crack fic and ended up as a pretty serious dark comedy about the inherent dissonance of online drama and the exploitation and the trauma of existing in a digital age, ppl who grow up with there validation coming from strangers, etc. remember! Do not trust anyone in this fic no one is good <3 no one is more right than the other person. I had a cameo in chapter 5 (my private Instagram account did at least) and my actual self insert doesn’t even reflect my opinions 😭

thank u sm for sending this ask I love u to bits. I’m sure I could say more but I don’t wanna disintegrate all ur brain cells lol. Millennia gate readers I love u guys sm and if ur ever anxious about me not updating in a while fear not, this shit is my passion project, I will never abandon it. I just have life to tend to unfortunately 😭 and currently have to tend to other things im writing. Read millennia gate here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48408403/chapters/122098564 it is so good u guys.

also fun bit of rlly embarrassing trivia, I have been misspelling millennia wrong this entire time. There r two n’s. It’s not millenia. It’s too far to go back now so everyone just pretend that my misspelling is a comedic reference to the online realism misspellings in my fic and be done with it plz sobs and explodes

[itsnotmandatorybee]

March 3, 2024

Sunday

11:49 AM

Whenever I see posts of peeps here talking 'bout rants in life, I just shrug my shoulders and try to care a bit, but to repremind this as I don't want to fake thingys; I don't put myself in a situation where I should worry about others 'cause I have my own sh*ts and takeaways.

Not until the moment when I realized I have no support system outside of work! I have friends to talk to about everything from songs and romances to ways to cook pasta, and I don't have this one particular thing:

I had this friend living in Manila, and we don't worry that much 'bout our future. I came across the window pane while Mt. Arayat's a few miles away, and I thought of being an accomplished theologian with a small plain and hut near my hometown, and wait 'til I'll cough what should I cough for the very last time. I only want to have a cat comfortably sitting with me in a bamboo chair under the tamarind tree that can withstand any storm. I'll keep my notes in a notebook and make a dying wish.

He smiled and laughed, but I knew he knew I thought of that seriously. That's what I also thought of 'til the moment I saw him in a red shirt and blue jeans, inside the bus, heading somewhere, fearlessly nudging those predicaments we had, waving good-byes.

I had weird choices, but I really know what's best for me. It's sad to say that the most beautiful things and lessons I want in life are felt and never seen. I had it first with a kiss from the man I loved while my eyes were closed. I had 'em when it's dark, and those eigengraus form roses swirling in motion. I had them when there's nothing left in me 'cept the ukulele, and I feel the wind in the heat of the afternoon, strumming "Happier Than Ever" by Billie Eillish.

Not to mention, it's been almost a decade since my father died, but I'm still mourning 'cause I wish I had his strength and courage; I'm still young, and he was young when he left us. He might despise me from heaven for not giving myself a chance to forgive. All I had was a patched-up memory inside the two-sided pockets of his light blue jacket, but I can't say sorry to myself 'cause I wore it without any reason why I should do it.

And how can I say sorry to my laptop, it's not working. My stuff from school, and old photographs are kept on that jurrasic-old device with smash hits from Tom Jones, Engelbert Humperdinck, ABBA, Boney M., and Paul Anka. It's different from what I listen to from Taylor Swift, Ariana Grande, Olivia Rodrigo, Sabrina Carpenter, Elina, and others in a way that I can't see their songs listed in the karaoke songbook 'cause they're not popular, some not even reaching a million streams on Spotify.

The one particular thing I'm talking about is that, I don't have what I really need, and people don't have what I already had or experienced.

I want handwritten letters, not a treat in a café, 'cause I literally had a Milo earler.

I want anyone's recorded songs, not a long list of playlists, 'cause there's only a few years left for me to listen to everything.

I don't need those sugarcoated stories while seeing myself wearing long sleeves. It's fun to have rants while wearing my rugged-like shirt, 'cause that's what makes me comfortable!

It's better to tell me how strong your fart is, how low your patience is, how bad your handwriting is, how delusional you are, and how stupid you are to bet on your regrets.

Before, I've been telling everybody that life's perfect, but we can live a life that is almost-perfect. I was wrong.

I can only achieve an almost-perfect life if I am constantly true in the way I move and talk to everybody, and true to myself in saying that I don't need anybody. I want it that no one should approve of what I'm saying, 'cause it's actually the difference and the remainder that make life more interesting.

 I've forgotten this word in my vocabulary for so long, but I should keep it on my note:

Antonym.

[aboutthemponies]

Reflections on Whinny City 2023

Every pony convention has its special moments. Even after going to a dozen or so of these, every con has some unique special moment that jumps out, some wonderful little thing that you didn't expect which made your day. Normally those moments are things like getting to be a panelist on a friend's Pipp panel, adding an octave effect to Silver Quill's voice as he sings during an impromptu light saber duel, running the lighting rig for half of the concert and adding some really cool effects, winning a button during the SFM animation panel, blasting Discord while driving around Chicago, eating snow cones at a room party, etc. All those moments happened during this year and are treasured in my heart. But Whinny City this year was a different kind of special: it was the first time I performed on mane stage as a musician, leading the ukulele bronies to perform at the grand galloping luau. It's kind of a shock to me that this even happened. That I actually performed on Mane stage. That I made it; that I am a real musician.

I started out as a brony and a producer with my first DAW and no clue how to use it in 2014. That era was when MLP was at its popularity peak and after the hit musicians of the 2011-2012 era were firmly established. That environment was suffocating for a beginner, and it was hard to get any kind of encouragement with a music scene so large. Frankly, I wasn't cut out for it. After getting rejected from compilation albums so many times, I resigned to being a background musician, occasionally releasing tracks, never really getting better, and never making friends with any other musicians. After 7 depressing years of that, I stumbled into the dustcar Discord community, where I met most of my musician friends and where I finally felt like I had a place in this fandom.

That backstory only takes up a paragraph on your screen, but it was 7 years of my life and 75% of my fandom experience. That's a lot time to have experienced constant rejection, but at least it's made it clear to me how I want to interact with the fandom. Over that time, I've learned I don't like advertising myself, chasing popularity or trying to make it big because one, I'm definitely not at the same level as most of the other musicians, and two, chasing bigger view + like counts just leads to being unsatisfied with the following you do have, so I try to avoid playing the self-promo game as much as possible. That said, I do like making music, I do want to get better at making it, and I want my music to be valued, so despite this Celestia damned business, I put my stuff out there time to time. But what I've found that really motivates me is being apart of a tight-knit creative community, where every one is valued and supported at whatever their current level is. Dustcar (before the schism) was just that kind of community, and that glorious half-year of its existence was definitely my favorite time in the fandom.

A lot of people I know from that Dustcar/Busty's community like SOUND BANDIT, Evershade, rawrity, and even Chuckles started performing at cons post pandemic. It's been incredible to see my friends perform on stage, but it also invites the weird "should you be up there? When are you going to perform?" thought. It never felt like it fit well with my goals: performing is not going to make my production skills better, it's not going to help foster a community, I don't really want the spotlight, and I sure as hell don't want to get told I'm not good enough another freaking time. And yet... the theme was tropical getaway, and I just happen to play the ukulele more than any other instrument these days. I felt like I could pull off a ukulele-based set in a way that would actually be palatable, so I sent Snowy Charm a DM, pitched the idea to him, and he was down. I then sent DM's to literally anyone I could think of who played ukulele and attended MLP cons. The only other person who jumped on board was 4EverfreeBrony of all people! The application was accepted, I freaked out and swore for 5 minutes straight, and ukulele bronies was born!

Performing was stressful. I don't know if I would say I enjoyed it, with the 3 weeks of practicing every day for 1-2 hours, having a frantically fast sound check, and not being able to hear our ukes in the monitors. But I'm glad we did it, and it will likely be the highlight of my whole year. I want to thank every one of the people who performed on stage with me. Snowy helped me out so much, not only by figuring out by bringing the majority of the non-ukulele instruments and playing them, but also by being a second brain to bounce ideas off of. You brought so much experience as a professional A/V guy with you, and the set was sooo much better because of it! It also helped calm my nerves significantly. 4EverfreeBrony is such a legend; it's one thing to know that he's S tier, but to give him a new instrument (the baritone ukulele) and watch him learn it on the fly is astounding. It's such an honor to get to play with you; thanks for taking a chance on us! Thrack, thank you for DM'ing me last minute and jumping right in to the chaos with your bongos. JamesAsJames, I've always loved your record playing. Thanks for jumping on the invite last minute and adding to the synergy of the gang!

It was a really big honor to get to play on that stage. I don't think we blew anypony out of the water, and most people probably went to the luau because they wanted the food or already had a ticket, but the debut was incredibly well received by a lot of people whose opinion I cared about. Immediately after the set, I was floored when Koa congratulated us for the set and told me she liked some of my songs (huge Koa fan here in case you didn't know). Then we ran into the con chair Charlie en route to the elevator, who personally congratulated us. My friend Statoose (who also had his pony debut at this con) was gushing about the performance to me at a room party. Luck Rock congratulated me on a set well done and nailing the assignment of matching the set to the theme. And even some of the A/V team like Winchester gave their congratulations as well. All of those kind words mean the world to me; it's so validating after all these years of feeling terrible at music to have this kind of opportunity and feel like I made a valuable contribution to the fandom I've loved for so long.

There were so many wonderful moments too that came with the territory. My favorite was rehearsing on Thursday night before the con started; it was way more relaxed, everything was coming together perfectly, and the music was sounding fab. The mandatory musician meetups were a blast; spent the Saturday one hanging out w/ Statoose and talking about older fandom musicians, on Sunday's I brought the uke and was jamming w/ 4everfree, Canto, and Thrack. People came up to me to sign their con books, something I didn't even know people did, and I signed around 3-4 as well as Nexgen's shoes and someone's ukulele box. I gave away around 20 CDs of my music. Post con, all the musicians ran in to listen to the sonic rainboom together, and I organized a dinner with Pagan Pegasus, Ebunix, Snowy, Bolt, West, Blanket, + friends which was absolutely lovely. Later that night, I had a great time chatting for two hours about pony music with Luck Rock, BlueBrony, and TheOneGalen.

In all, I'm really glad I took a chance and applied as a musician. Not because it scratched some desire to perform, but because it made me feel apart of this community in a way I never felt before. And we did the thing: we showed the fandom that we can put on a successful set. I don't know if there will ever be a second ukulele bronies performance, but I am so grateful to this fandom for all the kind words, for the chance to shine, and the friends we made along the way. Thanks everypony!

–bramble <3  

[pascalpanic]

At Last (Frankie Morales x gn!Reader)

Summary: you, Frankie, and your fur baby go camping! Little does Frankie know what you have planned.

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: flirting, innuendo, alcohol, food, language, otherwise, this is toothaching fluff!

A/N: SAMMY MY BELOVED @sanchosammy GAVE ME THIS IDEA! I hope it’s as cute as I think it is :) also, Charlie (Frankie’s pup) isn’t involved in this fic but she is still part of the fam :)

Pine trees surround you on either side, tall and majestic. You can see the blue-gray sky patching through the canopy; the clouds are leaving, but some linger a little longer to clog up the sky. The air is warm and slightly humid, but a wonderful breeze rustles through the trees and rushes across your bare arms. Your trail shoes squelch underfoot in the damp ground. You sigh, totally content with this moment. 

Frankie’s flannel is tied around his waist, leaving him in his khaki cargo pants and t-shirt. A couple of curls peek out from under his ball cap, turning into little ringlets at the nape of his neck. He walks in front of you on the trail, his boots pressing prints into the soft ground. His back profile is beautiful, even with the large camping pack, and you can’t help but grin. 

Foxtrot embodies her name- Frankie is holding her leash, and the auburn and white dog trots up ahead of him, sniffing along the mulched and muddied path. The air smells of humidity that’s just passed over and that wonderful accompanying petrichor. Fox’s white paws are surely getting dirtied, but that’s only to be expected. You don’t care, too excited to watch your boyfriend and dog walk ahead of you. 

Frowning at the bend of Frankie’s back, you catch up and take his free hand. “Let me carry something, baby.”

“No,” he shakes his head, lacing his fingers through yours. “You have important cargo,” he teases and pats your back lightly. 

Strapped to your back, in a backpack-style blue case, is your ukulele. One hand carries the cooler, slung over your shoulder, filled with food and drinks for tonight. Frankie carries the heavy-duty stuff- the tent, stakes, more essential supplies. “At least let me take Fox.”

Her red ears perk up at her name and she stops, turning and growing excited, as if she forgot you were there. “Yeah, hi Foxy!” You coo as she runs towards you, jumping with her front paws in the air in excitement. “Yeah, you love it out here, don’t you?” You ask her in a baby voice, scratching behind her ears as she circles around your legs and prevents you from moving. Frankie drops her leash in order to prevent your legs from being tourniqueted by it, and it drags behind her in the mud. 

When you pick up the leash, it’s sludgy and damp, but you don’t mind too much. You continue the hike forward and Frankie and Fox follow at your sides, both beaming ear to ear and enjoying the serenity of the woods. 

Frankie picked the campsite, so he’s technically leading the way, but the trail is fairly straightforward, meaning you don’t need to be led. Frankie points out wildlife here and there: chipmunks, rabbits, cardinals and chickadees flitting through the pine-needled canopy. He’s in his element, and you’re in yours: with him. 

The mud gives way to drier ground ahead, and luckily enough Frankie pulls off to the side. It’s the perfect spot, with a beautiful little field of wildflowers. “Welcome to your five-star hotel for the night, babe,” he assures you and kisses you softly, making you giggle and kiss him back with excitement and a pinch of nerves in your stomach.

There’s a routine the two of you have silently adopted. Frankie sets up the small tent, just big enough for the two of you and Fox. You gather kindling, set up a fire, arrange the chairs and all-around make the outdoor area of your campsite ideal.

Frankie is a man of patience, truly, but sometimes the little portable tent proves to be a challenge. You allow Fox off of her leash, knowing she’s well-trained enough to stick around the site, and find your way to the mess of fabric and stakes covering the man. “Baby. For the love of God, we do this all the time,” you tease.

“Well, something must’ve fucking changed,” he grumbles as he fiddles with the parts. You get on your knees on the soft bed of dried pine needles and help him out. With your help, the tent takes no time at all to put up, and you stand and brush off your hands. Frankie gives you a sheepish smile and you give him a kiss. 

The two of you don’t need to converse while you set things up. You enjoy the woods, the rustling of the wind and chirping of birds. Fox curls up on the blanket you set out for her, and when everything is done, you unzip the cooler and hand Frankie a beer. “Well, now we’re all set.”

“Let the fun begin,” he chuckles and twists the top open, clinking his glass bottle to yours. 

“So, Francisco,” you smile over at him. “What do you have planned for this trip? I know you have some sort of plan laid out up there,” you tease and rap on his head softly, through the trucker cap resting there.

He blushes a little and looks away. “I don’t always have a plan.”

“Hey.” You turn his face back to yours by the chin. “You do and I absolutely love it. Now tell me about it, please, baby.”

Frankie removes his hat and runs a hand through his curls. “Well, I figured we could start the fire soon, cook dinner over it. It’ll get dark pretty quick. Then hang around the campfire, maybe play some of the games I packed.”

“Is a quiet tumble in the tent on the cards?” You ask him with a teasing grin, nudging his side. 

He shrugs, jokingly, as if he’s considering it. “I don’t see why we couldn’t squeeze that in. We only have, oh… three hours of time in between these plans.”

“Then we’ll use all three of those hours,” you shrug and steal a kiss, smiling into his lips. “I love you. And I love it out here.” You were never a nature person before Frankie, usually preferring indoors adventures to hiking or camping. Frankie looks like he belongs out here, and he probably thinks he does. Even if you didn’t enjoy the fun of outdoors adventuring, you’d have at least one thing to enjoy: Frankie’s excitement and enthusiasm over it. “Thank you.”

Fox is curled at Frankie’s feet, and he bends over to scratch her ears, running his fingers through her scruffy fur. “Thank you, baby. For coming out here with me and putting up with all of this. I couldn’t ask for a better adventure partner.”

-

You do, indeed, cook dinner over the fire. You’d prepped all kinds of chopped vegetables to be grilled over an open flame, and had additionally packed pre-cooked hot dogs as well as s’mores ingredients. Frankie is a firm believer that it’s not camping if it doesn’t include graham crackers, chocolate bars, and marshmallows.

Luckily, your Frankie is a skilled griller. He always is, always has been. He takes care of the cooking part, since you prepared everything else, though he lets you hold the hot dogs over the fire to roast. “I feel like I’m at camp again,” you laugh as you slowly rotate the food over the fire.

Frankie is taking charge of the vegetables, expertly. They’re getting a beautiful char, you notice. “It’s much better, because you don’t have to sneak around to make out with your boyfriend at night, huh?” He teases and tosses you a grin. 

“But I get my boyfriend all to myself,” you nod and confirm. “And I have my baby girl with me,” you coo as you rub Foxtrot’s head, where she’s resting at your side.

The meal is delicious, of course, when the two of you work together and each used your strong skills. Frankie slips bites to Fox when he thinks you’re not looking, of course, but it’s endearing, the way the dog’s big brown eyes mirror those looking down at her.

There’s not much conversation while you eat, mouths occupied with food rather than speaking. That’s alright. There’s plenty of time for that tonight and tomorrow.

The sun starts sinking lower when Frankie brings the marshmallows from the tent. “Guess what time it is!” He exclaims as he rips open the bag, skewering two marshmallows and holding them over the fire.

Like he’s a skilled griller, he’s also a wonderful marshmallow-toaster. Frankie toasts yours to perfection, just the way you like it, and you do your part as the s’more-sandwicher, shoving the marshmallow between the graham crackers and chocolate.

There’s no signal out here, and you agreed neither of you would use your phones unless an emergency happened. Frankie frowns as he sees your phone. “Hey. Put that away. Don’t use that.”

“There’s an emergency, Frankie,” you whine, opening the camera app with one hand and eating the sugary dessert with the other.

“And what’s that?” He asks, taking a bite of his s’more. 

Strings of gooey marshmallow connect the sandwich to his lips, making him laugh, and you snap a picture at the perfect moment: Frankie’s closed-lipped smile as his s’more falls apart on him. “You’re too damn cute, that’s the emergency,” you laugh and set the photo as your lock screen, tossing it away.

Frankie’s schedule actually worked itself naturally. After the s’mores and a wet-wipe hand-washing to remove the endless marshmallow from Frankie’s hands, you find yourself sitting around the fire, no light left in the sky. When you look up, all you can see is inky blue and pine trees, the stars yet to make their nightly rise. 

“I have a song request,” Frankie asks and raises his hand like a child in a classroom.

“Yes, Francisco?” You tease as you walk to the tent, grabbing your ukulele and returning with it, sitting back in your lawn chair with it. “Hit me.”

“Only The Good Die Young by Billy Joel. No, wait- Country Roads.”

Laughing, you noodle around with the strings for a moment. You knew this moment would come, and here’s the opportunity. “I can play all of those and more, Frankie. We’ll do the Billy Joel first,” you nod decisively.

Frankie sounds like the forest wolves at night when he sings along. He absolutely howls, taken away by the song, taken to a place where his voice isn’t just a little on the rougher end of good. He belts the words and dances along in his seat, like you do.

Then Country Roads. You thought the last one was bad before you hear Frankie’s booming voice echoing the ballad of West Virginia through seemingly the entire preserve. But you don’t care in the slightest. You sing along proudly, strumming your ukulele harder and harder until you’re sure you can’t add any more volume before snapping a string. 

After the song, you pause and rest your ukulele flat on your lap. “Frankie, baby. Can I ask you something?”

He nods, smiling over at you. “Any time. What’s up, buttercup?” He asks, taking one of your hands and kissing the knuckles.

“Will you marry me?” You ask. The question is straight and to the point, blunt and honest. Your face conveys your hope, and the grandiose speech follows. “I love you beyond belief, Frankie. I love you almost as much as you love these woods. I know you love me too. I just… think it’s time. We’ll be perfect for it. What do you say?”

You can feel Frankie’s slightly-chapped lips curve into a smile against your hand. He’s grinning and then he’s crying, soft water droplets forming in the corners of his eyes. “Of course I’ll marry you,” he grins, grabbing your ukulele and setting it aside.

Once the ukulele is on the ground, Frankie stands in front of your chair and lifts you to your feet, kissing you with such fervor you can’t help but gasp. When he breaks away, you smile, eyes watering too. “I know it wasn’t the most elegant of proposals, but-”

“It was the most us,” Frankie cuts you off with a teary grin. “I would be honored to be your husband, my love. You really want me enough to do that?”

“Frankie,” you coo, cupping his face in your hand. “You are the best husband I could ever want, could ever dream for,” you assure him and kiss his nose gently.

The man laughs, wiping his tears away. “Then let’s get married,” he whoops excitedly, then lets out an excited shout to the woods. “We’re getting married!”

You laugh at his loud and booming declaration, but nothing can detract you for the love and joy in your heart.

When you and Frankie settle down in your chairs again, you pick up the ukulele and finish off with one last beautiful song that you and Frankie have always adored, with a title that truly fits: At Last.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles

[whisperlullaby]

Ukulele

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Music shop AU)

Warnings: Talk of death (no major characters or spoilers), fluff. That’s it. Fluffy flirty Bucky because it’s what we deserve.

Word Count: 1449

Summary: You need to get a ukulele for your niece’s birthday and head right into Bucky’s music shop

A/N: 2 oneshots in one week?! Who am I? Special thanks to @river-soul​ for always amping me up and reading my stories. Forever grateful for you! If I missed any warnings let me know.

Tags: @syntheticavenger​ @quxxnxfhxll​ @immatr3x​

This was your last resort. You had to find a ukulele for your niece that wasn’t over your budget. It was astounding to you how expensive this tiny instrument was online. People were probably upselling it. You were fortunate that your friend pointed you in the direction of a local music shop that carried various instruments, records, and supplies. You don't know why you didn't think about it in the first place.

You saw the neon open sign and ran into the shop out of the pouring rain. You planned on staying for a bit until the rain let up and as you were shaking off the cool droplets you heard a low gravelly voice behind you, “Good morning, is there anything I can help you find today?”

You turned around and were met with the most handsome man you had ever seen. His clear blue eyes had you wishing the rain clouds would go away so you could compare them to the sky. He was wearing a tight white shirt, black jeans, and a black leather jacket. His hair was pushed back into a bun and you could just imagine running your fingers through his long hair.

You shook off your shock like the rain and cleared your suddenly dry throat, “I’m just browsing for now, but thank you.” Hoping that your non-committal answer would allow him to let you stay in the shop long enough for the rain to stop.

“No problem, I'm Bucky if you have any questions I’ll be right over here.” He went back behind the counter and started strumming a guitar. The melody was so soothing you almost forgot why you had come to the store in the first place.

“Hey what are you playing?” You wondered from across the empty store.

“Just a song I’m working on. If it’s bothering you I can stop for a bit. I shouldn’t be playing music during business hours anyway but the owner lets me get away with it.” He threw you a sly smirk.

You let out a breathy laugh, “No you don't have to stop, it sounds really beautiful. The owner sounds like a pretty great guy letting you practice during business hours. Is he around often? Or does he stay home on rainy days.”  

Bucky smiled at you, “I was making a joke dove, apparently a pretty bad one. I’m actually the owner.”

You slapped your forehead and flushed red. You were an idiot, your friend told you the owner Bucky was really helpful. Which is why she had suggested it in the first place. 

“Oh my god I’m an idiot I knew you were the owner. I’m so sorry, my name is Y/N” You sighed, ��actually if you could help me I am looking for a ukulele for my niece. It’s her birthday tomorrow and everything I found online was either too expensive or too cheap.”

Bucky set down his guitar, “Follow me. We don’t get a lot of ukulele requests so I keep that stock in the back.” You moved to follow Bucky to the back stockroom. 

As you entered the back room Bucky held out his hand. “It’s a bit tight back here so you’ll have to follow close. I would hate for you to trip over something and get hurt.”

You grabbed Bucky’s hand as he led you through the cramped stockroom with ease. You could feel yourself getting heated the longer you held his hand and prayed to every single deity you could think of that he did not notice your palm begin to sweat. 

“So how old is your niece going to be?” Bucky stopped at a section of shelving that contained several different boxes.

“She’s going to be 12. After her dad died last year and all she wanted to do was play music. She says it makes her feel like he’s still around. He was a high school band teacher and loved his string instruments. It’s been really hard on her and my sister is doing her best to make sure she honors his memory.” You paused and looked at Bucky. He was staring at you with such sorrow. “Oh my gosh I am so sorry I just completely overshared didn’t I? I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Bucky let out a long sigh looking down. “Don’t worry about it Y/N. It’s kind of a similar reason why I got into music. Why I opened this shop. Growing up my house was always filled with different music, every morning my mom would put on a record and then play along on her piano. All different types of music too.” Bucky paused and looked back at you “When she passed away 5 years ago it was like all music just lost it’s meaning. It took about a year before I picked up a guitar again and I still have a hard time looking at a piano, but when I did I remembered that music is what made me feel the happiest. I feel my ma around me when I’m strumming along to a song. I opened up this music shop to honor her too.”

Bucky shrugged off the jacket he was wearing and showed you the sleeve of tattoos running up his left arm. Black and white piano keys surrounded by blue, purple, orange, and red music notes and frets. 

“I got this to remind myself that music is a part of who I am.” You reached out to touch the inked skin and traced the piano keys up his bicep. It was so beautiful you hadn’t realized how close you had gotten to him until you looked up and his face completely filled your vision.

You cleared your throat and stepped back only to collide with another shelf causing Bucky to cage you into the shelf while boxes of guitar strings fell to the ground around you.

 “I am so sorry I am such a clutz.” You were whispering having lost your voice at the proximity of Bucky once again. 

“It’s okay dove, are you hurt? Nothing hit you right?” Bucky was concerned, his hands rested on your hips as he looked you over. You were sure he could hear your heart drumming in your chest. The rain outside was beating on the roof in perfect harmony, and the soft sounds of the air conditioner seemed to play on key. A beautiful symphony.

 After he was content you weren’t hurt, his eyes met yours before briefly looking at your lips. Your tongue darted out to swipe your bottom lip unconsciously. Bucky’s hands tightened at your waist as he leaned in and met your mouth with his. The kiss was soft and tender. When he pulled away, Bucky smiled and let go of your hips.

 “We should probably get you that ukulele.” He shrugged back on his jacket and pulled down a box. He opened it to show you the beautiful teal ukulele with orange and yellow painted flowers.

“Bucky this is perfect! How much?” Bucky ignored your question and started leading you from the stockroom back to the front of the store. He led you through the door with a hand at the small of your back all the way to the cash register.

“Let’s see, so normally this ukulele runs around $250.” Your face dropped, that was way too expensive for you, but Bucky continued. “But when you apply the birthday discount, the amazing kisser discount, and the going on a date with the owner discount. It comes out to $75.” Bucky smiled devilishly at you.

You crossed your arms and threw him a coy smile. “Going on a date with the owner you say? I don’t remember that conversation happening.” 

You tapped your forefinger on your chin like a metronome. “Even still don’t you think that’s a pretty steep discount? You’ll be losing money.”

“Well, maybe you’re right, but I am the owner so I guess I can sell the merchandise how I see fit. We could talk about it over dinner tonight?” Bucky mused.

You took your bottom lip in between your teeth thinking about his request.

 “Well lucky for you the only thing I had planned for today was getting my niece the perfect birthday present.” You reached into your bag for the cash to pay for the gift and a business card with your personal number on it. “Text me with the details and I’ll meet you there.” 

Bucky handed you the box and took your business card. As you left his shop, the pouring rain now a light drizzle, he picked up his guitar and started strumming the beginning of a new song he hoped you would like.

[refinedbuffoonery]

Quarantine Moments (14)

Soooooo this started as me vibing to a Halsey song and then it turned into angst. Oops. Sorry. 

Also, in case you missed the announcement earlier this week, this is the last QM. I’ve had so much fun writing these, but it’s time to move on to new things. :)

*****

It’s a quiet night in the MacGyver household. 

Mac lays on the couch, practicing the ukulele. Bozer and Riley are in their respective rooms, doing their own thing. As much as he loves them, Mac has to admit it’s nice having some alone time. 

His fingers land on the wrong strings, and the resulting chord grates on his ears. 

Progress is coming slowly, to say the least. 

Riley shuffles into the kitchen and fills a glass of water for herself. Using her presence as an excuse to pause his increasingly frustrating playing, Mac studies Riley’s posture. Her shoulders cave inward, and she shifts her weight back and forth, from one leg to the other. When Riley turns around, Mac notices the heavy expression in her eyes. 

Something is wrong. 

They hold eye contact for a few seconds, saying nothing. It’s almost as if Riley is trying to convey her thoughts without actually speaking. 

Mac wishes he could understand her. Usually he can. But this look...he can’t pinpoint what it means. 

“C’mon,” Riley beckons. “Let’s go for a drive.” 

Mac frowns, checking the time. “Now? It’s almost ten.” 

“Let’s go,” she repeats. Crossing the distance to the couch, Riley lowers her voice. “Bozer needs some space. I accidentally walked in on him while he was on the phone.” The heavy look in her eyes suddenly makes sense. 

“His mom?” 

“Mac—” Riley lowers her gaze. “She’s...she’s not doing well.” 

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, sitting up. Bozer’s mom is the closest thing Mac has to a mother. She certainly raised him like he was her own. 

Riley squeezes his shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll drive. Does your truck have gas? Mine’s almost out.” 

Still thinking about Bozer’s mom, Mac almost doesn’t hear her. “Yeah,” he belatedly stutters. Closing his eyes and taking a few deep, steadying breaths, Mac pulls on a pair of sneakers and follows Riley out the door. 

It feels good to leave the house.

Riley winds her way through the city streets, turning periodically but generally heading west. Mac’s beach playlist plays softly through the speakers. The roads are empty, which still shocks Mac even after two months of lockdown. Even late at night, there’s usually people on the road. The eerie stillness of his city is unnerving. It’s usually pulsing with life, not...whatever this is. 

A ghost-town, perhaps. Haunted by the memory of the diverse, vibrant beings that once inhabited it. 

“Did you hear anything else?” he asks, referring to Bozer’s phone call. 

Regret flashes in Riley’s eyes. “No. I left as soon as I realized who he was talking to.” 

After a few more turns, they’re in a part of town Mac isn’t familiar with, and he can’t stop himself from asking, “Where are you taking me?” He knows the difference between Riley aimlessly driving and when she has a destination in mind, and this is definitely the latter. 

“My spot.” 

.

They end up at the beach. 

Riley rolls down her window partway, and the smell of saltwater and seaweed wafts in on the gentle breeze. The lights of a ship glimmer in the distance; it’s big, maybe a cargo ship or an aircraft carrier. 

There’s something soothing about being near the ocean, Mac thinks, like all his troubles will be washed out to sea with the receding tide. 

There’s a lot he’d like to wash away.

Mac exhales with each wave's retreat, letting his thoughts and emotions go with it, one by one. After a few minutes, Mac feels lighter than he has in days. "Thanks for getting me out of the house," he says. "I know it wasn't your intention, but I needed this."

"You're welcome." Riley glances at him and looks away, biting her lip. Something flickers in her eyes, just for a second, but it’s gone before Mac can figure out what it is. 

“So, I heard a good joke today,” Mac says. 

“Oh really? Where’d you hear it?” 

“On my run. The teenage boys on the corner were practicing their stand-up comedy routine in the front yard again.” 

Riley smiles. “Let’s hear it.” 

Mac takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself so he doesn’t start laughing before he lands the punchline. “What did the fish say when it hit the wall?” 

Riley makes a show of thinking for a second. “I don’t know. What?” 

“Dam.” 

Riley tips her head back and laughs, the sound loud and full of life. Tendrils of warmth curl in Mac’s insides, taking up residence in the shadowed corners of his soul. He’s been thinking about that joke all day, waiting for the right moment to tell her. 

Because Riley is the first person he wanted to tell, not Bozer or Desi or anyone else. 

Just Riley. 

She’s still laughing as her gaze catches his, and her raw, unguarded expression sends a chill down Mac’s spine. 

Sometimes Mac lets himself think about what it could be like if that wall between them wasn’t there. 

She’d consume him, in every way possible. And he’d gladly let her. 

But that wall is there. It’s been there since the day they met, and Mac respects her too much to poke holes in it. Maybe it’s a good thing. With the wall there to block sparks and fireworks, they developed a quiet rhythm of love and care, and Mac wouldn’t trade that for the world. 

If he let himself love her, really love her, there would be no going back from that, no returning to the way things are now. Either they’d be it for each other—be the one—or they’d wreck each other too thoroughly to ever be just friends again. So even if the wall came down, in a future where Desi is out of the picture, Mac would think twice before crossing that line with Riley. 

And he knows she would too. 

But that wall is there, Mac reminds himself again, and he and Desi are trying to make their relationship work. And as for Riley...

Riley will always be the “what if” he never got the chance to answer. 

Mac can live with that. He doesn’t have a choice, really. 

*****

Riley didn’t think about where was going. She just let her hands and feet take her where she needed to go, and it’s only in the comfortable quiet after Mac tells his stupid joke that Riley realizes what she’s done. 

“I’ve never taken anyone here before,” she confesses suddenly. Riley found this lesser-known beach access point in high school, not long after getting her driver’s license. Her spot has always been a quiet place she could escape to when she needed to avoid the real world for a while. It has always been there for her—when Riley was mad or sad or frustrated, or when she just needed some alone time to think. 

Mac snaps his head up in surprise. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” Riley looks away. She wants to tell him, but she can’t bring herself to do it while he’s looking at her like that. “Though, I almost took Aubrey here once.” 

“What stopped you?” 

“I chickened-out at the last minute. I thought I was ready to share it with him, but there was this little voice in my head telling me to keep this place to myself. So I kept driving. I parked in the lot a couple miles south and said that was my spot.” Riley avoids thinking about what it might mean that she didn’t think twice about bringing Mac.

There’s a long pause, and then Mac says, “Thank you for sharing this with me. You didn’t have to. And for the record, even if you had told me about your spot, I never would’ve asked you to bring me here if you didn’t want to.” 

It takes a couple tries to swallow the lump in her throat. “I think Aubrey knew I was lying,” Riley deflects. “So I made out with him long enough for him to forget, and he never brought it up later.” She picks at her nails. The dark gray polish is chipping; she’ll have to repaint them soon. “That was the only thing I ever lied to him about. Besides work stuff, of course. And we know how that turned out.” 

The stench of seaweed and decay fills her nostrils. Riley focuses on it—anything to distract her from the scent of Mac’s laundry detergent. It’s plagued her ever since moving in with him after breaking up with Aubrey. The scent she’s long associated with safety and her friend—and now the person she has unrequited feelings for—follows her everywhere, since her clothes smell like it too. Most days Riley can ignore it, but sometimes....sometimes it feels like torture. 

And right now, at her special spot, in his truck, wearing clothes that smell like him, it all feels like a mockery of what Riley wants and can never have. 

Once, just this once, she lets herself imagine it anyway. 

They’re on another drive, just like this one. It starts with stolen glances, then she switches to driving with one hand so the other can rest innocently on the center console, and soon enough, Mac’s fingers slip between hers. 

Then they’re parked at Riley’s spot, and his lips are on her neck, trailing light kisses across her throat. They get a little carried away, marking skin and untucking shirts, and a murmured Let’s get out of here has Riley speeding home so they can continue this in private. 

Riley shivers. Taking a deep breath, she tucks the fantasy into the far corner of her mind for safe keeping. Riley knows she should just let it go. There’s only so long she can sit in the silence, waiting for a sign and wondering if kissing him would really ruin everything they already have. 

Riley finally dares to glance at Mac again. He’s already looking at her, still wearing that soft expression from before. It’s enough to make her wonder, what if? 

What if he’s everything she ever wanted? 

But what if she loses everything instead? 

[terrainofheartfelt]

"It's you, it couldn't be awful"

A Playlist For Dair Appreciation Week, Day 7 - Fave Quotes & Lyrics

I haven’t the faintest idea how to make gifs (seriously I think all of you are witches) so I made this playlist, because there is nothing I love more than scrolling through my spotify library and just projecting all over it.

Track listings and links with opinions & lyrics under the cut, because this thing is long, because I have no restraint.

(Note: I intentionally left off all tswift bc if I didn’t, we’d be here all day)

Section 1: The Bops

Little of Your Love - HAIM

A bop that embodies the energy of the 4b arc, and an energy of “Oh for crying out loud, Humphrey”

You’re just another recovering heart / I wasn’t even gonna try / you wouldn’t even give the time

Stop runnin’ your mouth like that / ‘cause you know I’m gonna give it right back

Hate That You Know Me - Bleachers

It’s “You owe me ten / You owe me twenty!” & “I was hoping it would go away / I was humiliated” & basically all of While You Weren’t Sleeping, tbh

Some days I, I wish that I wasn't myself / No luck! / And I hate that you know me so well

I Like Me Better - Lauv

Heavily featured in all y’all’s gifsets—and rightfully so!!! It’s also like the perfect counter to the previous song.

To not know who I am but still know that I'm good long as you're here with me

Sweet Talk - Saint Motel

It’s about Blair roasting Dan for filth and him being completely charmed by it.

when you laugh / I forget that it's about me / But it's alright / Yeah, cause being your punchline / Still is something

No Reason to Run - Cold War Kids

In the perfect version of the show that lives in my head, this is the end credits song that plays as the two of them frolic in Rome.

I have evolved like a fish growing legs / Woke like a lightbulb clicked in my brain

You Make Lovin' Fun - Fleetwood Mac

The song for the couple that fucked in an elevator. Bless the work.

Sweet wonderful you / You make me happy with the things you do

No Matter What You Do - covered by Jakob Dylan and Regina Spektor

The energy is “I have a lot of affection for you but you are so annoying.” And this is the obligatory post-breakup s6 song.

No matter what in the world you do / Hey, I'll always be in love with you

Don't Take the Money - Bleachers

I see so much love for tswift on this website (valid) but I feel like the world as a whole sleeps on her collaborator Jack Antonoff bc he is brilliant and his act Bleachers has some of my favorite songs ever. Like this one. Antonoff has said before that the title phrase is more metaphorical than literal, like an idiom that means don’t take the easy way and give this up, because it’s genuine. Real “I want to have a sleepover with you” vibes.

Somebody broke me once / Love was a currency / A shimmering balance act / I think that I laughed at that

In the Morning - Nina Simone

It’s about the domesticity! And the “Our relationship is our world���! And the “we’re young and still have so much life to live so everything’s gonna be okay.” did i title a smut fic with lyrics from this song maybeso.gif

Please be patient with your life / It's only morning and you're still to live your day

This Must Be the Place - Talking Heads

This is a canon dair song bc @mysteriesofloves titled a fic after this song, them’s the rules. But for real, this is such a good one. The lyrics are intentionally scattered, a little bewildered, like “how did we get here? how did this happen? who found whom?” and finally “who cares? we found a home in each other.”

The less we say about it, the better / We'll make it up as we go along

Cleopatra in Brooklyn - Frank Turner

Chosen for the title obviously, but the lyrics capture the royal/5b arc pretty well, I think. The narrator carries this tongue-and-cheek comparison of the woman he’s singing to to Cleopatra through the whole song, comparing himself to Marc Antony, and ending with this really earnest kind of declaration. I’m obsessed with this songwriter he’s a genius please give him a listen.

These people are adjectives to your proper noun

I'll come find you when your fortunes fail you / I'll die with you when the gods desert you

Morphing into Section 2: Pure Vibes

Walking on a Dream - covered by Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness

The original is by Empire of the Sun (and omigod I just realized the coincidence), but I first heard it covered by McMahon, and he’s one of my favorite musicians of ever so I just love his rendition. And this song is sort of like...about finally deciding that the reality of love with someone is so much better than the idea of it.

Thought I’d never see / The love you found in me / Now it’s changing all the time

Wake Me - Bleachers

Jack coming for my life yet again. This song is so romantic but also so melancholy? Which is such a Daniel Humphrey Vibe.

And I'd rather be sad with you / Than anywhere away from you

All I Want - Joni Mitchell

I’m a white girl with a mother who grew up in the 60s, so I love Joni. And this song is so bubbly and joyful, but it’s also about a relationship between two imperfect people and wanting it to work anyway. Big “Despicable B” vibes!

All I really want our love to do / Is to bring out the best in me / And in you, too.

Dust to Dust - The Civil Wars

A friend in undergrad got me into the Civil Wars by showing me their live videos, and they have such incredible musical chemistry - like, the synchronicity of their ensemble is so good that it even comes through on their studio recordings and it makes these simple lyrics hit SO HARD.

You're just lonely / You've been lonely too long

NFWMB - Hozier

Ok, this had to be like the first ask I ever sent @bisexualdanhumphrey bc they wrote this fantastic meta post about Hozier and Derena but I said: “consider: NFWMB is a Dair song.” And they said, “You right.” I stand by it, and that’s why this song is on this list.

If I was born as a blackthorn tree / I'd wanna be felled by you / Held by you / Fuel the pyre of your enemies

Friday I'm in Love - covered by Phoebe Bridgers

This song - especially this cover - gives such Secret Friendship Arc vibes a la the end of 4x16...the inherent romance of eating pizza and falling asleep on the couch together

Always take a big bite / It’s such a gorgeous sight / To see you eat in the middle of the night

A Case of You - Joni Mitchell

Queen Joni again. Like! I am a lonely painter / I live in a box of paints. & The “You’re the star of Dan’s book” of it all in these lyrics!

I remember that time you told me / You said “Love is touching souls” / Surely you touched mine / ‘cause part of you pours out of me / In these lines from time to time.

Longing to Belong - Eddie Vedder

This is my thinly veiled attempt to tell more people about this: a song written and performed by Pearl Jam’s Eddie Vedder on ukulele, that is actually the softest love song in the history of western music.

All my time is spent here / Longing to belong to you

Bones - Josh Record

Okay, so, that Moment on the Couch at the end of 5x02? That’s this song.

And darling, when your feet are cold / Wait up, I'm coming home / And all of you I will hold / My love will clothe your bones

Cinnamon Girl - Lana Del Rey

The song for when you reach the end of plausible deniability - One all consuming paralyzing thought & You need to go back to Brooklyn - and it scares the heck out of you.

There's things I wanna say to you, but I'll just let you live / Like if you hold me without hurting me / You'll be the first who ever did

You and Me - You + Me

You can be flawed enough but perfect for a person

Section 3: Songs for Dancing in the Kitchen with Your Lover at 1 am

Cigarettes and Coffee - Otis Redding

The “Dan and I have a real connection song.” It’s about the romance of commonplace things when they’re with the right person.

But it seemed so natural, darling / That you and I are here

I'd Be Waiting - Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats

It’s “I just want to spend the day with you” but in like, slow-dance, sexy harmonies format.

If you ever get lonely if you never did

Never My Love - covered by Jakob Dylan and Norah Jones

The “Words of Affirmation” love song they deserve, and an underrated love song from Laurel Canyon, imho

What makes you think love will end? / When you know that my whole life depends / On you

Dancing in the Dark - covered by Morgan James

Okay so these lyrics are such Dan lyrics to me, it’s charmingly self-aware and self-deprecating. And this cover by Morgan James turns this staple rock song into something ~sexy~

I'm dying for some action / I'm sick of sittin' round here trying to write this book / I need a love reaction / Come on, gimme just one look

Oh Me Oh My (I'm a Fool for You) - Aretha Franklin

They’re literally always making each other laugh! It’s about feeling safe enough to be uninhibited and unselfconscious in your joy.

To make you laugh / I would be a fool for you

I Fall in Love Too Easily - as done by Chet Baker

No one, but no one sounds as sweet or as smooth as Chet. I know it, you know it, Hozier knows it. And this song and it’s titular thesis is so Them, it’s such a central part of their respective characters, and one of the things that makes them compatible.

My heart should be well schooled / 'Cause I've been fooled in the past

For Me Formidable - Charles Aznavour

Due entirely to this fic (Part II of a god tier s4 au) This is the end credits song for their full feature length Nora Ephron romcom.

NSFW Honorable Mention: Dinner & Diatribes - Hozier

it’s the definitive “men get pegged” representation, iykyk

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

obnoxious truck horn noises

FIC UPDATE! COME SEE WHAT THE TEENS ARE GETTIN' INTO TODAY

This is the latest chapter of my long and unwieldy beetlejuice au. Start here to understand all the pointless call backs to my own work that I put in mostly just for myself. This is found family au, and features Beetlejuice being Lydia's big brother and if you like that idea I think you'll end up having a pretty okay time

Really, in his opinion, today has been one of the most fun he’s had in ages. It’s probably because he’s a being of chaos, and it’s been a little too quiet and wholesome around here, lately. Sexy and Babs aren’t exactly thrilled with the turn their day has taken, but man, he treasures it.

Their group punishment is banishment from the library, which he wouldn’t care about, except Adam actually seems devastated. BJ specifically is relegated to picking up trash on his lunch break the next two weeks, and he’s already plotting ways to get around it. But the actual worst thing to happen is after the meeting, when both Adam and Barbara’s parents tell him, very angrily, to stay the hell away from their kids. He makes the choice then that he’s going to get even closer to them, out of spite.

They all have to go shuffling back to class, because it’s still the middle of the day, and he’s worried, for a moment, that his two friends are mad at him, but then they both glance back at him, at nearly the same time. Barbara winks at him, and Adam, holy shit, Adam fucking blows him a kiss, and, sincere or not, and he pulls his hood over his hair because he knows for a fact he’s going pink. He gives them a pathetic waive back. They can be downright flirty, when they feel like it.

Emily pauses beside him. “Should I come to your audition after school?” She asks, and he glances up at her, amber eyes shining from the darkness of his hood. “Sure, but don’t expect nothin’. Probably won’t even get th’ part.” She kisses his head, through the hood. “I doubt that.”

One more gentle pinch to his nose, and Emily takes off down the hall, and he takes himself to class.

There’s a little bit of chatter as he enters the classroom, and he feels an unusual amount of eyes on him, all the breathers seemingly watching him, as he slides into his seat in the back. It’s confusing, and a little worrying, because while he’s been getting more attention, lately, it’s really only been from the drama kids, and Adam and Barbara. He’s not sure what this is about, until one of the girls in front of him turns to face him. He’s shocked, because he can’t remember ever seeing another angle of her, other than the back of her head.

“Did you and Adam really get into a fist fight in the library?” she asks, and from the way the entire classroom goes quiet, they’re all apparently waiting to hear what he’s got to say. He finally pulls his hood off his head, trusting the color has gone back to normal, and stares at her. “What th’ fuck’re you talkin’ about?” He squints, like she’s the weird one, even though, one hundred and ten percent of the time, he’s the weirdest thing in any building he’s ever been in.

“You and Adam got in a fist fight over Barbara,” another kid, to his left, chimes in. “Over Babs?” “You got in a fight, and knocked a bunch of stuff over?”

This seems to be his peers' way of quantifying his weird ass, “kind of something kind of not sure what that something is” relationship with his two friends. Someone there had heard fighting, or at least the sounds of all the books going flying, and had seen them led out, and cobbled together this bullshit.

He grins.

“You got it all wrong,” he says, and for once, all the attention is on him. “Me an’ Adam fist fought th' vice principal.” The bullshit lie he weaves is way more interesting than some love triangle, and it makes the three of them sound very cool, very sexy, very rebellious. He can tell a few of them aren’t buying it, but to be honest, he talks so little that he’s never really lied to these kids, and they have no clue what his personality is like. They’re not sure if they can believe a word out of his mouth, or not. Obviously, they can’t, but he’s grinning and laughing by the end, and a few of them are shaking their heads, but smiling. This is something, something good, even if it won’t last, because for five minutes before class starts, he’s not the weird, lonely kid in the back. He’s just a kid.

The audition doesn’t go nearly as bad as he’s anticipating. Adam had predicted right, there are only a few non club kids there, and the looks on their faces tells him they had no clue he would be here, and are already rethinking their decisions to try and participate. That’s right, losers, he thinks, sending each of them his best slasher smile, in turn. My club now.

Barbara and Adam aren’t officially going out for any parts, seemingly happy to be a part of the ensemble, which makes sense… they’re not really all that interested in the limelight, they want to stand in support. That’s so them, he thinks, smiling and clapping in turn, as each of them give a sample of their singing, mostly a formality. Adam was right, though, Babs can really hit that high note. When his name is called, he feels his gut clench, and thinks he might experience vomiting for the second time in his life, but as he stands up on stage, looking out in the auditorium, he catches sight of Emily, sitting way in the back. She’s laser focused on him. He makes a face at her, wrinkling his nose and sticking out his tongue, ignoring the confusion of the other drama members, and Emily, his mother, his lifeline, from across the rows of seats, returns it.

So he sings.

His voice is scratchy, but that’s what they want, they think it sounds villainous. They're more right than they know. Turns out not needing to breathe really works in your favor with singing, because he can take a huge breath of air and use it all, not needing to hack and sputter or pause for oxygen, but despite not needing to breathe, when he finishes, and stands there, he still feels somehow breathless. It’s more of a metaphor than anything else, but it’s still there. Maybe this is what passion feels like, he thinks, and then takes a little bow, as even the non drama kids clap, because he fucking nailed it.

They’re going to hang up a sheet later, announcing who got what part, but Adam insists he’s a shoe in for this dentist role. “Guess I should actually learn what this play’s about now, huh?” He says, and both his friends give him looks like he’s insane. “There’s a movie.. I think it’s right up your alley,” Babs tells him. “I can’t believe you haven’t seen Little Shop! It’s a cult classic, and it’s got murder, and stuff,” Adam tells him. “Oh, well, why didn’t anyone say so?” There’s a natural lull in the conversation. The three of them are sitting on the edge of the stage with their feet hanging off, himself in the middle, where he prefers to be. He feels Barbara’s arms snake around his own, until she’s got him pressed tight against her, and she rests her head on his shoulder again, like she had in the hallway. Adam takes his hand, and rubs the pad of his thumb over a well earned ukulele inflicted callous. God, Satan, who or whatever, he’s never felt more comfortable.

Adam clears his throat, like he’s mustering up some courage, and then says, “So. Should we.. talk about.. This?” And he gestures to the three of them. “Do we need to?” BJ asks. “It feels nice. Can’t it just be that?” “But.. don’t we need ground rules?” Barbara asks, barely lifting her head from his warm shoulder. “Because this is feeling like something. It is something, right?” Both boys nod in agreement. Certainly feels like something, to him. Something big.

“We could make a list!” Adam enthuses, suddenly, and BJ groans. “It’s absolutely revoltin' how excited you get over your lists and organization. It’s a fetish, isn’t it? It’s a sexual fetish.” “It’s a good idea,” Barbara gently flicks at his ear. “If this is… anything, we should all be on the same page, right? Know what to expect out of each other? Have boundaries?” “You two can do whatever you want to me,” he says with a smile, and it’s not even a joke. “Ravish me. Run me through. Just don’t leave me.” It gets more vulnerable at the end than he means it to. “I think you need to set higher standards for yourself,” is what Adam says, and all he can do is respond lamely, “I’ll hire your standards, Sexy.”

They have to break apart, and stand, because Adam and Barb’s parents will be here soon, and besides, he knows Emily is waiting patiently outside the auditorium for him. But he lifts Adam’s hand to his lips, finally gives him that little kiss they missed out on earlier. Adam goes a very sweet shade of pink, and then looks to Barbara. “His stubble is scratchy,” he confirms, and she takes Adam’s hand from BJ, and kisses it, too. “There. All better.”

The two of them slip their hands into his as they make their way down from the stage, to the auditorium door, and he catches himself starting to float, because he feels light and airy and enamored. He forces his boots back to the ground, tries to remind his body that it needs to respect gravity, and he gives both their hands a squeeze, as they step out from the darkened hall into the light of the outside, like he’s making sure they’re real. They are. Despite his heart still as death in his chest, he’s never felt more alive. this isn't even the whole chapter! There's way, waaaaay more for this update, over HERE on Ao3!

[painted-crow]

Secondary Toast Revolving Door, Part 1

I guess I should start with a little about me, since that’s easier than making you pick through previous asks for information and some of you guys are new here. This one’s going to be heavily personal, so you can skip it if you want.

I’m a double Bird. My Bird primary system is heavily Badger influenced, and I also use Lion to support it by telling me when I should investigate something more closely. If we can dip into primary territory for a moment, I guess you can say I understand the world through systems that model things around me. But not all of those systems are things I’ve consciously examined, or fully investigated.

My understanding of how historical people dressed is pretty limited, for example, because I haven’t studied it in depth to get all the information—but I consciously understand what I do know about it. You could say this system piece is tiny but clear; I could expand it if I chose to find out more.

My understanding of how someone I’m not close to thinks might have more data to work with, but I haven’t consciously processed it; that’s the kind of thing where my Lion primary model will tell me to look closer if that person starts acting weird. This system piece might be described as huge but fuzzy; I could clarify it if I sat down and thought about it. I probably have more of these than I realize, but Lion basically takes care of monitoring those. I don’t have to investigate everything.

But some of my systems are both large and fairly clear, because I’ve taken the time both to gather data on them and to examine it. My understanding of myself is… well, I won’t say it’s terribly clear, because I’m in my early twenties and I’m still constantly getting new information, plus someone keeps changing the environment and mucking with my data (that would be me). But I have to examine it, because my brain is like a notoriously buggy piece of software and I’m the poor schmuck saddled with tech support duties.

Basically, the reason I’m good at playing therapist with other people is that I’m constantly doing exactly that thing with myself. (This probably makes me a very annoying patient for actual therapists.)

About that buggy brain, then.

I have major depression. That was professionally diagnosed when I was a teenager and it’s probably genetic. I take medication for it, when I remember to. It especially flares up in the winter or when I’m under stress. I probably have some kind of anxiety disorder too.

I’m almost certainly autistic, which I’ve never brought up with a professional—the first person to figure it out was the system I’m now best friends with, because they’re autistic and they knew I was within two weeks of talking to me. It took me two years to catch up with them and figure it out myself.

In my defense, I thought executive dysfunction, sensory overwhelm, dissociation, and hyperempathy were like… secret menu items for depression, because those only really bug me during depressive episodes. My current theory is that they’re related to autistic burnout instead.

I mask a lot, subconsciously—it’s actually really hard to turn that off normally—and I just can’t do that as much when depressed. If I do, my tolerance for everything else goes way down and I’ll go into overwhelm and start having shutdowns and dissociating. I recover pretty quickly (hours, not days), but if you’ve never spent 15 minutes standing in a Walmart aisle trying to decide whether you want a jar of peanut butter, but you can’t make decisions because you can’t access your emotions and you don’t really feel like you’re “here” but you kind of just want to go home… well, be glad I guess.

Of course, I have other autistic traits that show up when I’m not under stress, but they’re seldom associated with autism because most people don’t know what autis are like when we’re actually happy. Like, hyperlexia? That’s not even an “official” word, the auti community just uses it because “official” literature hasn’t caught up. I taught myself to read at age three (according to my mom; she says I was reading news headlines and stuff, not just books I’d memorized) and wrote a 35k word novella when I was ten, with no external prompting. My audio processing used to be terrible, but I routinely tested at college age reading levels as a kid.

I also might have ADHD? If so, it’s also mostly just noticeable if I’m under stress, and then it’s hard to tell if that’s the issue or if it’s just autism/depression again.

You might be getting a clearer picture of how my secondary and its model end up burnt so often!

(Resisting a very strong urge to cut stuff from this post.)

In short, I was a Gifted Kid. I spent a lot of my teen years biting off more than I could chew, honestly. I felt that I should be able to do more, and I wanted to be taken seriously, but I had basically no idea how to take care of myself because my needs are different from everyone else’s. I’m still figuring those out.

I’m kind of like an orchid plant: incredibly picky about conditions, wants a different “soil” and watering schedule, gets stressed if stuff changes too quickly, but when everything is just right and it does bloom, it goes all out.

I’m not kidding when I say that I have odd needs. One of them is the need for creative work, which seems to be hardwired into me. When I say that art or writing keeps me sane, I often hear back “oh yeah! I’ve heard that can be very therapeutic,” which is an innocuous reply, but it’s always bugged me, and I think I’ve figured out why.

First, because that’s not the reason I make things… I just… have to. Second, I can’t “make up” not doing creative work with some other kind of therapy. Third and most importantly, I’d much rather think of “artist” as my ground state, and depression as a condition that happens when my needs aren’t being met, rather than thinking of depression as the default that I’m just using art to escape from. That seems to me a healthier way of thinking, and probably a more accurate one, but I’m probably the only one who can see that distinction.

If life gets in the way and I can’t make space for creative work, it will actively make my depression worse. I know this because, multiple times, I’ve been unable to pinpoint why I’m feeling shitty, and then I go back to my easel or my writing or (ukulele, cooking, even just taking care of houseplants) and realize I haven’t done anything creative in like a month and thaaaat’s the problem.

I crack open a bottle of gesso to prep some canvases and it smells like… well, I don’t think you can get high off gesso? But it’s not like when you’re out of it on painkillers or cold medicine or whatever. It’s incredibly grounding, like the world snaps back into focus but it’s also oddly euphoric. Or I write ten thousand words in a couple days and it just… I don’t know what that does. I’ve never run across a word for it.

The writer of Smile at Strangers (a really good memoir centered around women, anxiety, and karate) describes a similar feeling in relation to her martial arts practice.

It’s also a bit like when all the snow melts after winter and you step outside and there’s the smell of wet soil under sunlight and I’m not sure if this fully translates for people who don’t have seasonal depression. Sorry.

Dammit, I want to paint… I haven’t had space to set up for like eight months. I’ve been nose-deep in writing projects since last summer for a reason, but right now my friggin Ravenclaw secondary is off angsting about something because of Life Stress Bullshit, and I don’t have the focus to work on any of my writing projects. Apart from this one. But it’s not really what I want in terms of creative work.

*velociraptor screech*

Oh, yeah. I guess I could mention this is why my nickname is Paint. Not sure if that was obvious before. The header image (which is more visible in the app for some reason) is one of my paintings. It’s a tiny one and it’s not one of my favorites, but I had the photo on my phone and the colors work well enough for what I needed.

(restrains self from negging my own painting ability)

This is starting to get into spoiler territory for what burned Ravenclaw secondary looks like, huh? It’s peaced out for a couple weeks at this point. I’m trying to write about what made it take off, but my ability to think of words and form a coherent sentence kinda flew out the window when I approached it directly.

Let’s just say that around the start of the month, someone I was talking to online (if you’re reading this, it’s definitely not you) kindaaaa hit a nasty depression trigger of mine. Not their fault—it’s very specific to me, and I struggle to explain why I can’t really talk about it. Basically, I spent years studying programming and web design, and due to several different but related issues during that experience, it’s now a trigger for me. I very much want it not to be, but trying to train that out of myself has induced more than one panic attack and I’m stuck between giving up on it or figuring out a way to go back to it that doesn’t totally shut my brain down.

That paragraph took forever to write, by the way.

I think I have to end this here. I… am going to go take out the trash, and water my plants, and make my bed, and file some paperwork, and maybe I’ll even mix up some bread dough or do some laundry. Spoiler alert for what it looks like when my Hufflepuff model takes over, I guess.

Oh. And I should maybe probably eat something. I almost forgot about that... again.

[thatbloodymuggle]

the one with the almost

Tongue Tied (jj maybank) 8/?

masterlist

word count: 3.5k

warnings: the usual

playlist

-

"That bread had mold on it three days ago."

"I'll just pull off the bad parts. Plus, mold is good for you. It's just a...natural..organism."

After their escape from the graveyard, the gang headed straight for the Chateau, eager to find out what was inside of the conspicuous package. So there they were. JJ making a moldy sandwich, Pope criticizing it, and Kiara, Rosie, and John B all gathered around the FedEx package. After the sandwich debacle, Pope and JJ joined the group surrounding John B as he ripped open the envelope.

He pulled out a piece of folded paper which, as it was opened, revealed itself to be a map. But not just any map; a map with the location of the Royal Merchant marked.

"Holy shit."

John B proceeded to pull a black, rectangular device from the package.

"What's that?" the mold-eater asked.

"Tape recorder. Dumbass," Rosie mumbled, eyes trained on the map on the table.

Pope, JJ, Kiara, and Rosie watched as John B hit the play button.

Dear Bird,

"Who's Bird?" JJ interrupted

John B replied, not looking up from the device, "It's what my dad called me."

I hate to say I told you so, but I told you so. And you doubted your old man. I suspect at this moment you're filled with guilt and self-loathing over our last fight but don't kill yourself just yet, kid. I didn't expect to find the merchant either...

Rosie could only count the stitches on her hand as the voice of John B's father filled the room. She wasn't able to bring her gaze up to him, or anyone else because she knew how painful it was for him. She knew like no one else did. The silence after the end of the recording was deafening. No one knew what to say or do.

John B bolted out of his chair and ran towards the door, falling against the frame. JJ called after him excitedly, but was quickly shushed by Kiara. Kie went tried to comfort John B, who was now crying, and Rosie found it even harder to look up from the stitches. His pain pained her almost more than her own. Because at least she had closure. At least she got to say goodbye, and at least she wasn't left wondering.

Slowly, Rosie forced her eyes away from the stitches. She pad over to her friend's sobbing frame. Kie met her eye. The two girls had a silent exchange before Kie gave John B one last squeeze and left him with Rosie.

Rosie was quick to wrap her arms around the boy. He buried his head in the crook of her neck soaking her shirt with tears and racking her body with sobs, but she didn't mind.

"I know," she barely whispered.

She didn't need to say anything else. John B understood. Rosie and John B had never actually opened up to each other about the loss of their parents; about how they were both essentially orphans. With her refusal to confront her loss and John B's denial of his, they'd never come around to the topic. But now, as they stood there in each other's embrace, they realized how long overdue the conversation was. They shared a connection like none of the others.

Kiara, JJ, and Pope watched in awe at their friends' moment. Other than JJ, they'd never seen Rosie talk about, or even slightly hint at the loss of her mom. Nor had they seen John B break down over his dad.

Kiara led JJ and Pope outside to give Rosie and John B some space. Rosie and John B stood like this for a while longer, but eventually his cries subsided. Once they had died down into occasional sniffles, he pulled away from her. His eyes were red and puffy, but nothing Rosie hadn't seen before.

"Thank you," he sighed with a real, genuine smile.

"You don't need to thank me. Seriously," she smiled back.

Rosie led him outside to join the rest of their friends. While they were inside, JJ, Kiara, and Pope had situated themselves at the end of the dock. Rosie leaned against the rail inbetween JJ and Pope, while John B took the spot beside Kiara. Kie strummed her ukulele as they joined their friends. The sound was the perfect background noise to the chirping birds and soft waves. Rosie and John B exchanged one last meaningful glance before the silence was broken.

"How much was it again?" JJ asked as he skipped a rock along the water.

"Four hundred mil."

"All right let's talk the split," JJ hopped off from his spot on the railing. "Now, before we say 'evenly', may I remind you that I am the only one that can properly defend us," he pulled out the gun from his pocket that he never seemed to go anywhere without anymore.

JJ and Pope quickly broke out into an argument; Pope denying his request and JJ pushing it even more, until his voice fell on death ears.

"What are you gonna do with your 100 mil, Pope?" Kie changed the subject.

"Pay for college in advance," he didn't hesitate to answer, "And also textbooks. Those are expensive."

"What about you, Kie?" JJ turned the question on her.

"Yeah, what does a socialist do when she's rich?" Pope laughed.

She shrugged, "Just wanna make a double album. About OBX, the Pogues. Record it at Marley Studio, Peter Tosh producing--"

"Peter Tosh is--"

"Dead. I know that, Pope. Spirit of Peter Tosh will never die."

"I know what I'm gonna do," JJ interjected, "I'm gonna get a big ass house on Figure Eight and go full Kook. Gonna get a marble statue of myself, and them I'm gonna get a koi pond."

The Pogues all laughed. No matter how hard Rosie tried, she couldn't imagine JJ in any Kook setting. Ever.

"What about you, Rosie?"

Rosie took a moment before answering, "I honestly don't know. Probably save it, not spend it all at once, you know? I want a big family, lots of kids and stuff. Save it for them, probably."

Kie smiled softly at her friend's genuine answer.

"What are you gonna do, JB?"

He turned from the water to face his friends. Slowly, a grin made its way onto his face as he spoke for the first time since his breakdown.

"To going full Kook."

The teenagers wore matching grins and clinked their beers together.

"To going full Kook!"

About a couple of beers in, the group had moved to the firepit outside of the Chateau. Pope and John B, who had only had half a beer each, started a fire. The warmth of the flames felt like heaven against Rosie's skin in her dazed state.

"Kie! Play me a song," she giggled and leaned her head onto the other girl's shoulder. Kiara laughed at Rosie's tipsy state, but positioned her ukulele and strummed a series of chords nevertheless.

"Pope! Sing," Rosie instructed while raising her can of beer to her lips.

"Yeah, Pope, sing!" JJ egged him on. Kiara's strumming picked up in beat.

The boy shook his head frantically, "You know I would, but JB here's rumoured to have the voice of an angel."

John B didn't hesitate to break out into some Christmas tune, though Rosie couldn't tell which, to the beat of Kiara's ukulele. Rosie clapped along with a dopey grin spread across her face. The combination of John B's singing and Rosie's state sent the entire group into a fit of laughter.

"Rosie, you're drunk," Kiara stated the obvious.

"What? No I'm not, I'm only threeish drinks in," she held up her left hand to form a three. "Just a little bit tipsy."

"If you're just a little bit tipsy than I'm just a little bit poor," JJ laughed while popping open another can of beer.

"Let's play a game!" the shorter girl exclaimed, ignoring the blond's comment. "What's a good game?"

"Never Have I Ever?" Kiara suggested.

"Nah, that one's no fun. We already know everything we have and haven't done," Pope shot her down.

"What about Truth or Dare?" John B suggested.

"But if you forfeit, you shotgun a can," JJ added.

"Are you trying to get us all shitfaced?" Kie laughed at JJ's addition to the game.

The blond shrugged with a smirk, "Only if you forfeit."

Rosie picked up a piece of bark and chucked it at Pope's head across the firepit. Granted, she wasn't sober so she missed by at least a foot.

"Pope! Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

Rosie tapped her finger to her chin in contemplation until an idea hit her, "Ooh! Would you rather only drink water for the rest of your life or drink whatever you want, but it always has to have a little bit of pee in it?"

Kiara laughed at her friend's ridiculous question, which also sent Rosie into a fit of giggles

"Water. Water's great. No pee," Pope was quick to respond, rejecting Rosie's question.

"What? Come on, man. A little bit of pee isn't gonna kill you!" JJ laughed and nudged his uptight friend.

"Yeah, have some creativity, bro!" John B joined in.

Before Pope could initiate a never-ending arguement over drinking pee, Rosie threw another piece of bark at him. This time it hit him in the chest, but only out of pure luck.

"Popey, it's your turn!"

He picked up the piece of bark, and threw it at John B. "JB, truth or dare?"

"Dare."

Pope grinned deviously, "Ok. You've gotta give me a foot massage until your next turn."

"That's it?" John B asked, waiting for the catch.

"Hey, I'm just playing the game!" Pope laughed.

John B picked up the piece of bark and chucked it across to JJ.

"Dare," the blond spoke before John B even asked the question.

John B grinned as he massaged Pope's feet, "Sit on Rosie's lap until your next turn."

Rosie giggled and pat her lap to invite him on.

"Dude, I'm gonna crush her!" JJ pointed out the obvious. He was a good foot taller than the short girl.

"No! I'm strong. Look at this muscle," Rosie flexed her biceps, pushing up the skin with her other hand to make it appear bulging.

"You heard her," John B laughed.

JJ shrugged, and plopped himself onto the bouncing girl. She grunted and tried to continue laughing, but his weight was too much. John B gave him permission to slide down and sit inbeween her legs instead.

JJ tossed the piece of bark to Kiara, who had moved to sit beside Pope.

"Truth," she caught it in the air.

"Hmm, oh, I know! Who's the last person you kissed," JJ shot her an evil grin as he sipped from his beer.

Rosie's eyes widened at this and she tried to slap the beer from his hand but hit him in the face instead. "JJ, noo! You can't ask her that!"

She tried to whisper in his ear, but in her drunken state, it came out as a breathy yell. Kiara and John B's faces immediately turned red, while Pope stared at his friends, completely lost.

"Toss me a beer," Kiara glared at the smug blond, taking the forfeit. JJ and Rosie cheered her on as she chugged the can and threw it to the ground, marking her second beer. She then tossed the bark to Rosie, who failed miserably at catching it.

"Truth! No, dare! Truth!"

Kiara rolled her eyes at Rosie, but couldn't fight back her laugh.

"Well while we're on the topic of kissing, Rosie, who do you wanna kiss right now?"

Rosie gasped and widened her cloudy eyes. She shook her head frantically.

"I can't answer that!"

Rosie knew her answer, but even in a drunken state, she wasn't dumb enough to give it away. But she wasn't exactly smart enough to lie either.

"Beer me!" JJ held out a hand. Pope tossed a new can to him, which he stabbed a hole in with the edge of his keys. He handed it up to Rosie, who didn't hesitate the chug the whole can, letting out a loud burp afterwards.

The game continued on like this for a while with laughs shared, shotguns completed, and the piece of bark being tossed around the fire. These were the moments Rosie treasured most. The ones where they weren't doing anything particularly exciting--just lounging idly around a fire playing a childhood game. About three rounds in, Pope and Kiara had switched clothes, John B was balancing a can of beer on his nose, and JJ was yet to move from his spot inbetween Rosie's legs. The shortest girl reached for her can of beer, but was stopped by the blond beneath her.

"You're cut off," he laughed at the whining girl.

She was drunk, but not so drunk she was unaware of her actions. Rosie was in that blissful state of drunkedness. Although, JJ was right. If she continued drinking, she'd soon be vomiting and wake up in a trainwreck of regret.

"It's 2 AM, guys. I need to head back before my dad kills me," Kiara sighed reluctantly.

"Yeah, me too," Pope added.

Kiara went to stand, but stumbled slightly. She was fairly drunk, and Pope was tipsy himself.

"Let me give you guys a ride," John B stood with them. He'd had the least to drink with only one beer.

Rosie frowned and JJ protested, "Oh, come on! It's only 2!"

"Goodnight, guys! Sleep tight!" Kiara giggled and followed John B and Pope to the van. Rosie and JJ watched as the old car pulled out of the driveway, and drove out of sight.

"And then there were two," JJ sighed, leaning back against the log so his head was against Rosie's stomach. The pair watched the flames of the fire flicker for a few minutes in silence. Rosie subconciously thread her fingers through JJ's messy locks, causing him to lean further into her.

"I wanna lay down," Rosie sighed and pat JJ's head. "Let's move to the hammock"

He groaned, but complied. The pair of teenagers stumbled towards the hammock in the trees, occasionally bumping into each other with a laugh.

JJ held the swing steady and spoke with an exaggerated British accent, "Ladies first!"

"Why thank you, kind sir!" Rosie giggled, playing along.

She hopped into the large hammock, and JJ quickly followed. She giggled as they swung back and forth. With both side views obstructed, the only thing Rosie and JJ could see was the sky above and each other. They lay side by side, shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the stars.

"Isn't this the part where you point out all the constellations?" Rosie nudged the blond with a sly grin.

JJ cleared his throat, "Well above us we've got the big spoon thing. And then to the right I think that's supposed to be a dude with a belt but I don't see it," he lazily pointed out.

Rosie's relentless giggles were infectious, and soon JJ was in a fit of laughter as well. The hammock swung underneath them. Eventually their laughter died down, and the hammock stilled. Rosie and JJ were reaching the 'lazy drunk' stage. The one where you just want to lay down and talk about nothing for hours.

"Do you think we're actually gonna find all that gold?" Rosie turned her head towards JJ, who continued to look at the sky above.

He paused before answering, "Yeah. We have to."

"It's all a little far-fetched though, don't you think? 400 mil in gold sitting underwater for over a century?" she sighed.

JJ shrugged, "Sounds crazy. But I've got a feeling that something's out there."

Rosie hummed and turned her head so she was facing the sky again. A light breeze blew in, rocking the hammock back and forth.

"Why don't you ever talk about your mom?" JJ mumbled.

This time he turned to face her, and she continued staring at the stars. Rosie sighed and shifted under his stare.

"Because if I start I won't be able to stop."

The pair laid side-by-side in silence as JJ processed her answer. A minute or so later, he sucked in a breath, indicating he was about to start talking again.

"Vulnerability isn't weakness, Rosie."

Rosie sighed and turned her head to face JJ. His blue eyes were darker than usual.

"I know," she breathed so quietly, she was surprised he heard.

Both teenagers turned back to face the starry sky above.

"Why do you think we fight so much?" Rosie changed the subject

JJ laughed at this, shaking the hammock slightly.

"Why do you think we do?" he turned the question on her.

Rosie grinned, "I asked you first!"

The blond shrugged. She could feel him thinking hard as he tried to formulate an anwer. One that extended beyond him breaking her arm and her breaking his nose.

"I think we're more similar than we want to admit sometimes."

Rosie scrunched up her nose at this. Never in her life had she considered herself to be anything like JJ. She'd always viewed them as worlds-apart different.

"I think you're just as impulsive as me. You just do a better job of hiding it. I get mad when you do dumb, impulsive shit 'cause I know your process--it's the same as mine. And I wish it wasn't. I'm already a fuckin' lost cause and I don't want you self-destructing into one too."

Rosie's mind spun as JJ spoke. She watched his lips move and the crease between his brows shift. She wanted to say something, but nothing would come out. Her throat was dry, and her vocal chords were pulled tight. Rosie tried to read the expression on JJ's face, but she couldn't make it out in the dim light.

"Your turn," he breathed.

Unable to speak, she whispered.

"I don't like feeling."

JJ still wouldn't look at her, but Rosie could tell he was listening.

"Happiness and anger are easy. I've been feeling those emotions my whole life. But when I feel anything else, anything deeper, it's like my body rejects it. Grief, guilt, sadness," she continued with a shaky voice, "You pull this--this thing out of me and I don't know what it is, so I just replace it with anger. I hate you because you make me feel."

JJ finally turned to face Rosie. Her eyes were wide, almost as if she was scared of her own words. One stray tear leaked from the corner of her eye and trailed down her face. Instead of hiding for once, she let JJ cautiously wipe it away with his thumb. They subconciously inched closer to each other, their noses just millimeters apart.

"What do I make you feel?" he whispered.

Rosie didn't reply. Instead, she leaned into JJ until their noses bumped. The proximity of his breaths made goosebumps erupt all over. She let her eyes flutter shut. He nudged his nose against hers again. It was just them. No beating waves, no chirping crickets, no swaying hammock. Just JJ and Rosie. And then slowly, her lips just barely grazed against his, as if to say, I'm scared. His brushed against hers a little harder; I'm here.

Just as they came together, they were torn apart. An almost.

"JJ, Rosie! You comin' in?"

The pair jumped apart, rolling off the hammock in surprise. John B laughed at the two teenagers groaning in the dirt.

"Oops!"

"Shithead," JJ groaned.

"Well I'm beat. See you in the morning," John B called out to his friends before entering the house and heading to his room.

The pair had already sobered up some, but the shock of the fall brought them back completely. They pulled themselves from the ground and followed John B inside the Chateau. There was a newfound tension between Rosie and JJ that made the usually comfortable silence almost unbearable.

"Well, uh, I'll take the couch," the blond scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"I've got guest room, I guess," Rosie sent him a tight-lipped smile and a sharp nod.

She spun on her heels and headed for the room in the back of the shack, ignoring the burning desire to stay with him on the couch. The further she walked from JJ and the closer she got to the guest room, the stronger the desire grew. But instead of giving in, Rosie did what she did best. She pushed it away, suffocated it in hopes it would die--or at least, leave her alone for now.

But as Rosie closed the door of the guest room behind her and changed into one of John B's t-shirts, she couldn't avoid the questions.

Were they really about to kiss?

Was it just the alcohol talking?

What would've happened if John B hadn't shown up?

Rosie's mind was reeling with the events of just minutes before. As she crawled underneath the covers, she tried to distract herself. She thought about her shift at The Wreck the next day, and the Royal Merchant. But no matter what she tried, a pair of baby blues would always cloud her mind. Rosie wasn't sure how long she stayed up tossing and turning. She longed to be on the couch with JJ, and her body wouldn't let her sleep because of it. Her heartrate wouldn't slow, eyes wouldn't close, breaths wouldn't even out. But she wasn't about to give into her desire.

So Rosie lay there, drifting in and out of the conciousness for hours, thinking only of her almost.

-

taglist:

@tangledinsparkles @lovelymaybankk @my--heroine @thelonelyumbrella @floretsoleil @flick24 @books-netflix-and-pizza @dad-ee-drea @dolanfivsosxox​ @anahgiedd @love-bean​ @maleriefay @mrs-maybank @shawnssongs​ @downbytheouterbanks​ @lostwnoah @2410slb​ @daygiowvibe​ @thesailbells​

-

hehe don’t kill me

[lutrain2020]

Meet the Creator!

Introducing: Roane or Mangoisee!

Commission:  I've never done commissions before, but I am considering opening them in the future!

Social Media: Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mangoisee/

What's your artistic process like?

I tend to sketch, and just clean it up from there rather than using a separate layer for the lineart. I like doing interesting poses, and digital art makes it super easy for me to move certain parts of the drawing around, much more so than traditional. I really like using earthy and warm tones for the colouring too!

Tell us a little bit about yourself!

I like to play the ukulele and violin in addition to drawing, as well as play sports like volleyball! I love space and quantum physics, so I'm hoping to do some sort of research into that as a career! Some may call me a nerd, but I like to think of myself as having a diverse skillset. :)

What kind of mediums do you like to use?

I mostly doodle traditionally, and do finished pieces digitally. I really want to get into sculpting and embroidery as well!

What got you into art? what inspires you to keep creating art?

I think it was Gravity Falls that really got me into art, and once I started doodling a random classmate in middle school (who tended to be very critical) said that I was really good! That was sort of the spark that initiated me being open to sharing my work. Now, it's mostly fandom that keeps me drawing, but I am hoping to work on a webcomic soon!

What's your favorite/least favorite subjects to use in your art?

I enjoy drawing people and scenes with characters I like in them. Backgrounds are often the bane of my existence, though. Animals are pretty hard for me, too, but I'm working on getting better. I really like drawing people with fluffy hair, too, to the point where I'm incapable of actually drawing people with non-fluffy hair!

What's the worst thing you had to draw?

I had to draw a rabbit a while back for a birthday gift, and the anatomy absolutely. would. not. work. with. me.

Is there something that you struggled with that made you grow as an artist?

Definitely it was trying to branch out into drawing dudes! I went through a phase where I absolutely would only draw girls, and any guy I tried to draw just looked like a girl with short hair. Zelda (and LU in particular) definitely helped, because there are a bunch of dudes who I really really wanted to draw, and it really forced me to broaden my skillset!

If you have any fun stories about the pieces you made, please do share!

Most of my art comes out of me getting hit by inspiration and staring at my computer for hours while I complete it! Generally, if I split the work between two days, it ain't getting finished.

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Too Smart for Your Own Good: Part 4

Pairings: Machine Gun Kelly x Reader, (Past and Future) Henry Cavill x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, one night stand, unprotected sex

Word Count: 4,390

A/N: Doesn’t have a completed end yet, but just giving you more content to try to get myself out of a writing funk.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

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

You were actually surprised that Colson come around every day to visit for a couple hours after meeting your father, but he took the time out of partying and general debauchery to still get to know you. He didn’t pay attention to the glares your father shot him when he was actually home, or the mumbled comments about his car and tattoos, he just came to hang out with you and his child… who he was ecstatic to find out was a daughter.

“Who came up with Casie?” You asked as you stretched your legs out as much as you could in his small car on your way home from your gender reveal ultrasound. 

“Emma.” He said as he glanced over at you, mad at himself for insisting you took his car because you were obviously uncomfortable. “Naming Casie was a battle. Took us months to settle on a name… I’m sorry, we’re almost back.” He said as he pulled down the street your community was on.

“Hate this stupid car.” You grumbled as you shifted in your spot again.

“Yea, well I love it.”

“Doesn’t fit a baby well.” You huffed as you hit your clicker to open the resident gate. You turned the slightest bit as your father’s motorcycle drove up directly beside you, so he could knock on the window to get your attention.

“Lock down.” He growled as he gestured you forward. “Pack a bag, we gotta fucking go.” With a nod of your head, you made a gesture for Kels to drive, and rolled your window back up to drown out the roar of motorcycles around you.

“What’s lock down?”

“I’ll explain later.” You breathed as your leg started to bounce. You instantly started to run though the list of things you would need to bring from your house before it was locked down like the club house. You were unbuckled with the car door open before Kels had even parked, and you headed in and upstairs to your office before anything else.

“We don’t have fucking time for this!” Negan shouted as you started throwing some of your current research into a briefcase.

“Then go pack a fucking bag!” You barked back as you unplugged your Mac Book and grabbed a spare charger from a neatly marked box on your book shelf. It followed your laptop into the bag, along with the current hard drive you were backing your work up on, and topped with another two stacks of papers. “There.” You breathed as you threw in some pens and grabbed your white board off the easel. You held the board flat out to Colson, and put the bag on his shoulder. 

“Lay it down flat on the back seat of my dad’s truck and make sure nothing gets put on top of it. Your life depends on it.” He nodded his head and took your belongings as you walked past him to go to your room. You grabbed a suitcase and threw random outfits in it to get out the door faster. A jump bag of pre and always packed bathroom essentials was thrown in, along with a spare make up bag and one that held extra chargers. You were just snagging your giant body pillow off the bed, when Negan came in to assist.

“Give.” He grumbled as he took a hold of the strap on your shoulder while the alarm panel outside your bedroom started to beep.

“What happened?”

“The fucking prick put hits out on our fucking heads.” He muttered as he hit a button on the alarm panel to close the storm doors on your side of the house. “500k for you alive, mil for me…”

“I’m guessing not alive.” You said with a glance back at him as he grabbed your mother’s guitar case from by the door and used it to push you out the door.

“Get in the truck, Princess.” He said simply as he pulled your bedroom door closed. With a nod of your head, you did as you were told and headed down stairs to the garage, where Colson was pulling his Lambo into your father’s parking spot.

“You’re coming?” You asked him when he got out of the car. “I thought you had your tour…”

“We’ll get him to the airport. Get in the fucking car, (Y/N).” There were no further questions asked, only directions followed, as you got in the drivers seat of the truck and tossed your pillow on the floor in the back seat. “Straight there.” Negan said over the starting rumble of motorcycles as he handed you his seatbelt. “Don’t stop.” You nodded your head and buckled in with a sigh.

“So I’m just getting swept up with the motorcycle club?”

“There’s a price on my head.” You told him as you put the large truck into drive and pulled out of your driveway behind Negan and Simon. “Which means that if any of the Hilltop know you’re the father of my child, they will go after you to get to my father.”

——

“You follow rugby?” Colson asked with a small chuckle as you stepped out of the bathroom in your fathers suite at the club house. You hummed at him, as if you needed to hear the question again, and looked down at your very old and very worn shirt before he could repeat himself.

“Henry followed rugby.” You breathed as you put your bathroom bag in your suitcase. “He’s from England originally.”

“Do you miss him?” He asked as he crossed his ankles on the king sized bed. When you didn’t give him an answer, he rephrased and asked again. “Do you still love him?” You sighed loudly as you climbed into bed on your dad’s side and pulled your body pillow toward you.

“You don’t stop loving someone because they broke your heart, Colson.” You stated as you scooted down under the blankets as far to the edge as you dared to give your baby daddy his space. “You just love them with all the little pieces like a fucking masochist.”

“How’d you meet him?” He inquired as he picked up the remote and muted the movie he had on. You looked up at him in annoyance as you started the long process of trying to get you and your daughter comfortable for the night.

“At a rugby match.” You shook your head and adjusted it on the pillow a few times. “I was in England presenting at a conference as a ‘NASA expert’. I got invited by a colleague and even though I knew nothing about rugby, I went. Henry was in the seat next to me. Spent the whole match explaining the ins and outs of ‘a proper sport’ like an asshole.” You finally smirked and looked up at him through your lashes. “I didn’t stand a fucking chance. I was head over heels by the end of the game.”

“Do you think he’s gunna come back?” He asked as he scooted down a bit to see you a bit better. You shrugged your shoulder and adjusted your head once more while taking a deep, slightly shaky breath.

“The scientific part of me knows the statics of medic soldiers in the army coming home, either because of death or dedication. I also know he wanted to go back home before he even left for the war. And I know that he hated the club because of the chaos it always dumped on my lap. So I know the likelihood of him coming home ceased to exist years ago… but fuck, do I miss him every single day.”

“Would you go back to him if he came home?” He asked, which made you simply close your eyes in response for almost a full minute.

“In a heartbeat.”

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

After the lockdown, a few weeks after you went home, your entire world flipped on its ass. You were sitting by the pool in the mid day sun, playing ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow’ on the ukulele the way your mother used to do for you when she was pregnant, when your phone started ringing beside you.

“Sorry, baby girl.” You whispered as you exchanged your small guitar for your cell. “I’ll have to finish later on.” Your daughter, who had previously settled in so that she was closer to the ukulele, shifted down so that she was almost laying on your hip. You mumbled ‘brat’ before answering the phone. 

“Ms. (Y/L/N)?” A deep, male voice said, startling you the slightest bit since it was not one of the usual gate guards.

“Yes?” You questioned as you pulled your cell forward and looked at the screen. ‘DWG’ blinked back at you, letting you know that this was your driveway and not the main gate, which confused you even more.

“Ma’am, my name is Corporal Michael Douglas from the United States Army…”

“Henry…” You gasped as the phone slipped from your fingers and clattered to the floor. You took off at a run though your house, startling your father and his current side piece in the kitchen as you went past. Your hands shook as you ripped open the front door and fought with wrought iron door at the end of the atrium. Your dad, who was confused as to what was going on, followed you outside as a black government vehicle pulled through the slow moving gate. You stumbled the slightest bit when the back door opened before the car completely stopped, and your dad only had a second to grab you before your knees gave out. But that only lasted a moment before you were running again.

“(Y/N).” Henry breathed as he stepped out of the vehicle, looking a little worse for the wear, much more muscular, and a few years older, but still as handsome as the day you left him at the army base. You took a leap of faith that he was really, truly standing there, and jumped in his arms as tears started to fall down your cheeks.

“You’re real?” You gasped as he sank down to his knees right there in your driveway so you were in his lap.

“I’m real.” He whispered against your neck as his tears fell onto your shoulder. You held on to him for dear life, praying that this wasn’t some cruel joke, as your father spoke with the military men that brought the love of your life home. “You’re pregnant.” He whispered even softer as he brushed his hand across the back of your head.

“I’m pregnant.” You confirmed as you leaned back to search his gorgeous blue eyes. “He’s a friend. A one night stand…”

“Swear it?” He asked in his handsome accent that you were just now realizing you actually missed. You could see the fear in his eyes from not only this moment, but so many others as well, and every single part of you wanted to just pull him back into your arms to fix all that pain.

“Swear it.” You promised as you cupped his bearded cheeks in your palms. With a small nod, he fisted your hair in his hand and pulled you in for a long, needy kiss. The world around you seemed to fade away as a long lost calm washed over you from head to toe. Your work, which kept you up at night, floated away into the stars, and the stress from worrying about Colson and his influence on your daughter danced away on a melody that only Henry could create. The club, the lock down, the even the skank that had been sitting on your kitchen counter in her underwear when you ran past, all of that was gone. The only thing that mattered was Henry.

“You left me.” You sobbed when you finally pulled back to catch your breath as you fiancé’s bag was passed off to Negan.

“I was taken.” He breathed as he held you close, terrified like you that this was some kind of sick joke. “Prisoner of war. They commandeered my convoy and took the medics…”

“I should have fought harder to find you.”

“No, my love. No.” He said as he stroked your back slowly. “You’ve done nothing wrong…”

“Didn’t I though?” You choked as you sat back to look at him, and then pointedly at your bump.

“No…” He repeated as he reached up and tilted your head up with a curled finger under your chin. “You did as I asked. You moved on…”

“I never moved on.”

“OK, you two need to get the fuck inside.” Negan grumbled as he looked away from the retreating army vehicle. “Get a fucking room.”

“Pleasure to see you again, Negan.” Henry said, sarcastically, as he moved his hands down your back to the back of your thighs. “And on the free side of bars, no less.” You squeaked and laughed as Henry easily stood up and carried you inside with your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

“Fucking hate you, mother fucker.” Your dad growled as he followed the two of you inside. You stretched your hand out for Henry’s bag and smiled at him before gesturing to the half naked woman that was standing by the front door.

“She needs clothes.” You said with your eyebrow raised. “And probably needs to go back to the club house too.”

“Fucking gladly.” He barked at you as he handed you the duffle bag but stayed put in the entry. With a small smile, you hid your face in Henry’s neck and closed your eyes as he headed up stairs. He didn’t stop until he made it up to your room, where he very gently laid you down on the bed.

“May I?” He asked as he toed off his shoes and gestured to what used to be his side of the bed.

“Always.” With a nod, he pulled his shirt off, pulled back the blankets and got under them in front of you. “You’re really here, aren’t you?” You whispered as you scooted closer to him and rested your fingertips on his chest. You pulled your eyes away from his and looked at a long, jagged white scar on his chest that hadn’t been there before he left. “You didn’t call…”

“I didn’t think you’d let me in the gate.” You stayed quiet as your fingertips trailed across his muscular, hair covered chest and stomach to another, much smaller scar near his hip. “I didn’t know if you’d be alone. Darling, I’ve spent the last six years, stuck in a dark room, let out only to try to fix their injured. And in all that time, all I could do was think about you. About your beautiful smile, and that gorgeous ass I love so much. And how I knew I’d come home to you with another man.” You looked up at him with tears in your eyes as he slid his hand down your side until it rested on your bump. “Why’d you even let me in?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I fucking left you!” He shouted as his fingers tightened on your hip. “I fucking left you without a word for what?!”

“Henry!” You said quickly as you shook your head and pushed his hair back off his face. “Hey, shhh…” He shook his head and looked down to hide his face, but you moved so that you could still see him. “Baby, don’t think.” You soothed as you brushed your hand across his cheek. “Don’t think right now. We have plenty of time for that later. Plenty of time. All that matters is you are home now, right? You’re home and you’re safe. That’s all that matters. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

“I’m home.” He breathed with a small smile as he met your eyes again and put his hand on top of yours on his cheek. You nodded your head and scooted as close as physically possible to his chest for comfort. It took only a moment for you to burst into tears. “I know.” He soothed softly as he moved his hand off yours and gently rubbed your back. “I know, darling. I’m here. I’ll never leave again.”

——

A heavy weight hung in the air of your bathroom as you stood in front of your returned soldier, cutting his wet hair for him in the way he used to wear it. You didn’t even have to ask where his mind was, the trail of his fingertips across your currently bare stomach was hint enough. He’d stop every few moments and look up at you through his lashes, but he always looked away before you looked down.

“Did you want me to come home?” He asked as he let you turn his head to the side. You paused mid snip with a small startle and stood up straight in front of him.

“Of course I did.”

“I want the truth.” He said as he looked up into your eyes with tears in his own. “Don’t placate, that’s not who you are.” You couldn’t help but sigh as you took a step back and set your comb and scissors on the counter.

“No. I didn’t. Thinking you had just left me without a word, I wanted nothing to do with you.” You could see the hurt in his eyes as he nodded his head and dropped his eyes down to your stomach. “I was crushed, Henry! You disappeared without a word. I figured you just loved the army more than you loved me…”

“I could love nothing more than I love you!” He snapped as his gazed whipped back up to you. “Nothing!”

“Look at it from where I’m standing, baby.” You sighed as you pushed off the counter and straddled his lap. “Look at the last argument we ever had. Remember me, telling you that if you walked out that door, to never come back. I don’t forget anything, Henry. Nothing at all. So yes, when you disappeared, I didn’t want you to come back because I was hurt that you would choose a bunch of sweaty strangers over the woman you claimed to love. But not a single day went by where I didn’t think about you and want you to come back home. Not one. I wanted to call you every time I got even the smallest breakthrough in my research. I wanted to run upstairs and celebrate every time I got a little closer to getting my dad out. And you were the only one that I wanted to call when I found out I was pregnant.” Tears welled in your eyes and you looked away from him with a small shake of your head. 

“I want her to be yours.” You whispered with a small sniffle. “I wanted a family with you. But I lost you, and I didn’t know if my dad was ever getting out. I had no one and I made a choice…”

“Do you want me here now?” He asked as he reached up and gently turned your face toward his. You nodded your head and sniffled as your tears fell freely on to his lap.

“I need you here. I’m better with you here. I’m lost without you and I always have been. You know that. But that’s not the question here. The question here is do you want to be here? Do you want to be here, with me… raising another man’s baby?” You didn’t hold his hesitation against him, knowing that it was not an easy question to answer, and leaned forward to give him a chaste kiss. “I have all the time in the world, baby. And I understand either way.”

“I love you.” He said as he held onto your waist before you could stand up. “I love you so damn much. And after losing the last six years of my life, I won’t lose any more. I spent every night counting down to the day I could hold you in my arms again. Even if, yes, I had to restart my count a few times until we got here. But it was better than counting the days I was away. I just knew I needed to get to you and you kept me strong in those dark times. I know it won’t be easy, my love. But I love you. And I won’t lose you again. I’d rather go back to the fucking pit I was in…”

“I love you, too.” You interrupted with a shake of your head. “I’m not going anywhere.” He nodded his head and very gently picked up your right hand with a very small smile.

“Think we can move this back to the correct hand then?” He asked as he started to pull your engagement ring off your right ring finger, where it had lived since exactly one year after he stopped writing to you. You smiled but quickly poked your lip out as you pulled your hand back the slightest bit.

“You still gunna let me clean up your pirate beard?”

“You know you are the only one that does it correctly.”

“Well I think that’s an acceptable answer.” You teased as you handed him your left hand with a smile. “Because we both know I don’t dig this… oh, who am I kidding, you’re still fucking gorgeous.”

——

“I can feel you staring at me.” You said sleepily as you shifted the slightest bit against Henry’s side to stretch out your sleep stiff muscles. You felt his slight chuckle under your cheek as he dipped his chin to kiss your forehead.

“Sorry darling.”

“You’re fine.” You said with a smile as you moved your fingers under his hand on his chest to hold his thumb. You forced your eyes open and your brow furrowed when you noticed the room was still shrouded in a cloud of darkness. “Time is it?”

“Half past five.” He shrugged when you looked up at him and sighed. 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Didn’t want to wake up and be back in that room.” Your heart broke for him as you pulled your hand free of his and gently touched his cheek before he could look away.

“Henry…”

“It wasn’t bad.” He said quietly as he pulled your hand back down to his chest to hold it tightly. “Truly, it wasn’t. They needed to keep us alive to help their people. We were fed scraps twice a day, and were given… well pathetic excuses for beds, but beds all the same. But the four of us lived in a small room, with no real windows, and a small light bulb hanging from the ceiling… and a bucket in the corner.”

“My God…” You gasped as you propped yourself up beside him on your elbow.

“It wasn’t that bad, my love.” He tried as he gently pulled you back down to the bed with his free hand. “We spent more time out of the room than we did in anyways. Plenty of people to patch up in a war.”

“Not that bad? Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill that is bad!”

“OK, no need to full name me here.” He chuckled, trying to lighten the darkened mood. “I was a prisoner of war, (Y/N). I wasn’t staying at the Ritz. But I knew what I was signing up for when I joined, darling. I was warned that being a medic was a far more risky job…”

“So you went anyway.” You said as you attempted to pull away again. “You left me…”

“I left to help people who needed me.” He said as he rolled with you and pinned you down to the bed carefully with his body weight. “It was never my intention to leave you. Never. My only intention was to help. And while the way I helped was less than ideal, I saved the lives of women and children that were casualties of a senseless war. And I am damn proud of that. And if I could go back and do it again, I would. Just under much more hospitable conditions where I could tell you every single day that I loved you with all of my heart and that I missed you impossibly more than that. I’m a doctor, (Y/N). That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be. 

And I apologize from the bottom of my heart that I left you. I’m so, so sorry, my love. I never wanted to hurt you and had I known that leaving you was going to hurt you the way it has, I never would have left. I would have done a residency here in LA so I could marry the love of my life and start our family together. I’m sorry that I made you feel alone, and unloved, and forgotten because that is so far from the truth. I love you no matter what. No matter if you spent the last six years hating me, no matter if you’re pregnant with another man’s child. I love you. And I will spend the rest of my days loving you. I will love your daughter as if she is my own. And I will put up with shit from the club, and your father for the rest of time because I will never leave your side again. Fuck, I will even let you be the slightly emasculating sugar mama you tend to be when we’re out as long as I never have to go another day without you. Love, please stop crying…”

“I’m pregnant, leave me alone!” You snapped as you pulled a hand free of his grip to cover your face. 

“Good crying?” He asked as he propped himself up on his knees to lean over and grab a tissue. You nodded your head and took the tissues from him as he sat back on the bed between your legs.

“You can’t do that…” You whined as you gestured to him with your free hand.

“Do what, love?”

“You can’t just sit there!” You screeched. “You’re all hot and muscly and I haven’t gotten laid properly in six years…”

“Oh, well that just won’t fucking do.” He chuckled as he took your tissues and tossed them on his bedside table. “Let me just fix that for you.”

Part 5